#so i feel like I had a more decent amount of sleep

[a-killer-obsession]

Whoops, you got hit by a bus, and now you're in the world of One Piece. But not everything is quite as you remember it...

General Tags: afab reader, she/her reader pronouns, isekai, monsterfucker reader, vampire!kid, werewolf!killer, wyrm!heat, minotaur!wire, everyone has a human form, smut heavy, unhealthy relationships, dubious consent, serious violence, spoilers for Wano arc, starts pre-timeskip. There will be a lot of more intense kinks, please check AO3 for all current tags.

Chapter 11 - Two For One Special

The best things come in twos :)

WC: 3.4k

Masterlist | AO3 | Chapter 1

A/N: yes I know this isn't how snake dicks work, but also he's not a snake so 😤

It'd been a few days since Kid had announced your official joining of the Kid Pirates, and the crew had welcomed you with open arms. While you hadn't had much chance to get to know them, you had become decent friends with Quincy, Hip and Emma, who had accompanied you on several shopping trips over the last few days so you could stock up on all the things you needed, like clothes, sanitary items and furniture to be delivered to the Victoria Punk in a few days. Right now the Punk resided in a dry dock, being coated by Rayleigh in preparation for the journey to Fishman Island. It was nice having the guarantee that the crew would make it to the New World unscathed, given the low success rate for pirates passing through. As predicted, Rayleigh had been thankful for Kid's help in getting Cammie out of the auction house, even if it hadn't been his intention. It would take another day for the coating to be finished, and in the meantime the crew had been staying on Sabaody. You'd even had the chance to visit the amusement park with the girls, and Quincy may or may not have fingered you in the ferris wheel, a lady never kisses and tells. You liked Quincy, she was fun. If you were gonna sleep with anyone on your own fruition, outside of the big four, it'd most likely be her. A little bit of pussy, for variety.

You spent the first few nights staying with Wire, since fucking him when you should have been resting did in fact turn out to be a mistake, and Wire was the least likely to jump you when he knew you needed time to recover. You were offered your own room, now that you weren't a prisoner, but you didn't feel comfortable being on your own in a place known for kidnapping and selling people. Kid wasn't happy about being separated from his ship, because it meant he couldn't work on your collar, but it was just as well since you weren't up for being free-used right now anyway. It was nice spending more time with Wire, he wasn't as stuck up as you initially thought, he was actually pretty easy to get along with now that you were a crewmate and not a prisoner. He hadn't allowed himself to get close to you when there was risk of you being a traitor and being disposed of, but now that you were a permanent fixture he was allowed to let himself care about you. He wasn't as cuddly as the others, but he was good company. Last night though Heat had practically begged you to spend the night with him, and pinky promised he would be on his absolute best behaviour, so you'd relented.

Heat had kept to his word, not going any further with you than cuddles and some pleasant making out, and now he slept soundly beside you in his wyrm form, forced on his back by his horns, his long tail hanging off the end of the bed. You were nestled up against him, wearing one of his old shirts with nothing underneath. You owned clothes now, but the boys all had such soft shirts that were so oversized and comfy to sleep in. While he was on his best behaviour, you were feeling a bit frisky. You were well aware that your period was close, and it was making you antsy. You didn't know how keen the boys would be on period sex, so you decided to take advantage of the short amount of time you had before your cycle started. You were already cramping lightly, so it wouldn't be long. Not to mention you usually had quite painful periods, so you usually didn't want to be touched due to how miserable you felt.

You also had a curiosity after the gangbang, after watching Wire toy with the slit that hid Heat's cocks. You wondered what it looked and felt like inside the slit, and since Wire had done it, surely it was okay to toy with - it certainly seemed like Heat had enjoyed it. Quietly you pulled the blankets off him and straddled his pretty mauve tail. His scales were always so beautiful, you loved to run your hands over them and admire the iridescence. He was especially beautiful in the sunlight, when his whole tail sparkled with that iridescence. Heat stirred a little in his sleep as you lowered your weight on to him, but didn't wake yet. You ran your finger over the closed slit, feeling bad for a short moment for invading his privacy, before remembering how many times you'd woken up with Heat's dick buried in your cunt.

You used your thumbs either side of the slit to gently pry the scales apart, a little surprised at what you found inside. It almost looked like a pussy, the tip of the higher cock where you would expect a clit to be, the other tip lower where you would expect the vaginal opening. It seemed like they were laid one on top of another, the shafts going up towards his belly. Pretending it was a clit, you fiddled with the pointed tip of the upper cock, making Heat whine in his sleep. You pushed your fingers in further, between the two shafts, feeling the piercings and bumps that lined the lower side of the upper shaft. It was warm and a little moist inside his sheath, a bit like a pussy. No wonder Wire liked to toy with it, and it made you feel flustered to technically be inside him.

Leaning down, sliding your butt a little further down his tail, you held the slit open and flicked the upper cock with your tongue. You pushed your tongue between the shafts, tasting the musky slick that coated them, a taste you were familiar with whenever Heat was in this form. You sucked on the tip, feeling it move as his cocks sprang to life and tried to slide from the slit. The more you worked at his cocks, the less you could get inside him, until both phallus were proudly presented. You took turns sucking on each one, listening to Heat's quiet whimpers, until his own moan woke him.

“[Y/n]?” He groaned, hips wiggling and fingers gripping at the sheets as he realised the situation, “ohh, fuck, fuck [y/n], that's so good.”

“You're so pretty, Heat,” you cooed before focusing on the lower cock, bobbing your head as your hand worked the other. Heat whined and whipped his tail excitedly against the bed, one of his hands burying in your hair and beckoning you to swallow more of him. You let him guide you, wanting to please him and hear more of his cute little whimpers, gagging occasionally as his tip hit your uvula. You'd had a lot of practice these days, and could almost take all of him in this form, the thinner tip far easier on your throat than a human cock. Your eyes watered as finally you were able to successfully meet his base, and Heat let out a high pitched whine that was your only warning before his grip on your hair tightened, holding you against him as he emptied right down your throat. His other cock likewise spilled out, drenching your face and hand with a stream of cum.

When his grip finally loosened you pulled off with a pop, licking at the cum that dripped on your lips with a fiendish smile. Heat sat up and kissed you fiercely, before licking a wide swipe up your face to clean off his cum. It aroused you to taste his own cum on his tongue, and you ground your bare cunt against his tail and the base of his still exposed cocks. His hand slid down your front, catching the hem of your shirt and pulling it up and over your head. He dipped to suck on your tits, groping each of them and squishing them together, pressing his face against the valley he created. He had to be careful of his horns, but mostly they just pushed flat against your clavicle.

“I could die happy in these tits,” he sighed, “fucking incredible. You're so beautiful.”

One of his hands travelled down your soft front, until it could cup your mound. His fingers slipped between your folds, and he groaned against your nipple as he felt how soaked you were. His cocks were twitching back to life as he heard the wet squelch your cunt made as he pushed two fingers inside you, pumping you deep and slow. You were practically dripping on his hand with how wet you were, bouncing slighting to try fuck his fingers faster. Heat added a third finger and stretched you out more. He focused on pleasing you, using his other hand to rub your clit as he watched your face contort in pleasure, your mouth making a pretty little ‘o’ as you hit your orgasm and shuddered against him with a gasp.

“Heat,” you panted against his chest as he pulled his fingers out of you, “I- I want your cocks.”

“Plural?” He questioned with a raised brow. You'd never asked for both.

“Plural,” you confirmed, nipping at his neck and making him groan until he gave in and pushed you onto your back beside him, quickly rolling to take his place between your legs. He spread your legs wide and rut his lower shaft against your soaked cunt.

“Relax for me, treasure,” Heat cooed, holding both cocks squeezed together in his hand and pressing the tips to your entrance. He was overly excited to bury both of his dicks inside you at once, but didn't want to hurt you by being too hasty. The tips slid inside you easily, the tapered ends meaning that the first quarter or so of his lengths only amounted to about the girth of his human cock. It was when he pushed in further that you began to feel the stretch, and you made a low groan as he bullied his cocks inside you. You gripped his forearms bruisingly tight as he stretched you out, his combined width being even greater than Wire's as he reached the thickest part. It was easier for him to press the rest in once you'd eased enough to accommodate, and Heat let out a stuttered breath as he stilled with his cocks deep inside you.

“Fuck, you're so perfect,” he groaned, “so good to me, my perfect treasure.”

“So.. so full,” you whined, “feels good, hnng.”

“Yeah? You like having both my cocks inside you? Stretching you out, like the good little slut you are?” Heat purred, slowly pulling most of the way out before sliding back in again. You made strained groans as he fucked you slowly, your belly bulging from how full you were, fingernails digging into his arms and back. “Fuck you take me so well.”

Heat was barely moving but you were so full that every inch of your inner walls were being pressed against, and it was driving you to madness. He'd hardly entered you and you already felt like you were going to cum again. Your legs wrapped around his tail at the same time as you grabbed his horns, and you pulled on them to bring his face closer, capturing his bottom lip with your teeth and tugging on it. “Harder,” you growled, “fuck me harder, Heat.”

“Fuck,” Heat groaned as he picked up his pace, the bed underneath you creaking with every thrust as you started to scream like a bitch in heat, the whole inn would no doubt hear you. Let them hear, you were in heaven, cock drunk as Heat fucked you hard, pulling what felt like endless orgasms from you as you cried out. “I wanna see you covered in cum,” Heat groaned, “can I finish on you?”

“Please,” you whined, “wanna- wanna be painted. Paint me Heat, give it to me.”

“You're such a good girl,” Heat cooed as he pulled one last orgasm from you, making you go limp as you panted, dazed and blissed out. He pulled his cocks from you, making you whine at the emptiness, before he held them in one hand and jerked himself off. Heat made deep grunts as he fisted himself, releasing volatile ropes of cum over your belly and breasts as he quivered above you. With a contented sigh he rolled to your side, breathing heavy next to you. Your hand lazily ran through the cum, rubbing it over your breasts as you sleepily groped at them before falling limp again.

“I thought you were taking a break,” Heat asked.

“I was, but I woke up horny,” you explained, “I'm always like this when I'm about to get my period. It'll probably come in a few hours.”

“Boo, that means Kid will want you staying with him,” Heat pouted.

“Oh? He's into period sex?” You asked.

“He likes blood,” Heat replied, in a tone that made you think he was a little confused that you didn't realise that.

“I could just not tell him,” you suggested mischievously.

“He'll smell it a mile away,” Heat sighed, “there's no avoiding it. He'll treat you good though, he's well practised with periods. You'll be spoiled for sure.”

“Well then,” you giggled, “I guess I can't complain about that. Though I get the feeling you'd spoil me too.”

