#idk man I tried really hard to appreciate it for what it was

[pearlzier]

now playing . . . cowboy by tyler the creator 𓈒⠀ ✧

⠀⠀⠀⠀𝅄⠀⠀ㅤׂ ⠀warnings / smut, cheating, random ass boyfriend called josh, reader is wearing a skirt, oral (m!receiving), p in v, public kinda (they're outside in the garden), unprotected sex (idk no mattlings running around yetzies)

⠀⠀⠀⠀𝅄⠀⠀ㅤׂ ⠀word count / lots of words like over 2k probably ??

⠀⠀⠀⠀𝅄⠀⠀ㅤׂ ⠀author's note / i got so carried away this was supposed 2 be a drabble LMFAOOO have fun w this :3

"THAT'S MY GIRLFRIEND. YOU STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER, ALRIGHT?" is what he was told, the moment he met you.

and he listened. he really tried to. until he couldn't anymore. until he had you pinned against the wall of his friend's house, creaming on his dick. it sounds insane, it probably was, but matt was a man pushed to his last straw with a very pretty girl at the end of it. you can't blame him for that, even if it does sound cruel. to be honest, his initial resilience and resistance of temptation should've been a dead giveaway to the way he would fall into the claws of desire so hard.

matt didn't think much when he heard that josh had gotten a girlfriend. he was happy for his friend, glad that he'd found someone. he didn't expect you to be drop dead fucking gorgeous. to be so pretty. he had to do a double take when he first saw you, absolutely stunned. josh wasn't that bad looking, no, but.. to pull a girl like you was a massive feat for anyone. you're like, so fitting for josh. but at the same time, that makes you fitting for matt. of course you are.

he's fully aware of how he stared at you the first time he saw you, which caused josh to say—"that's my girlfriend. you stay the fuck away from her, alright?"—bringing him out from the daze of lewd thoughts and inappropriate positions his brain had already put you in. was he a shit friend? probably.

this resulted in matt having a bit of a staring problem as you'd called it. it wasn't creepy or anything, it was actually appreciated and polite. albeit very much loaded. it was like you knew he was head over heels for you and decided to dangle your affection infront of him in some form of torture. it was not fair how he had to hide his boner around you. absolutely torture.

he couldn't hang out with josh like he used to simply because of your presence. and you fucking knew it too, you tease. it was your favourite thing to wear the tiniest clothes around him or simply bat your lashes and giggle in the most adorable way. matt was pretty sure you wanted him dead, just from how amazing you were. once again, at a party held at josh's place, he's day dreaming a little taking you in. his blue eyes flicker over you, he swallows thickly, glancing down at the soda he had in his hands. he'd barely drank any of it, if any. too distracted by your presence.

trying to focus his attention on something else, he glances away from you, focusing his attention on some other girls dancing together. they want his attention, you just.. capture his attention without even trying. until you actually did try to get his attention, flashing him that soft little smile when your eyes met his. he has to practically force his jaw shut after it drops at the sight of you. he's so whipped for his friend's girlfriend.

matt curses himself for the way he glances away like a little kid when you meet his gaze, and he knows you most definitely saw it. he swallows hard, trying to focus on somerhing but you once more. it becomes impossible when he feels a presence which he knows is most definitely you beside him. his mouth goes dry.

"hi, matt," you say, all coy, like you don't know the exact effect you have on him. matt glances up at you, trying not to seem as awkward as he feels. his lashes flutter as he tries ro come up with a response that feels chill, not.. insane. "hey," he settles on—it's simple, casual. doesn't betray the thoughts in his head.

the smile on your glossy lips only grows at that. it's like you can see directly through him into his soul. your eyes rake over him for a moment, as you consider what to say, "you havin' fun?" you watch him, waiting for a response even if you know exactly how he's feeling. matt goes quiet, brain whirling once more in an attempt to seem normal. "sure," he starts, "just.. y'know.." great job, matt. he seems so normal, right? great.

the laugh you let out at his response has his gut tightening along with his jeans, and he swears he can feel his heart in his throat for a moment. matt runs his fingers through his hair, playing with his rings in a nervous movement. "y'know?" your words are soft, curious, as if coaxing him to continue. he really doesn't want to, but he does, anyway.

"uh," matt scratches the back of his neck, an awkward chuckle slipping past his lips. you don't think its awkward at all, no, you think it's adorable. endearing. he's adorable. "a little bored, i guess, but.. never really been much of a party guy," his blue eyes meet yours again and the intensity, the tension, makes him glance away once more. you laugh again, making his cheeks flush.

"bored? here? m'surprised, everyone's like.. having the time of their lives," you're not wrong—everyone is having the time of their lives.

"i could think of plenty of other things that would constitute as the time of my life, this isn't one of 'em," matt snarks playfully, finding himself comfortable with you almost instantly. you have this vibe, this comfortable aura that makes people relax and chill out. trustworthy, in a way. "i get it, don't worry. besides the dancing and people and.. things, it's not that entertaining." he can agree with that, and he nods, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he leans back against the wall.

this allows him a moment to take you in. he shouldn't have done that. that once over only made his thoughts about you worse. horrifically worse, oh god. matt glanced at the ceiling as if the faint stain on it was interesting. it wasn't. he'd much rather leave stains with you on some sheets. even he cringed at his own thoughts. "come outside with me," you offer after a moment. everything about you oozes innocent but matt can't help but think you're anything but. he thinks about josh and swallows, mumbling, "i don't think josh would like that very much."

"he's not here right now, is he?" you remember very vividly josh had gone out to grab some drinks for the party with another friend of his, having headed to the convenience store near his house. which left you with free reign of the party, and the chance to do whatever you fucking pleased. and you wanted to do matt. the obvious answer.

matt's a tiny bit stunned by your words and he blinks slowly, processing for a minute before his brain catches up and he nods quickly, pushing off of the wall with an eagerness he's embarassed at. "you're right," he starts, "yeah, okay," he nods towards the door leading outside to the back garden with the hot tub and such. he's a tiny bit nervous you're playing with him, to go back and tell josh what he's doing, however you seem just as into this as he is, and he nods once more.

he takes the lead, glancing back frequently to check you're still there. you are, thankfully, and he gains a tiny bit more confidence. "you look nice," he murmurs, quiet, so if you didn't hear him he wouldn't have to repeat himself. you did hear him, however, and you feel flush at that. that soft smile only grows more, "thank you. can say the same," matt laughs softly, glancing away bashfully. he holds the door for you, delighting in the way your soft body brushes against his. he wants to feel more. wants to feel you under him, above him, around him.

it's cool outside, an easy breeze that contrasts to the warm heat of bodies within the house. you visibly relax which makes him relax too. he's quiet, you're quiet, the two of you making your way to a quiet part of the garden. it's sort of an alley, the bit between the back gate and the house itself. he likes how private it is. "so," matt starts, "so," you respond in return. it's not an awkward silence, but gentle. he laughs softly, he doesn't even know why. you're just so pretty it makes him giddy. and he says it. "you look so pretty."

"you think i look pretty?" you know you look pretty. when don't you?

"uh-huh," he nods, gently. "real pretty," he swallows hard. you overwhelm him. "sometimes i think—" he shouldn't go down that rabbit hole, especially not infront of you.

but he'd already gone too far, you'd heard him. "you think what?" you're always so attentive and inquisitive, he hates it. not really, he adores it, but sometimes he wishes you'd let things slide more often. matt curses under his breath, blue eyes soft.

"sometimes i think about if you were mine," matt's voice is quiet, almost scared as to how you'll react. he thinks you'll flip out at him, slap him, call him insane. but you don't, a soft looking appearing in your eyes. you look at matt with this gentle curiosity that coaxes him into saying more; "because you're.. you're just so gorgeous, and sweet, and funny, and you smile at me when i'm having the shittest days ever and i just fucking wish you weren't with josh because god, i'd make you feel so good, baby," he doesn't think twice about calling you baby and you don't think twice about how good you feel when he says that.

"now you're just begging me to kiss you," your tone is playfully soft, and matt looks a tiny bit weary, like he's scared you're joking. his plush lips are parted, soft puffs of air slipping past, "kiss me?" he asks gently, blue eyes innocent in how surprised he is. you want to kiss him?

you decide to answer without words, gently grasping at his hoodie and drawing him in for a gentle kiss. your lips meet, a soft groan slipping past matt's lips almost instantly. his hands hover around your waist, as he's scared to touch you, like he doesn't deserve to, so you gently mumble against him, "you can touch me," just to make it crystal clear you're okay with this. his lips are soft, gentle, his mouth tasting faintly like the soda he'd been drinking and a faint vanilla lip balm that made his lips so plush. your lips are equally soft, the glitter of your lip-gloss transferring to his lips and leaving a glittery sheen on them.

matt lets out a soft whine when your lips have to come off eachother, to simply get air. fuck air, he thinks to himself, but he doesn't say it outloud. "josh," he says gently, his brain immediately thinking to the worst scenario. you, however, don't look fussed. "what about him?" your relaxed demeanour and absolutely no worry in your gait makes his cheeks flush more, but also a confidence grow within him. he quickly grasps at your hips and brings you into him, thumbs stroking over the fabric of your skirt.

"nothing," he says quietly, practically breathing you in. the smell of your perfume made him dizzy. he wanted to suffocate in it. god, if you heard his thoughts.. "no—nothing about him," he slides his hands over your sides, and he's trying to resist the urge to grope at your body. "nothing, ma," he wants to kiss you again. "can i kiss you again?"

"mhm," you hum gently, preening into his touch with your eyes lifting up to his. your smile only grows, a giggle slipping past your lips once more. "i suppose so." matt eagerly slips his hand down to your ass, grasping gently to tug you impossibly closer before he presses his lips to yours again. his tongue brushes yours, and you eagerly reciprocate it again. as he grasps at your ass, your hands slide to his arms and hold yourself against him.

"god, you're so pretty," he murmurs against your lips, whimpering the words out gently. you slide your hands up and down his arms, making a shiver flutter down his spine a little. "s'not fair, how come he gets you?" his voice is whiny, like he really can't believe that you're his, even if he wants you so bad.

you raise your brows, "you're getting me right now." your words are a soft reminder, that he shouldn't think about his bestfriend, your boyfriend at this very moment. matt practically melts the moment you drop to your knees infront of him. he glances around frantically for a second as if josh is gonna pop out of a bush or something. this feels like a dream, like it's not real, but your fingers tugging on the zip of his jeans was very much real.

"are you not uncomfortable?" of course that's what he's worried about. your comfort. it's adorable how his blue eyes search yours to find any hesitation. he doesn't find any.

"m'fine, don't worry yourself 'bout it, matt," he's dreamed of this before. woken up with his boxers sticky at the thought of you on your knees for him. he swallows thickly, "okay," he breathes out, sounding a little on edge.

matt whines under his breath when you tug at the zip, his chest rising and falling in gentle breaths whilst he watched you. the cold air hits his thighs when you manage to tug down the denim previously covering him, and he lets out a nervous little laugh. "oh my god," he mumbles, he'd never thought he'd have you like this. your fingers brush his legs, making him practically buckle at the knees. "you don't have to, i mean—" he'd fully planned on being the one to make you feel good, but from how eagerly you're tugging at his boxers, he's pretty sure he'll get to wait.

"i want to, though," there's such certainty in your voice. it's attractive.

he swallows thickly when he feels you tug down his boxers, a quiet yelp slips past his lips. his tip leaks precum, clearly having been doing so for a while now considering the stain on the front of his boxers. matt would feel embarassed if it wasn't for how badly he wants to fuck your throat till you cry, pretty tears on your cheeks. he's so hard, it almost hurts. "you look so good," he mumbles quietly, "oh, god."

your eyes flutter over him, taking in the sight of his cock appraisingly. "says you," matt blushes instantly at your words, "me? pretty? that's just because my dick's out, isn't it?"

"that too," you shrug, running your fingers up over his thigh. the touch is light, and you realise you like touching him a lot. the faint shiver in his leg, the way he watches you so attentively at every tiny movement—you feel wanted. so, so wanted. more than josh ever made you feel. he instinctively pumps his hand on his cock, a pitiful whine slipping past him as his head tilts back a little. he hasn't even been touched yet, and he's yours. he thumbs his slit for a moment, coaxing more precum to drip. smearing it over the swollen head, he gently guides it to your mouth, watching as the tip pushed against your plush lips. "is this okay? do you—is this.." matt doesn't know why he's so nervous. he'd been with plenty of girls before so this isn't anything different, but it is. you're amazing.

"you're worried," you start, "but i wanna make you feel good," words mumbled against his tip, you leave little kisses as you speak—"let me," you say softly, watching as he strokes his cock once more. matt's hesitant for another moment, scared of making you uncomfortable, before he decides to let go of those fears and just go for it. his hand slides to the back of your head, cradling as he tugs your mouth onto him, watching your plush lips stretch to accommodate his girth. the sight is gorgeous, a gasp escaping him as he watches you.

"holy shit," he's gentle with you, wanting to worship the land you walk on in this very moment. your pretty eyes on his as you gag around him a little, grasping at his thighs to steady yourself. your lips leave a little gloss imprint on him, a quiet giggle coming from him at that. but he's also giddy about how warm your mouth feels around him, and the urge to just start thrusting his hips is palpable. "you feel so.." his hips move in gentle, shallow thrusts, trying not to go too far. you moan around him, a pretty sound which makes him whimper again.

your lashes fluttering as you swirl your tongue around the tip, making a mess of him as your drool runs in globs down the sides of his cock. he likes the way you struggle a little, but his head's fuzzy at how good you make him feel. "so, so good, ah, ah—" matt makes the prettiest noises, eyes squeezing shut the moment he starts rutting his hips against you, bullying his dick further down your throat. "fuck, fuck, shit.. like that.." he mumbles under his breath, hands drawing you closer by the back of your head.

it doesn't help the way you start to bob your head, his thighs tensing beneath your touch as he whines, "so.. fuck.. makin' me feel so good, baby, uh-huh," you have to breathe through your nose to take him as deep as you want, which is deeper than matt had anticipated. not that he was complaining. you felt so good, your mouth so warm and wet around him. more precum leaks from his tip at your motions, and you swallow for a moment slowly, the salty taste making you moan around him.

that makes his thighs tense once more, a quiet whimper bubbling from his throat before it drops into a guttural moan, his hips stuttering as he grunted out, "gonna cum, shit.. mmh, gonna—gonna cum," thick, white ropes of cum spurt as he lets go, warming your throat and painting its surface. he holds you close still, even as you swallow down his load, his chest rising and falling in quick breaths.

he looks so pretty like this—all blissed out and weightless from how good you'd just made him feel. his lashes flutter, blue eyes now on yours as his eyes open, and he stammers out quickly, "i'm so sorry, i didn't ask, i just assumed that.. that—"

"it's okay, hey," you liked everything he was doing. it felt good. you enjoyed swallowing whatever he gave you, it wasn't like you weren't enjoying yourself. the awkward way in which he handled his feelings towards you made your heart warm, a soft, nervous smile playing on his plush, pink lips now. "yeah?" he asks gently, swallowing hard. he's got an idea, brewing in his head. "okay. uhm, here, uh.."

he glances down at himself, embarassed at how hard he still is despite the fact he'd just came down your throat. but he's got a plan to fix that, as his hands slip down to help you back up. "here.." he mumbles, a little clumsy in how he handles you but it's still way more.. comfortable than it is with josh. even when you're outside against a brick wall. "is this okay?" he asks, running a ring-clad hand over the curve of your thigh for a moment before he presses you against the wall, letting your back come against it.

"this is okay," even a simple, is this okay, has you soaked. he's so considerate.

"it is?" he asks, gently, fingers brushing the hem of your underwear, tugging slowly with a curl of his index and middle.

"you're worrying," you murmur, expression soft.

"just wanna treat you right," matt says gently, tugging down your underwear finally. you flinch a little at the cold air hitting your wet cunt, his blue eyes following the string of your arousal clinging to your panties from your hole. he swallows thickly at the sight, sliding your underwear into his pocket for safe keeping. it'd be a miracle if you got those back after. "make you feel as good as you made me, baby," he shifts you against the wall.

you're pretty sure you're dripping down your thighs, and matt can't help a bashful smile at the sight. "up," he says gently, and you oblige, lifting your legs to hook around his waist so he holds you up with his body. it's an interesting position, but this is an interesting predicament, you suppose. "thank you," he says gently, unable to stop himself. he feels.. just.. amazing.

"what are you thankin' me for?" you giggle, head tilting. you're trying not to focus on how good you feel as the head of his cock glides over your folds, parting them gently enough to rub against your clit. he hasn't even been inside you yet and you're pretty sure you could make a mess right there and then.

"lettin' me have you," matt says it like it's obvious, scoffing a little at the way you look at him so curiously. his hands slide down to your thighs, gripping and tugging you closer to hold you up and give himself leverage to slide into you. he pumps his hand over himself once or twice, smacking the head against your cunt before he slowly starts pushing into your tight hole. a whine escapes both of you when he does so, the tight stretch making both you and matt shiver. "oh god, oh.."

if he could stay buried in you forever, he would. if you could have him in you forever, you would. he stretches you so good, a little muffled whimper coming from you as you'd nuzzled into his shoulder to keep yourself steady. "matt," you whine, "so good," he revels in your praise, a fluttery feeling in his stomach at how you seem to adore him. matt's careful, easing himself into you till he bottoms out, fitting snug within your sensitive pussy.

his head tilts back with a groan, content to just stay there like that, but he can feel you grow a tad bit impatient with a little rock of your hips. "i got you," he says with a little nod, slowly easing back before he rocks his hips forward again. he does this a couple more times till he finds an easy rhythm, the slickness of your pussy allowing him to just slip in and out. "is this o—"

"matt, it's fucking okay," he can't help but laugh at the way you snap st him, your words shaky as you watch the way his cock disappears into your tight hole, the wet sounds making your stomach feel all fluttery just like his. the rhythmic sound of skin slapping against skin makes you feel all the more connected to matt, your eyes searching his. "it's okay, more than—shit, mmh.." you just make the perfect sounds as he gradually finds himself pounding into you, hands holding you up against him.

his movements are a little sloppy and clumsy, a testament to how badly he wants you, wants you to feel good, wants to feel the way you clench around him when you cream on him. "like that, like that, shit, fuck me like that," your whimpers only make him thrust harder, his eyes locked on the bounce of your tits with everytime his hips meet yours. every inch of you is intoxicating for him.

"you feel like heaven, baby, god," he grunts out, feeling the way your tight walls squeeze him, practically trapping him there. he keeps it up, free hand lifting to palm at your chest, gently squeezing. he can't help himself, and you can't help but cry out louder. the music of the party is loud enough to mask your sounds anyway, you're sure of it. "this pussy, mmh, could die right here, poundin' your tight cunt, baby."

"uh-huh? yeah?" you coax, feeling your head spin as he hits every spot. his tip hammers into that gummy spot inside of you that makes you cry out with every hard thrust of his hips, and he groans under his breath as you start to clench around him again. "shit, matt, m'gonna cum, i can't, gonna—"

"yeah? yeah? me too, me too, baby, c'mon," he squeezes at your chest once more before his hand slides back down to your thighs, his thrusts only becoming more forceful, making your legs tighten around his waist and inner walls squeeze him even more. "me too, cum for me, cum with me, i got you, that's it, that's my girl," his hips stutter once more, especially when you cream on his cock like that, his blue eye falling instantly to the way your release oozes down him. it soon mixes with his own, a lewd, wet sound squelching out as he pulls out from you a moment after.

his chest rises and falls in heavy breaths, as does yours, recovering from how intense your orgasms were. even then, he feels like he could go again. a million times. maybe after a second, you'd definitely go again too. he's about to go to speak when he hears a call pull up outside, most definitely josh, and your eyes widen, "matt—"

"my place," he tells you, no negotiation in his tone. he wasn't done with you. he doesn't think he'll ever be done with you.

๋࣭ ⭑ taglist / @mattslolita , @st7rnioioss , @flairdean , @mattsluv , @bepositiveforachange , @poetatorturadaa , @onlynextdoor , @sturncakez , @luverboychris , @sirenedeslily , @evrithingbagel , @sl4ttformattsturniolo , @mattsturnihoe , @aphroditepjo , @mazzystar111 , @flouvela , @stonermattsgf , @str4wberryk1ss3s

[seresinhangmanjake]

Come Back Together

Benny Cross x reader 

Summary in bullet points:

Now that Benny is back in your life, he is trying to be a better husband

Benny is insecure about his relationship and a barfight ensues

Reader is pregnant (three months)

Benny does a bit of pining and is emotionally vulnerable

Fluffiness 

Part 2 of Come Back Knockin’

Notes/Warnings: *Spoiler free*, angst and fluff, relationship struggles, physical altercations (fist fight), mention of blood and injury, mention of pregnancy, mention of alcohol, cursing, kissing, happy stuff, typos. I think that’s it. This took me forever to write for some reason and I was weirdly stressed about it. tf is wrong with me, right? Anyway…

Words: alright no one freak out…it’s 4300. Idk why it’s a lot longer than the first part but I always do that. If you’re willing to venture onward, I appreciate it :)

Benny Cross Masterlist

Part 3: Together and More

He stares at you incessantly. Which isn’t out of the ordinary—he used to stare at you all the time—but there’s something else to it now. He stares as if he thinks you’ll disappear the second he takes his eyes off of you. Like you'll slip through his fingers. Ironic, really, since disappearing in the blink of an eye is more his thing. 

“Can I make you something?” he asks, staring at you from his chair while you pull a carton of eggs from the fridge. “You should be sitting instead of me.”

“You don’t know how to cook, Benny,” you state matter-of-factly, turning your back to him as you switch on the stove and set a pan on the lit burner.

Cooking has always been your responsibility. It was one of the things you brought to this relationship. And you liked being the one to keep Benny fed, never chiming in when the other Vandals’ wives and girlfriends mentioned how exhausting it was to satisfy their man’s grumbling stomach. You liked that Benny appreciated you for it. 

Now you wonder if subconsciously you believed that as long as you fed him, he’d stay by your side, regardless of his wild nature. Kind of like a puppy. But Benny Cross is no puppy.

“I should probably learn,” he says. “You know, for the kid.”

You hum, cracking an egg on the edge of the pan. “Maybe you should stick to learning how not to ditch your family,” you retort, and immediately your features twist in a wince.

You can’t believe you let those words out of your mouth. You’d been doing so well at holding in the little jabs and remarks, no matter how hard they’ve pushed at your sealed lips. Not to say a few of them haven’t slipped through in the last month, they have, but each time they did, you received instant punishment in the form of Benny’s heart crumbling right before your eyes.

He’s never tried to make you feel guilty about your slip-ups, but he can’t seem to hide his expressions around you anymore. Ever since Benny returned, he’s been different. Your husband who was once so stoic has untethered his emotions from the piece inside of him that, for years, refused to let them show. His affection is more outward now, but unfortunately, so is his pain. So you made a rule to stop doing that to him; stop catching him off guard with words of hurt during a time of pending forgiveness. What he did was damaging, yes, but it’s unfair to pick at him when he’s been doing everything he can to show you he has value to this family; things he never would have done before. 