“I'll spoil you after,” he promised, “my pretty treasure. In the meantime…” you giggled and squirmed as he leaned over and licked a long stripe up your belly, cleaning off a lot of his cum and tickling you in the process, “... I've got a few more hours until you get Kid-napped. But I'm gonna have to groom you first,” he made several more licks all over your breasts and tummy, “before I get you all messy again.”

A couple hours later and just as predicted, your period had come. Heat offered you some weed and more sex to help with the pain, which you happily accepted, resulting in a round of dizzying, giggly, shower sex. After that the two of you met up with Wire and Killer, the four of you heading off to do some shopping. Kid had ordered them to find you an appropriate weapon, and for your training to start as soon as the crew were back at sea. You knew you were good with a rifle, from all your hunting trips with your dad, so you were on the lookout for a suitable one. The boys had also noticed that you were decently strong, not to mention the potential of your armament haki, so they were also looking for a close combat weapon that took advantage of those strengths. You weren't very fast or agile though, so they also had to keep that in mind. The boys had high standards though, and it felt like it was going to take all day to find weapons they approved off. They couldn't decide on the type of weapon either - Killer wanted to train you with swords, Wire wanted to train you with something long like a spear, and Heat wanted you to get something that would just look cool and take advantage of your strength, like a battleaxe.

The rifle was the easier weapon to find, your eye caught by a beautiful single shot rifle, the wooden parts made from the blue stripes of one of Sabaody's giant mangroves, trimmed with silver metal that had been delicately engraved with florals. It was a beautiful gun, and close to what you were familiar with using back home. Right now it was slung over Heat's back - the boys wanted Kid to inspect it before you were allowed to use it. You felt a little like a princess with the way they were all treating you like some precious thing, it was nice to feel like they all had your safety in mind. Not to mention it was such a beautiful gun that they were worried someone would try to snatch it from you, and without knowing your fighting capabilities they didn't want to risk that.

Heat and Killer were currently debating a battle axe Heat had found, while on the other side of the store you followed Wire, who was examining the range of polearm weapons for sale. You hummed to yourself as you walked behind him; despite your cramps you were in a good mood, you felt truly special with the care the boys were taking to choose your weapons.

“Someone seems chipper,” Wire noted as he pulled a spear from the rack and inspected it, “have a good morning with Heat did we? We certainly all heard you, and by the sounds of it he either he fucked your brains out or murdered you, and I'm gonna guess it wasn't the later.”

“Actually, I'm feeling quite proud of myself,” you replied with a grin, “I took both of his dicks today.”

“Oh, in the same hole?” Wire put down the spear to give you his attention, this was far more interesting than weapon shopping.

“Yeah!” You smiled, running your hand down the staff of a halbert. Now that you looked at it, it was quite lovely. It was made from that same blue wood, and the silver axe-like blade featured ornate cut outs that could be mistaken for matching your gun. A weapon like this would give you a lot of options; it was long, so you could keep enemies a little further away, it had the blades either side for swinging motions that took advantage of your strength, and it had the long spear tip for stabbing motions. “What about this one?”

“I told you you could do it, good job, proud of you,” Wire pressed a kiss into your hair before looking at the halberd and pulling it from the rack, “Looks well made, I think this would suit you nicely.”

“And it matches my gun!” You beamed.

“It does indeed,” Wire offered a soft smile. He liked how enthusiastic you were about learning to fight, he appreciated someone willing to stand up for themselves instead of relying on others. As much as they were all treating you like some delicate, precious thing, Wire had high hopes for your fighting capabilities, and if you selected the halberd it meant he could train you himself. As much as your pussy was the hot commodity you were kept on board for, he was growing quite fond of you, and he didn't want to always be worrying about your safety when they got to the New World, so he'd make sure you had all the skills you needed to hold your own in battle. “If this is what you want, I'll teach you to use it. Give it a hold, see how the weight feels.”

Wire handed you the halberd and you held it with both hands, Wire gently shifting them to the correct positions along the staff. “Feels good, not too heavy,” you hummed, “I think I could work with this.”

“You look good with it,” Wire noted, “OI, KIL, HEAT, GET YOUR ASSES OVER HERE.”

Heat put the axe back on the rack and the two of them scurried over, playfully pushing each other as they moved. Wire made a gesture with his head for you to hand them the weapon, and Killer took it and looked over it carefully. “Not bad,” Killer mused, before handing it to Heat to look at, “This what you want?” Killer asked you.

“Yeah, I like it,” you replied as Heat handed it back.

“You look good with it,” Heat praised.

“That's what Wire said!” You giggled.

“I agree,” Killer added, “of course Kid will want to check it over, but I think we're good here.”

“Yay!” You squeaked, messing around with the weapon, “Look! I can stab AND slice! It's a two for one special! Yippee!”

“You're fucking adorable,” Heat laughed, ruffling your hair as the men made their way to the checkout counter, “you're gonna look so cute covered in our enemy's blood.”

“Aw, thanks Heat,” you smiled, standing on your tippy toes to kiss him on the cheek. Heat had a cute pink flush for the next hour, every now and then touching the spot on his cheek like he was remembering the feel of your lips there.

[Next Chapter] - coming soon

Hiatus Notice - Ship Full of Monsters will no longer be on scheduled Tuesday releases for a little while. There will be sporadic uploads when I have time until my real life chaos is over in about a month, thanks in advance for your patience ❤️ Once real life stuff is over it'll go back to being on a schedule~

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[triptuckers]

I've got you - percy jackson

Request: yeah! "percy x fem!reader are on an unofficial quest together just before the big titan war (so set just before last olympian). idk what the quest is but basically reader gets injured during a fight w a bunch of monsters and percy goes a little crazy and does everything he can to protect her and once all the monsters are dead he’s super gentle and sweet w her??" Pairing:  Percy Jackson x reader Summary:  you're busy battling a handful of monsters when for a second it looks as if it might be your last fight. luckily, percy is there Warnings:  fighting, mentions of blood, injuries, swearing, angst Word count:  1K A/N: the show creators need to add grover's song from ep3 to spotify because it's been stuck in my head since wednesday. thanks for your request, enjoy!

gods forbid you're ever on a quiet quest.

you can't wait to get this over with so you can go back to camp and actually get a decent amount of undisturbed sleep.

the other kids at camp are probably spending their afternoon relaxing, or polishing their weapons, or sitting by the lake, or literally anything that's peaceful. not you and percy.

you're busy getting rid of at least half a dozen monsters.

percy's is in the distance, fighting his way through a couple of monsters. he's a blur of movement and you occasionally hear him curse or make a sound.

you know percy can handle himself. but it doesn't stop you from looking over your shoulder every once in a while, to check on him.

the second time you try to catch a glimpse of percy, it's a mistake.

you feel something sharp sink into your side.

with one swing of your sword you decapitate the monster, but not before his fang breaks off, still stuck in your leg.

'oh fuck.' you mutter as you see blood start to gush out of the wound around the fang.

but there's no time to rest. another monster lashes out at you, raking his claws through your shoulder.

you yell out in pain, getting percy's attention.

you drive your sword through the monster just as percy starts running toward you.

'fuck.' you mutter, looking at your leg.

well, that doesn't look good. you know demigods don't live long. but you would have liked some more time with percy. preferably when you don't have to fight monsters.

'y/n!' yells percy, who has nearly reached you.

'percy...' you say as he catches you before you fall to the ground.

'shit, hold on.' says percy. he carefully lowers you to the ground in his arms. there's a panicked look in his eyes as he looks at your leg.

he quickly reaches down and tears off a piece of his shirt.

'percy!' you yell, looking at a monster that's running towards the two of you at full speed.

with one swift motion, percy slices through the monster with his sword, then he drops it and turns back to you.

he pulls you towards him and wraps the piece of his shirt around your thigh, above your wound.

'how many behind me?' he says.

you look over his shoulder, quickly counting the monsters that are making their way to you. it doesn't look good. 'seven.'

'sorry.'

'wait, for what-'

you're cut off as percy pulls the knot tight, sending a sharp pain through your leg.

'fuck! percy!' you curse.

'I said sorry. stay here do not pull that out.' says percy, pointing at the fang that's still stuck in your leg. he presses a quick kiss to your forehead before turning around and charging the monsters.

you knew percy could fight but holy shit.

it's like he moves with unnatural speed as he works his way through the monsters, making sure none of them slip past him to you.

even more so, he makes it look easy. almost god-like.

when you overheard someone from your cabin say that he's the most powerful demigod of your generation, you thought "sure he's a poseidon kid, it makes sense". you hadn't really thought much of it.

to you percy had always been, well, percy.

he always makes you laugh with bad jokes and saves you a spot at the campfire. he'll walk with you to your cabin if it's raining so you wouldn't get soaked. he prefers to sleep with you next to him, claiming it's so he won't get nightmares, but you know it's because he just wants to use you as his pillow.

but as you see him fighting off the monsters, lashing out and stabbing them like it's nothing, you realise what others see when they look at him.

suddenly percy is in front of you again, brushing monster dust off of his shoulder like it's no big deal.

'you okay?' he says, kneeling in front of you. he reaches out to gently cup your face.

you're silent as you look at him.

'y/n?' he says, looking you in your eyes, brows furrowed.

'did I mention I'm like, really really in love with you?' you say.

percy smiles briefly. 'yeah you've mentioned it.' he says. 'how are you feeling?'

'lucky to have you on my side.'

'I meant your leg, y/n.' he says, moving so he can inspect your leg.

'still hurts.'

'that shoulder also looks bad.' says percy. 'listen, I'll pull the fang out and give you nectar but it will still hurt, okay? then we'll look at your shoulder.'

'alright, make it quick.'

percy nods, then hands you some nectar.

'want me to count down?' he asks.

you nod, reaching out to take one of his hands in yours.

percy wraps his free hand around the fang.

you take a deep breath and nod at percy.

percy looks you in the eye and gives you an encouraging smile. 'sorry in advance. 3... 2... 1!'

with one swift motion he pulls the fang out. blood gushes out of the wound and the pain is unbearable. you close your eyes and feel how percy gently pushes the nectar to you and you take a sip.

it tastes like the drink sally made for you when you visited percy's home for the first time.

you keep your eyes closed as you wait for the pain to go away. you can feel percy rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, comforting you.

'it's already helping.' says percy softly.

you reach out and wrap your arms around percy.

'it's okay. I've got you.' says percy, holding you close. 'we can sit here for a while, but then we have to keep moving, okay?'

'okay.' you say, feeling percy press a kiss to your forehead.

you're really glad percy's here with you. if it weren't for him, you're not sure you would have made it back to camp in one piece, or at all.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit/Max

[reidelight]

Wake Up Call

summary: when the heat breaks down at the hotel you’re staying at, you suggest sharing a bed with spencer to keep warm throughout the night

genre: a twinge of smut and fluff

cw: 18+ MDNI, gn!reader, afab!reader, pet names (darling, love, pretty boy), slight sub!spencer if you squint hard enough, mutual pining, fade to black sex

wc: 1.8k

note: hi! this is my first fic on here :) there's def potential for a part two if y'all want it. enjoy!