He wakes earlier than you to clean the most-used areas of the house—a poorly done job; you still find dust in spaces dust should have easily been wiped up, but he tries. He found work at a mechanic’s shop not too far from the house, and surprisingly, he has yet to complain about it—a decent job was always something he physically and mentally shunned. He got rid of everything in the spare room and has begun painting the walls from the deep brown left over from the prior owners to a soft, light green that matches the baby blanket he brought you. It’s cute, and significantly better than you would have done without him. You would’ve been too stressed to put together a nice nursery.

Benny awkwardly clears his throat, breaking up your thoughts and bringing you back to the present. The lingering discomfort from your snide tone is palpable, heavy, just short of physically formed, and you can’t escape it. 

“I didn’t mean that,” you tell him as you flip the egg. 

The sizzle in the pan is louder as uncooked egg hits the heat, but you can still hear his deep breath, easily picturing the weak smile on his face when he softly says, “It’s ok. I deserve it.”

You’re about to protest, but he doesn’t give you the chance. 

“I was thinkin’ about goin’ to a meeting tonight,” Benny says. “You wanna come with me?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Oh…” he says, dejected. “It's been a while since you've been to one. I know you stopped goin’ when I was…away, so I thought…”

You set the spatula down and turn to face him, crossing your arms. “I wasn’t going to go without you. And considering everything, everyone just would have pitied me. I'm sure they still do.”

His blue eyes fall to the tiled floor. You know he hates that such a thought would enter your mind, but it’s not as if you’re capable of stopping it. He put you in a pitiful situation, and were the circumstances placed upon another woman, you would have felt those same feelings for her. 

“No one pities you, baby. I promise,” he says. “They miss you.” His head lifts so he can meet your stare. “But if you don’t want to go then I'll stay here with you. We can watch a movie or somethin’.”

Your eyes widen. “No!” you yelp. Benny’s head jerks back at the sudden outburst and you swallow to buy yourself time to sort your thoughts into words, but the best you come up with is: “You’re right, actually. We should go.”

“But you just–” His brow raises in skepticism. “Are you sure?”

If your options are club meeting surrounded by a large group of people or movie-watching with you and Benny alone, then yes, you are absolutely sure. The movie channels have rallied against you lately. Out of the five times you and Benny have watched a film since he came back, all five have been romances. All of them!

You don’t know if he scours the TV Guide without you noticing or if the television channels have simply rallied against you, but sitting beside your husband who you are trying not to give in to is made all the more difficult when watching Audrey Hepburn fall in love with George Peppard or Cary Grant or Greggory Peck for God's sake. You see them and it makes you forget things. You forget that you’re as upset as you are, and with Benny so close, your heart starts to pound and you can’t focus on anything else. You want to crawl right into his arms, let him hold you and kiss you and take you on the couch after what has felt like an eternity apart. But you can’t do that. It’s too soon. So no movies. 

“Positive,” you nod. 

An easy smile slides onto his face. “Well that’s great, baby. It'll be fun.”

“Yea. Sure.”

“Alright,” he says, standing. “I gotta get to the shop.”

He pauses as he passes by you, and you hold his gaze as he squashes the instinct to press his lips to your forehead. 

You weren’t married to Benny for long before he panicked and left—only a handful of months—but it was long enough for the two of you to develop your own set of rituals. And by the consistency and ease with which Benny performed those rituals, anyone would have assumed they’d been in place for decades. 

A kiss on the forehead after breakfast was one ritual. As was the bedtime cuddling with your leg slotted between his. And the way he’d stare at you in the mirror, his arms crossed and body leaning against the doorframe as he watched you brush your teeth with a grin on his face. 

But the one you miss the most is the hug from behind that you'd receive once he’d decided to come home for the night. He’d circle his arms around your waist and place a kiss on your neck, and then he’d chuckle because he was so determined to sneak up on you and give you a little scare but was never successful. You could feel him before he touched you, you could smell his cologne, but you didn’t want to ruin his fun, so you let him have hope that one day he would finally surprise you. 

Benny blows out a long breath through his nose. “I’ll see you tonight,” he mutters with a brief hint of a smile.

As the front door closes behind him, a carbon smell grabs your attention and you look over your shoulder at your breakfast. It’s charred, inedible, and you don’t even care, you just knock the pan off to the side to keep the house from burning down.

—

“Well, thank the lord,” Betty’s voice travels across the bar as she and Kathy approach you and Benny. “We weren’t sure we’d ever see you again, honey.”

Kathy draws you into a tight hug that rips you from Benny’s side. “Things have not been the same with you gone,” she says as she leans back, rubbing her hands up and down your arms. She smiles so sweetly and you breathe a sigh of relief. These women were your friends and you feel guilty for abandoning them just because Benny abandoned you. “Come sit.”

“Benny Cross, we are stealin’ your wife,” Betty declares, “And you don't get to whine about it.” There’s a dash of vitriol in her tone that nibbles at your gut and you hope it’s simply an effect of the alcohol she must’ve had prior to your arrival. 

“Oh,” Benny says. You glance at him, at the disappointed look on his face—subtle, but there. He wanted you by his side tonight, but he’s not going to force you to deny their offer. “Ok.”

Kathy and Betty each take one of your hands and lead you to a small rounded table. It’s the centerpiece of the room, and as one of three surrounding it, so are you, unfortunately. As Betty sticks a cigarette in her mouth and Kathy takes a sip of her beer, your eyes scan the low-lit space. 

Stares from the men lining the walls burn your cheeks. You recognize only half of them—the Vets, as they’re known—and they give you their smiles and nods in a ‘welcome back’ gesture, Johnny, in particular, sporting a rare grin.

The others—the Newcomers; out-of-towners who came specifically to join the club—look at you with something else in their eyes. Amusement? Curiosity? They seem to know exactly who you are and enjoy a little too much putting a face to the name. You, however, don’t know a single one of them. They’d arrived shortly before Benny left, and while some faces, those with distinct features, you can recall from nuggets of your memory, you’ve never spoken to them. You never got their names. 

“Why this table?” you ask your friends.

“Best view of the pool table, obviously,” Betty chuckles after snapping Johnny’s lighter shut. She nudges her head in that direction. “Nothin’ wrong with lookin’, I say.”

Flanking the table are Cal, Wahoo, and Benny; Wahoo watching and chattering from the sidelines as Cal and Benny alternate between shots.

Benny edges from one side of the table to the other, sizing up his options. Then, cue in hand, cigarette dangling from his lips, he bends at the waist and lines up the shot. 

He’s so stupidly beautiful. The lamp hanging above the table illuminates him, defining his muscles by highlighting the hills and casting the valleys into shadow. A haze of smoke coats your view, but his pure essence and magnetism break through it like rays of sun through parted clouds. 

Benny’s eyes flick up to yours and he winks as he shoots, driving two balls directly into their nets. 

Your mouth goes dry. You swallow sandpaper, leaving your throat all raw and scratchy.

“So, how’ve you been, honey?” Betty asks, and you turn your head. “How've you been feelin’? How’s that nausea?”

“Yea,” Kathy adds, leaning in close as if seeking out a secret, “and how’s it been goin’ with him? Any trouble?”

“Um, I'm fine,” you say, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear. “Nausea’s manageable. 

As far as Benny goes, there's no trouble,” you tell them, “It’s just–” You pause. 

What can you say? That you haven’t fully forgiven him even though he’s working so hard to be a good husband? That some of the things he’s doing around the house are swoon-worthy compared to what most men you know would do but you’re too stubborn to express the depth of your appreciation? Any woman would look at you like you’re insane. 

When you think about it like that, maybe you are insane. 

“I don't know,” you say with a shrug and a shake of your head. “It's hard to explain.”

“Well, according to Johnny, Benny’s worried each day in the house will be his last,” Betty says, blowing a stream of smoke off to the side. “That boy’s so afraid he’s gonna mess up and let you down again that I'm surprised he hasn't lost his marbles. I read in Life that bein’ that anxious wreaks havoc on the body and mind.”

Betty’s always reading something in Life, and a good portion of the time you are hesitant to take her seriously. Not necessarily because you don’t trust what the magazine reports, but that Betty tends to exaggerate for kicks. 

You have a feeling she’s not exaggerating this time.

Your face falls. 

“Don’t you feel bad about it for one second,” Kathy scolds, placing her hand on top of yours. “You’re well within your rights to make him earn his place.”

“I know, but I don’t want him to be scared that I'm going to–”

You’re cut off by a male voice slipping through a brief lull in the cacophony of noise.

“If she don’t want Benny no more, she can bring her sweet ass right on over to me,” a Newcomer says in a slurring mess. “I’d sure take better care of her than he did.”

Every soul in the room falls deadly silent—the only remaining sound being the melody of Elvis's Baby Let's Play House from the jukebox—and the world around you freezes.

Cigarettes are held over ashtrays, their ashes yet to be knocked off. Beer bottles are raised to lips without the satisfaction of a sip. The bartender’s rag has only wiped up half of a drunken man’s spill. No one is breathing and everyone’s eyes are glued to either the Newcomer or your husband. Yours are on Newcomer, watching his features shift and tick as he soaks in the weight of what he just said, and what it’s about to cost him. 

Kathy sighs. “Oh, god.” 

The whole bar hears her—impossible not to; you could hear a mouse skitter across the floor—and her words seem to carry with them the wave of a green flag, because a moment later, Benny rushes the guy and tackles him to the ground. 

Chaos erupts. All at once, shouts, curses, and hateful name-calling explode like the impact of a bomb. Nearly every man in the club is taking sides in the war between Newcomers and Vets. Fists fly into faces. Faces are shoved against walls. Walls are cracked from bodies slamming into them. There’s the distinct sound of bone meeting bone. Blood splatters across your table.

“Jesus, fellas!” Kathy snaps as she and Betty hop up, dragging you out of the danger zone. 

In a panic, your head whips in all directions. You can’t find Benny, but you need to find him and you need to find him now. 

You’ve seen him throw punches at races and members’ houses but this is too public a space, and if the cops are called, he can’t be caught fighting again. Nor can he risk having fingers pointed his way for instigating. He already has a record, and though you didn’t know him during his few stints behind bars, you know he has exhausted the sheriff's leniency. If you leave now, Johnny will come up with something to excise Benny’s participation should questions arise. 

You take a step forward but Kathy’s grip is tight. “Where do you think you’re goin’?” she shouts.

“To get my husband.”

Betty gapes. “Are you crazy? You're pregnant!” But you ignore her, shaking Kathy off and heading into the storm. “Johnny! Johnny, grab her!”

You weave through fight after fight, stopping short when a body lands at your feet, but he’s up and out of your way in an instant, and you continue dodging and ducking until you spot a blond head. From what you can see, there’s hardly a scratch on him. The same cannot be said for the drunk guy beneath him. 

Before you can move another inch, an arm circles your waist and jerks you back. 

“Hey!” you snap. “Let go!”

“Not a chance, sweetheart. You stay out of it,” Johnny says, lifting you off the ground and setting you down in a safer area. He puts his hands on your shoulders and dips his head to your eye level, locking on to your gaze. “I’ll get ‘im, ok? I’ll get ‘im. Stay right here.”

You nod in agreement, your brows knitted and teeth chewing on your bottom lip. 

From this location, you have a better view of your husband and the friend who is trying and failing to break up the fight. Johnny yanking on Benny’s dominant arm is not enough to stop the attacks. Neither is the forearm locked around his neck. 

When Cal notices Johnny’s struggle, he pushes his opponent into a table and races over to take hold of Benny’s other bicep. Together they pull him off the man whose face no longer resembles a human’s. It’s a bloody mess. His nose is dented in, eyes swollen shut, lips split and mouth hanging open to reveal an empty space where a tooth used to be. 

Benny’s chest heaves. Murder is in his glare. He jerks against his restraints but struggles to break free with the force of two men weighing him to the ground. 

Then Johnny mutters something in Benny’s ear that immediately halts his thrashing. His breathing slows. The fire fades from his irises, returning them to their soft cerulean, and his eyes tear away from the beaten man to dart around the room in search of you. 

As Benny spots you, Johnny's lips move, seemingly forming the words ‘Get outta here,’ before he pats Benny on the chest and lets him rise to his feet. 

Benny comes to you and without stopping grasps your hand and leads you out of the bar.

— 

“You think you fractured anything?” You ask as you slide the key into the lock and turn.

Benny stretches and flexes his fingers. “No,” he answers, trailing into the house behind you and shutting the front door. “Are you upset with me?” 

He’s been wanting to ask that question since you left the bar. As he'd placed the helmet on your head and clipped the strap under your chin, you'd observed his lips, how they were parting as if to speak but unable to get anything out. And when he'd helped you off the bike in front of the house, his expression was far away, his jaw shifting, teeth clenching—the look of your husband in intense thought. 

At least he finally spit it out. Normally, he would have run his fingers through his hair and sighed, opting not to bother you with the question; a behavior that used to drive you crazy. It took weeks after you met for you to accept that while Benny was willing to share a lot with you—things he didn’t intend to share with anyone; a life, for instance—there were things best not to pester him into revealing. 

So you’re a patient partner. If it needs to be said or asked, it’ll be said or asked. And you're glad he decided this was one question that needed to be asked.

You sigh, hanging your jacket on the rack, and Benny follows, selecting the hook closest to yours. 

“I mean, you nearly killed him,” you say as you make your way to the back of the living room and open the closet that houses the first aid kit. 

On tippy toes, you can barely brush your fingers along the metal tin, and you grumble each time you unintentionally push it a little further back on the shelf.

A muscled arm reaches above your head to grab the kit. Benny places it in your hands before stepping back into the seating area and dropping down onto the footstool, his standard perch when you’re fixing him up. 

Blue eyes are glued to your body as you take a seat on the couch. 

You pull the lid off of the tin and riffle through it for the small bottle of alcohol—you’ll have to buy more soon, it’s getting low—and a clean rag. With the alcohol-soaked fabric at the ready, you slip your fingers under his warm palm, bring his hand close, and get to work dabbing the wounds and wiping off some of the dried blood. He doesn’t so much as hiss at the shot of pain that makes any other human groan and pinch their eyes tight.

“He was out of line,” he tells you.

“I’m not saying he wasn’t out of line, but I really don't need you getting in trouble and being taken away from me, Benny.” You’re focused on his injury, but out of the corner of your eye, he winces in shame. “Besides, he was just mouthing off.”

“Mouthin’ off about my wife.”

With a huff, you drop your joined hands onto your lap and shoot him a look. “I know, but do you honestly believe what he said could ever happen? Do you think I would leave you for some other man?”

You ask with the full expectation of a whip-quick reply—‘of course not, baby’—but Benny adam’s apple bobs, and his teeth clench as his eyes flit to the undoubtedly less interesting carpet.

“Benny…?”

He runs his uninjured hand down his face and looks up at you. “C'mon, baby, it's not that wild of a thought. Not after what I did to you,” he says, his thumb slowly running over your knuckles. “You are so much better than anything I should be allowed to have. But me? You could throw a rock in any direction and you'd hit a man better than me. One that wouldn’t have panicked and left you pregnant and alone for six weeks.”          

You shake your head. “That’s not true.”   

“It is true.”

“It is not, and even if it was, I don't want another man,” you confess. A beat passes as you exhale heavily to stave off the stinging of oncoming tears. “It hurts that you left, but I am working through it, we are working through it, ok? You’re not going to lose me, Benny Cross. Not unless you leave me.”

“I'm never leavin’ you,” he says. 

You place your free hand on his cheek. “Then you’re never losing me.”

Benny swallows hard and scans your face—each and every feature—lingering on your lips before meeting your eyes. As your thumb strokes his cheekbone, he wraps his fingers around your wrist, turns his head, and presses a kiss to your palm. 

“Baby, I miss you so much,” he mutters, his brows pinched in anguish. “I miss touchin’ you. I miss holdin’ you. I miss sleepin’ next to you.” He lightly shakes his head. “I know I don’t deserve you, and I sure as hell don’t deserve our baby, but I fuckin’ miss you.”

The unit that is your heart and body and soul feels as if it’s being cleaved in two. This isn’t what the past month of your lives was meant to be about. It was supposed to be about building trust, not dishing out punishment. And yes, you’ve messed up before, said things that weren’t fair, but keeping him at arm's length is more than that. It’s a deeper pain. Stronger. More potent. Not just for him, but for you as well, and now you can’t quite see the point anymore. Staying away from his touch does not help anything if what you want at the end of the day is to be together. And that is what you want. 

When you touch your lips to his for the first time in almost three months, you whimper. You whimper and you melt and the tears want to come back because it’s so much easier to resist desire when you haven’t entertained it in a while. But now you’ve given in. You’re tasting him like you used to, tasting the remnants of gin and cigarettes and the blueberry pie you made for dessert, and it’s all Benny. Benny, who is so shocked that you’ve kissed him that it takes a handful of seconds before he kisses you back and becomes the Benny you know. And then he’s curling his arm around your waist and pulling you into his lap, and his hands are everywhere. Squeezing your thighs, sliding over your ass, tracing up your spine, holding the back of your neck to guide you closer so he can kiss you harder, and yea, you are never depriving yourself of your husband again.

Benny stands, taking you with him, supporting your weight as he keeps kissing you and you keep kissing him. He blindly turns and settles into the comfort of the couch with your legs on either side of his hips. 

You lean back, breaking the connection of your lips. “Benny.”

He’s staring at you like you’re hypnotic, mesmerizing. Like he’s drunk on kisses. His fingers trace the curvature of your face. A thumb ghosts over the swollen pillows of your mouth. 

“Yea, baby,” he says, voice gravelly, just above a whisper.

“Do you want to be back in our bed?”

Benny stiffens and he blinks away that glazed-over expression. “You mean it?” He asks. You nod. 

“Are you gonna be in the bed too?” he says, sifting his fingers through your hair. “We're not just swappin’, are we?”

You smile. “No, we aren't swapping,” you promise him, your forehead falling against his. “I'm making room.”

---

A/N: I kind of want to do a time jump Part 3 with lots of Dad!Benny stuff. Let me know if you’d be interested in reading that. Thanks :)

Taglist (if you wanna join)

[arminsumi]

Hi! I hope ur having a good time. Sorry, for the phrasing, English is not my first language hehe (｡>\\<) btw i really like ur writing! u keep them in character and also ur amazing at writing fluff ♡(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ can I please ask for a gojo fluff where he realizes reader always wanted to have a small boyfriend to like call him baby boy to sit on her lap and spoil him and stuff and then gojo goes apeshit like trying to sit on her with his long ass limbs trying to be a babyboy idk hehehe anyways tysm

"I'm your baby boy, right?"

GOJO さとる + fem!reader

Satoru thinks he's smaller than he actually is, and tries curl up on you like a cat.

Note : hey hey! srry i took so long to write this omggg it got lost in my drafts. but!! it's such a sweet idea thank u for sending it in!! big beefy satoru trying to make himself ur small boy is a thought that gave me life 💗😖 and thank u so much for ur kind words it means a lot!!

Satoru tries to curl up on you as if he's a little cat.

But he's not.

Ah, but he really thinks he is sometimes.

And he wants to be a little cat to you, not a big burly man or a strong intimidating menace but just a small, soft, delicate thing to be held and touched and pampered with love and care.

It makes you laugh, as you listen to him grunting and struggling to position himself on your lap and get those long limbs in order — it's one of the funniest sights; a big boy trying to box himself up like he's not 6'3 with broad-shoulders 'n thick arms 'n long spider-like legs.

"Do you think you're a cat or something?"

"Yes." he grins dumbly, balancing precariously on you as you sit. Then he sees your smile and slips off. "—oopsfuck!" he falls, gets up, acts it off, then tries again.

In bed, he wiggles down the sheets so his head is level with your chest. He wraps his arms around your middle, arches his back, and encases you between his legs. He clings to your body on his side like that, and snuggles his cheek on your chest as if it's his rightful pillow, the place where he belongs.

"Play with my hair, please?" he mumbles with pouty lips.

He smiles to himself when you fulfil his request.

Feeling both your warmth and your fingers stroking lovingly through his hair makes him drowsy. And when he's drowsy, he mumbles mental notes like "we need to buy orange juice tomorrow..." as he falls asleep.

His grip slackens as he falls asleep. In the middle of the night, he'll wake up and look at you with that puffy pouty sleepy face of his and stare for a moment, appreciating you, before tightening his embrace on your body and returning to slumber.

When he wakes up the next morning with you, he makes the same request; "Play with my hair." but with a raspy voice.

While you do so, he groaningly complains about having had nightmares all night.

"I keep dreamin' about saving the world 'n failing... but it's fine. I wake up and you're right here. So nothin' to worry about. Doesn't matter if I fail if I still have you."

He's so happy to be getting spoiled and pampered by you while curling his body up as small as possible. Happy that he has someone he doesn't have to be big and strong around. Someone who he can be a baby boy around.

Sometimes he's resting on your chest in the mornings in silence, when suddenly he rears his head up and asks "I'm your baby boy, right? Say it, please."

"Mhm. You're my baby boy, Satoru. Don't worry."

"Mm yay." he smiles to himself and resumes resting on you, his white hair tickling under your chin. "Say it again, please. Just keep saying it."

So you do, you say it repeatedly and it sounds like a soft lullaby to him. He falls back asleep with his ear pressed to your heartbeat, and feels a safe warmness in his chest.

"Oh." he startles out of his shallow sleep, "We need to buy orange juice, don't we?"

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[satocidal]

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ Da Vinci in making — Gojo Satoru

Warnings: establish relationship; you have a kid together idk

Satoru who sits there with his shoulders shaking and lips bitten hard, as he tries to hold back his laughter.

“It’s a very pretty drawing honey,” you add weakly, your help not worth a dime as your son sighed in his dismay.

The both of you, Mr. and Mrs. (Or another Mr. If that’s what you prefer) Gojo lay in your bed, ready to call it a night when your son hopped into the room all so merrily—in his hands, hoisted his proud little drawing.

But that was the scene 5 minutes before the silly little disaster because as of now, Satoru sat their clutching a pillow to his face as he tried to hide his laughter in vain—“It’s ugly,” your child whined again, deflection plastered over his face.

“Oh baby it’s not- It’s, it’s really p-pretty baby,”

“Why’s dad laughing then?” The innocence in the words of the little boy panged nails of guilt at your heart for you too, struggled to manage your own laughter.

“That’s because,” you paused, it was a hideous drawing, “Because…because,” you stared at your husband, glaring at him—you knew he was aware of your annoyed gaze, “Because my son’s Da Vinci in making,” Satoru mumbled against the plush of the pillow.

And you wondered just how he managed Tsumiki and Megumi when he did—but then Megumi wasn’t exactly happy to be with Satoru anyways.

“Daddy’s an idiot and doesn’t understand the beauty of art,”

And just at that, Satoru cackled into the pillow louder— the annoying idiot, you groaned internally, “It’s alright sweetheart, just gotta practice more right? We- we can put it on the fridge if you want,” your suggestion did lighten his mood a slight.

“But daddy’s…” your son’s dismay confused your heart- torn apart you sat, “Daddy will get it framed if that’s what it takes baby,” you grumbled under your breath—pinching Satoru’s side as you did so, a squeal he let out at that.