You regretted not bringing a sweater to sleep in. 

While it made complete sense that the weather cooled as the sun went down, you couldn’t help but complain as the cheap motel informed you all that the heating was unfortunately down in some of the rooms. Ever the lucky ones, you and Spencer stepped foot into your shared room and are welcomed with a deceptively kind wall of chilly air.

“You’d think that with all the BAU does on a daily basis, we’d get a decent room to hunker down in,” you huff, setting down your duffle bag on the farther bed.

“Just you wait until you feel the thickness of the duvet,” Spencer chimes in, which results in a dramatic sigh falling from your lips.

It was only a matter of time before you had suggested sharing a bed to gather as much heat as possible. Seeing as Spencer was a walking heater, it made perfect sense when he crawled into your bed and even more so when you huddled close together.

Despite the good doctor’s opinions on the amount of germs passed through physical contact, he found that you bypassed any and every one of those thoughts. Simply put, he didn’t mind your germs. After the three years you two had worked together at the BAU, Spencer had developed a bit of a soft spot for you, and you for him. 

“Pretty boy,” Morgan smirked as he watched you enter with Spencer, treats in hand and the brightest smiles on your respective faces. “About time you two got together.”

“What?” Spencer squeaked, the heat rising to his cheeks. “No, they just brought me a coffee this morning.”

“Just you?” Derek turns to you, “What about me? I like coffee too, and don’t get me started on donuts.”

“So does the rest of the team, and everyone else in this office building. I can’t exactly afford enough for everyone,” you laugh, taking a seat at your desk.

“Not my fault the coffee machine broke down and maintenance hasn’t gotten around to fixing the damn thing,” Morgan groaned, tilting his head back.

“I’ll bring you one tomorrow, but it’s going on the company card,” you reply, flashing a smile to Morgan.

“Not a chance,” Hotch says as he passes through the bullpen.

Your conversation faded away as Spencer set up his desk far from your own. He couldn’t help but stare at the little heart drawn next to his name on the cup. You were his best friend, but he couldn’t help but allow his heart to flutter at the prospect of something more. Of course, he had weighed the pros and cons of asking you out, but ultimately decided it wasn’t the smartest idea. 

It was all around bad timing. You had just gotten out of a rough relationship and swore off dating for the time being. Spencer watched as men and women alike pursued you each time you’d gone out on BAU bonding nights. It made perfect sense. You were the most beautiful person Spencer had laid his eyes on, of course other people would see that too. 

Spencer had done his best not to let the idea of you in relations with another get to his head. Hell, he had spent so long trying to push away his own feelings for you. It’s not like workplace relationships were prohibited– Penelope and Kevin’s relationship was given nothing but support from the beginning. To him, there was simply no way that you would ever see him in that light. 

Apparently he had been wrong, specifically about what kind of feelings you had for him.

When he had woken up in the middle of the night, Spencer found that the blood not only rushed to his cheeks at the state of your position, but to his crotch as well. You had unknowingly curled up against his front, your head tucked underneath his chin, legs tangled together. 

For a moment, Spencer stopped breathing. You were so calm, completely unaware of the lewd thoughts running throughout his head. He felt ashamed for wanting to pull you closer and hear your sickly sweet voice moan his name. 

“Y/N? Wake up, I’m sorry,” Spencer mumbled, trying to wake you.

Instead of opening your eyes, you had moved impossibly closer to his body, placing pressure onto his already aching cock. Spencer winced, simultaneously cursing and thanking whatever god above that allowed this to happen.

“Darling, I need you to wake up,” Spencer shook you again, sighing in relief once he saw your eyes flutter open.

“Was there another murder? What’s going on?” you grumbled, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“You really shouldn’t be rubbing your eyes like that. It increases the possibility of small scratches on your cornea, leading to redness, light sensitivity, and irritation,” Spencer spits out, trying his best to evade his evident nervousness.

“I just know you didn’t wake me up to tell me that,” You were slightly more awake now, still unaware of your (in Spencer’s opinion) compromised position.

“I’m sorry, I just need to get up,” Spencer rushed out, gesturing to your proximity. “Right now, preferably. I-I’m so sorry.”

Eyes wide, you shuffle away from him, apologizing profusely for moving around in your sleep. In your defense, the beds weren’t exactly the roomiest, and definitely not built for two people to sleep in comfortably at once. And he was just... so warm.

Spencer scrambled to get out of your shared bed, doing his best to cover his crotch with his hands. Already embarrassed enough, he finds himself bolting to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He rubs his hands on his face, ignoring the statement he’d spat out to you minutes prior. 

Unbeknownst to him, you had noticed his evident hard on as his lanky figure stumbled into the adjoined bathroom. Knowing your history, you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t think of the prospect of a hypothetical relationship blossoming between you two. Before you could overthink the idea, you found yourself following his lead and stopping at the door of the bathroom.

“Spence?” you knock gently, trying to listen for any movement beyond the door. “Are you okay?”

“Yep!” he replied rather quickly.

“It’s completely okay, you know. You shouldn’t be ashamed for… that,” you say softly.

“Can we please forget about it? This is highly inappropriate, and I truly am sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, Spence. Who said I wanted to forget?” Spencer feels his breath fall short. “Can you let me in, love?”

How could he even begin to say no to you?

Unlocking the door, you’re greeted with a disheveled looking Spencer, cheeks flushed a deep scarlet. 

“What’s going on there, pretty boy?” you begin, taking a step closer to him.

“Look, I’m really sorry about this. I really didn’t mean to,” he begins, “W-what are you doing?” his voice falters to a whisper, afraid to speak any louder.

You placed your hands onto his wrists, gently pulling them away from his middle, allowing the view of his clothed erection on display.

“You really have nothing to be embarrassed of, Spence,” you smile, socking your head to the side. “Do you need some help taking care of that?”

“I-I couldn’t ask you to do that,” he mumbled.

“Why not? We’re friends, yeah?” Letting go of his wrists, you bring your hands to rest around his neck.

Spencer nods, instinctively putting his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

“And friends help each other out,” he groans, shutting his eyes. “Say the word and I’ll stop. I’d never want to make you uncomfortable.”

“No!” he exclaims, gripping your hips tighter. “I’m just nervous.”

“Of what, darling? It’s only me,” you pause, holding his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “You have done this before, right?”

“Minimally, yes, but it's not just that. This could change everything. I don’t want to lose you as a friend if anything goes wrong. A-and the team! How are we going to explain any of this to them?” Spencer rambles, trying to avoid your gaze.

“We are the ones in control of this. It’s really our own prerogative to figure it all out. Either way, you’re still my best friend,” your voice fades away, lips pursing at all the thoughts running through your head.

“I am? I thought Penny was?” he spoke just above a whisper. 

“Of course you’re my best friend, dummy. You make it difficult to not love you.”

What? Spencer’s jaw drops, struggling to process the words spilling out of your mouth.

“I can understand if you don’t feel the same way–” your sentence is cut off by soft lips pressing against yours.

Following his lead, you kiss him back just as eagerly. Spencer hums into your mouth as you gently tug at the roots of his hair. You took this as a chance to slip your tongue against his, nipping at his bottom lip. He was desperate, unable to get enough of the taste of your lips. Pulling you taut against his body, you let out a shaky moan feeling his erection press against your belly.

“March 13, 2011,” he says, taking a breath. “Exactly two months after you joined the team, you didn’t seem like yourself. You were really in your head, not even Penelope could cheer you up. It also happens to be the day I worked up the courage to invite you over to mine for some wine and movies to take your mind off everything.”

You hum, taking a pause to press a short kiss to his lips. “Yeah, I remember that. It was the first time we had hung out outside the office.”

“It took every fiber in my being to not kiss you while wine drunk,” he laughs, toying with the hem of your shirt. “I think that’s the day I realized that I fell in love with you.”

“Oh, Spence,” you coo, brushing the hair from his eyes. “I probably would’ve kissed you back.”

“You’d just broken up with your partner. I couldn’t do that to you. I wanted to be a safe place, not just some guy that wanted to get in your pants.”

“I’d like to think that both those statements can exist at once.”

Spencer purses his lips, trying to hide his smile. His heart was beating out of his chest. He’d never felt lighter than he did right now.

“What do you think about letting me help with this, hm?” Spencer moans as your hands travel down his body, hovering just above his bulge.

“I don’t think we can just be friends after this,” he whispers, leaning into your touch.

“Sounds like a plan.”

[wannaeatramyeon]

DG x Reader: Manager and their Idol

8.5k. G/N. Soft, colleagues to lover (guess I love this trope). Masterlists

You had imagined life as a K-Pop idol manager to be much more glamorous.

You pity your young naive self. The one that envisaged schmoozing with stars and rubbing elbows with the movers and shakers, and instead set you on this horrid, lacklustre path.

What you didn't expect was the amount of time playing driver. Carting that stupid pink haired brat around. Waiting on him hand and foot during shoots and interviews, and being at his beck and call.

You have saved his ass more times than you can recall, ran through scripts with him, practised his stupid dances and moves alongside, protected him from unhinged fans and reporters and scavengers.

And yet you can count on one hand the amount of times he has thanked you.

Actually no, it didn't require any hands because he has thanked you exactly zero times for all your early mornings and late nights and for going above and beyond your duty.

Out of desperation, you had asked your boss if you could manage someone else and the request was declined.

"DG has taken a liking to you," she said, tone impressed as if that was something you should be proud of.

"Great," your smile comes out as more of a grimace.

And goddamn, this agency was so stupidly prestigious and the benefits and perks here really are second to none. Just why did Diego fucking Kang have to be their top idol.

.

.

The first time you crossed the threshold into his building, greeting the reception security guard and entering his penthouse keycode like you had been let in on the world's greatest secret, you had tiptoed around like a child in a museum. After all, this was DG's residence. The DG!

You had ooh-ed and aah-ed at every little thing. 

Taking delight in seeing his interior design of choice, the type of candy that he snacks on, the shampoo and conditioner he uses, the way he organises his desk. This is the chair DG sits on to eat. This is the sofa DG lounges on to watch TV. This is the bed he sleeps in, the bath he uses, the toilet he-

Any wide eyed innocence and awe evaporated after your first week working together.

Today, you stab in the entry code and let the door shut with a bang. 

You set his now cold coffee order on the kitchen counter and rifle with practised fingers through his unopened mail to see if there is anything you should draw his immediate attention to. You pick up his discarded clothes from the floor (and for fuck's sake, this suit jacket was on loan) and make your way to his bedroom where tufts of pink hair peeks out from under the cover.

"Good morning," you announce, locating the remote to open the blinds and letting in some sunlight.