Your son smiled softly at his father’s squeal—loving the sound, “You like it mommy?”

“Course’ I do honey,” and that was solace to your little son, who wobbled away—shooting his father the ultimate side eye when Satoru asked for a hug from him.

“You’re such an idiot,” you mumbled as the door closed behind him, huffing at your husband.

“You gotta admit babe,” Satoru grinned, “it was ugly,”

And you had to admit for what it was, a pretty ugly stick man for Satoru that he’d drawn—but surely, it was the thought and effort that counted.

“But alright, I’ll frame it for right above our bed so you can see sexy lil me when I fuck-”

“-Satoru!”

All of this work is entirely original and my own, please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

[ci3n]

can i request sort of airhead mc with mammon and luci !! tysm love uuu :))

lucifer + mammon with an oblivious mc

➺ i haven’t written in so long i hope this is okay and i did like an oblivious mc cause i think that’s what u meant idk 😭 hope this is what u wanted :)) (also not proofread btw)

obey me masterlist !

lucifer

you’re taking years off this demon’s immortal life

you seriously can’t tell he’s in love with you like he has made it so obvious.

he could just straight up tell you, but his pride won’t let him, of course, so he sticks with romantic gestures.

takes you out on fancy dinners, showers you with expensive gifts, compliments you all the time, gives you his coats to wear, let’s you in his room/office and touch his stuff, makes an effort to spend time with you, remembers every tiny little detail about you, doesn’t hang you upside down when you get in trouble

and you think he’s just being nice to you for diavolo and the exchange program

old man is so tired pls notice him

his brothers feel so bad for him, like it’s so painfully obvious to everyone but you (satan and belphie do get a kick out of it, but at some point they also feel kinda bad)

tries dropping subtle hints, asks you questions like, “have you thought of whom you want to spend the rest of your days with?”

“uhm, i’m obviously gonna spend it with you guys; i mean it’s not like i know anybody else here, lucifer.”

“no, i didn’t mean the rest of the program i- nevermind mc”

solomon watched the entire thing happen and was losing his shit at the back until lucifer yelled at him

probably gets angry one day and just ends up telling you

“listen, mc, i’m in love with you. i have feelings for you. romantic feelings, so please get that through your thick skull”

“okay, i love you too, but you don’t have to be so mean about it”

mammon

just like his brother, he also won’t tell you because this man’s ego is bigger than the sky

he tries his best to do cute things for you, but he’s so bad at it

he got you flowers one time, but they were some sort of wild devildom flowers and you almost died when you sniffed them, tried to get close to you while watching a movie by trying to put his arm around you but hit you in the face really hard and almost broke your nose.

by now, you probably think he’s trying to kill you

asmo tries to help his brother by telling you for him much to his dismay “mc, you know mammon really likes you.”

“thank you, mammon; i appreciate it.”

what do you have against him pls

after a lot of convincing from his brothers, he finally decides to put the ego aside and come clean about his feelings, and this sweet idiot is so very happy when you say you feel the same, like you have no idea how relieved this demon is.

[itsbeeble]

SEEING STARS

SUMMARY: It’s slightly embarrassing how Sunwoo is naive enough to take Eric Sohn’s “advice” to heart. Luckily, you like idiots. Especially when they kick a ball into your face and agree to do a semester’s worth of schoolwork for you.

GENRE: smut, fluff, mild angst, crack

PAIRING: Kim Sunwoo x afab!reader (ft. Hoshi, Dino, Sangyeon, Kevin, Eric, Yuta, and Jay (Enhypen))

WC: 9.4k (you'd think i was doing this on purpose)

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST: @juyeonszn @winterchimez

18+ MDNI, AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: mentions of injuries (concussions, Sunwoo gets sucker punched), Eric slander, Sunwoo slander, Hoshi stirring up trouble, Sunwoo being stupid, car sex/public sex, p in v sex, fingering, mentions of face fucking, marking, hair pulling, attempts at dirty talk kinda? idk if you can even call it that but wtv, i think that's really it

A/N: Part 3 of the collab is out! If you haven't checked out Try Hard or Excitement (written by my beloved Fawn) please do! Otherwise, please enjoy this. Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

In Sunwoo’s defense, everything that happened was Eric’s fault. It was definitely not Sunwoo’s fault that he believed his best friend when he told him that he should absolutely kick a ball at the girl of his dreams so she could bring it back to him and she would fall for him too and then they could live happily ever after. It also wasn’t Sunwoo’s fault that he forgot that he was their university’s star soccer player and that he had really strong legs. 

At least, this is what he tells himself while sitting in the ambulance with you, who is currently passed out with a lump the size of a clementine on your forehead. He’s nervously gnawing at his fingernails, chewing them to nubs with his eyebrows furrowed. The EMTs said that you’re stable, that you just have a mild concussion but they want to take you in and get you checked out to be sure. 

“Are you her…friend? Boyfriend?” One of the EMTs looks at Sunwoo with a curious look in his eye. 

“Friend, just a friend,” he says, but there’s a dark cloud hovering above his head that anyone could see if they tried hard enough. 

“Is there anyone that we can call? Anyone else that we should inform?” Sunwoo shrugs.

“Not that I know of. Her family is across the country so they wouldn’t be any help right now, right?”

“Right,” the EMT agrees. “I suppose you’ll be helping her out the next couple of weeks, making sure no one else is hitting her in the head with soccer balls?” Sunwoo grimaces and nods. 

You’re never gonna like me at this rate, he thinks to himself. God, why did he ever listen to Eric in the first place? What made him think that Eric, the man who spends 90% of his time completely bitchless and watching hentai, would give him good advice about women? 

Now he’s gonna have to deal with student loan debt, lawyer debt, and being single for the rest of his life. 

The first thing you see when you wake up is white. Not, like, a white ceiling. No, your vision is pure white for a few moments, and then you swear that you’re seeing stars. You can faintly, over the pounding of your head, hear someone speaking. The voice is familiar, but you can’t quite place it over the ringing in your ears. 

“…Eric, I swear to fucking god if I ever see you again, I will shove my foot so far up your ass— I don’t care if you thought it would be a good idea! I concussed the richest girl in school, the girl of my dreams mind you, because you thought it would be a fantastic idea to kick a ball at her!” 

You blink a few times, clearing your vision, and you can see a boy to the right of you. He’s wearing a soccer uniform, the same uniform your university’s team wears. You blink again, and now he’s facing you with a nervous smile plastered onto his face. 

“Hi,” he breathes out and you smile at him. 

“Hi…Woo…sung?” You wince at the poor attempt. Of course, you know who he is. Anyone would recognize the star soccer player. Maybe you weren’t positive about what his name was, but you knew him. 

He laughs, but it’s a humorless one that has both of you cringing after.

“Close,” he tells you with a smile. “Sunwoo.”

“Right,” you nod, but the action causes a painful throb to run through your skull. “Fuck, why does my head hurt so much?” 

Sunwoo laughs again, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet and avoiding your gaze.

“About that…” his hand combs through his hair, pushing it out of his face despite it not being there in the first place. “I…may or may not have kicked a ball in your general direction, which may or may not have proceeded to hit you in the head and give you a concussion.” 

You kiss your teeth, eyebrows knitting together as you look at him. He begins to ramble, talking about how it’s his friend’s fault, and he really never meant for it to hit you. It’s cute, really, the way he practically falls to his knees and begs you to not sue him. 

“Sunwoo,” you try to interrupt, but it’s like he doesn’t hear you. He’s speaking too fast, too frantic, and you’re pretty sure he’ll faint if he doesn’t pause for air soon.

“I— I will do anything you want, I swear! I’ll— I’ll carry your stuff around campus for you. I’ll take all your notes so you don’t have to look at the screens. Fuck— I swear, I—”

“Sunwoo,” You reach your arm forward, wrapping your fingers around his forearm and his pacing jerks to a stop, his words caught on the tip of his tongue when you lock eyes. “I’m not gonna sue you.”

“You’re—” his voice cracks, “you’re not?”

“No,” you laugh and wince when your head begins to throb again. “Although, I wouldn’t mind if you helped me out with my schoolwork.” 

“I…” he trails off, his heart sinking to his stomach. “Yeah, yeah of course I’ll help you. But— but you really aren’t going to sue me? Because— because I wouldn’t mind if you were that mad at me but I think I would really rather you just have me arrested at that point, you know?”

“I promise, Sunwoo.” You squeeze his forearm, and his cheeks begin to darken with a tinge of pink. “I’m not gonna sue you.”

As it turns out, having the star soccer player around to do anything and everything you want him to is rather convenient. Sunwoo picks you up every day for your first class in his old, beat-up Toyota Corolla. He opens the door for you, hands you a fresh go-cup of your favorite coffee from your favorite cafe (which you aren’t sure how he knows, to be honest), and brings you to each and every one of your classes. It’s almost weird how you’ve gotten used to having him around.

“By the way,” you look up at Sunwoo as you’re getting into his car after your last class of the day. Sunwoo looks down at you, smiling brightly and you can feel yourself starting to melt at the puppy-like look in his eye. “Are you even taking classes this semester?”

Sunwoo tilts his head. “I mean…yeah? I kinda have to, you know, to play soccer.”

“But…you’re always with me these days. Are you not missing your own assignments? Your own exams?” 

“I don’t have any exams during your classes,” he informs you and then shuts the passenger-side door, gently to not hurt your head. You let your body rest against the tattered fabric seat you’re in, waiting for Sunwoo to get to his side of the car. “Plus, I have friends in my classes that send me shit when I’m not there.”

“You skip your classes often?” Your lips curl into a sly smile, one that he returns quickly.

“You know it, babe.” 

Your body tenses just slightly, not enough for him to notice. It was likely instinctive for him to say that, and you would never admit to anyone how the words had butterflies forming in your stomach, pushing against your flesh, and threatening to tumble out of you if he made one wrong move. 

Sunwoo slams the door of the frat shut and presses his back against it as soon as he enters the building. His eyes are squeezed shut, so tightly that he can see stars and it starts to hurt. 

“You alright?” Eric is sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees with a Nintendo controller in his hands. He isn’t looking at Sunwoo, his eyes trained on the fourth Five Nights At Freddy’s game being displayed on the TV in front of him.

“I don’t even want to talk about it.” Sunwoo dismisses, dropping his bag on the floor and tossing his keys into the bowl to his right. “Especially not with you.”

“The fuck did I do?” Eric’s eyebrows knit together, and Sunwoo scoffs as he walks behind the couch to get to the kitchen. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you were part of the reason that Y/N L/N is now concussed and probably hates my guts so I’m trying to fix it by helping her out with all of her school work, which is hard as shit, by the way. Did you know that she’s a mechanical engineering major?”

“No shit?” Eric’s eyes flick away from the TV screen for just long enough for him to nearly miss an animatronic approaching him. “I wonder if she’s in any of my classes.”

“Probably not,” Sunwoo sighs, grabbing a glass from the shelf and pouring himself some water. “She’s in Sangyeon’s year so her classes are a bit more advanced than yours.”

“Ah,” Eric bobs his head, tongue wedged between his otherwise tightly sealed lips. Sunwoo watches him play for a moment, wincing at a few jumpscares while he downs his water. “What’s that gotta do with me, anyway? Isn’t this, like, bonding time for you two? Finally land your girl?”

“Well, would’ve been perfect if, a) she hadn’t hated me and b) I didn’t call her babe in the car today.” 

Silence from Eric, and Sunwoo briefly wonders if his best friend had even heard him. 

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Eric pauses the game and tosses his controller onto the couch next to him as he turns around. 

“It was an accident!” Sunwoo defends. “It just kinda…slipped out while I was talking to her. A reflex!”

“You called the girl you concussed babe on reflex?” Eric exclaims in disbelief. “Are you stupid?”

“Says the one who suggested kicking the ball at her!”

“Yeah, well at least I didn’t give the girl of my dreams a concussion!”

“It was your fault!” Sunwoo yells, and Eric scoffs.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever makes you feel better.” 

“He called me babe, Soonyoung,” you’re laying face down on your friend’s bed, kicking your feet in the air behind you with his tiger plushie tucked under your arms. 

“Mhm,” he’s not paying attention, instead focusing on the tiger Lego set that you had given him for his birthday. “Very nice.”

“Ugh, and he’s so sweet too.” You continue to ramble, grinning like a mad woman when you recall the notes he had diligently taken for you despite not knowing a damn thing about Applied Measurements. “Did I tell you about the notes he took for me the other day? The ones that he—”

“—Color-coded and annotated for you?” Soonyoung interrupts, finally slamming down the little pieces of plastic in his hand. You flinch at the noise. “Left little notes about things he found interesting or didn’t quite understand but tried to explain anyway? Yeah, you told me.”

You duck your head, trying to ignore the throbbing. It had mostly gone away, but occasionally loud noises would spike pain through your skull. 

“Sorry…” you mumble, letting your legs fall flat on the mattress. Soonyoung turns to face you, pursing his lips. 

“Y/N, if you like this kid so much then why not ask him out?”

“It’s not like that!” You protest, but a sharp look from your best friend makes you backtrack. “At least, not for him. He’s just doing this because he feels bad for me! And besides, I’m a few years older than him, so wouldn’t it be weird?”

“How is that weird?” Soonyoung inquires, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “He’s of age, isn’t he?”

“Of age,” you scoff and make air quotes. “What is this, the 1600s?” 

Soonyoung glares at you and sits back in his chair. “I don’t care if you’re concussed, I’ll make that lump in your skull bigger if you push me.” 

At his warning, you huff.

“Okay, fine, yes, he is. But it’s weird for me! I’m a senior in college, about to enter the work force if I can get my senior project proposal done, and he’s just a sophomore! He’s the university’s star soccer player, he’s just starting to get ahead. I don’t want to, like, stunt that for him.” 

“Y/N,” Soonyoung rolls his chair toward you with a sympathetic smile on his face. “I can almost guarantee that Sunwoo will not care if you’re a few years older than him. I don’t think he’ll care if he’s just starting college. If I’m being honest, he finds that all the more reason to be attracted to you. Young men love older women— but you aren’t old!” He quickly backtracks before you can cut him off. “You’re not old, and believe me when I tell you that not a single person in the world would be doing this for someone that they weren’t attracted to.”

“Are you sure?” You sit up, wrapping your whole body around the tiger plushie, and Soonyoung nods.

“I promise.”

“Then…how do I get him to know that I…that I’m also attracted to him?” 

Soonyoung grins and you feel your heart drop. 

“Boy, do I have some ideas for you.”

Sunwoo is getting worried. The last four days have been ridiculously quiet for him, his days empty and dragging on without you around him. 

You were avoiding him, he could tell. Whenever he showed up to pick you up from your dorm, someone else was already there. A man, your age and clearly friends with you if the wide smile on your face said anything. You would lock eyes with him, your smile falling when you saw the confusion and hurt in his eyes. You would turn your gaze away and the man would get your door for you, laughing about something you said. 

Then there was the avoidance of his texts. He would ask if everything was okay, how your head was doing, random jokes or comments about things he saw on campus. Things that he would tell you had you been with him during the day. It wasn’t like it was unusual for the two of you to text now. In fact, it was weird when you weren’t messaging each other about something but now…

It’s like you’re trying to block out his existence. 

“I’m telling you,” Kevin hands Sunwoo a case of beer, cutting into the younger man’s frantic rambling. “She’s probably just busy, dude.”

“Then why wouldn’t she tell me?” Sunwoo pouts, carrying the case into the house. Kevin follows with a case of his own.

“Hell if I now,” he scoffs. “You think I have time to psychoanalyze everything rich girls do?”

“I mean…isn’t that your whole thing?” Sangyeon chimes in. “Psychoanalyzing everything about everyone?”

“That’s not the point,” Kevin waves his hand in the air and huffs. “I’m busy enough with my own classes and practices, I can only do so many things at once.”

“Sunwoo,” Sangyeon turns to the soccer player with a stern look in his eye. “This is gonna be one of our biggest parties yet, I need you on top of your game to make sure people are enjoying themselves.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Kim Sunwoo,” Sangyeon grabs Sunwoo by the shoulders with an exasperated look on his face. “If I hear you ranting about the girl you concussed one more time I might just lose it. I’m putting you on door duty for the night.”

“What the fuck do you mean door duty?” 

Sangyeon scans the room for a moment before his eyes land on a metal detector stick that Hyunjae had bought as a part of his last Halloween costume. 

“Here,” He tosses it to Sunwoo and smiles sarcastically. “Use this, make sure people aren’t bringing weapons in or whatever.” 

Sunwoo looks down at the metal detector in his hands, eyebrows knitting together. 

“You’re serious?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Are you sure that your plan worked?” You’re peering up at Soonyoung with a nervous look in your eye when you roll up to the TBZ party. “You’re sure he’s—”

“I’m positive, my dear.” Your best friend pats the top of your head, squinting at the frat house down the road. “I didn’t think this many people were gonna be here tonight.” 

“Sunwoo mentioned that it was gonna be a big one,” you murmur. Soonyoung turns his gaze to you and sighs at the pout on your lips. You look pitiful, to be honest. At least in attitude, that is. 

“Y/N,” you look at him again, “if Sunwoo doesn’t fall head over heels at this party and fuck you until you literally cannot walk then I give you full permission to give me a concussion, just like he did to you. Look at you! You look absolutely stunning!” 

You find yourself smiling at Soonyoung’s words. He’s not wrong, you do look stunning. A loose, short black dress that dips down at your chest to reveal just enough cleavage. The straps are jeweled, glittering under the lights and highlighting the jewelry around your neck. The dress itself stops just low enough that it covers everything but shows enough to tease, and you’re wearing sleek black pumps with an ankle strap so your feet don’t fly out of them (you’d made that mistake before. Never again…). 

“Now,” He claps his hands together and grins. “Let’s go get you your man, and get me a drink.” 

In hindsight, you probably should have known that the party would not have been good for your head. Loud noises had never particularly been something you enjoyed. A lot of people assumed you loved parties due to your financial status, but that wasn’t true. In fact, you were a bit of a recluse. You had only a few friends, though you were nice to nearly everyone you met. Sunwoo happened to be an exception. 

He wiggled his way into your life with that soccer ball, and you truly don’t think you can see a future without him in it, even if he just stays a friend.

The second you walk up the driveway, your head begins to pound, your vision flashing with stars, and you squeeze Soonyoung’s arm tightly to keep yourself from wobbling on your feet. 

Then you see Sunwoo at the door, a large bucket to his right, and a hand-held metal detector in his hand. You can see him scanning people, waving girls in, and then stopping men and pointing at the bucket. You feel a lump forming in his throat when you take in the sight of him. His hair is a mess of curls, the same curls you’d come to love since he gave you a concussion. He’s dressed in a tight-fitting black tee shirt and baggy jeans, nothing fancy but it brings the butterflies back to your stomach in full force. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” The man in front of you scoffs at something Sunwoo said, and you blink yourself back to reality. 

“$5 at the door,” Sunwoo shrugs, “sorry. I don’t make the rules.”

“It’s your frat!” The man yells. Sunwoo quirks an eyebrow.

“Yeah…do I look like the president or something?” The man stays silent and Sunwoo sighs. “Look, I don’t have the time to deal with you. Are you in or not? There’s a line of people behind you, and all of them wanna get in so you should probably pick fast.”

The student huffs, digging into his pocket for a dirty $5 bill, tossing it into the bucket, and shoving past Sunwoo. The soccer player just rolls his eyes and sighs again. 

“Who’s up next—” he chokes on his words when he sees you, his eyes widening and his jaw-dropping. You smile nervously, raising your hand in a tiny wave while Soonyoung throws a few ones into the bucket. 

“I’ll see you in there,” your friend says to you. “Text me if you need me.” Soonyoung squeezes your hand and nods at Sunwoo before walking into the house. You step to the side, letting people move past you but keeping a little bit of distance between you and the frat boy who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you yet. 

“You’re here,” Sunwoo says, not even looking at the continuous line of people walking into the house without paying. “You’re— why are you here?” 

A sheepish smile crawls onto your face. “Do you…not want me here?” Sunwoo panics, shaking his head rapidly and grabbing your hand in his. 

“That’s not— that’s not what I meant.” He tells you, and you can’t help the warmth in your cheeks. “I just— your head. This can’t be good for your concussion, can it?” 

You kiss your teeth, nodding slowly. “Yeah…Kinda got a little bit of a migraine right now.” You don’t tell him that the concussion has completely healed.

“Let’s— let’s get you someplace quieter, ba— Y/N.” He tugs at your hand, pushing you in front of him and covering your ears with your hand. He leans in close to you, his lips brushing the shell of one ear and you feel your breathing hitch in your throat. 

“Cover your eyes a bit and look down, I can’t block your vision but I can shield your ears a bit, babe.” He lets it slip out this time, and you do as he says. 

Sunwoo walks you forward, and you can see feet shuffling around the two of you. His hands do more than you expected, the sounds around you fairly muffled and dulling the throb in your skull. His body is so close to yours, his legs bumping into you with every step, but he keeps the two of you steady. Someone knocks into you, and Sunwoo says something to them, something harsh that you can’t make out over the noise of the party. He stops walking for a brief moment, now talking to someone else. You faintly hear a name, Chang-something, and then he’s fleeing the scene, knocking into you on his way out. 

Sunwoo steps to your side when you reach a staircase, talking into your ear so you know exactly where each step is. Another person bumps into you, and Sunwoo takes a hand off your ear to wrap it around your waist.

“You can drop your hand,” he tells you. “The lights aren’t flashing over here.” You nod, and you feel his hand drop at the same time yours does. You’re still walking up the stairs and even though you don’t need help anymore, his hand stays on your waist, the touch sending electric shocks throughout your body. 

Sunwoo feels like he’s going to throw up.

Scratch that. Sunwoo is going to throw up. 

He really hadn’t expected to see you here. In fact, he hadn’t expected to see you at all for the rest of his college days. Had you finally decided to sue him? Are you serving him? He hadn’t seen any documents with you, but maybe—

“I’m not suing you, Sunwoo,” you sit on his bed with one leg crossed over the other. Your dress rides up your thighs, something Sunwoo tries desperately to ignore but he just can’t. “You can relax.” 

You can relax, he repeats the words in his head over and over and over again, but he can’t. In fact, his body just grows more tense with the time that passes. Sunwoo tries to look at you, and then he tries not to look at you. There’s a heat in your gaze, and he can’t tell what the emotion behind it is. He hopes it’s not anger, he prays that you haven’t gotten angry with him. 

“Are you—” he clears his throat. “Who was the guy you were with?” You tilt your head and he clarifies his question. “I just— I’ve seen him with you a lot these days so I was just— I just thought—”

“Who, Soonyoung? He’s not my boyfriend,” you tell him and laugh when he visibly deflates with relief. 

“Good. I— I mean that’s— I just—” his face feels like it’s on fire, his stomach churning when you continue to laugh at him. When you wince and bring your hand up, he practically trips over himself to find an unopened bottle of water for you. 

“How’s your head?” Sunwoo asks you, quietly now. You shrug and slide over so he can sit next to you on the edge of his bed.

“Concussion is better, just can’t do loud noises.” Sunwoo nods and you continue. “At the last check-up, my doctor said that I might get some headaches here and there though, at least for a little while.”

“Then why are you here? At a party?” 

“I…guess I just wanted to see you?” You had this all planned out with Soonyoung. Why are you so nervous?

Sunwoo’s eyebrows knit together. “Why would you want to see me?” 

“You’re joking, right?” You can’t help the scoff that leaves your lips, regretting letting it out when Sunwoo flinches and looks away from you. “Sorry, it’s just…there’s no way that you don’t know by now.”

“Know what?” He presses, hoping that you’re saying what he’s been dreaming of you saying since he saw you on his first day at this university. You’re so close to him now, mere inches from him, and he fights every instinct inside of him that says to close that distance. He wants to hear everything you have to say.

You open your mouth to speak again, and there’s a knock on the door. Both of your heads whip around as it swings open, and Sunwoo’s heart sinks when he sees Soonyoung, the man you had entered the building with. He almost looked distraught that he’d entered the room. 

“Hi, so sorry to interrupt. Um…” he looks at you with a grimace. “We gotta go.”

“What?” Your eyebrows furrow. “Why? I was talking with Sunwoo—”

“Yeah, sorry again, but we gotta go.” Sunwoo watches you get up, albeit reluctantly, and you turn to him. 

“I’ll…we’ll talk later, okay?” You smile at Sunwoo, but you turn away before he can say anything to you. 

“Promise?” He calls out, but the door is already shutting behind you.

You really did intend on texting Sunwoo after, to continue your conversation, but ‘after’ turns into two days, and then four, and then it’s been a week, and suddenly it’s almost finals. You know that Sunwoo’s game is today. The last game of the season. He’d raved about it a few times while studying with you. You knew how excited for it he was, knew how hard he was practicing to make sure he was in his best shape. 

“What do you mean he’s about to be taken off the field?” You snap into your phone, scanning the lot around you for somewhere to park. It’s dark out, the lights in the lot hardly working so it makes it difficult to see any free spots. “Fuck, why is it always so fucking busy at these games?”

“He’s missed every shot— DAMN YOU DECELIS. YUTA GET THAT DAMN BALL—” You pull the phone away from your ear when Soonyoung starts to yell, hearing the crowd in the stadium erupt into cheers. “Another point to Decelis Uni. Anyway, no he’s been like…really off in his games, the only reason he isn’t off already is because of Lee Chan.”

“Thank god for him,” you sigh as you put your car into park. “Listen, I just parked, so just give me five minutes to get in there. Maybe he needs a good luck charm or something. Fuck it’s cold out here. Why did I wear a skirt to this damn game?”

“Did you just call yourself his good luck charm?”

“No, I just—” you huff.

“No, you’re right. I think you are because when you guys were talking, he’d been playing better than ever. Things went to shit after my plan.”

“Yeah, thanks for that by the way.”

“Any time, best friend. Get here soon. Maybe there will be a time out and you can kiss him or something.” 

“Yeah, maybe.” 

You shove your phone into your pocket, running toward the stadium as the crowd erupts into cheers again.

“What the fuck is going on with you?” Lee Chan grabs Sunwoo by the shoulder when half-time is called. Both boys are dripping with sweat, exhausted from the game. There had been so much back and forth between the two teams, keeping them tied almost constantly for the past 45 minutes. “You’ve been playing like shit for three games in a row, Kim Sunwoo. This isn’t like you. I’m not afraid to get Coach to bench you if you don’t get your shit together.”

Sunwoo huffs, grabbing his water bottle from the bench and ignoring his teammate so he can hydrate. 

“I’m fine, just not feeling great.” He dismisses. Chan’s lip curls into a sneer. 

“If we lose this game because of you, I swear to fucking god I will get you kicked from the team.” 

“You wouldn’t do that,” Sunwoo rises to his feet and glares down at the team captain. He may be the star player, but it takes more than skill to hold a team together. Lee Chan has that ability. Morals, respect from his teammates, he has everything. That’s why Sunwoo backs down when Chan straightens his posture. 

“You think I fucking won’t? Remember who got you on this team in the fucking first place.”

Sunwoo’s ears start to ring, and he can hear someone yelling his name. It sounds distant, and he swears he’s imagining it so he ignores it. 

It happens again, louder this time and grabbing Chan’s attention as well. Both players whip their heads toward the crowd, and Sunwoo’s stomach drops. 

There you are, shoving your way through the crowd to get to the barrier. People yell at you, and you say something that shuts them up. He’s in awe, staring at you and the distressed look on your face. You wave your hands to get his attention, and Chan shoves him again.

“If she’s why you aren’t on top of your game, you better fix shit right now. I’m not losing this one, Kim Sunwoo.”

“Yeah, got it.” It’s like he’s running on autopilot, walking toward you and then running. There are three minutes left in half-time, so he needs to make this fast. 

“What are you doing here?” Sunwoo grabs onto the barricade and hauls himself up so he’s face-to-face with you, ignoring the people yelling around the two of you. 

You grin at him, a mischievous look in your eye. 

“You don’t want me here?” The panic in his eyes makes you laugh, and you lean toward him. He smells of sweat and grass and your nose wrinkles. 

“I don’t— you know that isn’t what I meant.” He snaps, but you know he isn’t mad at you. 

“Soonyoung said you were playing like shit, figured I’d find out why.” You grab the collar of his shirt and pull him closer to you so he can’t leave before you talk to him.

“I’m just distracted today.” You scoff and he narrows his eyes at you. “What?”

“You’ve been practicing for this game for weeks now, Kim Sunwoo. What could possibly have you so distracted today?” 

He hesitates, and you already know his answer. 

“I don’t have time to talk right now, Y/N.” He’s biting his lip, anxiously flicking his eyes to the clock behind him. You roll your eyes. Of course, he wouldn’t answer you. You knew he wouldn’t give you a straight answer, knew he was too nervous between the game and having you right in front of him to fully focus. 

“Then I’ll make this fast.”

“Make what—” your lips are on his, your hand on the back of his neck to hold him close while you kiss him. His body stiffens and then relaxes, and then his hand comes to your arm to keep himself stable. His face slides against yours, transferring his sweat to your body and you pull back.

“Win this game,” you look into his eyes, but it’s like he can’t focus on you. He looks like he’s in a daze, and you tug at the strands of his hair to get his attention.

“I— yeah, I’ll win.” He promises but he sounds far away. The buzzer goes off. “I— what was—”

“If you win this game, you can take me on a date.” You grin and let go of him. Chan yells Sunwoo’s name and the boy pulls back from you reluctantly. 

“Anywhere I want?”

“Anywhere.”

“Promise?” His eyes are shining when he looks at you. You smile, placing another gentle kiss on his plush lips.

“I promise.”

He’s running away from you now, a new lightness in his feet that had been missing the past two weeks. There’s fresh energy in his muscles, in his bones, and that overconfident attitude that his teammates and opponents despised returns in full force.

“I take it I’m not gonna have to pull you off the field?” The Coach eyes Sunwoo as he jogs by. Sunwoo slows and turns back with a wicked grin on his face. 

“Not a chance in hell, Coach.”

“Can’t believe you kissed him.” Soonyoung nudges you with a grin, and you roll your eyes.

“Why? Didn’t think I had it in me?”

“No, it’s not that,” he shakes his head and lets out a sharp whistle when Sunwoo steals the ball from the opposing team. “He was covered in sweat and grass. Don’t you hate that shit?”

“Worth it,” Soonyoung snorts when you smile at him. 

Since the start of the second half, Sunwoo had already brought their team into the lead by two points. You’d never seen him play before, but everything you’d heard was true. He was fast, agile, and strong. He was a beast on the field, keeping himself just out of reach of all the other players. You can tell the other team is starting to get agitated, starting the get rough with your school’s team. 

You bite at your thumb as you watch the game proceed. Two minutes left in the game, and they’re tied again. You can see all the players getting tired, everyone slowing down. Sunwoo seems to be the only one with the energy to keep going, but even he seems to struggle. 

30 seconds and Sunwoo has the ball again. The stadium has gone quiet and you could swear that you hear the ticking of the clock. 

10 seconds and Sunwoo is almost to the goal, you stand from your seat, and people around you rise as well. Anticipation. Tension. The stadium is filled with it. People start cheering again, the other school starts yelling at their team to move their asses. 

5 seconds and the crowd goes silent. Sunwoo is on the ground, a player from the other team on top of him. Players from all sides are running over, trying to see what happened. The announcers say that the opposing player, Park Jongseong, tackled Sunwoo, his hand unintentionally jamming the star player’s nose. A medic rushes over, but Sunwoo waves them away. You can’t see his face very well, but you can tell by his posture that he’s agitated.

Jongseong is penalized, and his coach takes him off the field for a moment. Sunwoo is set in front of the center of the goal, pacing while he waits for the ‘ok’ from the referee. He glances up at the crowd, and for a moment you swear that he looks at you. For a moment, you swear that you can see him smiling at you, through the throbbing in his face and the ache in his body. You could swear that he’s telling you I’m gonna win this. Trust me.

Jongseong is back on the field, the clock is set. The referee raises his hand, an indirect kick. Sunwoo rolls his neck, jogging backwards to get a headstart. Yuta and Chan are both ready to receive a pass. 

The clock starts.

5

Sunwoo is running. You and the rest of the crowd are yelling at him to run faster. He does.

4

The ball is sailing through the air, Chan and Yuta and all the other players on the field are running for the ball. Yuta gets there first.

3

Yuta kicks the ball, but another player knocks it out of the air. Sunwoo is already waiting, stealing the ball and moving to an open space.

2

Sunwoo kicks the ball and watches it sail through the air. He doesn’t stop running, not when there’s still time on the clock

1

The crowd erupts into cheers, deafening you and you feel Soonyoung grab your shoulders, shaking you and yelling just as loud as everybody else. You feel a yell building in your chest.

0

They’ve won. Sunwoo is being hauled into the air by his teammates, The other team is sulking by their coach. You can’t go to him. Not yet. The crowd is beginning to clear, some people moving from the stands to leave the stadium and chat with their friends, to wait for the team to come out. 

“You coming?” Soonyoung quirks an eyebrow at you but you know that he already knows the answer. A shake of your head confirms his suspicions and he grins. “Go get your man. I won’t interrupt this time.” He makes his way down the stands to the parking lot, and you smile while walking down to the field. The teams have dispersed now, done with talking to their coaches and making their way to the locker room. Sunwoo hangs back, talking with Chan as you walk across the turf. Your heart is pounding in your chest, so hard you fear it’ll burst from behind your ribcage. 

Chan sees you first, jerking his head in your direction and clapping Sunwoo on the shoulder. Sunwoo turns as he walks away, and you can see the way his eyes light up when he recognizes you. 

“I told you I’d win, didn’t I?” He grins at you when you get closer, but you don’t respond. You’re only a few steps from him now, and you take a deep breath. “You okay?”

“Your face is bruised…” you have to force yourself not to jump his bones right there, instead focusing on the blooming bruise on his right cheek. Your fingers brush over it and he doesn’t even flinch.

“It’s nothing,” he reassures you, resting his hands on your waist. “It’ll be gone in a week, I promise. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about.” 

You smile back at him, craning your neck to look him in the eye. 

“You think my head is pretty?” 

“I think everything about you is pretty, babe.” Your cheeks heat up and he presses a kiss to your lips. It’s gentle, far less frantic than the one you gave him on the bleachers. Your hand trails from his cheek to the side of his neck, holding him close to you. Your lips part against his, your head tilting to give a better angle to kiss him at and he inhales sharply. Your body is on fire everywhere he’s touching you. Your waist, your lips, your neck. It feels electric and it pains you when he forces himself to separate from you, his nose brushing against yours. 

“All that for winning a game?” he breathes out, pressing a light kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I should win more often if this is gonna be my reward from now on.”

Your lips curl into a smirk. “I’ll give you more than just a kiss if you want, Kim Sunwoo.” 

It takes him a moment to process what you said. Sunwoo stares at you, eyes wide and jaw hanging open for so long that you almost consider taking back what you said. 

“You’re— what happened to take me to dinner? What happened to hello, how are you?” His grip on your waist tightens and you shrug. 

“I have more important things in mind.” Sunwoo’s whole body is tense, so tense that you feel like he’ll combust on the spot if you aren’t careful.

“I’m covered in dirt and sweat.” He tries as an excuse but you scoff. “I don’t think you wanna fuck me while I’m like this, right?” 

“Do you really care about that?” He takes a deep breath.

“Me? No. I just…If I go with you right now I swear to god I’ll cum in my pants and I really don’t want that to happen during our first time together—”

“Sunwoo,” You grab his chin between two fingers and he snaps his mouth shut. “I don’t care about any of that. I care about you. I want you, whether or not you’re covered in sweat.” You reach one of your hands up, pushing his soaking wet hair out of his face and his features soften. 

“You really…you like me, don’t you?”

“I figured it was obvious when I kissed you in front of the whole stadium, Sunwoo.” You kiss your teeth and step away from him. His grip loosens on you and eventually falls when you continue to back away from him, that sly grin still on your face. 

“Where are you going?” He trails after you like a lost puppy but you just shrug. 

“Come with me if you wanna find out.”

You silently thank god when you find the parking lot already half empty. Sunwoo’s car is a distance from most other cars, tucked under some trees that cast shadows over that old Toyota Corolla. 

“You’re—” Sunwoo is cut off when you open the door to his back seat and shove him in. You hear some people behind you howling, briefly turning your head to see his teammates cheering him on. 

“Get some, Kim Sunwoo!” Lee Chan screams and you laugh before crawling into the car behind Sunwoo. 

You turn just enough to slam the car door shut, and then you’re on top of Sunwoo. He tugs you onto his lap, your skirt riding up enough to expose your thighs to him, but you give him no time to process anything, your lips already crushed against his. It’s sloppy, but the whine he emits just from the pressure behind it has heat curling in your stomach again. Your tongue dips into his open mouth, and he pushes against you with more force that you had anticipated. He curls his tongue around yours, sucking and licking at it, and your body begins to shudder against his. 

Sunwoo drags your hips down against his own, groaning at the feeling of your heat against his growing member. 

“Can’t wait to be inside you,” he hisses when he pulls away, moving his lips down to attach to your throat and sucking harsh marks into your skin. You whine at his statement, grinding against him of your own will once he’d set the rhythm. He feels so good against you, pressing against your clit in just the right way to have you curling against him with broken whines spilling from your lips. Sunwoo moves one of your hands to your hair, jerking your head to the side to expose more of your skin to him, and you know he grows impatient when your shirt gets in the way. 

“Can I take this off?” He asks you, his eyes glittering when he looks up at you.

“Really think I’d say no to you?” You smile, reaching your hands down and pulling your shirt off and tossing it somewhere in the front seat. Sunwoo looks like he’s in heaven when you unclip your bra and throw it back with your shirt, baring your breasts for him.

“Fuck…” he breathes out, cupping one in his hand and brushing his thumb over your nipple. You force yourself to keep your breathing steady, to let him do what he wants. “You’re so pretty, baby. Wanna drown in your pretty tits.” 

“Yeah?” You ask, your voice breathy. “Who’s stopping you, then?” He looks up at you like you’re his goddess, like he’d worship you every day and every night if you’d let him.

“Really?” He hardly waits for a response before he’s shoving his face into your tits, laving at the valley between them before ultimately choosing one to focus on with his mouth. He sucks at the nipple, tugging at it between his teeth and listening to the delicate whines you let out. The other breast doesn’t go unnoticed, one of his hands palming at it and tweaking the nipple for a few minutes before he switches sides to give each of your breasts the same treatment. 

You haven’t stopped grinding on him in this time, your eyelids fluttering shut while your roll your hips over Sunwoo’s. You can feel his dick twitching in his soccer shorts, can feel him fighting the urge to jerk his hips into yours. 

“Sunwoo,” you choke out, tugging at the strands of his hair. It doesn’t stop him, in fact you could swear that the action makes him suck harder on your tits and your voice breaks into a moan. “Sunwoo,” 

This time when you speak, you yank his head back. He whines, his neck now at an awkward angle as he tries to sink back into your chest. 

“Whyyyy,” he drawls with a pout. His lips are puffy and covered in spit, similar to your chest and you already know he’s sucked marks into your skin that’ll be visible for days after this. 

“Wanna fuck you, baby.” You plead. “Wanna fuck you so bad.” 

His eyes roll into the back of his head at your tone, and he pushes you off of him just long enough to shove his clothing off. You do the same, noting the way your panties stick to your slick cunt. With a smirk, you discreetly tuck them into the center console while his back is still somewhat turned to you. 

By the time he’s turned back around, you’ve stripped yourself of all your clothing and sunk your fingers into your core. Your eyes have fluttered shut with two fingers inside of you and your thumb rubbing circles into your clit. 

“What are— what—” Sunwoo sounds like he’s going to cry, and you force your eyes open. He’s staring at your glistening folds with a look of pure hunger and you can only assume heartbreak as you finger yourself. “Why are you—”

“Gotta get myself ready for you,” you tell him with a pout. “Don’t—f-fuck— wanna make sure you fit i-inside of me.” Your back arches off the door and Sunwoo lunges for you, yanking your hand away from your pussy. The suddenness of the action makes you yelp, your eyes fly open again when Sunwoo sinks your fingers into his mouth. You can’t tell if the moan he lets out is genuine or if it’s for show, but it’s guttural and has your walls clenching around absolutely nothing. His tongue laves over your fingers, sucking them as far into his mouth as he can, getting as much of your taste off of your fingers as humanly possible before pulling them from his mouth and lowering your hand back to your side.

“That’s my job,” Sunwoo hisses, and then he’s lowering his body down so he can be level with your pussy. Two of his fingers prod at your entrance, and your hips jerk toward him against your well. He clicks his tongue when he sinks them into you. “Loosened your little cunt up a little bit already, hm? Gotta stretch you out even more though if I wanna fit inside you.” 

You can only whine when he sinks a third finger into you, scissoring them inside of them and curling them into that sweet spot inside of you. The stretch begins to sting, ever so slowly ebbing away and being replaced by pure, unadulterated pleasure. 

“Oh god, Sunwoo.” You gasp out, your hand wrapping around his wrist but you can’t exactly figure out why. To slow him down? To force him to go faster? “Feels so fucking good, please.” You feel a coil beginning to tighten in your stomach as his fingers punch into that spot time and time again, his thumb rubbing harsh circles into your clit similar to how you were. Fast learner.

Sunwoo grins at the way your face twists and contorts with pleasure, the way you try to control how your hips buck against his hand, the guttural moans you emit. 

“Gonna cum, babe?” He knows the answer. He knows by the way you clench against him, the way your cunt tries to force his hand out.

“Yes,” you whine out, “yes, gonna c-cum. Sun-Sunwoo, please.”

“Please what, babe?” He coos. “Can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.” Just to tease you, he slows down. “Do you want me to stop?”

“NO,” you cry out, taking matters into your own hands and fucking down onto his hand. “Ple-please let me cum!”

“Ohhh, I see.” He hums and drives his fingers into you faster, harder. Your whines and whimpers have become broken little sobs. “Fuck, babe, it’s like no one’s ever made you feel like this.” He can’t help but laugh when you clench down on him again. 

“G-Gonna cum, Sunwoo!” He just hums, watching as you clench down once, twice, and then your body is jerking against his hand. Your cunt tries to force him out one more time but he continues to drive into you and work you through your first orgasm of the night. 

When your body has stopped shuddering, Sunwoo finally pulls his fingers out of you. He raises them up a bit, just enough for you to see the way the mix of your arousal and your cum. 

“Look at all this, baby.” He holds his fingers out to you with a broad grin on his face. “Have you ever tasted yourself?” Your eyes come back to focus when he prods his fingers against your lips. You let him sink his fingers into your mouth, nearly gagging when they hit the back of your throat. “Tastes good, doesn’t it?” 

You swallow around his fingers, taking in the bittersweet taste on your tongue. Sunwoo watches you with hazy eyes when you take hold of his wrist again, holding his hand close to you while your tongue swirls around his fingers. You know exactly what he’s thinking, know exactly what’s going on behind those hazy eyes of his, and have to force yourself to pull off of his fingers when you know you’ve cleaned him off completely. 

“Fucking minx,” he growls and grips your hips tightly in his hands, flipping you over so you’re on your hands and knees. “Did that on purpose, didn’t you? Knew I’d think of you sucking my cock, think of you gagging on it as I fuck your pretty little face?” You don’t have a response this time, only moaning when he shoves his cock into you with one harsh thrust. 

He gives you no time to adjust, gives you no time to work through the sting it brings you but you don’t mind. Not when the stretch feels so good. Not when his cock is fucking into at a pace so harsh it has your body sliding across the seats. Your arm reaches out, hand desperately trying to find purchase on something, anything to hold you steady against the roughness of his hips slapping against yours. 

His hand slides up your spine, tangling in your hair and yanking on it to pull you against him. Your moans become louder, harsher until they’ve turned into screams and cries of his name. You can feel the fabric of his car’s seats digging into your knees, feel the old Toyota Corolla rocking back and forth while the windows fog up with the heat of your sinful behavior. 

One of Sunwoo’s legs slips down to the floor of the car, but he doesn’t slow as he adjusts his position. It gives him a new angle, new strength to fuck into you harder and faster, bruising your insides as he practically punches into your cervix from the force of his thrusts. 

“How does this feel, hm?” He coos into your ear, his breathing heavy from overexhertion. “Does this feel good? Am I fucking you good, baby?”

“S-so good!” You cry out. “Fuckin’ me s’good, Sunwoo!”

“Yeah?” He bends you over again, this time hunching over your body and humping into you like a dog in heat. Your back arches into him, your body shaking with seemingly neverending pleasure. “Gonan cum f’me?” Sunwoo’s arms are all over you, pinching at your nipples, squeezing your waist, gripping your ass. His lips place firm kisses onto your spinal cord, sucking hickies into your skin that no one but him will see.

“YES!” Your voice breaks and you cum again, squeezing so tightly around his cock that he emits a moan so loud and sharp that you fear you’ve broken him. 

Sunwoo pumps white hot cum into you in thick ropes that spill out while he continues to fuck you, overstimulating you both. The mixture of your cum drips down your legs and onto the fabric seats, and you pray that whoever sits back here after you doesn’t notice the white stain in the middle seat, doesn’t think to ask about this mystery stain and that Sunwoo refuses to give them an answer.

When his hips finally slow, when his dick finally softens inside of you and he slips out, you let your body sag against the seat. Sunwoo grimaces at the sight of you, dark marks littering your skin. He hopes that Soonyoung doesn’t ask questions about the way you limp into your classes the next few days. You hope he knows better by now than to question it. 

“For a sophomore,” you wheeze out while you roll over. Sunwoo runs his hands up and down your thighs, smiling thoughtfully. “You sure seem to have lots of experience.”

“Never judge a book by its cover, babe.” He squeezes just above your knee, running his tongue across his lips when he sees more cum dripping out of you. You catch the fiery look in his eye and groan while you squeeze your legs shut. He groans when you use one foot to kick him back against the door opposite you. 

“No,” you scold him. He looks like a kicked puppy.

“Whyyyy,” he reaches for your legs again and you push him back even more. 

“I’m tired, Sunwoo.” You say but he just crawls on top of you with a mischievous grin.