Bedsheets rustle behind you.

"Good morning Diego," you repeat and give one warning, "I hope you're decent." With that, you throw the covers back to find the scantily dressed idol glaring up at you.

You remember the days when this sight would have made you weak at the knees. Seeing him half naked, in the flesh, freshly woken up with bedhead and half lidded eyes. It's what most of Korea dreams of, including yourself once upon a time.

Now all you feel is extreme irritation.

"Good morning," you say for the third time, plastering on a saccharine smile that you know DG sees clearly through because it is insincere as hell to anyone with half a brain cell. You let the fakeness shine through anyway.

For a split second, DG frowns as his eyes drop to your lips and then he pretends everything is good. Smiling back prettily, sharp canines on show and stretching. Lifting his arms overhead, showing a good stretch of pecs and abs and the line of muscle in a V pointing like an arrow straight down to his-

You roll your eyes.

"You're late." You throw the covers back over him and stride back towards the door. "We should have left half an hour ago." You leave out the part where you had been waiting downstairs in the car and after an hour of no show and no anything, you stomped your way up to his home.

DG, sensing your mood, adds oil to the fire with a smirk, "Why didn't you wake me then?"

If that idiot bothered to look at his phone, he would see a number of missed calls and unread messages from you.

Whatever.

"Hurry up."

.

.

DG has come across many people like yourself over the years. All cute and bright eyed, way too soft.

He never gave you any special treatment, for better or worse, and assumed that you would eventually burn out or give up and move on to something more worthwhile.

Unfortunately, in a rare turn of events, he had miscalculated.

Of course most people would be starstruck, it's only natural. But he mistook your sincerity and kind smile for ignorance and missed your sharp, observing gaze, and astute mind.

He's impressed, and he really can't remember the last time he was impressed.

In a matter of days of working together, you had managed to cut through the bullshit and within the month got him more compliant and docile than anyone else ever has.

Which should be a huge fucking problem, and raising red flags all over DG's mind.

...Except-

What's really troubling him right now, as he sulks in the passenger seat and you in the driver's, is that you have developed some sort of resistance to his charms.

Maybe a part of him does actually miss the you who he formed the first impression of. Who looked at him in wonder, with the same admiration that everyone else did.

Now that he knows you, he hates that he had thought that initial admiration was insignificant and worthless.

.

.

DG has a stash of candy in the car.

Or more accurately, you keep a stash of candy next to him to a) Shut him up and b) Keep him tolerable.

If DG wasn't so aloof, the fact that he has an incurable sweet tooth (and probably cavities to prove it) would have made headlines as a cute K-Pop fact and likely garnered sponsorship and advertising deals with all sorts of confectionary brands.

You had only found out during your adventures as his manager, rifling through his kitchen drawers trying to find his goddamn phone that he misplaced and you stumbled upon his stash of candy.

It really was a disgusting amount, something you'd expect a gaggle of grade schoolers at Halloween to hoard, not Diego goddamn Kang.

And then you also found out if he's not quiet and haughty in the car, making the atmosphere awkward, he likes to comment on your driving.

Who even sits in the passenger seat next to their 'chauffeur' anyway? He complains about you braking too suddenly and not accelerating fast enough. How you drive like an 80 year old with cataracts, and you're too slow when the light changes to green.

The turn in your relationship happened when you snapped at him to shut the fuck up after losing the final shred of your sanity on a three hour drive.

DG, to your dismay, didn’t miraculously lose his hearing and turns to you as you silently berate yourself for voicing the quiet thoughts out loud.

Although, you're in the deep end now. You're gonna get fired anyway, so if he says anything else you might as well give him a flick on the forehead or a pinch or maybe a punch to the face-

Instead, he laughs.

It's nothing like the laugh you have heard on TV and in interviews. The rehearsed and manicured 'haha' or cool chuckle that suits his shiny persona. It's kinda goofy and a lot endearing.

What's even more endearing is the way he does actually shut the fuck up for the rest of the journey. You like him a lot more after that.

So. You digress.

The candy is a way to keep the sweet toothed maniac quiet. Even if it doesn't work, at least it's harder to make out what insults he's slinging with a lollipop rattling around his mouth.

However, he has never ever shared any with you. Any of the candy that you stock, and pay for.

(That you technically claim back on company expenses, but you're trying to be self righteous here.)

Ever.

In all the months of working with him, he gobbles away happily even if your stomach is growling and you refuse to take any yourself out of principle.

Until-

"Here."

"Huh?"

Taking advantage of your response and open mouth, DG leans into your personal space and feeds you some chewy strawberry something or another (which coincidentally are his least favourite), fingers lingering on your lips for a fraction of a second.

Three things happen in quick succession.

The burst of sugar hits your tongue.

You nearly choke.

You narrowly avoid swerving.

"Careful now," DG grins when you get the car and yourself under control, and glance at him with a scowl.

Good. That proves you're not completely immune to his charms.

.

.

That bastard has now taken it upon himself to feed you candy at every opportunity.

You wonder if he's doing some sort of Pavlov experiment. The sweetness trying to erase any sourness you feel towards him.

It sort of works, and you consider biting his fingers off one of these days.

You hear the crinkling of wrappers, one for him that he pops into his mouth, and one for you that he gives without asking.

You angle your head towards him, and his fingers graze your lips every time.

Neither of you comment on the change but the intimacy drives you a little crazy.

.

.

And DG too.

Because intimacy works both ways and damnit his little gesture to keep the pretty blush on your face has backfired.

The only form of intimacy he knows comes from discreet hookups and low key links. Not someone who is around day in, day out. Or anyone that goes deeper than one night stands and booty calls.

You're there, you're always there. Of course you are, you're his manager.

But today, he feels under the microscope with you standing a couple metres away and keen eyes watching the camera monitor.

It's a no nothing day. Standard schedule where he shoots a fragrance commercial and he exits a pool all wet and sultry, white t-shirt clinging to his muscled body.

Then another scene where he writhes around slightly on a sunbed and eye-fucks the camera.

How it sells a fragrance, he never knows. The mystery of showbiz.

"Cut! More powder!" The director shouts out, the crew springing into action and DG knows exactly why.

He feels strangely embarrassed and flustered, which has manifested into his cheeks being flushed, and god he can't even remember the last time he has been like this.

It’s out of character and he needs to get his head together.

As the make up artist hurriedly dabs on some foundation, you make your way over to him.

"Are you sick?" you ask, concerned and reaching out to feel his forehead with the back of your hand.

"I'm fine," He says, turning away from your attentiveness and staring at a point in the distance.

.

.

With most people, if DG wants them out of sight, they stay out of sight.

But as his manager, and a very competent one at that, it’s harder to get you to leave.

Not that DG wants you to either, don’t get him wrong. 

The only constants he has around him are people who want something from him. And yes, he knows you’re only in his company because you work with him. However, he really can’t doubt the concern he always sees in your eyes. The compassion and empathy even when he makes you want to scream and tear your hair out.

His standoffish demeanour is not new to anyone. It’s part of his appeal to be quite honest. 

Yet he feels bad over the next couple weeks as he turns it up to eleven and tries to create some distance. He registers the hurt on your face as he is extra short with his answers and behaviour.

.

.

Pandering to overinflated celebrity egos and the insane Korean work ethic often leads to after hour shoots and dinner delayed until past midnight.

Honestly, this wreaks havoc on your sleep schedule and your skin.

"Here." You retrieve DG's takeout from the paper bag.

A double portion of delicious fried chicken with a side of kimchi and pickles. It's a change of pace from what most idols order, yet he doesn't give two shits about calories or sodium intake and to add insult to injury, somehow manages to keep his trim figure.

You lament your soggy salad sitting at the bottom. As if it’s not sad enough right now - once you arrive home, the lettuce will be wilting and room temperature and you will eat it in your dimly lit apartment with nothing to keep you company except the sound of the TV.

DG notices you turning to leave his penthouse, and his mouth moves before his brain can.

"Aren't you staying?"

"What?" You double take at the question.

DG's company is usually worse than your lonely meal for one. 

He’s annoying and you frequently want to slap him, but how he has been with you lately has been troubling and you actually feel a sense of relief at his offer.

(You had wondered if you might have been getting sacked up until this moment.)

Nevertheless, in all your time working alongside, you have never had a proper meal one on one together. Nothing more than you driving with one hand and the other hastily shoving a burger into your mouth as he looks on in disgust.

You would have dwelled on this more, wondering what's changed, what’s happened, but then-

"I'll share." DG nudges the box towards you, and the delicious scent of deep fried, battered goodness wafts along with it it

All your misgivings and your salad is forgotten.

.

.

Almost.

No, you were wrong.

Eating with DG, without any distractions such as traffic to navigate or other boisterous colleagues around, is unnerving. Disarming.

His haughtiness remains, but how haughty can someone be when munching on a drumstick.

All frostiness from the past weeks melts away as you both eat your way through his chicken.

He’s talking more tonight than you have heard in a while.

You find him funny, and really quite bitchy. Which you did know all along except it's much funnier now his slanderous comments aren't directed at you.

And has he always looked at you with such a piercing gaze? So intensely focused on what you have to say. Even if you're just complaining about your boss, blurring your lines of professionalism, he gives you his full attention.

You really can't remember the last time you have been in each other's company like this. 

You loathe to admit that even with what an asshole he is, DG's shine hasn’t dulled enough for you that you don't understand the appeal.

.

.

Leaning forward, DG whispers into your ear.

To anyone else, it looks like an over-affectionate idol with their manager. If they could hear his words, "I'm going to kill you," they would think otherwise.

Ok, so this one is your fault.

The good times have to come to an end and maybe you should have been more careful with his pride and joy - some ridiculously overpriced and over-specced vehicle.

Taking advantage of the clear blue Seoul skies, the pink haired menace was the one who drove you today in his fancy imported sports car, but the speed limits and the rest of the traffic was not on his side.

Already running late, even for him, he parked somewhere convenient and illegal then passed you the keys, leaving you stranded on the sidewalk, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, as he strode off to meet his music producer and choreographer and left you to park his baby elsewhere.

Why he entrusted you with it, you're not sure.

You would have done it anyway though, because when else are you going to have an opportunity to drive a supercar, if your boss didn't call at that moment. Questioning your expenses and DG's schedule and confusing you about the fitting at a fashion house and hair styling appointment that you knew like the back of your hand but when someone is so confidently incorrect, you start to doubt yourself.

By the time you got off the phone after pacing up and down the street and checking and double checking DG's timetable, you finally make your way back to the car-

And see it in the middle of being compounded.

You had begged and pleaded with the two men who were having none of it and you left, tail between your legs, to beg and plead with the other man who you knew would also have none of it.

Damn, you hate it when you prove yourself right in these instances.

You know DG won't really kill you, but he will likely make your life hell for the next couple weeks.

.