“You won’t have to do anything,” he bargains. “Jus’ wanna taste you a little. That’s all!” You glare at him.

“One time.” His eyes light up and he pries your legs open again. “You get one more from me tonight, Kim Sunwoo. You hear me?”

“Mhm!” He dives straight into you, knowing that this was far from the last time he’d get you to cum in his car tonight.

“I still think that you should be thanking me,” Eric shuts the door of Sunwoo’s car with a sly grin. 

“For what?” Sunwoo asks exasperatedly. 

It had been less than 24 hours since Sunwoo had fucked you in his car and officially made you his after a long year and a half of pining. He was tired. His body was tired. He didn’t have the energy to deal with his best friend this early in the morning, or at all really. 

“For getting you guys together! It was my idea, anyway.” Eric clicks his seatbelt into place and runs a hand through his dyed red hair. “Where are your car gummy worms?” 

“Center console,” Sunwoo puts the car in drive and has barely begun to ease his foot off the brake when Eric lets a gasp so violent and loud that he slams his foot back down again. “What, what happened?” He slams the car back into park, his face going white when he sees what his best friend is dangling between two dainty fingers. 

Black lace panties. 

Your black lace panties. 

“Sunwoo…you didn’t…” Eric chokes out with a mix of disgust and heartbreak on his face. Sunwoo rips the panties out of his best friend’s hands and shoves them into the pocket of his jeans. His face feels like it’s on fire, his heart pounding out of his chest. 

“Do not ever speak of this to anybody. Ever.”

“You fucking FREAK!”

© itsbeeble. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[aemondsbabe]

A Kindness

summary: you're finally ramsay's most favorite toy, but is that really a good thing?

pairing: ramsay bolton x reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dark content it's ramsay hello, blood kink but no injury/gore, mentioned major character death (again, no injury/gore), slight au (ramsay wins battle of the bastards), choking, rough sex, dirty talk, humiliation/degradation, slapping, piv sex, unprotected sex don't be silly wrap ur willy, hair pulling, creampie, slight breeding kink, puppy play, boot humping idk how to else to phrase it, slight angst but a happy ending for ramsay lmao, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 6.2k

a/n: my first foray into dark or at least semi-dark writing and my first time writing ramsay! i've had this one in my head for such a long time so it feels really good to actually get it out! hope everyone enjoys and please make sure to heed the warnings with this one!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Dip the cloth again, you dolt,” you snap, looking up from the scroll of parchment rolled out before you on the table when you hear the coarse woolen cloth begin to scrape dryly across the silver Ramsay’s… thing was supposed to be polishing, “If I have to remind you of that one more time, I’ll tell him you tried to touch me. I wonder which part of you he’d hack off for that, hm?” 

Reek’s eyes go wide at your threat and he nods his head frantically, quickly reaching over and dunking the cloth into the small bowl of vinegar before him. “Yes, m’lady. Apologies, m’lady.” 

A small sigh leaves your lips as you rest an elbow on the table, nose scrunching up slightly at the sour smell that seems to hang like a cloud over the room, the small one by the kitchens.

 Probably where the staff ate, you think, staring blankly at the fire crackling away in the hearth. You’ve tried hard to picture it – Winterfell in its former glory, trussed up with wolf banners and filled with children’s laughter, how it was when the Stark’s called it home. 

Your eyes linger on Reek and for a second, you’re halfway tempted to ask him about it – what it was like living here, being one of them. You don’t, knowing the question would fall on deaf ears at the least, or send him spiraling to the point of being unable to finish his chores, and then it would be your head on the chopping block as well. 

Distantly, you hear the familiar baying of Ramsay’s hounds and your eyes flick up to the narrow slit windows on the wall; you do your best to ignore the way Reek’s head swivels to the sound in the same instance yours does, the way that adrenaline so keenly rushes through you – a burst of panic leading the charge before you have the chance to correct it. 

Anticipation, you remind yourself, jaw clenched, Passion, excitement. 

Your eyes vacantly scan over the parchment you’d nabbed from the library earlier that morning, an account of the birth of Arya, apparently the sister of the one that had actually managed to escape some weeks back, no doubt frozen now in one of the snowy forests that surrounds Winterfell. You don’t really care, your thoughts once again reverting back to Myranda. Bitterly, you remember how he never made her stay behind when he went hunting, never made her watch over his man-servant, never made her second guess.

The last one is a lie, the truth woven deeply into the many nights you’d spent up with her – listening as she fretted about each word she’d uttered to him that day, hoping each one had been right and had been said at the right time, that he wouldn’t find some made-up cause to punish her. Tendrils of jealousy had twisted into you even then, even as she painted a picture of what he truly was. 

Just as men’s voices filter through the windows from the courtyard outside, your lips quirk up into a mean, victorious little smirk. 

It’s her body he fed to the dogs, you think, the voice in your mind a proud hiss, Just like Violet’s and Tansy’s and Kyra’s. You remember the day well enough, remember the shock of seeing your friend's body laying in the courtyard as you’d run out to greet Ramsay, teal eyes staring at nothing. It had been you that had warmed his bed that very night, and all the ones after it. 

“There you are,” a familiar voice sounds from behind you, nearly making you yelp as Reek scrambles to stand up from the table. Before you even have a chance to, a strong hand clasps over your shoulder, stilling your movements, “No, no, don’t get up on my account.” Rusty copper stains color his hand, dried blood outlining each of his nails. You don’t let your mind linger on what the source of it could be.

You whip your head around and swallow nervously as he chuckles lowly, “Ramsay!” You breathe in greeting, the corners of your lips tilting up into a tentative smile, though that’s quickly washed away as you take in the messy splotches of red that stain his coat and tunic, that snake their way up the pale column of his throat and dot the sides of his face. 

He looks every bit the hunter and you wonder, not for the first time, what that makes you. 

“You seem quite comfortable here, pet,” he drawls, leaning down until he’s eye-level with you, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re more at home down here with the help,” he continues, hand tightening to the point of pain on your shoulder, making you grit your teeth, “Than you are in our chambers where you’re meant to be.”

Our chambers. A privilege he never granted her. Stupidly, your heart sings. 

His hand tightens on your shoulder once more, finally drawing a pained whine from your lips.

“Y-You told me to watch him! To make sure he –” You’re cut off as Ramsay unceremoniously hauls you to your feet, clawing at your leather doublet. A cry leaves your lips as the hand on your shoulder tangles into the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging as he forces your head back, blue eyes flicking to your neck as you swallow thickly. 

“I told you to be in our chambers when I return from hunts,” he corrects you, standing to his full height as he holds you tightly, forcing you unsteadily onto your tip-toes, “That I expected you to be at the door, ready and waiting for me.” His lips ghost over your ear as he speaks, his voice a low growl that shouldn’t excite you the way it does. 

“I’m sorry,” you wince internally at the way your voice comes out as a pained little squeak, your hands scrambling to hang onto his forearm, nails digging into the stained quilted fabric of his jacket.

“You know how I get after a hunt,” he suddenly pulls away from you, his hand pulling out of your hair, a gasp leaving you as your heels drop to the floor. You blink as he reaches up, not flinching from years of practice, though instead of striking you or harshly gripping at your jaw like you expect, his hand cups your cheek. Your chest rises and falls as he strokes his thumb over your cheekbone, blood stained fingers now delicate against your soft skin. 

“Today’s was a special one, too. Don’t you remember?” He questions, icy eyes sliding from yours to the red-headed man still standing by the table, glimmering cruelly as he smirks. 

Still, you nod your head, knowing Reek won’t answer. “To celebrate killing Jon Snow,” you breathe, gripping at the leather of his tunic, desperate to win even a scrap of approval.

Surprisingly, he grants it – fixing you with a proud little grin, like how an owner would look at a dog that’s just mastered a new trick. “That’s right,” his hand ruffles the hair on the top of your head, a gesture that should feel demeaning, yet it sends a tingle of pride through you instead, “Seems you can remember something after all.” He pulls away and traipses over to Reek, hands clasped behind his back.

“Surely you remember too, Reek? You were in the kennels that evening when the dogs had their treat, were you not?” He taunts, the playful inflection in his voice entirely for show, “Our little problem’s been dealt with and now we hold not only the Dreadfort but Winterfell as well! What do you think about that, hm?” Ramsay studies the other man carefully, eyes flitting over his face as he takes great pleasure in the subtle twitches of pain that still manage to flicker through the harsh conditioning he’d endured. Your eyes stay fixed firmly on the stone floor. 

“A… A great victory, master!” 

“Yes, a great victory, indeed,” he smiles, watching Reek for another moment before turning back to you. His smile morphs into a cold, callous frown that ties your stomach into knots, each of his steps making your heart hammer faster in your chest. “You know, it’s actually rather amusing,” he starts, bloodied fingers twirling a stray lock of your hair, “How my hounds seem to be continually more well trained than you, pretty little idiot.”

Pretty, pretty, pretty! Your heart thumps dumbly, a rabbit in a snare. 

“I’ll do better!” You whimper, shaking your head frantically as your eyes meet his, “I can do better, really, I was just confu–”

The hand in your hair shoots down suddenly, yanking several strands with it as he clamps it around your neck. “Confused?” Ramsay murmurs, watching with rapt attention at how you struggle in his hold, lips quivering as the words die in your throat, “Really? I give you one task, I ask one thing of you, and you can’t even figure that out? You still disappoint me?” 

He’s not expecting an answer, you know this, and yet you still try to give one as your mouth opens and closes, like a fish out of water, only the faintest little whines managing to escape. You feel faint, both from his grip around your throat and from the myriad of emotions coursing through your veins – your heart twists at the thought of failing him, your stomach is in knots as various punishments flash through your mind, and yet your center still sparks, still sends little glimmers of arousal through you. 

His grip loosens enough to allow you to suck in several shaky lungfuls of air as he snickers, endlessly amused at how eager you still are, how you still yearn so deeply for him. Again, he pats your head condescendingly, muttering little hushes as if you were a crying puppy. “Lucky for you, pet, I have plenty of experience training stubborn bitches,” Ramsay chuckles, blue eyes glimmering with mirth when he feels you swallow apprehensively, “I think we’ll have your behavior corrected in no time, won’t we? Even the stupidest of beasts can still learn a trick or two.”

Before you have time to react, the hand cradling the crown of your head harshly grabs at your hair again, tugging you suddenly toward the door. “Ah!” You yelp, stumbling as he all but drags you behind him, your hands shake as they struggle to grab onto his forearm, “Ramsay, pl–!”

“You should be grateful I am allowing you the kindness of walking!” He growls, sparing you a glance over his shoulder as he leads you through the Great Hall, “Pity I’m so protective of you, really, I’m sure it would be quite entertaining for my men to watch you crawl.” His drawled threat sends a spark of fear down your spine and you pant, chest heaving, as you shuffle behind him; your cheeks burn as several of his soldiers sitting at the long wooden tables catcall as you stagger past them.

Finally, the two of you reach your shared chambers, that fact sending a little torrent of satisfaction through you even now. Unceremoniously, Ramsay all but tosses you inside and you whimper as your hip collides with an edge of the decorative table just inside the door, no doubt hard enough to bruise but at least it breaks your fall. 

“It’s quite unfortunate, normally find your impudence amusing,” he starts lowly, pressing the old wooden door closed with a thud before sliding the lock into place with a self-satisfied grin, “But I know you know better, don’t you, little one?” He asks as he stalks toward you.

Your breath catches in your throat as he stands before you, studying you silently for a second in the same calculated way he studies a deer through the sight of his bow. Not knowing what else to do, you silently nod your head as your eyes slip down to the floor, like a child being scolded. 

“You’ve been with me the longest now,” he murmurs as if you don’t know, one bloodstained hand grabbing at your waist as the other fits around the back of your neck, once again forcing your eyes to his face, “We grew up together, you and I. You know my ways, my rules, isn’t that right?”

Again, you nod your head, bottom lip trembling with the want to explain yourself, although you know that would only make things worse.

“That’s what makes your disobedience so frustrating,” his blue eyes bore into yours as he speaks, his lip sticking out in a mocking pout, “Because you do know better and yet you’re stupid enough to act out anyway, hm?” His tone is sharper now, dangerous like the pointed tip of an arrow.

“I wasn’t acting out!” The words claw themselves out of your throat before you can stop them and instantly you know you’ve made a mistake, but now you’re desperate to remedy it, “I wasn’t, really! I j-just misunderstood you, that’s –” 

Your pleas come to a screeching halt as his hand smacks across your face, the other grips at your jaw tightly, tight enough to make you whine softly in his grasp. Your eyes squeeze shut for a second, cheek stinging, before they open and lock with his again, wild and desperately. 

I wasn’t being insolent! You scream silently, hoping he can somehow hear you, that maybe all of your years with him would’ve granted that ability, I would never! I was doing as you said, like always! 

“I was wrong earlier, wasn’t I?” Ramsay mutters, so close to you that your foreheads nearly touch. Your eyes widen slightly at his words, heart thumping in a hopeful little staccato, though he wrenches that away quickly enough, “You’re not a dog at all, no, a dog would be obedient and docile.”

Your brows knit together with confusion at his words, biting so hard into your lower lip that you’re shocked you don’t taste blood. Although, you can’t help the surprised little gasp that leaves you when his hands begin quickly tugging at the laces of your bodice as your own remain in white-knuckled fists at your sides, the whole of you determined to stay still like a statue, a plaything. 

“No, you my sweet little pet,” he growls sarcastically, low voice morphing into a pleased chuckle as he tugs your bodice off; the shirt below it quickly follows and a small part of you blooms with pride at the happy little sigh he lets out at the sight of your breasts. 

“You’re just a dumb puppy, aren’t you?” He chuckles against your throat, nipping at your skin more so than kissing it, although you relish the feel of his lips on you all the same. “A dumb, defiant little puppy,” he continues, hastily pulling at the ties of your skirts and you whimper despite yourself when they finally fall to the floor, pooling at your feet, “That’s in desperate need of more training.” 

He stops, pausing for a mere second, and pulls back just enough to look at you, no doubt gaining satisfaction from the desperation written so plainly on your face. There’s a hunger in his cold eyes – a predator silently deciding to go for the jugular, nocking an arrow on his bow. 

You whine as he properly kisses at your throat now, his hands rough against your skin as he grabs at your hips. One skims higher to cup your breast, the unexpected gentleness of his touches causes you to shiver and whine in his grasp and into his mouth as he kisses you finally, his full lips moving steadily in time with yours. 

Harsh pants leave your lips as your heart pumps madly in your chest, his touches always work you up so quickly. The thought of him still being fully clothed as he left you bare and vulnerable made you hotter still; the feel of his warm leather tunic against your exposed skin, of his bloodied hands against your supple skin, drives you mad. 

Before you have time to second guess your movements, you begin blindly pulling at the strings on his leather tunic, desperate to feel him against you. Surprisingly, he lets you tug it off of him, granting you a last meal of sorts, and you can’t help but to smile into the kiss, gasping into his mouth as he unbuttons his jacket himself before quickly tossing it aside as well. He’s panting nearly as harshly as you are as the two of you part long enough for him to pull his shirt over his head, your hands immediately go to his chest the second it joins the ever-growing pile of clothes on the floor. 

Your eyes flicker over him as the two of you pause, the knot in your belly growing tighter at the sight of his taut stomach and chest, the low, warm glow of the many candles dotted throughout your chambers accentuating each muscular dip. Your fingers shake as they trail over him and you feel a sick sense of pride twist in your stomach at the fact that, unlike so many men, his skin isn’t mottled with years of scars and bruises. No, his is flawless, a pale, unmarred, ruthless canvas – a flawless killer. 

Of course, he can’t let you have this reprieve for long. A good trainer doesn’t spoil his pet. 

A soft, broken gasp leaves you as one hand wraps around your neck again, slotting perfectly against your throat like a collar, as he walks you a few paces further into the room, closer to the small hearth by the bed. “Kneel,” his command leaves no room for anything but obedience; you swallow thickly, nervously, and do as he says, lips parting ever so slightly when your knees rest on plush bear skin instead of hard stone. 

A kindness, even now. 

Ramsay’s lips twist into a proud grin as you stare up at him, legs folded beneath you with your hands poised perfectly on your thighs, a familiar stance he’d taught you years ago. “Good girl,” he mutters, fingers threading gently through your hair as you moan softly. 

“Thank y – Ah!”

“No,” he chides harshly, tugging your head back by the roots of your hair until your neck is bared to him, your back arched, “Puppies don’t talk, dumb little thing,” he growls, shifting more closely to you in order to gain a better hold on your hair, close enough that you whimper as your front is pressed firmly against the length of his leg, the thick fabric of his trousers rough against your skin as one of his feet slots between your thighs, “A well-trained pet certainly doesn’t.” 

The knot in your belly seizes at his words, aided by the laces of his leather boots brushing oh-so gently against your center, the knotted fabric sticking against the wetness already leaking from your clenching cunt. You whine, high-pitched and frantic when he clutches your hair tighter still, his fist white knuckled against the crown of your head. 

“A well-trained little pet would always obey their master, wouldn’t they?” You can’t miss the breathiness of his voice now, his tone lower and smoother than it normally is, and the sound makes your hips hump against his boot before you can stop yourself, your nipples stiff, nearly aching, as they rub against his trousers. 

A low, rumbled laugh echoes through your chambers when your arms wrap around his leg, fingers digging desperately into the firm muscle of his thigh. “Aww,” he coos mockingly, licking his lips as he watches you, his attention making blood rush to the apples of your cheeks, “Is my pretty little puppy getting off on this? Does your cunt drip when I tell you how stupid and worthless you are?”

The sound of your blood pumping furiously through your veins thuds in your ears, Pretty, pretty pretty!

You whine as you try to eagerly nod your head, his hold on your hair preventing you from moving much, though your hips rut steadily against his boot now – pressing tightly against the worn fabric, the knots from his laces rubbing perfectly over the throbbing little pearl at your center. 

“You look like you’re having fun,” he drawls, cold eyes shining as he studies you closely, chest heaving in time with yours as his cock hardens in his pants, “Are you having fun, little one?”

Again, you try to nod, keening brokenly as your eyes stay fixed on his. You pant harshly against his leg, breath fragmented as they’re punched out of your lungs, the knot in your belly growing tighter and tighter with each pass of your slick center over the laces of his boot. 

He knows, of course. As soon as he ordered you to stay in the kitchens with Reek this morning, he knew – knew you’d follow his orders to the letter, even if they contradicted his previous ones. He knew he’d find you there, knew he’d punish you for it, knew exactly how he wanted to break you down so that it could be him who built you back up. He’s known you the longest, you’d grown up together. He knows, of course he does. He’s nothing if not a thorough hunter. 

A loud, broken whine leaves you when he flexes his foot, pressing his boot harder against you still. You’re helpless to do much else aside from stare up at him, gasping, while your hips buck against him as quickly as your sore muscles will allow, your high barreling toward you at a breakneck pace. 

All of that comes to a sudden, screeching halt though when he moves again, shifting his weight until his boot is just out of reach. The sudden lack of stimulation makes your back arch further still, your muscles taut like a drawn bow. 

“Oh, poor little puppy,” he laughs, watching gleefully as you whine loudly, the peak that had been so close fading away, leaving you aching, “If you thought it was going to be that easy, you haven’t been paying attention.” He taunts, crouching until he’s eye-level with you, smirking as his movements cause his pull on your hair to become tighter, making you wince, though his hand thankfully releases its grasp once he settles.

“Mmm,” you mewl softly as he caresses your breasts again, jumping slightly when he thumbs over your nipple before softly pinching at it, giving the other one the same treatment. Your eyes flutter shut as you arch your back further still, pressing against the palm of his hand as he kneads at your chest, eager for any stimulation you can get.

“Myranda was never like this,” he says suddenly, his voice low, steady, calculated. He smiles cruelly when your eyes snap open at the sound of her name, the back of your throat tight as tears already blur your vision – just like he wanted. “No, Myranda always behaved perfectly, she always did exactly what I said.” 

He leans forward suddenly, the side of his face pressed firmly against yours so that when he speaks, you’re sure to hear every syllable, to feel them punctuated against the skin of your neck. “She was perfect. I never had to punish her for the same thing twice, you know. Not like I do with you.” 

You shudder as his lips press against your skin again, pressing eager kisses against the wet trail of tears running down your cheek. He admires the way your shoulders shake as you sob, the way the subtle movement makes your breasts bounce, the way your cheeks flush so prettily, how your eyes always shine so brightly with fresh tears in them. 

Ramsay loves breaking you – adores the moment when his arrow is finally launched free from his bow, adores the moment he sees it pierce your little heart. He loves you, in his way. 

Not that he’d tell you that.

He lets you sob for a moment longer, all the while pressing hot kisses against your cheeks, relishing the salty taste of your tears as the little droplets of blood still caked to his skin mar your pretty face, staining it with delicate streaks of red. His cock twitches at the sight, black pupils nearly drowning out the blue of his eyes – maybe one day he’d bring you hunting, what a sight you’d be covered in the bright blood of a fresh kill. 

“Myranda never needed training, puppy, not in the way you do,” he nearly whispers, the corners of his lips twitching up into a small smile as he leans back enough to grab at your chin, tilting your face up to his, “That’s what made her so boring.”

“Huh?” You breathe, sobs stalling for a second as you process what he’d just said, your obvious surprise making him laugh lowly again. 

“What? Does that shock you? That I found her boring?” He questions, eyebrow raised, “Why would perfection be interesting?” 

Your eyes search his face as he shifts, kneeling rather than crouching. A little glimmer of pride sparks to life within you as he kisses you again, your lips moving against his frantically, mewling when he pushes his tongue into your mouth and nips at your bottom lip. 

“I never got to train her,” he breathes against your lips, grunting at the way your hands skim over his chest and stomach, grabbing at him so frantically, “I hardly got to punish her; if I gave her an order, she would follow it blindly – it made her predictable, it made her boring.”

“N-Not like me?” You whisper hopefully, meeting his gaze through half-lidded eyes as you pant, your chest pressed tightly to his. 

“No, sweet pet, not like you,” Ramsay smiles, making your heart sing as it leaps beneath your ribs, “I get to train you, don’t I? And punish you when that little puppy brain can’t follow the simplest of orders.”

You should be offended, should feel mocked and belittled, but you don’t. Instead, you nod your head eagerly, preening like a proud little bird at his praise, because that’s what is, really. Ramsay will never be one to sing your praises softly like other men, but he admires you all the same. 

Before you have time to reply, he grabs at your waist and abruptly maneuvers you, manhandling you until you’re poised on your hands and knees, cheek pressed firmly against the fur rug beneath you. 

“I get to play with you, pet,” he drawls lowly, pressing a hand into the small of your back and grunting appreciatively when you arch down like he wants, licking his lips as your cunt finally comes into view, shining already in the low candlelight. He smirks at the way you moan when he presses his hard length against you, grinding against your slit, chest heaving at how warm you are even through his trousers, “Don’t I?”

“Yes!” You nod eagerly, pressing back against him like a wanton whore, nearly dizzy with need when his fingers bump against you as he quickly undoes the laces on his pants, “Yes, yes, yes, please!”

“Ohh, so you can be good, hm?” He teases, groaning in relief when he pushes his trousers down just enough to free his cock, too impatient to remove them entirely, “Seems my training’s working nicely.”

Mindlessly, you nod, willing to agree with whatever he says so long as he gets inside you.

Mercifully, you don’t have to wait long. A loud cry fills your chambers as he presses into you, the slight sting of his thick cock stretching you open making you shiver, a familiar sensation since he was rarely ever patient enough to work you open on his fingers. 

Immediately, he sets a brutal pace, his hips pressing against yours tightly each time he pushes forward, the head of his cock nearly kissing your cervix with each harsh thrust. Your cunt clenches at him greedily and your hands scramble against the rug beneath you, fingers tangling into the furs, desperate for something to anchor yourself. 

“Fuck, tight little cunt,” Ramsay grunts harshly above you, his hands gripping meanly at your hips, hard enough to leave bruises. 

“R-Ramsay, fuck… fuck,” you whimper beneath him, your eyes squeezed shut tightly as the knot in your belly threatens to unravel, your walls pulsing rhythmically around his length each time it spears into you.

He chuckles breathlessly at your little murmurs and runs a hand up the length of your back before grabbing at the hair at the nape of your neck, relishing the little cry you give as he pulls you up until your back is pressed firmly against his chest. “Are you close already?” He mocks smugly, his fingers untangling from your hair to wrap once more around your throat as his other paws at your breasts, his fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples. 

You swallow thickly, throat bobbing under his grip, and nod your head the best you can, grabbing at his thick forearm. 

“Do you think I’m going to let you?” He teases, biting harshly at your shoulder as his hips keep up a punishing rhythm.

You nearly sob at the question, so desperate, but still you shake your head, cunt pulsing around his length. “No, n-no…” You moan mournfully, voice hoarse from his hold. 

He chuckles behind you, his chest rumbling against your back as he kisses and bites at your earlobe, your shoulder, any part of your neck not covered by his hand, each touch driving you mad. “Finally, that little brain seems to be working,” he grunts, laughing lowly as he abandons your breasts long enough to slap your cheek, blessedly soft this time, “I’m having too much fun playing with you to let you go that easily,” He drawls, chuckling once more when you whine. 

“In fact,” he continues, reaching down and rubbing his fingers roughly against your aching bud, just enough to make you cry out before he suddenly pulls away again, tugging his length from you as he lets you flop to the floor with a little grunt, “I want to see you do a trick,” he whispers, rubbing over your ass before smack it roughly, making you jump, “Roll over.”

“Wha –” You start to question, only to be cut off with a loud cry as his hand spanks you once more.

“Be a good fucking puppy and roll over.”

His order leaves no room for questioning and obediently, you listen and roll over onto your back with a little whimper. You keep your legs bent up when you settle, keeping yourself on display for him, clenching around nothing as you eye his hard cock bobbing against his stomach, the tip red and leaking. 

“Good little pet,” he praises, his words going straight to your pearl as you shudder. Hastily, he pushes your legs up further, one hand holding you open as he presses his cock back into you, savoring your loud whine, the way your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He resumes his harsh pace, slamming into you as he chases his high now, blue eyes trailing appreciatively over your trembling body, watching as your breasts bounce with each unforgiving thrust he gives. 

“Please, please, Gods, please!” You whine frantically as he presses his hips against yours, grinding into you, the thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your bud perfectly, “Ramsay, p-please! I – fuck!”

He laughs breathlessly at your cries and leans down when you arch your back toward him, mouthing savagely at your chest, teeth nipping at the fat of your breasts before he licks over your nipples. He knows each touch is only driving you closer and closer to your release, yet he still doesn’t give you permission, a part of him meanly hopes you’ll slip over anyway and give him another reason to punish you, like he actually needs a reason. 

Still, you have been good today and he does love how willing and docile you become when you peak, so malleable – entirely submissive, entirely his. 

He bites and kisses his way up along your chest and neck before licking into your mouth for a moment, eagerly swallowing each desperate little cry before grabbing at your neck once more. Greedy, he turns your head to him, needing to see that empty-headed, hazy look in your eyes when he lets you finish.

His cock jerks at the sight of you, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as you try desperately to hold off, cheeks flushed, reddened lips parted. He grunts, feeling his balls tighten, his thrusts beginning to lose their rhythm. 

“Cum, puppy,” he growls, forehead pressed against yours.

Your lips part in a silent curse as your high slams into you, each muscle in your body contracting at once. Your eyes bore into his wildly as your cunt spasms tightly around his cock, eyes rolling back as he fucks you through it.

“Fuck!” He grunts, growling lowly as his cock spasms within you, your walls all but milking his own high from him as well. His hips slam into you a few more times before he stills, gasping as he fills you with his spend. 

The two of you lay together for a moment, panting loudly against one another. Ramsay is the first to move, shushing you as he pulls his softening length from you, making you whine. 

Distantly, a part of you twists gleefully when you feel his seed drip from you, another thing he never dared do with her. 

“Here,” he says softly, offering you a hand, which you gladly take, letting him help you stand since you doubt you’d be able to on your own. Finally, you stand on your feet, albeit unsteadily, and grab onto the foot of the carved wooden bedframe to steady yourself. Strangely, he stays with you, neither of you saying anything as he holds you, blue eyes studying you as they gleam with some unknown emotion. 

After a moment, you try to pull away, meaning to leave as you always do, not one to wait around for his order anymore. 

“Stop,” he murmurs, only pulling away once you still, “Stay.” He orders, an unfamiliar softness to his voice. Your head reels, eyes staring unfocused as you try to make sense of… whatever this is, whatever his game may be now. 

He returns quickly enough, a damp cloth in his and from the small wash basin he keeps on the vanity. You reach out to grab it, to clean yourself off like you assume he wants, and yet he stops you, holding the cloth out of your grasp until you lower your hand again. 

“Obedient puppies get rewards,” he says softly, all of the harshness from before absent from his tone as he answers your silent questions. You nearly freeze when he presses one small, gentle kiss against your forehead. Finally, he makes quick work of wiping between your legs, taking care to wipe away any of his spend that leaked from you. 

“Thank you…” You nearly whisper, voice scratchy from his earlier treatment. That doesn’t feel like the right thing to say but if it isn’t, he doesn't say. 

Silently, he cups your chin, lifting it enough to give him room to check your neck, trailing his hand over it lightly until he must be satisfied that you’re okay, that he hadn’t treated you too badly. 

Kind, even still.

A few moments later, you recline in the plush bed, watching as he kicks off his boots before joining you, lying with you under the soft blankets. This part, at least, you’re used to – lying together like this but not touching, not cuddling, that’s too intimate, too close. 

He hadn’t said that, wouldn’t say that, but you knew. 

A surprised little gasp leaves you when he pulls you close, hands, clean now that he’d taken a moment to wash them, resting on you gently. One smoothes up and down your arm as he lets you lay against his chest, cheek pressed against his collarbone, his chin resting on your head; the other grabs at your thigh, pulling you to him until you’re tucked into his side, one leg propped over his hips. 

“You did well,” he says softly, chest vibrating under your cheek as he speaks, “With your training, I mean. You did well. I’m… proud of you.”

“Thank you.” 

The two of you are silent after that, neither of you knowing how to handle this new territory that you seem to be spilling into, but you don’t care, not with your heart pounding quickly in your chest. You’d think you were dying if it weren’t for the savage sense of victory threading through every inch of you. 

Proud, proud, proud! The word echoes in your head with each pump of blood through your heart. It was so small, the barest of compliments, but from Ramsay it meant the world. It was something he’d said to you, only you, never to her, not once. Never to anyone else. 

His chest rises and falls under your cheek, breath steady and even. He always falls asleep quickly, normally you do too. But not this time, not tonight, not wanting to let this moment fade just yet. 

He loves you, in his way.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @iamawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstaarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @simp-hub-bro @badxbabyyy @venchi-cremino @targaryenbarbie @fan-goddess

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[normansnt]

Knight in shining armor

(Hazbin Adam x singer!male reader)

(Not my art, idk whose sorry I got it from pinterest but credits to the artist cuz he would SO wear that I cant😭)

Warnings: fist fight

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"FUCK YEAAHHHHHH THATS MY BOYFRIEND MF" yelled Adam to a random person at your concert.

He always did that. Whenever he went to one of your concerts (always, I am not kidding the man has not missed a single one) he yelled to every one of your songs because he knew them inside out and after each song he yelled to someone that you're his boyfriend.

It was sweet in your eyes he was truly your number one fan. However on more than one occasion this has gotten out of hand. Like right now.

Sometimes people get annoyed at his yelling even though it is a rock concert he is still the loudest one. But this time it was different. This time something happened that actually bothered him.

He was yelling about how much he loves you and how you are his boyfriend again when he overheard something that he didn't like.

"For real? That gorgeous singer is dating that flop no fucking way."

"I know right? I gotta say I wouldn't mind hearing the singers voice moaning my-" Adam didn't wait longer to hear the end of the sentence he straight on punched that guy.

"I fucking DARE you to finish that sentence." Adam literally growled. Even though this was heaven, assholes were present here too.

The fight got so big that you had to stop your performance and stop it.

"Adam- Adam stop" you tried to get your boyfriend off of the two guys who he was now fighting.

"Let me go babe, I'm gonna fucking murder those two mother fuckers-"

"Adam, they already had enough you won." You tried arguing with him while you dragged him to your dressing room. The two guys laying on the floor beaten to pulp.

Once you closed the door, the ruckus outside got just a bit quieter and you could finally take a deep breath.

"What happened this time?" You asked your boyfriend while getting the first aid kit and patching him up. He was much better of than the other guys thats true. But he still had some scratches and a black eye.

Adam told you the whole story of what happened and you listened intently while gently putting some alcohol at a deep cut on his nose.

"And then I was like- aww fuck babe warn me next time" he started whining because of the alcohol.

You sighed.

"Listen Adam, I appreciate what you did, those pigs said some disgusting shit and you were a great knight in shining armor but I worked really hard to get this gig and you know that" you said trying to be as gentle as possible.

"Babe, your boyfriend is the fucking Adam, tell me where you want to preform and you'll get in within seconds I can take care of that."

"I know Adam but I really wanna accomplish some things on my own." You sighed again.

Adam knew he fucked up, he sees first hand how much work you put into your music. But he just couldn't help it this is the kind of thing that pisses him off to no end. His first two wives left him for someone else and even though he might act confident he was terrified that you would leave him, too. He didn't want to loose someone he loved so much.

You put your hand on his cheek and made him look at you.

"Hey, its ok I understand." Thats all you needed to say. You knew about Lilith and Eve leaving him. And you knew how insecure he actually felt. You have been dating for almost 6 years now you knew him way too well.

You kissed him to let him know that you weren't mad. He kissed back with enthusiasm, he loved kissing you. It might be true that he has kissed a lot of people before you came along but he always said that you were his favorite kisser of all time. He just loved the feeling of your lips against his.

"(Y/N)...I- listen I mean what I said really, wherever you wanna play I can hook you up."

You chuckled lightly. You knew this was the closest thing you are gonna get out of him as an apology, the man was not good at apologizing. But you already knew that, and loved him nonetheless.

"I know honey I know." You put your forehead on his.

The wholesome moment was interrupted when you both started hearing chanting from outside.

"Is that-?"

"THEY ARE CHANTING YOUR NAME BABY COME ON GET YOUR BRETTY ASS OUT THERE"

And there he was again, your stupid boyfriend.

You laughed an snatched up your guitar.

"All right baby you wanna watch from back stage?" You asked back as you held out your hand to him.

"FUCK YEAAHH"

And with that you two walked out of your dressing room laughing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

HE IS JUST A STUPID LITTLE MEN HELP I LOVE HIM SM IDK WHY😭😭

Hope you guys enjoyed😘~

[damiansgoodgirll]

Idk if you remember the platonic reader with the terror twins I had asked from you but I REALLY want another one where reader goes after Liv for beating on Rhea and Damian in the ring.

Like I need the crazy cause i wanna beat street trash’s ass rn.

terror twins x reader (platonic) / the judgment day x reader (platonic) / jey uso x reader (platonic)

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!

‼️typical wwe violence, angsty and some feels too, reader going crazy lol i’ve never made reader so violent

you better run, bitch

to avoid what happened the last time you left the changing room without rhea and damian, the duo decided to have you hidden in jey uso’s changing room this time. knowing that it would be hard for liv or jd to attack you again if they didn’t know where you were. and no matter how many times you begged rhea to let you on ring with her, she always refused, saying that she didn’t want to risk you getting hurt because of liv or finn.

so you waited backstage, jey sensing how nervous you were tried to calm you down but no matter what he said, no one was able to make you crack a smile.

“man you’re making it hard for me to cheer you up” he joked but still no laugh coming from you as your eyes were fixed on the big screen in front of you.

“i wish i could go out there and shove that mic down finn’s throat” you whispered mostly to yourself but jey caught your words and was very surprised you had a sadistic side like that “he keeps saying bullshits…can’t he fucking choke?”

“woah…keep calm uce” he laughed “you’re scaring me”

before you could speak up, you saw damian entering the arena. a smile on your face knowing he was going to destroy finn. and it was like that for a moment before dom, jd and carlito started to attack him. when liv joined too, you started seeing black and jey was trying his best to hold you back otherwise you would have been running into the arena.

rhea’s music hit and you felt relieved for a moment, but she was still injured and even if she tried her best, you knew she wouldn’t be much of an help. so you were watching how the five of them were attacking damian and rhea.

“jey!” you screamed. he was watching what was happening right there with you and his mind blacked out for a minute before he sprinted out the changing room and ran towards the ring. in the meantime you were still watching how damian was protecting rhea with his body and you couldn’t help but let a few tears fall, knowing that you chose the right part of the group.

when you saw the five leaving the ring at the sight of jey uso, you felt relieved that this nightmare was over. but your heart broke a little more when you saw the way rhea and jey were holding hands, trying to give each other support.

getting revenge on the judgment day was the last thing you had in mind right now, you just wanted to make sure rhea and damian were safe and okay.

so you waited jey to help them backstage and into the changing room. when you saw the door open you couldn’t help the tears that fell from your eyes. jey helped rhea sitting down on the couch and damian took the chair next to the tv. they were both hurting and you could see the emotional pain in their eyes.

“i swear to god, if next week you don’t let me out in the ring with you…” you quickly wiped your tears away.

“so you can get injured to?” rhea sarcastically asked “we need you to keep you safe”

“i’m not much of an help if all i do is wait backstage” you were getting tired of this protection program situation. yes, you were younger but that didn’t mean that you couldn’t fight. what happened last time with jd and liv was an accident.

“okay…why don’t we all calm down?” jey suggested and earned a thanks from damian. the duo knew that you could get a little impulsive and they knew that you would get easily overwhelmed and in a situation like that, where everyone was against them, they didn’t want you to go out in the ring and let your emotions get the best of you.

you sniffled one last time before turning your back to the three adults in the room.you were facing the tv once again, not paying attention to whatever match was going on and damian and rhea shared a look, knowing that you were mad at them but mostly at yourself because you couldn’t do anything to help them.

“we should get you two checked” jey said and both rhea and damian nodded “y/n, stay here please…we will be back soon.”

you didn’t even see them leaving the room, you were still watching the tv in front of you. but you knew that the moment the three were out of your sight, you would have hunt liv down. she was the main reason the group broke up, she was the one who took your only family away from you and she was the one who was going to get her ass kicked by you.

you waited five minutes, knowing that they probably were in the medical room getting checked out.

without letting people see you, you left the room quickly before moving through the corridors, trying to find sign of the group.

when you saw liv fixing her make up and hair you couldn’t stop yourself, letting your emotions overpowering you. she didn’t even see you bet when she felt something kicking her in her back, she knew it was you.

“you fucking bitch!” you kept screaming, at this point you were sure people would hear you but you didn’t care.

“y/n let me go!” knowing that she couldn’t defend herself, she screamed at you.

but you didn’t care. you didn’t care if you were hurting her, you didn’t care because no pain could be compared to the pain she caused you since she tried to replace rhea in the group. you hated her. so you kept attacking her, punches and kicks, making her lay on the ground. some blood coming out of her nose.

“i fucking hate you liv!” you spat in her face. you grabbed her by her hair and shoved her face to the ground once again “you don’t deserve the title! you don’t deserve my family!” you were able to kick her in the stomach once again before dominik heard her cries and with finn, they were able to stop you. finn grabbed you by your waist while dom helped liv on her feet. he grabbed her by her hand and they ran away, like always “you better run, bitch! this isn’t over!” you screamed while trying to free yourself from finn’s hands.

“y/n calm down!” finn never saw you like that. you were the calm and rational member of the group, finn always loved that side of you so seeing you so mad and violent made him worry.

“no! don’t fucking touch me!” you were able to kick him in the stomach with your elbow before turning to him “i fucking hate you finn! you knew how much this group was important to me and yet you still betrayed me!” your outburst was shocking him “all we did was care for you, i cared for you” you quickly wiped away your tears “but now, you could choke on your own tears and i’ll happily watch you suffer” you said before leaving.

a few people watched you going back to jey’s changing room, but no one dared to say anything.

you were sure that someone said something to rhea and damian because when the three adults opened the door, they all had a disappointed look on their faces.

you turned your back on them again but rhea stopped you “no, y/n, we are not doing this again…talk to us” she was now facing you, jey uso helping her standing up “y/n…”

“what do you want me to say?” you didn’t mean to be so rude but you didn’t know how to handle your feelings in that moment and rhea noticed that too.

“what is going on hermosa? we are worried for you…” damian spoke up. you saw how worried he was by the look he had on his face. you couldn’t contain your sobs and you let more tears fall from your eyes. damian immediately wrapped his big arms around your body, letting you cry “hey…shh it’s okay” you felt damian whispering in your ear.

rhea’s hand gently touched your back, letting you know that she was there for you too.jey felt like he was in the middle of a family meeting and he thought that he should go but rhea stopped him.

“it’s not okay damian…” you cried in his arms.

“y/n…can you look at me please?” rhea softly asked and you nodded, turning to face her “you know that we are for you”

“it’s not that rhea…i know you will always have my back but it’s not that…” you said quickly wiping your tears away.

“then what is it?” jey stepped in, trying to find a sense of your crazy outburst “we wanna help you”

rhea nodded with jey, wanting a real explanation.

“i can’t stand to see liv out there with what once was my family! i can’t stand to see her at all! she is the reason this group fell apart, she’s the reason you can’t fucking walk rhea! she’s out of control, thinking she can do anything she wants and someone needed to take care of that!”

“by taking care you mean attacking her and sending her to the hospital?” rhea was really trying to find a reason on why you acted like you did.

“the hospital? the morgue is the only place she belongs…” you scoffed.

“okay that’s enough y/n…i get that you’re mad, we all are but you can’t go out like that, disobeying our orders and attack liv! do you understand that you will face consequences?” damian was anxious about the whole situation because you were, together with rhea, the only person that he really cared about and he didn’t want to risk you getting hurt because of liv morgan.

“you wanna tell me she didn’t deserve that? after what she did to you and rhea tonight?” you asked, chuckling and rolling your eyes to the big man in front of you.

“she did deserved that” jey whispered, backing you up but only getting a death stare from rhea.

“i did what i did because i care about you! and i can’t stand to see you getting hurt because of her…she’s lucky she’s at the hospital with dom right now…” your words shocking once again the terror twins.

“and i’ll be forever grateful that you have our backs y/n but please…don’t do something like that ever again” rhea sadly smiled at you, opening her arms as much as she could to let you in “thank you for having our backs”

jey realised that the bond between the three of you was special and he perfectly understood what you were going through because he’s been there with his twin brother jimmy. he understood your pain, the betrayal, the loss of your family.

“i’m so glad jey was able to come and get you tonight…but if next monday this happens again, i’m coming out, i don’t wanna hear about it! liv is getting her ass whipped once again if she tries to hurt you one more time” you said making the three adults laugh.

rhea quickly wiped your tears away, smiling at you “we are okay y/n, i promise you”

“rhea’s right…” he joined the hug “i can’t believe you sent liv to the hospital” he laughed “and i thought you were the calm one in the group” he said making everyone laugh.

“jey you can join the hug too…” you whispered. he was hesitant at first but he immediately joined when rhea grabbed his arm.

you stayed there for a minute. you needed to let your nerves calm down. you needed to calm down and being with rhea, jey and damian’s presence helped you a little bit.

“you gotta rest and get ready to kick liv’s ass at bad blood” you whispered to rhea, earning a smirk from her side.

“you can count on that…” she whispered making you chuckle.

and you knew that you were going to be there for her, helping her heal and train. letting her kick your ass if needed so she could be perfect to go against liv next month.

[joelsgoldrush]

swore i heard you whisper that you preferred us like that

joel miller x f!reader / 5,8k words

summary: you ask joel –the quiet, distant joel– to teach you how to ride a horse. they say the eyes are the window to the soul, and it must be true, because when he really sees you, it´s like he finally understands what you feel for him.

warnings: smut 18+ let’s pretend joel never left jackson, porn with plot, no use of y/n, age gap (reader is in her late 20s, joel is 56), grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation, pet names, unprotected p in v (don't try this at home ok), dirty talk, soft!dom joel (sort of???), a bit of angst/feelings, joel gets all babygirl around reader, ellie appears for like a minute, mediocre attempt at recreating joel's southern accent (sorry in advance)

a/n: hello??? well this is my first fic ever so bear with me, i'm still new to all this. also english isn't my first language so i'm afraid there may be mistakes (mostly when it comes to collocations bc i hate them and they confuse me), buuuut i'm learning obviously and if you find anything that should be corrected PLEASE TELL ME thank you :) i'd appreciate if you told whether you liked this story (idk what to call it tbh) but if you don't it's more than fine! anyways thank you so much for reading if you come across this fic, i hope you like it! i've spent a week writing it bc finals season is killing me &lt;///3

here's my masterlist in case you want to read my other works :)

"Oh, my drunken southern star / How you tried to hide in darkness / Slipped from orbit / Now you’re dangerously close / Come out, come out from all your hiding out / We’ll dig in our heels, salute the battlefields / Where our broken hearts were born."

What is it that he has?

You used to ask yourself that question every night as you went to bed. On some occasions, you couldn't manage to come up with an exact answer. There were too many reasons that disclosed why a man like him lingered on your mind, even in those moments that were supposed to be for you and only you. Sleeping more than three hours a day was definitely something you needed tremendously, but still, the not-so-rational voice inside your head kept on bringing his name up without fail, disturbing your rest.

Joel Miller. Was it possible to feel like this? Like you knew somebody without having exchanged more than five words with them? Sure, there wasn't a single person in Jackson who wasn't aware of his existence. From whispered rumors in the streets to stories that intended to give his reserved personality an explanation, Joel became a real talking-point among those in the commune. Years ago, when the world was still just a floating ball in space, he would’ve frightened you, being the kind of person your parents used to warn you about as you started to grow older.

He walked a certain way, as if he were holding the suffering of many lives in his hands. Always on guard, prepared to fight those who defied him. Hidden knives in his pockets, a gun between his fingers, the trigger too tempting to be pulled at any time given. His hair was a mixture of brown and gray, and you swore that the latter was only becoming more prominent as days went by. 