.

A normal person being pissed off at you would probably result in the silent treatment until tempers cool down.

DG does the opposite. Sort of.

He takes pleasure in making things as awkward for you as possible, until you're squirming in your seat trying to stay professional, thinking about your job and your rent and your bills; or torn between wanting the ground to swallow you up.

Around other people, your boss, your colleagues, his colleagues, he sidles up to you all smiles and soft looks. Slips purposely into banmal, and then oopsy, pretends that he didn't mean to be so informal with you around others.

Gossip soon stirs about your and DG's close relationship, if there's something else going on. Only you can see the mischief in his eyes and the malice in his smile and you think about yanking him by the ear and demanding to know what he is playing at.

Alone, he denies any sort of miscreant behaviour. Barely listening to you complaining and snapping at him. Ending with him outright ignoring you and you fume even harder.

This time, you're not sure the punishment even fits the crime. 

Any guilt soon dissipates when his car is returned in perfect condition within a couple days but his performance lasts for weeks.

.

.

Teasing you has always been fun for DG - when your cheeks dust angrily with pink and your eyes burn with fire.

The equivalent of a boy pulling a girl’s pigtails in the school yard.

.

.

Meetings with HNH Group usually do not involve you. If it does, at most you are waiting in the car.

Luckily, there are also an assortment of cafes and restaurants within a stone's throw and it gives you some time to debrief and catch a breather from following DG's hectic schedule.

The downside is you're never sure if a two hour meeting will be condensed to fifteen minutes or if a quick catch up with Charles Choi and other Executives turns into an all nighter.

There's been days where you have ordered a meal, then had to abandon it with a sigh and a longing look as you spot DG striding out of the building looking pissed off that you're not already there, or stayed in the vehicle with the engine running and your stomach rumbling as short appointments overshoot.

Maybe this is another consequence from DG being petty and irate with you for getting his car towed - you're left snoozing at the steering wheel of your runaround, the idol standard-issue luxury minivan, waiting for his return.

It's far too late in the evening for anywhere to be open, only the fluorescent lights of convenience stores and glare of the HNH logo illuminates the streets.

DG opens the sliding door, climbs into the back and slams it hard enough to jerk you awake and rattle the entire van.

He’s sitting by himself in the back, which is odd enough in itself.

As you blink away the dregs of sleep, in the rearview mirror, you notice the stiffness in his shoulders and the tightness in his jaw. His eyes stare vacantly out the window. DG is clearly upset about something, enough to crack through his aloof veneer.

"Are you ok?" You don't get a response, not even a passing glance.

Obviously something has gone wrong with the HNH Group meeting and the stress has manifested.

You wrack your brains thinking of something that might cheer up this asshole and you think of the only thing that improves your mood when you're on the verge of a breakdown.

(Usually due to the aforementioned asshole in your current presence). 

"Tteokbokki and beer?" You offer. It’s past your bedtime but a sulky DG for the rest of the week will also ruin your week too.

DG briefly looks at you before going back to staring at the window. It’s not a no.

You don’t get home until past 4am that night. 

At your favourite late night hole-in-the-wall, you eat far more tteokbokki than DG. On second thoughts, you don’t remember him eating any at all. You’re talking and downing beers to fill the silence, trying to perk up this silly celebrity. Loose lipped and spilling far more details than you would if you were sober, with him seated opposite and sipping on a soda. 

As the night ticks along, he thaws and a small smile settles on his face watching you gesticulate and ramble about your life.

You don’t get home until past 4am that night-

With DG driving, piggybacking you up to your apartment, and tucking you into bed.

.

.

DG can’t stop thinking of the weight of you on his back, arms slung over his shoulders, legs at his waist and his hands gripping your thighs.

You slurring drunkenly into his ear as he climbs the stairs in your building. It’s mostly nonsense. He can’t make out your words but remembers your breath tickling his skin.

And when he wraps your duvet around you, the brief moment of lucidity in your eyes as you look at him, softer than you ever have, you tell him, “Thanks Diego.”

Diego.

.

.

Nothing changes between the two of you after this. Not really.

You still find him an enormous thorn in your side. Incredibly stuck up and haughty and you continue to want to throttle him on a weekly basis but you are immensely grateful for him not leaving you a passed out heap on the sidewalk.

You’re in the middle of chastising him once again, dragging him out of bed as he is running late and being an absolute dick about it. Taking it easy as if he has all the time in the world. 

Well of course he does. He’s not the one that will be getting an earful from your boss or on the receiving end of the production crew’s complaints, as if trying to manhandle and cart this manchild around is easy.

“Diego Kang, I swear to fucking god-”

"James." He says, interrupting you as he picks out and pulls an eye-wateringly expensive jumper over his head.

"What?"

"Call me James when it's just us.” He checks out his outfit in the mirror, seemingly satisfied with it, before moving onto his hair. “James Lee. That's my real name."

DG, or James Lee, keeps his eyes on his reflection. Inspecting his non-existent roots, styling his fringe to make it fall just so and applying a liberal amount of hair product.

Nonchalant and casual even as he offers something desperately personal about himself.

"James," you say, trying out the sound for yourself. A name that seems at odds with his loud K-Pop shell but you imagine a time before the fame and the celebrity and the pink hair and it somehow fits.

"James," you repeat, and receive a small smile in return. Then it drops as you add, “If you don’t get your ass in the car in the next five minutes I will kill you.”

.

.

“James,” you think to yourself before you drift off to sleep that night. 

How peculiar.

“James, James, James.”

.

.

Celebrities these days are multi-hyphenates.

DG is an Idol-CEO-Actor, or at least trying to add the last one onto his resume. On looks alone, he would have already gotten his foot through the door. Add on his reputation and popularity, he is drowning in offers.

What you personally dislike more with K-dramas scenes though, is how long things take. How much it revolves around other actors and their managers whereas DG being in the studio or filming a music video is pretty much all him.

This K-drama is supposed to be the next big thing. 

With the biggest names attached, including DG who is making a cameo. The cameo that was also scheduled to be filmed five hours ago but you have both just been lurking in his dressing room since.

Along with some measly snacks and refreshments, which the crew has been kind enough to provide. 

However, the snacks are all but gone (thanks to you) and the refreshments are dwindling and there is no end in sight.

DG, or James, as you have started to call him in your head, is on his phone. He’s always on his phone. Scrolling through news articles, responding to important emails and messages.

There’s only so much news or celebrity gossip you can take. You have exhausted your own social media feeds and you have spent far too much money on your gacha games and the guilt has set in.

You twiddle your thumbs on the sofa next to him as he takes no notice of your presence and you decide to rest your eyes. 

Why not anyway? DG doesn’t need anything right now, work won’t be interrupting you, and there’s nothing for you to do. Just for a minute or five. Until someone from the production team knocks on the door and announces that it’s time for his scene.

DG side-eyes you when he notices your breath start to slow and deepen. Falling asleep on the job, really?

Then you let out a snore before smacking your lips together a couple times and he holds back a snort. He reasons that he should let you have some time to rest. After all, you’re the one that drives him around, his life is in your hands everyday and tiredness kills.

He’s on his phone for a few more minutes, reading through more emails on PTJ Entertainment and out of the corner of his eye he notices you drooping.

Body slowly slumping to slouch over him, until your head makes contact with his shoulder and you’re snoozing happily on your newfound pillow.

It’s equal parts inappropriate and cute.

Ugh, DG is 99% sure you’re drooling on him and the wardrobe department isn’t going to be happy when he returns the outfit.

Either way, that’s not going to be his problem. He adjusts minutely, makes it just a touch more comfortable for you and continues to scroll.

.

.

You wake up to a wetness by your mouth, and to your horror, DG smirking down at you.

.

.

Despite none of this being your fault, you apologise to everyone about having to reschedule DG’s music video shoot due to the previous day’s K-drama delays.

To your relief, the music video goes swimmingly and without a hitch, and the production is wrapped up on time. 

You’ll happily bet that his new song will go straight to No.1. If not, then at least the sensual music video will guarantee DG remains top of mind for weeks. 

You’re updating your boss and even she seems to be pleased.

"This is just work." DG interrupts as you're mid call.

You look up at him, brows furrowed.

Holding your hand to your phone to mute the speaker, you whisper, "I know."

"Good," and he walks away leaving you as confused as ever.

It's not the first time you have seen him shoot an MV, which thank the heavens is so much more efficient than bloody k-dramas, and also not the first time that there's been scenes that emulate an intimate moment. Lips nearly brushing together. Hands roaming bodies under fake rain.

Even if DG notices that you're watching the scene, eyes glazed over and bored, he still felt the urge to explain to you that there's nothing between you and the leading lady in the video.

Once out of sight of everyone, he facepalms himself for his ridiculousness.

.

.

You’re right, and you absolutely love it when you’re right.

The song goes straight to No.1 and holds that position for weeks, fending off competition from boy bands and girl groups and other solo artists. Apparently it’s going to be the song of the summer.

The music video also breaks records for being the most watched within 24 hours.

DG only reviews it once for post-production checks and finds it just fine.

There’s something he can’t quite put his finger on that seems off with it.

He wonders what it would look like if it was you starring opposite him.

.

.

“Where on earth is he?” You grit your teeth and grip harder onto the umbrella that is threatening to be swept away by the wind.

And another thing with being DG’s manager: it’s fine if he’s late but not if it’s you.

(Although to be fair, this instance of him being late is likely due to this particular music producer he’s meeting with enjoying the sound of his own voice.)

You were running late exactly one time in the past, during the first couple days of managing him, when the skies opened and drenched the earth. 

Heavens forbid DG’s perfect, beautiful, flawless hair is ruined by the rain. 

It’s not like he looked like a drowned rat. The paparazzi caught him in a wet t-shirt, fabric clinging to his abs and his pink hair slicked back stylishly. Even the goddamn raindrops were running fashionably down his high cheekbones and dripping off his pout.

For the next week, the tabloids and internet forums went wild with how hot he looked. 

(Who knows, maybe that was the inspiration for his fragrance commercial.)

Nevertheless, DG was displeased and it made its way back to your boss how displeased he was.

Ever since, you have been the unfortunate soul waiting in all manners of weather for him. Rain storms, blistering sun, freezing snow.

Today, it’s your favourite. Rain. You shiver against the elements trying to take shelter under the building entrance canopy, the wind whipping the downpour every which way and you’re getting soaked regardless of how you angle your umbrella.

“Hurry up, DG.”

You check the time over and over. He would be early to his next appointment if he exited the building now. 

…On time.

…On time if the traffic was in your favour.

…Late, but not terribly so.

…Fashionably late.

… Late enough to piss everyone off in the room.

Shit. Just as you begin to fret, wondering if something has happened to him-

Clicks and flashes from cameras alert you to his royal highness finally making an appearance, ready to exit the studio and making his way over to the car.