Suddenly, your pillow felt too uncomfortable, your hands fisting the fabric of your t-shirt while you kicked the blanket resting on top of your bare feet. A sigh escaped your lips, the taste of something you couldn't even distinguish on your tongue, your unsteady breath being the only sound to be heard in that noiseless night. 

You were having a hard time figuring out how you felt about Joel (if there was anything to feel in the first place, since he barely remembered your face and there you were, fantasizing about him instead of sleeping.) Maybe you liked how he presented himself, how bossy and persistent he looked the times you caught him patrolling around the zone. Or perhaps it was his character what charmed you in the first place, and the fact that, deep down, a different side from him remained completely unseen.

He was handsome, too. Tall, broad shoulders, aquiline nose. His arms looked majestic in every single piece of clothing he wore, his tanned skin shiny enough to reflect the very same sun. And his legs… you were sure they were muscular like the rest of his body, because of all the physical effort he did. You had  heard that he worked as a contractor before the pandemic, which made a lot of sense. Once or twice you had paid attention to his hands and–

Then, a familiar feeling sinked in. Warm began spreading through your belly, your thighs involuntary clenching together. “Fuck,” you muttered in a low tone, keeping your hands glued to your sides. Another motive not to think about Joel: he made you feel… things. Certain things that you hadn't felt for anyone in a very long time. You preferred to think that it was probably due to the fact that you were touch-starved, and not because you found yourself deeply attracted to him. Never had you ever been a sexually active person, so why now? Why did the mere image of Joel in your mind turn you on? 

He’s strong. I’m alone. I feel the need to find someone who’s willing to protect me. That’s it. No other reason.

Your internal monologue was lacking in arguments, but it was definitely something you could work with. As if on cue, you found it hard to keep your eyes open, your limbs not feeling as if they were yours anymore. Next thing you knew, you were asleep.

That night, you dreamt with Joel.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

In a small cabin, you taught children how to paint and draw. Maria believed it to be helpful for their psychological development or something like that, and you had agreed to do it. A good way to spend your free time– that’s what it was. Plus, you liked children; some would even choose to include you in their drawings, and that small gesture just warmed your heart.

There, you met Ellie, a teenager whose basic vocabulary consisted mostly of profanities. 

And boy, you loved Ellie.

It was hard not to, actually. She was like a breath of fresh air, with her jokes and instant charm. You two became attached in a short time, and she reminded you of a younger version of you, just a lot braver. Although in this world it brought her benefits, you sometimes wished she wouldn’t have gone through all that shit. Those eyes, which squinted as she laughed if you tickled her sides, were the cemetery of many buried memories. You wondered how she managed to put a smile on her face despite her past and the horrible things she had seen, hoping it was genuine and not a mask.

“Look!” her voice brought you back to reality. Blinking in her direction, you realized the amount of paint you had dropped onto the floor, a red stain already forming on the carpet. “Are you okay? You seem off.”

“I’m fine! Just a bit sleepy today, that's all,” you got closer to where she was lying down, her fingers moving the brush you had gifted her in different directions. Squatting a bit, you placed a strand of hair that didn’t make it into her ponytail behind her ear. “So, what are you painting?”

She smiled warmly, and her teeth catched her lower lip momentarily. “It’s not finished, okay? Don’t freak out. I know you’re a perfectionist.”

“I’m not…” you tried to explain yourself, but ended up choosing to be defeated. “Maybe you’re right. Anyway, may I see it?”

The canvas was in your hands a few moments later. Ellie spoke beside you, her words mixing together in a sign of embarrassment. “It’s for Joel. Figured I could do something nice for him, you know? I don’t– I think I need to start over. His eyes look kind of strange, don’t they? They’re so close he looks like a cyclops.”

“Don’t say that, kiddo. This is… it’s beautiful,” your index finger traced the lines framing his jaw, the shades of his skin perfectly achieved. You held the painting even tighter, afraid of breaking it for a second. He wasn’t frowning like he normally did; Ellie had painted him smiling, and the crinkles by his eyes matched his age. Surely you must have spent more time than necessary staring at it, ‘cause then Ellie continued talking.

“Well, you know what they say: The student has become the teacher.” 

You handed the canvas to her, a smirk taking place on your face. “Yeah, I guess I’ll stop teaching you if that’s the case.”

An hour or so later, someone knocked on the door. As both of your hands were occupied (a more formal way to say that they were dirty with paint), you screamed “Come in!”, and Ellie covered her painting with an old, muddy curtain you used to clean the tables in which the children worked. You were about to ask her why she had reacted in that way, until you turned around and saw him.

Joel was there, as every other Wednesday. In your cabin, standing right in front of you. And you didn’t even look presentable. His hair looked messy, a couple of locks stuck to his forehead with sweat. “Hi,” he said shortly, meeting your gaze and attempting to shake your hand, but you avoided contact.

Showing him your hands, you held your palms in the air as an indication of the still fresh paint on your skin. “Sorry. If I were to accept the gesture, I’d leave you a stain.”

He retrieved a bit, adjusting his glove. “It’s okay. Safety first.”

That was supposed to be a joke, you noticed tardily. The silence in the room persisted until Ellie appeared from behind your back, already putting her coat on.

“You were supposed to pick me up in half an hour, asshole.”

His mouth snapped shut for an instant. “I missed you too. How was the class?” 

Ellie lifted her shoulder in a half shrug, looking in your direction and proceeding to jerk her thumb toward Joel. She didn’t want him to see the painting. “Fine as usual.”

“Can I see what you’re–”

“No fucking way!” she accentuated the word fucking, drawing him closer to the door. 

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not done.”

“But–”

“No more questions, Joel. Let’s go! Say bye!” Ellie handled him like a baby, which made you giggle.

Though you saw Joel raising his eyebrows, so you stopped laughing. 

Soon, they left and the cabin returned to its familiar quietness. A sigh erupted from your chest, and you allowed yourself to fall on top of a chair.

At least you could say you had actually talked to Joel for once.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

It didn’t surprise you that you wanted to see him again.

Not in the “you-turn-me-on” way, but in the “you-seem-interesting-and-i-need-to-find-out-why” one.

He had something. Something so magnetic and indecipherable that kept pulling you towards him. Something that made you look for his presence in every crew, and not sensing what it was only made your wishes to dissect him grow bigger. There was a tiny probability that he was an idiot with a pretty face. Who knew? You definitely didn’t, and that needed to change. You deserved to know if pining over that man was worth it or not.

That chain of thoughts led you to look for him the next day, almost trembling with eagerness as you asked him the most stupid and unexpected question you could have imagined.

“Would you teach me how to ride a horse?”

He looked at you as if you were out of your mind, opening his mouth a few times and then closing it before he actually replied to you. “You’re tellin' me you don’t know how to ride a horse?”

“Tried it a few times, but failed and now I really want to learn to do it properly,” you swore his eyes were trying to decipher if you were saying the truth or not. “Ellie told me that you could probably make some time to teach me?”

“So Ellie's in charge of my schedule, I suppose?” you froze on the spot, and he must have noticed it because then his expression dulled. “Sorry, sweetheart. It was a joke. I've been told I'm not the best humorist.”

Sweetheart. You could’ve died a happy girl.

“Look, why don’t we meet up tomorrow after lunch? I'm sure it won’t take us much time. Not a difficult task, y’know?” he stroked his beard, apparently thinking you understood what he was talking about. 

“Sure. Thank you, Joel. My name’s–“

He didn’t let you finish. “I do know your name,” and before leaving, he repeated: “I’ll be here tomorrow. You know where to find me.”

To say that you slept without interruptions that night was an understatement. Each hour seemed to become longer the more you glimpsed your watch. Your heart drummed inside your chest violently, and you feared that someone else would be able to hear it if they got close enough to you. 

After having lunch in the same spot as every other mundane day, your legs took you to the stable. You took a shaky breath, expecting him to appear out of thin air, but fifteen minutes went by, and there was still no sign of Joel. Pressing your forehead against the wooden door, you wrapped your arms around yourself. “What was I even thinking?” 

“Hey.”

You looked to your side and– there he was, already getting inside the stable and inviting you to follow him. Joel petted one of the horses, clicking his tongue. His fingers caressed the animal’s back, and when he shot a glance at you, he didn’t ignore your disturbed expression.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of horses.”

“I’m not afraid of them,” you laughed awkwardly, eyeing the horse, which stared at you with those big and strange eyes. You raised your hand to mimic Joel, but that just made the animal move further away from you. “I guess it’s mutual. We don’t like each other.”

Joel smirked, guiding you outside. “It’s a damn horse. I don’t think you can tell whether he likes you or not. You gotta change that attitude of yours,” he murmured as he got on top of the horse, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Treat him well and he’ll be nice.”

At first, Joel taught you the basics: how to position yourself for balance, get your legs in the right position, hold the reins properly. A little bit of help coming from him was needed for you to mount the horse. He got down on one knee, patting it as if it were a mounting block. “Come on. Step on it.”

No need to ask me twice, you thought as you did what you were told, and once you were grabbing on those reins for dear life, you observed him with curious eyes. “Now what?”

“Now…” he pressed his hand into one of the horse’s sides, and afterwards, the horse began to fucking trot and you cried out, a high-pitched shriek slipping from your mouth. Joel laughed maliciously, almost hypnotized by the scene. “Now is when you learn how to ride a horse!”

“This isn't funny!” you screamed, the horse still very much entertained with the way you were jerking on top of him. “Stop!”

You couldn't believe how he kept… cracking up. Joel touched his stomach, shaking with laughter. “You’re a natural, can’t you see it? I’m havin' the time of my life here.”

“What I can see is that you’re an idiot! Cut the cackle and help me!”

But he didn’t move a single muscle. Instead, he remained still, that smug look never abandoning his features.

The bastard. “You’re gonna make me beg? In this situation?”

Crossing his arms while teasingly grinning at you, he added: “Wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“Joel Miller, will you help me? Pretty please?” your hair was getting in the way, and you could taste it as you insisted. “Is that enough for you?”

It was, actually. He helped you get down from the horse, his thick fingers digging into the mushy skin of your waist. It shouldn’t have felt that good, but it did. You were supposed to be angry at him for setting you up and still, by touching you for a microsecond, he had transformed you into something malleable.

Sadly, that feeling didn’t last much longer. “Didn’t know you were a man of manners. Should’ve told me beforehand.”

“Didn't know you could scream like that. I hope you didn’t freak anyone out.”

The two of you continued to practice until nightfall. A thing you also learned, apart from horse riding, was that Joel was a determined man. Everytime you tried to quit, he stopped you, making it impossible for you to rest. You stared at him, rubbing the back of your sore neck with a grimace. “I’m tired. Can we go back?”

“One more time.”

“Joel–”

“Trot a couple of meters just one more time, and that’s it for today. Can you do that for me?”

You tried not to pay too much attention to his choice of words, although it was basically non-viable. He looked sinful, and you longed to shut him up with a bruising kiss. Again, a hopeless option. Your hands itched to touch him, to feel his stubble, rough and coarse under your thumbs. How could you stay focused when the man you had been daydreaming with for the last couple of months was bossing you around? 

Despite your inability to clear your head of any of those thoughts, you managed to accomplish what he had asked you to do. “Well done,” he offered you his hand to dismount the horse and you accepted it, sighing as you stretched out your arms. “We should take him back to the stable,” Joel suggested, giving you the impression of being pleased as you told him you were coming with him.

Inside the stable, he relocated the horse into one of the many stalls. Unbelievably, the place didn’t smell like absolute shit, which was what you were expecting from a barn. “Thank you for the lesson,” you told Joel once he was done with the horse.

“Anytime,” he scratched his jaw, the dim light making his dark eyes look, if possible, even darker. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“No. You were right,” your heart thrummed with every word that he blurted. His presence was addictive. You were never the one to have any bad habits, but deep down, you recognized that he easily could develop one. “I thought you were less talkative.”

“So did I,” for an instant, he pressed his lips together, forming a tight line, as if he had said something he shouldn’t have in the first place. “I think I didn’t ask you this before: but why now? I mean, why did you wait so much time to learn how to ride a horse? Everyone in Jackson seems to know how.”

You cleared your throat, his piercing eyes peering at your movements. “I guess I thought it wasn't necessary back then, before all this. It's one of those things that you don't even consider until it becomes inevitable. I used to believe I had a lot of time left when I was younger,” you had never talked about this with anyone else. There was something so intimate about this conversation, how Joel stood seemingly tongue-tied in front of you, as if he were taking notes of what you were confessing to him. “I remember being a kid and not wanting to use my toys sometimes because I kept waiting for the right moment. But then…”

“You realize there’s no such thing as the right moment,” he finished the sentence for you, and you bowed your head. “Life can end at any moment, especially in a world like ours. That’s why you always gotta do what you wish to. We never know what’ll happen tomorrow.”

“Live for today, hope for tomorrow? That’s your creed?” you tried to mock him, the tension in the stable far from evident, but he didn’t move.

“It’s the way I try to live my own life. I don’t like being left with the desire to do somethin’ I could’ve done earlier. Too old for that.”

Maybe you were gradually losing it. Perhaps just a little. It couldn’t be a coincidence, right? Had he noticed how you acted around him? Were you that obvious?

“So, you would advise me to just…”

“Do whatever you feel right, sweetheart.”

That raspy sweetheart made you give in.

His eyes. His penetrating, gleaming eyes scrutinized your face at the same time you closed the distance between your bodies. From there, you were able to see every freckle, every small detail that you hadn’t previously acknowledged. He parted his lips, as if to speak, but no words other than your name came out. One of your hands made its way up to his cheek, cupping it, feeling the warmth his skin radiated. His head immediately leaned into your touch, like a moth into a flame. 

You kissed him, unable to keep waiting. It took him what felt like ages to kiss you back, his fingers tangling in your hair. He absorbed your whimpers, pressing your back against the nearest wall. Maddening– it was the perfect word to describe how being kissed by Joel felt like. When you thought he was going to draw away from you, he just held you tighter until your lungs implored for some air. Your knees had never felt this weak, and you found yourself grabbing onto his shoulders, already feeling the places where his stubble had left its trace in flames. 

“Joel…” you mumbled against his lips, detaching your mouth from his. Your erratic breaths seemed to sync together like a melody, and you tugged at the collar of his jacket. 

He knew, could see it on your features. “Wanna go to yours?”

Joel took you home. The moment you set foot in the cabin, he closed the door behind him, his hand lingering on the handle as he contemplated you from a distance. You took your coat off first, starting to unzip your pants. There was silence long enough to hear crickets in, the moon up in the sky being the only bystander of your meeting. His eyes roamed the newly exposed skin of your legs and you observed him gulp. 

“Did something happen?” you asked him, a flush crepting up your face. Taking a step forward, one of his hands came to rest on top of yours.

“No, it’s just that– Are you sure you want this?”

Crinkling your nose, you uttered: “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m just too old for you,” he warned you, running a knuckle down your cheek. “You should be with guys your age, y’know? Not with an old man like me.”

“I want you,” reassuring him, you got rid of your t-shirt, and the fact he was still dressed up from neck to toes lit some kind of fire inside you. His calloused fingers fiddled with the strap of your bra until it slipped off your shoulder. “This is what I want. Please, Joel.”

It turned out that Joel Miller certainly was a man of manners.

You couldn't help but moan as he grabbed you by the waist, dragging you to the couch by the window and straddling his lap, his hard-on finding its place beneath you, pulsing and in need of more. His tongue brushed yours ever so often, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his teeth latched onto the skin of your throat. Joel groaned, the sound, low and primal, having its desired effect on you, your hips involuntarily grinding against his in a delicious but tormenting rhythm that already had you on the verge of tears.

“Joel, please,” you managed to plead, not knowing precisely what you were asking for. His hands cupped your ass, imprinting his fingerprints on the soft flesh, forcing your hips to go harder and harder. The harsh fabric of his pants was definitely going to leave a mark on your cheeks, and thinking that helped you realize that you were the only one –almost– naked. You reached for the buttons of his denim shirt, your lips hovering over his. “Take your clothes off?”

He did the rest himself, throwing his jacket to the floor. When he got to his jeans, he cocked his head. “Why don’t we move this to the bedroom, if you’re so goddamn needy?” The few guys you had been with had never been very talkative during sex; there was even this one specific boy who had asked you to not make a sound while he fucked you. 

But Joel wasn’t like them. It was just starting and you had already realized that he had a dirty mouth, an expectant look on his face every time he waited for your reaction to his words. “Now you’re quiet, huh? Thought you wanted me to fuck you, darlin',” one of his fingers pressed down on your clit, stimulating it through your underwear. He sighed, stopping his movements and pressing the damp pad of it against your lower lip, urging you to taste yourself. “You’re wet, baby. So fuckin’ wet. Have you been like this all day? Bet you would’ve let me take you right there in the forest.”

“Oh my God,” you whined next to his ear, your whole body trembling with desire. “Take me to bed,” you begged him, and next thing you knew, he was grabbing you as if you weighed nothing and heading towards your room. 

Not knowing how, you kept your hands to yourself until he placed you on top of the bed. Joel shoved his jeans down and you didn’t think twice– you stroked his length, the fabric of his boxers only making the slow drag of your hand more satisfying. His long fingers circled your throat, and you moaned as you kept eliciting exquisite noises from him. “Let me take care of you,” his dilated pupils carved holes in your being, his grip doing nothing to cease the ache between your legs. “Please, baby. I need to make you feel good. Been thinkin’ about this for so long.”

“What?” you slowed down your pace, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “You wanted me?”

“Why do you think I began to pick Ellie up from your classes, huh? Because I’m a good, generous man?” Joel parted your knees, getting closer to where you required him the most. “I’m sorry to ruin this, but I’m far from good. Just wanted to see you and your pretty face. Didn’t know if we were on the same page until you came lookin' for me, askin' me to teach you how to ride a damn horse,” you hadn’t noticed your bra was missing till he cupped one of your breasts, flicking your nipple between his fingers. “I’m sure there were many other people you could’ve asked to teach you, but you chose me, didn’t you?”

“Don’t want anybody else,” your lips chased his, a drop of sweat already rolling down your temple. “I didn’t– didn’t know you noticed me.”

“How could I not? If you could only look at yourself like I’m doing right now… You’re a sight, sweetheart, all spread out for me,” removing your panties, he kissed the skin where your inner thighs met, his tongue darting out to draw imaginary figures on your flesh. His mouth was just inches away from your cunt, and you had to tell him.

“Joel?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve never– nobody has ever done that for me.”

He seemed to understand what you were referring to. It made you tense a bit, despite the fact that you were completely naked in front of him, basically begging him to tear you apart. Still, the realization that you weren't as expert as him hit you out of nowhere. Yeah, it was all fun and games, kissing and touching probably the hottest man you had seen in your almost three decades of life. But said man was a lot older than you, and he had lived his best years in the real world, not this fucked up version you grew up in. You were sure he had been with many different women, which wasn’t a problem– you two were nothing.

“Nobody has ever tasted ya’? That’s what you’re tryin’ to tell me?” you nodded quickly, shoving a strand of his graying hair back away from his eyes. Joel chuckled languidly, squeezing your hips. “Do you want me to? It’s okay if you don’t. We can try somethin’ else.”

“Please,” you’d have time to embarrass yourself later, thinking about the amount of times you had repeated that word. But certain moments were to be lived only once, and though you hoped it wasn't the case, you had to take the chance. “I want you to.”

Four words. It took Joel four words to disappear between your legs, licking a hot stripe up your folds. You nibbled on your bottom lip, a loud moan filling the void of your dorm. He drew sweet patterns in your cunt, discovering a part of you that no one else ever had, and you couldn’t help but to grind against his face as he dipped the tip of his tongue into your entrance. Breathing wasn’t a necessity anymore. You felt as if all the air in the world was being punched out of your lungs, the knot in your belly growing tighter the more Joel spent his precious time keeping you entertained.

At some point, he focused his attention on your clit, circling it over and over again, making you shudder. Suddenly, the pad of his middle finger tested the waters, and he slowly slid it into your cunt, earning a strangled whine from you. Burying your hands in his hair, your glossy eyes looked for him for a second. You shouldn’t have done that, because as you took in the sight of Joel with his own eyes closed, browns knitted, your nostrils flared, and you wondered if it was even possible to want somebody that much.

“Joel, wait, I’m– fuck,” your jaw went slack and you scrunched up your face, two of his thick fingers nudging that spot that made you see stars. “I’m close.” 

“That’s a good thing, sweetheart. Don’t know why you say it in such a dry tone,” his mouth curved into a smile, his chin and stubble shining with your slick. 

Your chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. “I don’t want to come yet.”

“But you will.”

A thing you also learned, apart from horse riding, was that Joel was a determined man.

“Joel–“

“I’ll make you come with my mouth, and then with my cock,” dizziness was starting to blur your vision, your eyelashes fluttering with every hard thrust of his fingers. You glanced up to the ceiling, tears filling your eyes. “Think you can do that for me, be my good girl and come twice?”

You bobbed your head. It was official: he was going to make you come.

Drawing in a long breath, you could feel the unbearable pressure in your core. His name sounded like a prayer on your lips, chanting it in the same way some people expressed their devotion to a certain God. You had your own personal deity, whose tongue accomplished to push you to the limit, licking every drop of your release as if it were a special kind of forbidden elixir.  

Your shoulders sagged and you relaxed under him. Joel kissed you, an open mouthed and filthy kiss crowning that moment as you panted. Through the cotton fabric of his boxers, you felt his hard-on poking your thigh. Shoving his underwear down, you took him in your hand, hot and just big, stroking him for real this time. You twisted your wrist at the tip, and he slumped forward, almost crushing you with his entire body weight, his breath dampening your neck. “Wanna fuck you, baby,” he croaked, his hips chasing your touch.

Out of all the scenarios you had ever imagined, none of them included being split open by Joel. You had a very vivid imagination, but no amount of creativity would’ve prepared you for what his cock would feel like inside of you. He bottomed out, his arms shaking where they rested on each side of your head. Joel’s breath quickened as he pulled out, just letting the tip, and then thrusting into you again.

“Fuck,” you didn’t recognize your own voice. It was even hard to decipher if you were still alive or dead from how magnificent he felt.

“So good, sweetheart. You’re so good, such a good girl,” he groaned, fucking deeper into you. His cock pulsed inside you, your cunt squeezing him. “Can’t believe how– how tight you are. You’re gonna make me lose my f–fucking mind.”

It was just too much. You hadn’t even recovered from your last orgasm before Joel started pounding into you like his life depended on it, the obscene sound of skin slapping skin ringing out in the room. 

“You gonna come, huh? Gonna make a mess?” you could sense he was also close, his pace faltering as seconds went by, words slurring together. He pressed his forehead against yours, clenching his fists and taking in a sharp breath. “Fuck. I’m not gonna last much longer, baby.”

Come inside, you wished to tell him, to feel his seed dripping out of your greedy hole, painting your walls. But you weren't on the pill; it was also the first time you were sleeping with Joel, and you didn’t know how he would take the… suggestion. “Close,” you yelped instead, tears shimmering in your eyes as Joel’s body hovered over you like the most perfect eclipse. 