He materialises by your side, and you mutter a familiar phrase to him. 

“You’re late.” 

It’s a mantra you’re tired of repeating, but he relishes if the amused grin is any indication.

Without a word, he takes off his trench coat and drapes it around your shoulders. His right hand covers yours over the umbrella handle, left wrapping around your waist as he guides you through the throng of reporters and fans.

“What are you doing?” You hiss under your breath. 

You can imagine the optics now from the papers and your boss. It looks… Well. Not terrible but not the best.

“You’re soaked,” is all DG provides, accompanied with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. 

He opens the driver’s door for you before he climbs into the passenger’s side.

.

.

Thank goodness for your gift of the gab.

He’s being a gentleman, you tell everyone that would listen. Isn’t this what Korea wants? An idol with manners and who looks after everyone? Is empathetic and caring?

Think how well it would resonate with the female demographic, who wants a boyfriend like this! The older boomer demographic, who thinks none of the young ‘uns have any manners anymore!

Your boss isn’t convinced until the advertising offers for umbrella companies roll in.

.

.

Truth be told, DG doesn’t know what possessed him to do that. Especially in front of cameras.

Though, it’s not like he could just let you get even more drenched could he? You’re standing there, looking pitiful and he was just going to let you hold the umbrella over him when he should be the one taking care of you-

Hold on.

DG frowns at himself.

Damn.

.

.

James Lee has never looked after anyone besides himself. You need to look after yourself if you are to survive this dog eat dog world. To make it atop the Pre-Generation, the First Generation and now the Second.

He had unfathomably high expectations of himself (that he managed to achieve) and low expectations for relationships (that hadn’t been proven wrong yet).

People have flitted in and out of the chapters of his life, no-one staying around for long. Definitely no-one staying around long enough to know him, for him to grow comfortable with. 

Perhaps it has been the forced closeness that has caused him to let his guard down. Cabin fever, in a sense.

But James Lee, Diego Kang, has himself also been around long enough to know there’s more to you and he wants more of you.

.

.

Finding reasons to spend time together isn’t difficult. Actually, finding reasons to spend time apart would be much harder.

You both get on with your jobs and your duties, even as the closeness grows day by day.

And every time when you’re alone and you call him James, his heart grows fonder.

.

.

Out of all the seats available in his apartment, James lounges next to you, long legs draping over yours.

It's another night in together.

These seem to be happening with increasing frequency. DG at least used to keep up appearances, networking with his fellow celebrities.

Parties where you used to look at him with distaste as starlets surrounded him, award shows that he couldn't care less about as you hung around in the background.

Now he prefers to stay in with you, using work as a thin excuse. Studying lyrics that he has already memorised, going over dances that are long ingrained in him.

"You're not going to her party?" You ask, you were sure this fan-favourite and DG were an item or had history. At the very least, the who's who of the industry always attended her gatherings.

"No," his eyes continue roving over the lines.

Then when you thought the conversation was done, he looks over the top of his paper, eyes sparkling with playfulness, "I prefer being here with you."

Oh. Your breath catches in your throat.

You think you might never breathe normally again.

.

.

No, that’s a lie. Any opportunities for rose-tinted glasses has long passed by. You both know each other too well for that.

You breathe perfectly fine. Actually, this morning you are taking deep breaths to try and centre yourself. 

It’s not working. 

“You’re always fucking late,” you snap, giving in to your anger.

Sometimes you think it is your fault for not watching over DG 24/7. That instead of going back home, you should just live with him so you can shake him awake when he is supposed to get up instead of when he wants to.

And does it hurt him to look the least bit contrite at making your life a misery? 

Why does he have to look so smug with a lollipop stick hanging out his mouth? Seriously, between all the rushing around this morning, when did he find time to look for goddamn candy?

“For fuck’s sake, James.” You’re speed walking towards his front door, looking at the Maps app on your phone and miss his smile at you snarling his name. 

You’re already running behind and every route to the recording studio is red due to roadworks or an accident or just plain ol’ congestion. “Shit!”

Your finger jabs at the elevator button multiple times.

“It’s not going to get there any quicker if you do that,” DG speaks lowly into your ear and you get the urge to pinch him.

Instead of prodding some more at the button, you turn around and prod him in the chest.

“You’re going to get me fired one of these days,” You growl. “It’s fine for you, Diego goddamn Kang, the star who is pretty much untouchable. I’m not. I’m replaceable. There’s a million people who would take my job-”

DG snatches your hand, holds it still. “You’re not replaceable.” Then adds with an infuriating grin, “So what if we’re late.”

The minivan is skipped, and his answer to your problem is his other pride and joy. A motorbike that looks far too aggressive and a complete death trap.

“I’m not getting on that,” you say as DG hands you leathers that materialised from god-knows-where and a spare helmet.

“Fine,” he says, shrugging and throwing a leg over. “I don’t think your boss will be happy.”

“Fuck!”

.

.

If this was any other situation, you would be acutely aware of yourself pressed up against DG’s back. Your arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

Except all you can focus on is that you’re going to fucking die. You think you might be screaming.

“Stop screaming!” His disembodied voice calls out. Oh. Turns out you are.

For some reason, DG had thought the helmets with built in speakers and mic would be better for communication. Fun, even. Frankly, you’re just giving him a headache.

(Not to mention the fact that he bought a spare helmet at all. And leathers that he thought would be exactly your size.

He had never rode with anyone before and you certainly had never expressed any interest. Yet he passed by a motorcycle store when he had rare time to spare, and visited on a whim.

If he dwelled on this anymore, DG is sure his headache would turn into a full blown migraine.)

Later that night, when the ringing in his ears finally subside, he will still think about the way you held him.

.

.

When public opinion is on your side, then that’s fantastic. Amazing. You tend to get away with all sorts of things.

When it’s not, the truth can become muddied and there’s mental gymnastics from all sides painting you as the villain.

Fortunately, public opinion generally works in DG’s favour, especially in the case of his stalker who got sentenced for more jail time than if she was harassing a normal person, but not long enough to account for all the distress she has caused.

Such is the criminal justice system.

Her date of release looms large and near. DG, despite his talent and fighting prowess, realises certain traumas can’t be erased.

He grows on edge. Skittish. Snaps at any and everything. It’s noted by journalists. Other managers gives you questioning looks

You don’t miss his change in demeanour. To you, the reason behind it is obvious. 

You’ve heard about this case, everyone has. It dominated headlines for almost a month: the crazy sasaeng fan who believed herself to be DG’s girlfriend before moving onto another poor soul and was finally arrested.

As he spirals, nothing you do or say to him manages to get more than a nod or a frown. You try to offer that she had fixated on someone else before she was arrested, hoping that was a small consolation to him. And though he managed a weak smile, the black cloud still hangs over him.

In the end, you pack your bags and arrive at DG’s one evening. Instead of letting yourself in like you usually would, you ring the buzzer, smile into the door camera and tell him “It’s me!”

The door swings open to reveal DG looking perplexed (and worse for wear). Head tilting, curious and inquisitive when he sees your suitcase and carrier bags full of snacks.

“I’m staying for a while.”

“According to who?”

You barge past him anyway with a grin.

.

.

The date of his stalker’s release arrives and passes without drama.

You miss your home comforts but it makes you happy to see DG’s mood genuinely improve as the days go on.

The luxurious oversized mattress, fancy spa shower, and jacuzzi bathtub also helps to make your stay a bit more bearable.

Not to mention each morning DG actually cooks breakfast for you. Turns out he’s not bad at all at playing a househusband, and it’s also maddening how he manages to get up each day before you when he hasn’t got any place to be.

“Thanks James,” you say, when he presents you with a home cooked meal and his smile grows a bit more each day.

.

.

Peace doesn’t last.

Blurry photos of you both leaving and entering DG’s apartment at all hours of the day and night make the front page of certain news sites.

Headlines scream with leading questions. 

“Relationship beyond Manager and Idol?”

“How a Manager seduced their Idol.” 

“Who is this mystery person that has tamed DG?”

Why anyone deemed it newsworthy is beyond you. You’ve been to his apartment a million times. 

Yes, you suppose the closeness of DG and yourself in the photos can look a little suspect. 

In this particular one, it looks like you have your hand caressing his chest when in actual fact you were shoving him away for a dismissive comment he made.

And the other photo, of his hand on your wrist, was actually him dragging you away when he spotted a herd of fans in the distance.

More pictures unveil themselves.

A snapshot of you driving and DG feeding you candy.

You and DG, whispering intimately in your ear as his supercar is being towed away in the background.

You red faced and drunk as DG piggybacks you outside your building.

His jacket wrapped around you, hand on your waist and angling the umbrella over you.

Him smiling down at you (ok, you admit that you didn’t realise how soft that looks to other people.)

Finally an exceptionally pixelated image of you both on his bike, that could be anyone really.

Unfortunately, your opinion is in the minority as the articles are inundated with comments and furious, tearful fans shrieking that their idol is betraying them. 

Simply unhinged.

.

.

The speculation grows. You’re damned if you do deny anything, damned if you don’t. Your talent agency puts out an official statement.

To your ire, the statement is ‘no comment’ rather than anything more definitive. You glare at James when you find out, suspecting he has something to do with this.

He gives you a shrug, and a familiar look of mischief.

To his credit, he doesn’t leave you completely to fend for yourself. You stay off social media for your sanity, and when the paparazzi hounds you, he's the one with his arm around you, cutting a path through the crowd and shielding you.

It adds fuel to the fire. Does nothing to help your case. 

Still, you can’t help feeling safe and secure with his hand guiding you - holding onto your waist, round your shoulder, or simply - 

Your hand in his.

.

.

Outside of the conference room, where DG is wrapping up a press release for his newest album and nothing else, a reporter slinks out and approaches you.

You’re used to being on the other side of the conversation. Part of the staff, herding DG through camera flashes and questions being thrown at him though there was always some sort of camaraderie. Both parties just trying to do their job with deadlines and targets to hit.

This time you just feel a weariness as you see this person making a beeline towards you.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” They say, holding out their hand for a shake which you take with reluctance.

“Hi.”

A voice recorder is thrusted into your face, and you automatically take a step back. “Hope you don’t mind, but I just have a couple questions for you.”

“Um...”

“There’s been lots of sightings of you and DG together-”

You open your mouth to argue-

“Can you confirm your relationship with him?”

A vacant smile settles onto your face. It’s a practised expression where you follow all the cues to be polite and professional even as internally you wish to be anywhere but here. “I’m his manager.”

“Are you two together? Romantically?”

“I’m his manager.” You repeat through gritted teeth, and you’re surprised to hear your voice calm and collected.

“Is that a no? Or-”

“What even is this question?” You scoff, ignoring the way your cheeks heat, and refusing to partake in this circus a moment longer. “This is over.”