His thrusts became more frenzied, if possible. “That’s it, darlin’. Come for me,” your gaze fixated upon him, his eyes flickering with hunger. “Wanna see you when you soak my cock.”

Your body went limp, your orgasm hitting you like a truck. Soreness took place in your throat as you moaned his name through the aftershocks, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids. Going rigid, you let go of Joel’s shoulders. He pulled out, mumbling something you didn’t quite catch. You fisted his cock, trying to give him the release he so yearned for. Joel kissed you, messy teeth and saliva taking part of it. Heavy on your hand, his dick twitched as you squeezed the base, roped of his warm cum splattering your belly. The scene reminded you of a painting; he was the talented painter, and you his blank canvas, waiting to be signed with his name.

It was the turn of silence now. None of you said anything for a while, until Joel used his boxers to clean up his cum from your stomach, smiling apologetically at you. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” your fingers delicately traced the contours of his chest as he reclined, enveloping you in the embrace of his strong arms. “Will you stay?”

Please say yes.

“Only if you want me to.”

Moral of the story: learning how to ride a horse can actually be nice if your teacher happens to be Joel Miller.

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

NSFT Alphabet: Matthias Czernin

Does my little dance while screaming

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Let the man recover first! No really, he needs a second to recover and come back to reality. He would be very into bathing right after, he will though enjoy skinship and needs to be given affection from you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Matthias, after the fire burns half of his body, tries not to think about it. Bad enough looks at Louis who looks perfectly undamaged while he is ugly. You have to tell him what you like about him, sit him down, and tell him your favorite parts of him. On you though, he likes your legs. Idk he seems like a legs or thighs guy

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I don't think he's a cum inside guy, he can when lost in the moment, but he rather cum on you so he can wipe it off or cum on the sheets that need to be changed anyway

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I think he would like dollification, listen, something about the control and trust you give that he can appreciate. He could dress you up, put the proper makeup on, tying you to the rope to hold you in place. The process is probably what gets him going before even the play starts, admiring his work.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Virgin, sorry not sorry taking his virginity 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Would say riding or doggy style depending on his mood but also a mating press (i think it hot dbbdbd)

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Serious but he might laugh a bit if you are the type to be really happy during sex. It is endearing 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I think cuz of the fire he has no hair (though i think he was one a bush not groomed)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

Matthias prob is the romantic type but he has no experience in this field so be patient with him. Give him a chance, he is trying.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I think he has out of curiosity but then just didn't do it again because he couldn't cum and it annoyed him

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dollification but also body worship (giving). But also he probably no idea what kinks are until you lol

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bedroom, he is a private person

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Idk whatever plot i makeup tbh

He would try impact play but the second he hit too hard that was enough for him

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Giving. He needs to work up to receiving because of his dislike towards his body.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He is a building-up kinda guy but if you catch him on one of his bad days, he can be fast and rough. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

No, and yes, you get the quickies on him. Blowing him because you definitely can have an oral fixation around him

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

He is willing to try anything so long as you respect when he says no 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

One or two rounds, listen HE IS TRYING gotta edge him

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He would like using toys on you only but you could try it on him when he is comfortable with trying to be submissive 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He has to edge you, you outlast him and he needs you to crumble

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Matthias tries to be quiet but is actually very vocal, very flustered when you point it out too

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Matthias is naturally dominant but he is giving. I say naturally because he needs something he can control, something stable that won't force him to change unless he allows it. But he does become open to be the giving submissive, now he is giving you his trust and control over him. It helps to praise him through it too, he needs that reassurance from his partner that he doesn't have to be perfect. Matthias has to be shown he can enjoy himself without worry.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It's good just let him fuck you okay

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I don't think at first he has a high sex drive, it is probably very low. It's about average when you become his partner though

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Out like a light lol but it is the best sleep of his life.

[creativesaturn]

hey!! i absolutely love your writing style, and i have notifications specifically on so i don’t miss when you post :) i had an idea that literally just came to me but i don’t really have any plot to go with it 😭

so basically, any cm character (maybe hotch, emily or spence?) walking in on the reader drawing said character & the reader gets really embarrassed and tries to put it away, but the character actually really likes the drawing and asks to keep it and just something wholesome idk 😭🫶

absolutely don’t feel pressured to write this, just had an idea and thought i’d share <3

Summary: Hotch finds out about your drawing hobby.

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 515

a/n: sorry this took so long to post! I wanted to scrap it and redo it but I decided not to. That's really sweet of you thank you so much!!! hope you enjoy 💞💞

Aaron knocked on your hotel door, not once, but twice.

You were too busy listening to music that filled your sense of hearing, and completely focusing on the pencil in your hand.

For the past few days you've been struggling to find something to draw. It was one of your hobbies that you genuinely enjoyed, but it was always hard finding motivation.

But today, on the jet. You burned the image of Aaron sitting by the window during the sunset, just so you could draw it later. It was a sight for sore eyes. You didn't care if he could notice you staring, you needed to keep every detail engraved in your mind.

So--as soon as you step foot in your hotel room, you knew exactly what you were going to do.

"y/n?" Aaron's voice startling you as he stood inches behind you.

You quickly turned around, looking up at the tall man. You pulled your headphones out your ears; mouth agape unsure what to say.

He glances behind you to see what had your attention, his face had an expression you couldn't quite make out. So, you thought of the worst.

You quickly turned back, taking the piece of paper to turn over and hide.

"Is that me?" He asked, voice soft as he spoke.

"Uhm--Yeah.. Yeah, it-it is.." You stumbled over your own words, "It's totally stupid though, 's not even done yet." You mumbled, your voice so low he was unsure if he heard you.

"It's not stupid," He retorted, reaching for the paper. You quickly pulled back, watching his eyes as they widened.

"Let me see."

"No.."

"Please?"

You looked down at your hands, sighing as you slowly handed him the paper. You fidgeted with your fingers as you looked anywhere but his eyes, afraid of what you'll see in his expression.

"You're very good with details," He complimented you. "Where'd you learn how to do this?" He asked sincerely, looking up from the drawing to look at your face.

"Just something I learned over the years," You shrugged. "I get bored a lot." You looked up at him, profiling his reaction.

He had a soft smile, his eyebrows raised as if he was impressed and you swore his eyes glistened.

"Can I keep it?" Aaron asked.

"You--You want to keep it?" You asked, shocked at the question.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?" He chuckled, bringing the page down to his side to show he had his attention on you.

"Because.. I don't know..." You shrugged, unable to hide the smile that he gave you.

"The team is waiting for us, by the way." Aaron laughed, seeing the bright pink that danced across your face.

"Okay." You nodded, making your exit out of the hotel.

Not many people knew you drew, at least well. When you'd tell people they expect stick figures and doodles you'd find on the side of a middle schoolers test. And every time they'd notice, it was always the same expression. It never failed to bring you joy and validation from others compliments.

reposts and comments are appreciated <3

[kuroshioi]

Hi hi mootie! ❤️ I originally had an small idea I wanted to write on Jing Yuan with an assassin reader, but gave up lol. Okay so: She was assigned to assassinate Jing Yuan, but found it difficult to even meet him; getting her chance to complete her task at hand it backfires on her! Inspo

Your writtig is so yummy! Also do you ever plan on writing Aventurine? i can provide you basic info on Aventurine for writing <3

cw: nsfw, mdni, fem!reader !!

Jing Yuan x reader nfsw !!

wc: 460+ !!

note: aawwh tysm for showing love and appreciation for my writings and I do plan on writing Aventurine so you're always welcome on my inbox or dms for providing info abt him !!

. Originally you were meant to be a skilled and strong assassin that was supposed to assasinate the cloud knights general so how did you end up in this situation..?

it wasn't rare that Jing Yuan would have people chasing after him because of his position, skills and what not.

and because of such matters he wasn't that concerned when he first realized your presence in the countryard while he was drinking tea but of course he did keep his guard

one time you took a slight glance out of your hiding spot to see his face and he decided to test the waters by making direct eye contact with you and how you immediately hid back in your place made him chuckle under his breath.

He tried doing anything and everything to tease and annoy you without making you realize that he knew about you.

Why? Because it was fun :)

there was no reason for him to tease you like that but for him it was so fun to see you frustrated, a blushing mess for embarrasing yourself for the huge mistakes because..

because...?

why?

it didn't make sense but it did something to him nevertheless.

Three weeks already passed, the organization that hired you was now demanding that you find a way to kill him or atleast try to hurt him as much as possible and you didn't know how and..

another thing was that

you felt like slowly falling for him

you didn't know what caused you to have such feelings for a person who was supposed to be assassinated by you so you tried to ignore such feelings

and unfortunately you had to choose the last resort and threw your feelings to the side..

or did you?

you decided to assassinate Jing Yuan while he was sleeping in his room midnight

of course... It was hard to pass around the guards, some even put to eternal sleep by you because of how annoying they were but the end you finally reached your destination

his room.

you gently opened the door to see the man sleeping shirtless in a king sized bed

"wow...I didn't know the general needed such a large bed just for one person"

you thought to yourself as you took silent steps near him and pulled out your dagger

you felt bad like really bad..

you didn't want to kill him you didn't want to do this but you had to.. you already signed the contract and took the money

so you closed your eyes and just as you were about to kill him you felt a hand grip your wrist tightly

your eyes opened up and widened in shock

"wait- what?"

just as you were about to come to your senses the general immediately threw your body to the other side of the bed by the hand he was griping (don't ask if it even makes sense idk bruh)

and sits up and cages you in his arms

"Now tell me my dear, who you might be and what you are doing in my own chambers hm?"

He said with a smirk looking at you

now the rest is for you to imagine <3

[solaris-amethyst]

💫Ice Cream?💫

✨Pairing: non idol!Hongjoong x gn!reader ✨Prompt: The two of you get stuck in the elevator together ✨Word Count: 1.1k ✨Genre: fluff, you're partners, stuck in an elevator ☀️Authors Note: I'm trying to become better at writing people flirting and being cute together and idk if I managed or not😅 What is your thoughts on this oneshot?💓

"Well shit..." Hongjoong uttered staring at the little screen that now was stuck between the number 4 and 5.

"Yeah you could say that again... Did the elevator seriously break right now?" You muttered irritatedly.

The two of you had been out shopping for a nice evening inside watching a new tv series you had started together and eat delicious food.

Hongjoong squeezed your hand, trying to calm down his own nerves at the thought of being stuck in an elevator. You made the call to press the emergency button and let it ring until someone down at the reception finally answered.

"Hello? What seems to be the problem?" The man down at the reception asked.

"Me and Hongjoong are stuck in the elevator, we're between floor 4 and 5. Do you think you could call someone to come fix this and get us out of here?" You questioned and you could hear the person picking up another phone and making the call to the janitors office. After a while the receptionist came back to you and Hongjoong.

"I've spoken to the janitors and they will be here in about 20 to 25 minutes. They're at another complex right now fixing a leak. They're almost done and will get here as soon as they can. Try not to panic and just stay calm until then okay?"

With that the call ended and your boyfriend let out a loud groan when he realized how long the two of you had to wait for the janitors to come.

"It's gonna be fine Joongie, it's not that long I promise! Then we will be back in our apartment, in our cozy sofa with our food and snacks and tv serie." You tried cheering him up by bringing his hand up to your lips giving it a small kiss.

"I know but now my surprise for you is ruined." He whines complaining looking like a kicked puppy with his big sad eyes and pouty mouth.

"Surprise?" You questioned raising an eyebrow at him

"Yeah I had gotten a surprise for you." He sighs and instructs you to close your eyes stating that he cannot allow it to be ruined.

Hongjoong rummaged around until he found the two ice creams he had bought without your knowledge earlier. The two of you had seen them earlier last week and both had wanted to try them someday and he had hoped that today would be the perfect day to end it with eating some ice cream.

He opened your ice cream first and made sure you had a steady grip on it before opening his own.

"You can open your eyes now love." He said and his smile grew as you opened them and saw the ice cream of your choice.

"You got us ice creams!! Hongjoong!!" You couldn't believe he managed to buy them without you noticing it. You were beaming at him, elated he had bought just the flavor you had wanted to try after skimming through all of the flavors the first time you saw all of the ice creams.

"I wanted it to be a surprise for after dinner but I guess it will be a before dinner surprise." He said as he bumped his own ice cream against yours.

"Cheers!"

"Cheers!" You chuckle mirroring his action before taking a small bite out of the ice cream.

"Oh wow this is really good!" You say with wide eyes and your boyfriend just shrugs

"I think I can do better." He admits before holding his ice cream towards you with a motion asking if you wanted to try his which you do, leaning forward to take a little bite, humming in appreciation.

"Yours were great as well! And what you think you can make better ice cream than this?" You question as he tries yours, humming in delight as well.

"Well yeah, it can't be that hard to make good ice cream. Just tell me which flavors you want and I'll make it for you." He says with that slight cocky smirk on his face.

"Is this some sort of challenge towards me or do you just want my attention?" You question wondering if this was his way of saying he wants to spend more time with you doing silly stuff.

"Maybe."

"Okay then how about you make me a good blueberry ice cream and also another one which has the flavor of a mango?" You tell him.

Hongjoong nods as he finishes his ice cream, putting the stick in the bag for now. He takes some step forward so he's close. You look at him as you finish your own ice cream, no matter how many times you see him his beauty never fails to stun you.

Especially his eyes, they're always so kind and filled with so much love each time he looks at you that it almost takes your breath away.

"May I kiss you?" He asks shyly.

You nod towards him, that's another part of him that you absolutely love. He always asks if it's okay for him to kiss you before he does.

He leans in capturing your lips in a heated kiss pushing you back towards the wall of the elevator. Your arms sneak around his shoulders as the two of you enjoy the silence and the intimacy of said kiss.

After a while the two of you ended the kiss, Hongjoong resting his forehead against yours, his eyes looking at you with so much love.

"You're so beautiful you know that right? The love of my life, my inspiration, my muse." He whispered lovingly causing you to break eye contact with him for a second.

"You really have your way with words Joongie. I really adore you so much, I wish I could show that more."

"You already do my love, you showcase your love when you bake me cookies when I'm overwhelmed, you show that when you read me stories when I need to unwind after a long day at the studio, you show that when you open your arms and let me sink into your warm embrace and allowing me to be vulnerable when I need without making me feel small. You make me feel loved." He whispered quietly to you.

"You really mean that?"

"I do, every single word."

The two of you ended up sitting down cuddling together on the elevator, sharing short but blissful kisses whilst sharing sweet and loving comments towards each other. Hongjoong continued to shower you with love and you did your best to reciprocate his wonderful comments, wanting him to truly understand how much he means to you.

Eventually the two of you could hear the janitors outside working on opening the doors to get the two of you out.

"It is finally time for us to get out of this entrapment and have our cozy evening my muse." Joong said as he helped you up from your sitting position.

"Finally, I cannot wait to cuddle you whilst watching our series together."

You gave him a quick kiss before the doors opened for the two of you to get out.

[httpskuzuu]

if your not busy then can you make more yandere chuuya l'm down bad for him lol!😭

The best gift

can we give reader a therapy session? thanks

Yandere!Chuuya x Reader

English is not my mother tongue, sorry for the mistakes

summary: Chuuya just wants to make you happy (I love that man)

tw: failed escape attempt, mention of punishment, broken leg, feelings of abandonment? idk

He couldn't be more fed up with you.

I mean, he loves you, but the fact that you are always unwilling to correspond to him is something that really hurts him deeply.

He even thought of locking you up in complete darkness, no light, no food. He wanted you to crawl to him afterward and ask him to get you out. He wanted to make you say you loved him.

He never got around to putting that plan into action, obviously. He's not that horrible! He's not a monster. He really loves you.

Sure anyone would put you through the most grotesque tortures to make you submissive. But he was different, you should appreciate him more.

As much as he knows you have reasons, he still finds it completely overkill because, come on, you have everything you want just by asking nicely! Everything but freedom, of course.

You want expensive clothes? Okay. You want diamond jewelry? In less than five seconds, you'll have them in your hands. Want to travel to exotic destinations? He's taking you, just don't leave his side.

All he asks is a little obedience from you, it's not that hard, is it? He's looking out for your happiness too, the more submission from you, the better quality of life. It's a win-win.

But you didn't seem to understand that.

You were in bed, lying there, not wanting to move an inch of your body. Chuuya broke your leg just two days ago. The pain was unbearable.

You didn't talk to him since that, well, except for the moment he broke it. You cried to him and begged him, as silly as it sounds, to make the pain stop.

You wished Chuuya was some mythical God so he could fulfill your earlier request.

The pain didn't make you think well, so you were crying to Chuuya, talking about your cat and how much you missed him. Chuuya was by your side, stroking your hair, listening to you attentively.

You always mentioned your cat, how you wanted him with you now, how much you loved him. In fact, most of the time when an argument happened, it was because you mentioned that you wanted to go home with your cat!

Was an animal really that important to you? Well, if it made you happy, Chuuya would bring it home. Maybe then you'd stop crying randomly throughout the day, or fighting him. Imagining you, a fighter, turning into someone with a more passive behavior just because of a cat, drove him crazy.

Chuuya warned you that he was leaving, but that he would be back quickly, he left you a pain pill along with a glass of water. He hoped you would notice that he was not so cruel, after all, he could have left you lying on the floor, with two broken legs instead of just one, as was his idea at the beginning.

You were left alone in the house. You had never felt more lonely and bad in your life. Your friends, your family, your pet, what will become of them?

You feel miserable, left to your own devices. Why didn't they come for you? Did they care about you in the first place? You were sure there should have been an investigation into your disappearance by now, but what if there wasn't? What if you weren't important enough to them?

Were you that hard to love? But Chuuya loved you, in an obsessive way, but he did. Wouldn't that be the purest kind of love?

You don't know why you keep fighting, but it's something normal in you, like something wrapped in your DNA. You feel attacked, helpless, by something bigger that can't be stopped, so you grit your teeth trying to feel safe. It's not working the same for you anymore.

You didn't try to escape because this life was bad. You tried to escape because you didn't want to be forgotten by others. What kind of life is one in which you are a ghost trapped?

But you are not selfish, you hope they are doing well. You hope they have the happiness you can't seem to achieve.

You cried until you heard the door open. You hadn't noticed that Chuuya had come home.

You looked at him for a few seconds, he had with him a black gift box, tied with a ribbon. You didn't want gifts, you didn't want jewelry that could buy you.

Sure, that was until you heard a meow come out of the box. You stopped crying almost automatically and looked at it in surprise. You could even feel the glint settling in your eyes.

Chuuya pretended not to hear the meowing. "Why didn't you take the pill? You can't complain about the pain and then be stubborn enough not to take it."

"What's in the box?"

"A present for you. I thought it might make you happier." He sat on the edge of the bed, resting the box on his legs. "You know, I don't like to see you cry."

His gloved hand reaches to your cheek and wipes away the tears. There is an impulse in your body to fight, to refuse to be touched, but you stayed still.

Chuuya put the box on the bed next to you. You struggle and manage to sit up in bed, your leg throbbing with pain, but you ignore it. You have more important things to do now.

You don't even look at Chuuya for approval to open the box, you just open it. And there it is, your faithful friend who always stood by your side. Your cat.

You cry again.

Your cat seems happy to see you again, he nuzzles his head against your hand affectionately and meows at you. You take him in your arms and hug him.

"Do you like the present?" Chuuya's voice comes through in the place only ruled by your sobs. Of course you like it, how could you not? You missed this kitten so much, it had been so long since you hadn't seen him.

You nod your head. "Very much, I like it very much. Thank you Chuuya." Your voice shakes from the sobs, but that doesn't matter anymore.

You don't have to keep staying defensive when you have a friend with you.

"I thought maybe your cat could help you to be calmer, to stop fighting."

There was always something hidden. Chuuya wanted to see you happy, of course, but if he could gain some of that happiness from you, he would gladly do so.

You nod again. "Yes, it will help me." You wipe the tears from your cheeks as you smile.

It looks like you're both happy for once.

[notyourhetloki]

Please more ken smut idc plot or anything! you are such a good writer I could read them forever

mink fantasy (Ken x Reader)

Reader: gender neutral

/NSFW Ken x Doll!Reader/

A/N: Hi, anon!! OMG THANK YOU SO MUCH you made me blushh aaaa and oof I wanted to write more smut for this man so bad! Thank you for requesting and I hope you like it! It's a mixture between an imagine and headcanons bc idk what I'm doing! Also, I made a reference to the "dirty secret" part in my nsfw alfabet soo... read it first if you'd like! xoxo

Warnings: very smutty, dolls have genitals in this one, top!Ken, Ken is feeling himself, over-confident Ken, inappropriate use of the mink!

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What if... Ken fucked you wearing his mink coat?

Like, he would be super nervous to bring that fantasy up, but as soon as you approved it, oh... things would get interesting.

He would feel so confident, so sexy wearing it... it would bring a new attitude out of him... he would feel powerful.

Ken would kiss you slowly, taking his time to taste and feel you. Hungrily grabbing on your thighs, your ass... feeling really possessive all of a sudden.

And you loved it, oh... to see him wearing only a pair of pants and the mink, exposing his toned torso... feeling the fur on your skin and looking up at him to see arousal in his eyes... oof.

You couldn't help it, kneeling in front of him and undoing his pants like the good doll you were. His cock already hard by the time you pulled it out, you admired it for a moment before licking it from base to tip.

Ken would roll his head back, moaning and grabbing your hair as you teased him with your tongue... and now he would make sure to try his best and watch you through the whole thing.

And you would do a fantastic job, kissing and licking until his grip on your hair got a little too strong... then you would finally open your mouth and swallow him, bobbing your head up and down while sucking on his dick.

The fur on his coat would tickle your face, but you wouldn't mind it at all, continuing to suck him until you drooled all over his cock, saliva dripping down your chin as you tried your best to get him all the way down.

Ken would moan loudly and begin to thrust his hips into you, meeting your movements while grabbing your hair. He'd be so deep into your throat, dominating you with his grip and you wouldn't even gag (cuz guess what? dolls don't have a gag reflex).

Wet slapping sounds echoed through the room, only making the two of you hornier by the second. You hummed around his dick, muffled moans tried to escape your mouth as he pounded into you, groaning at the feeling of you around him.

"Fuck, (Y/N)... your mouth feels so good... agh!" He'd be so cocky, too... full of confidence to praise you and say the dirtiest of things. "You like sucking my cock, doll?" or "Oh, I'm gonna cum all over your pretty face."

And he would! Taking his dick out of you to finish on your face... and you accepted his load with an open mouth so you could taste him. He seemed to really appreciate the view, smirking and stroking your cheek while humming in approval.

Ken would enjoy the afterglow by sitting down and having you between his legs, like a puppy. You would caress his tighs while he evened his breathing, eyes closed in pure bliss.

But then would come the worrying... Ken would suddenly snap out of his over-confident persona and start asking you questions like: "My love, did I hurt you??" or "Are you ok?? Did I go too far?"

After cleaning up and reassuring him that everything was fine, you would kiss him tenderly while holding the sides of his face, saying sweet 'I love you's and running your fingers through his hair.

In the end, the experience would be fantastic for the both of you. Ken would adore wearing his mink, and you were delighted to meet his new cocky demeanor.

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