You manage to at least catch them looking apologetic, before you stride off into a corner to take a deep breath.

.

.

DG, much more adept and experienced at fending off questions, had finished the conference early and caught the entire exchange, watching you both with a bemused look.

Walking towards you with quiet, measured footsteps, his hand settles onto your lower back as he murmurs your name.

He bites back a laugh at your small, startled jolt.

DG tilts his head to signal ‘this way’. You give him a look but follow him regardless. Trailing behind, moving far away from other prying eyes. 

Up a flight of stairs, through multiple fire doors, turning left then right then another right then maybe a left. It doesn’t matter. You’re hopefully lost and decide to just put your faith in this wretched idol.

He finally seems to find what he’s looking for as he reaches an empty corridor; stopping mid-step and you collide into his back.

“Ack!” You exclaim, hitting the solid wall of muscle.

He lets out a huff of laughter and whirls around to face you, noting how cute your look of surprise is.

How strange though, that this is his current position. But is it really unexpected that the person that has been by his side for months has finally worked their way into his heart and has somehow learned to read him when no-one else could?

If he really thinks about it, yes actually, it is unexpected. No-one else has managed to grow close to him before. As James Lee, as Diego Kang. Birds of a feather or opposites attract or everything in between, no-one has got him like you do. 

There’s still so much more to tell and show you but… First things first.

Fidgeting, you shift your weight from one foot to another, growing self-conscious waiting for DG to talk, only to find him staring intently at your face. Impatient, you give in and speak first.

“What is it?”

“...”

“Diego-”

“James.” He cuts in abruptly, “It’s just us right now. Please.”

You blink in shock at the please and correct yourself at his insistence, lowering your voice so it doesn’t echo down the empty hallway. “James, are you ok?”

“Better than ever,” he says, a smirk now pulling at his lips.

You register his change in mood and narrow your eyes, wondering where this is going. “Why are we here?”

“When the reporter asked if we were together, you said you’re my manager.”

“I am your manager.”

“But you are interested in me.”

It’s not a question. DG, no James, says it like a fact and there’s no doubt in your mind or his. You open your mouth to argue, then close it again. Open it once more-

What.

You feel some cogs in your brain misfiring and all you can manage is a feeble, “Huh?”

“You told them you’re my manager, but didn’t say no to being with me.”

“...”

“So. What do you think?”

“Of what?”

“Us.”

“You like me. Tell me that I’m wrong.”

You take a step back. “...”

Another step. “...”

“Tell me you don’t want this.”

And your back hits the wall with an oomph.

DG slaps his hand on the wall beside your head, bends at the waist and leans his weight forward until he’s eye level with you. “Tell me and I promise I’ll stop.”

“...”

You’re cornered and he searches your face for a response.“Y/N?”

“...”

Fuck. Fuck!

How on earth are you supposed to respond when he looks at you like this. When his face is millimetres from yours and his breath is on your skin and his dark eyes pierces into your soul, pupils blown deliciously wide.

With his stupid pink hair and his fringe flopping, framing his face and his high cheekbones.

The stupid canines of his poking out that gives him so much character and is so hot it hurts when he flashes it accompanied with an arched brow and an arrogant smile.

His stupid pout and his stupid lips, that you know is constantly moisturised with a fancy overpriced lip balm to make it look kissable for the cameras.

And Jesus Christ, you hate to admit it but they do. They 100% do because somewhere in the back of your brain you always knew they look kissable but it has been often clouded by just simply how annoying and bratty you found him.

Except right now you don’t find him annoying or bratty at all.

Even as he’s confessing his feelings with complete confidence, no unease, no anxiety or doubts, because he always had a way of worming under your skin and he knows exactly how to push your buttons.

Damn it all.

“Kiss me,” you tell James, and he isn’t surprised at all by your reaction, face lighting up at your confirmation.

He shifts. 

Hand coming up to cup your cheek. He rubs his thumb twice over your skin, savouring you any way he can before tilting your face towards his. His lips at first brushes against your forehead. Leaves a trail down your nose, peppers both cheeks and then your chin. 

He draws back once, takes in your sweet face and gives you a smile so soft it makes your heart hurt.

Then finally, after wanting this for so long, presses his lips against yours.

Diego Kang, James Lee, tastes like candy and sugar.

[kiatheinsomniac]

──── 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆! ˊˎ - ☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: trying to warm up to writing again so I can get out of this slump. Enjoy some smut of Ghibli pretty boy 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Howl Pendragon x Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3.6k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: MDNI, NSFW content, magic (so dubcon), masturbation, squirting, overstimulation, whimpery Howl

The basket in the crook of your arm begins to weigh heavily as you wander around the market, browsing the stalls now that you’ve got all the ingredients to make meals for the next few days. You enjoy cooking for your little family in the castle and you know well enough that Howl is too prone to skipping meals unless you sit him down and put one in front of him. 

Sweet fragrances fill your nose as you stand before a stall selling flowers, your gaze roaming the vast array of colours and the prices attached to each arrangement.

“We have a buy one get twenty percent off for these arrangements.” The vendor, a woman just shy of turning middle-aged, pipes up as she gestures to the grandest and most expensive row of floral arrangements. You nod with a silent smile to show you’ve heard. You have no intention of spending that much coin today but you do have a little more left over than what you’d expected when you left home today and something colourful would make for a lovely addition to your living space, you think. There’s something inherently romantic and uplifting about flowers and you deeply enjoy making sure they have a presence in your life. 

With romance on the mind, you smile to yourself as your fingertips reach up to your collar where a golden necklace is clasped around your neck. It’s a chain of metallic flowers that doesn’t stray too far from your throat, each flower bearing a little pink gem in the middle with a white glassy bead between each flower upon the necklace’s chain. It’s a gift that Howl surprised you with this morning, giving no other reason for it than wanting to give you a little something. He’s overly dramatic at times and has more trouble than most with facing his fears but he does truly love you and you can tell he’s always trying to find ways to remind you of that without words. 

Your eyes land on an arrangement of pink tulips, white lilies and lilies of the valley. That’ll look lovely on the main table, you decide. 

“Just this one please.” You point to the particular arrangement that’s caught your eye and have your coin purse on hand from within your basket already. The vendor picks up the bouquet and begins wrapping the flowers to make them easier to carry without the arrangement being disrupted. You set the proper amount of money down on the table and your hand plays with your necklace in the meantime.

And as you accept the flowers, you feel a wave of heat bloom in your cheeks. 

“Thank you.” You smile politely at the exchange and set the flowers atop your basket, heading off to return home. But your breath feels shorter and skin feels warmer. Have you over-exerted yourself today? Surely not, you do shops like this in the day all the time. You had a decent breakfast and enough sleep… So why do your clothes feel so uncomfortable against your skin? Dehydrated, perhaps. 

You find a nearby café and pop inside to buy a snack and some water, hoping to improve your current state. But the other customers and their chatter, their indecisiveness and the way they stand too close to you from behind in the queue is all starting to get on your nerves. You buy your snack and drink and find a little seat in a corner to have them in peace. You find yourself eating quickly to try and amend whatever your body is telling you is wrong and find yourself not taking any time to really appreciate the taste of the sweet little pastry. Your water is similarly finished quickly and without thought. Your mood doesn’t improve and the chair is uncomfortable. You squirm in your seat the whole time, unable to find a comfortable position and regretting having come in here and spent any money at all as it’s done nothing to make you feel better. You want to be alone – no, – you want to be home. Home and in Howl’s arms as he takes your mind away from whatever’s ailing you, maybe even uses a bit of his magic to make you feel better. 

You stand up and pluck up your basket from the seat beside you. And then your eyes widen slightly as you feel a sudden wave of slickness in your panties. You cringe as you try to subtly shift your hips and thighs without anyone noticing, praying that whatever’s just leaked from you won’t seep out of your panties. It’s too early to be your period, you assess as you leave the café and make your way home. Discharge, maybe? It could just be wetness but you’re not aroused. Or are you? The thought makes heat bloom across your cheeks as you turn the corner and step into the street that’ll lead you home. You’re frustrated, keep squirming to push your thighs together and make friction, all you want is to be with Howl… but what could have brought this on? 

You find yourself shiver slightly as a cool breeze caresses your exposed chest, a pleasant feeling washing down your spine at feeling such relief on your flushed skin. Oh… you are horny. The realisation only fills your mind with lewd images of what you might coax your lover to do to sate such a feeling and the intensity of it only grows and grows. You continue to silently pray that you won’t leak through your panties but the material is sticky now and feels as though it’s rubbing against your sensitive slit with each awkward step. 

You bite your bottom lip and wince as your hardened nipples poke against the fabric of your bra and all you want is to feel Howl’s hands squeezing them, his warm mouth wrapped around them. You let out a little huff through your nose as you suppress a soft whine at just how incredible that idea seems right now. You finally arrive home and set the basket down on the table. 

“Hi, Calcifer. Are Howl or Markl in?” You ask as you pick up some firewood to feed him. 

“Welcome back. Markl left not that long ago to make some deliveries and Howl said he should be back soon.” Calcifer replies before gnawing on the chopped log you’ve given him. You’re disappointed at the news that Howl isn’t back yet but nod your head in acknowledgement. 

“Alright. You keep up the good work, you’re doing brilliantly as always.” You offer him a kind smile. A little praise goes a long way with Calcifer and you know Howl doesn’t do it often enough. Calcifer gives his thanks and begins mumbling to himself about how you appreciate him at least. 

Your eyes glance to your full basket that needs to be unpacked but you just frown at it and head upstairs to the bedroom that you share with Howl instead. You’re growing increasingly frustrated and you’re sure the flowers will do just fine without water for a little while longer. 

The moment the door closes behind you, you’re stripping off your clothing. It gets thrown to the floor, the end of the bed, wherever. Your panties have a little puddle of slick upon the seat and a sinewy string of arousal sticks between them and your pussy as you step out of them and lay yourself on the cool silk sheets of the bed. They feel like a balm to your heated skin and you let out a soft mewl at how your nipples stiffen in the air, feeling so sensitive and aching for attention. 

Your mind wanders to memories of long, passionate nights shared with Howl in this bed, how much of an attentive lover he is and how he loves to tease just as much as he himself likes to be teased. One hand slides down past your abdomen as you recall the amount of times he’s reverently lapped between your thighs like you were a fountain of youth and not just a woman. Your other hand pinches at your left nipple and a small moan is muffled behind your bitten lip. Why are you even so worked up? You don’t think you’re at a point in your cycle where your hormones would be affecting you like this. All you can think of is how relieving it is to have your fingers rub sticky circles onto your clit that can never amount to how magical Howl’s tongue can feel there. Your fingers dipping into your weeping hole pale in comparison to the sweet stretch of his cock. All you can think of is him, and what you want him to do to you as you moan softly without anxiety that you’ll be overheard as the door is enchanted to be soundproofed. You yourself feel enchanted, like you’re under some spell of-

Your fingers pause completely and your eyes open, the bubble of your fantasy having burst. 

That bastard. 

You were under a spell. A spell he put upon you this morning with a gentle declaration of love and a kiss to your cheek as he clasped your new gift around your neck this morning. You wipe the wetness from your fingers onto your thighs and sit upright, your body subconsciously spreading your legs wider as you do so. You reach back for the clasp of the necklace and end up tracing your hands around the entire chain of it but there’s no clasp to be found. It’s gone. You huff. What an asshole, casting a spell over you to make you horny while you go out and be a dutiful lover, making sure you all eat for the next few days and he has the audacity to not even be here when you return feeling like a cat in heat. 

Without him here to break the spell by removing the necklace from your throat, there’s little else you can do and your throbbing clit is practically weeping for the return of your fingers. Hoping that you can at least quell the heat in your core, if not satiate it, you lay back with a frustrated huff and resume rubbing at the sensitive little pearl. You’re so wet that you can hear the slick sounds as you touch yourself, your head tipped back against the plush pillow beneath your head. It feels good but it’s not good enough. Howl made this mess and now you firmly believe that he should be the one to clean it up; with his slender fingers, that talented mouth, his pretty co- 

“Well, isn’t this a most welcome sight to return home to?~” A familiar voice teasingly muses from the doorway. 

You’re startled for a moment as you instinctively try to cover yourself up before you take a moment to realise who it is that’s closing the door behind him. 

“You.” You hiss as he grins down at you, clearly proud of his handiwork. “This is your fault!” He cocks his head to the side, green jewels swinging at his ears as his lips curl upwards even more. 

“Oh, you were thinking about me? I’m flattered, sweetheart~” 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” You huff in reply as he sets a knee on the bed and his eyes drink in the sight of your flushed skin, everything on display for him as you lay beautifully in the middle of your shared bed like a present just waiting to be opened and played with. 

“Ah… You don’t like the magic I put into your gift?” He asks, his tone playful and you don’t know whether you want to smack or kiss that smug grin right off his pretty face. 

“No.” You reply firmly. His deft fingers glide up your thigh and then curl around it to tug it towards him. He lets out an awed sigh at the sight of your wet slit, your slickness dripping down to the sheets. 

“Oh but look~” He croons, “Your sweet pussy just loves it~” He bites his plush bottom lip as though resisting the urge to just dive right into you like a starved man. “So pretty…” He whispers as he gently gathers up some wetness from your entrance and pushes it up to smear over your sensitive clit. It sends a shot of liquid pleasure straight through your blood and you can’t hold back the little moan that escapes your throat.

“How about this…” He begins to propose as he moves his hand away from your pussy in favour of featherly dancing his fingers between your hips in a way that’s almost ticklish but brings you a teasing sort of pleasure, “You put on a pretty show for me-” He leans in to kiss down the valley of your breasts, warm and sensual, “-and I’ll remove the necklace, deal?” 

You whine quietly, wanting relief right here and right now after the day of desperate need you’ve faced so far. But you know that Howl is a trickster at heart: if you don’t play by his rules then you won’t be in for the prize. 

“Deal.” You concede. Howl makes himself comfortable at the end of the bed between your legs, a hand reaching down to adjust his pants as he takes in the sight of your aching pussy and stiff nipples. You lay back and spread your legs wide apart to make sure that none of his view is obstructed, even if it brings a rush of heat to your cheeks. 

You resume rubbing your throbbing clit, making sure to make quite a spectacle of using your fingers to spread your slit open for him to see just how wet you are from the enchantment he’s put upon you (and from being watched in such an intimate and vulnerable position like this). He’s watching you with enthralled attention as you play with yourself for his bright blue eyes to see. 

You’re oozing slick as you rub yourself in front of him, your pussy practically begging him with this little show to just come and take you already with how desperate and ready you are for him after suffering from the necklace’s enchantment all day until now. As you use one hand to rub sticky circles on your clit, the other comes up to cup your breast, teasing and pinching at your pert nipples for him. 

Alluring moans and whines spill past your lips as you try to tempt him into giving up this bet and fucking you right here and now, convincing him with both sight and sound. Your fingers make an audibly slick noise as you smear your wetness through your slit, feeling it leak down from your needy entrance. 

“Rub faster now.” He murmurs as he bites his lip, hand rubbing at his hardening cock through his pants, the bulge of it becoming ever more obvious. “Come on, pretty girl, beg me to fuck you~” There’s a taunt to his tone. You know he already wants you (this is Howl, after all, the damn can’t ever keep his hands off you) but he’s holding back just to see how far you’ll go for him. 

But you obey his order nonetheless and press down harder on your clit, rubbing faster against it as it throbs beneath your fingertips that flick with need against it. The moans pour past your lips with more frequency now and you feel the beginnings of your orgasm coiling tight in your abdomen, a sensation that leaves you aching for Howl to crawl closer and finish what he started when he clipped that damned chain around your neck this morning. Your lips tremble and the sight of your impending climax makes Howl wet his lips as he undresses himself, taking out his cock to stroke it to the sight of you, pre-cum beading at his pretty pink tip. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. Earn it.” He says lowly and he draws nearer to you. The promise of being filled by the cock that he’s fisting in front of you seems to tip you over that edge and you throw your head back against the pillows with a series of cries for him and the liquid-electric pleasure that bursts through your veins. It’s intense, far more intense than when you usually touch yourself, and you can only chalk it down to the enchantment’s effects on you. 

While your head is still reeling up in the clouds of pleasure, you feel Howl’s weight over you, his hands capturing your wrists as his lips crash onto yours to swallow all of your pretty moans, tongue curling into your mouth. But he pulls away just a few millimetres to hear the little choked noise you let out when he pushes his cock into your fluttering heat, still so sensitive from having cum just seconds ago.

“H-Howl-!” You whimper out his name and look up at him with wide eyes. Usually, he gives you tender breaks between orgasms that are filled with sensual touches and soft kisses, never once has he intentionally taken you while you’re already at the height of your sensitivity like this. 

“Ah, it’s like you’re trying to milk me already…” He hisses between his teeth, not having expected you to feel quite this good compared to his hand. He closes his sapphire eyes for a moment to compose himself before he begins to thrust into you, skin smacking against yours with each deep thrust.

“You said you’d take the necklace off!” You gasp between little panted breaths, fighting how your eyes just want to roll back as your hips twitch and your thighs shake. 

“Mh, I did say that~” He agrees with a quiet whine at how tightly you’re squeezing his cock, his hands still keeping your wrists in place as he holds them on either side of your head. His necklace and earrings swing with each thrust into you, his hips angling so that the head of his cock nudges against your sweet spot over and over. He glances down to find you creaming around him already, your pussy soaked with your heightened arousal. “You feel so good… keep squeezing on me like that, my love~” There’s almost a whimper to his tone as he fucks into you, leaning down over your body to bury his face in your neck and take in your scent as his balls smack against your ass. 

“Howl, c-can’t take m-more…” You brokenly plead with him, head tipped back against the pillows and granting his warm mouth perfect access to your neck for him to cover it in kisses and little bites. 

“Oh, yes you can~” He replies and you can feel the smile upon his lips as he says so. 

“You’re gonna let yourself feel so good~” He pushes one of your thighs up with a hand under your knee so that he can thrust deeper into you, making sure to keep his hips angled to hit all of your sweet spots and grinding against you a little each time he bottoms out so that your clit rubs against his pelvis, “And you’re gonna squirt all over my cock~” He murmurs by your ear and catches the lobe between his teeth. 

His words strike just as deeply as his cock does into you and you find yourself clenching around him, making him whimper as his breath fans against the shell of your ear. He speeds up just enough to have you wrapping your legs around his tapered waist, holding him close so that there’s no chance of him trying to pull away at the last minute, something you wouldn’t put past him. 

You moan desperately beneath him as you feel yet another climax approaching, the muscles in your abdomen going taut as you clench on him. Howl’s grip on your wrist and leg tighten as he moans praises into your ear mere moments before you squirt on his cock, making a mess of it. And he continues thrusting into you to ride you through it. 

“That’s it, pretty girl, that’s it~” He lets out a shaky breath, his voice whiny in your ear, “Cum on my cock, make it yours, sweetheart~” And it’s just as you’re about to cry out that now it’s really too much that Howl hits his own end too, pulling out to rapidly stroke his cock and watch his cum paint ribbons over your pretty, used pussy. 

Your mind and body are reeling so much from all the pleasure that you don’t even notice that the chain around your throat is being removed until you hear its little links clink together as it’s set down on the bedside. Howl collapses onto the bed beside you and pulls you into his arms, pushing your hair away from your face so that he can pepper your forehead and cheeks in kisses before finally softly pecking your lips. 

“Easy, darling, easy…” He whispers soothingly as he cups your cheek and strokes it with his thumb, “Would you like some water?” He offers softly, knowing that all of this was orchestrated to be very intense for you and you’re deserving of aftercare that’s just as intense. 

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*

The next morning, Howl wakes with a smile on his lips to find you in his arms, hair tousled from yesterday’s activities and sleep. You’re warm and still naked against him, the skin-on-skin contact making him just want to melt into you. 

He lets out a quiet groan, however, at an ache in his loins when he realises he’s erect. His hand runs down his pale belly to wrap around his cock, only for him to let out a muffled whimper when he finds himself much more sensitive than usual. 

Your eyes crack open as you giggle cheekily, revealing that you haven’t been asleep at all. The wizard’s other hand rises up to his neck to find that the necklace has now been clipped around his throat instead. 

“Oh, you minx…” 

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[squoosheez]

Movie Night

Choso Kamo x Reader

summary: movie night with Choso but replace movie with 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 and instead of watching movies you get 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

pairing: Choso Kamo x GN!Reader

warnings: smut & 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴 choso

tags: smut , sub!choso , dom!reader , begging , handjobs , making out , first time , needy choso , dirty talk

notes: it’s 5:40 am and I can’t sleep and this is not proofread I’m js a freak for subby cho

word count: 2k

The warmth from your blanket and the smell of fresh popcorn almost put you straight to sleep. It was a Saturday night, and Choso had invited you over for movie night. You accepted, obviously, because who would ever turn down that opportunity?

Definitely not you.

You sat a couple inches away from Choso, giving him a decent amount of space. You were snuggled very tightly in a blanket he provided, and you were focused on the movie.

It wasn’t anything too special, just some romantic drama he had found while browsing Netflix. Nothing too crazy had happened yet, but you could tell that the main characters had some “tension” they were going to resolve. And they did.

After a few minutes of them making out, Choso grabbed the remote and paused the movie. You looked over at him curiously. “Why’d you pause it?” you questioned.

“Have you ever done that before?” he spoke, sounding genuinely curious.

The words took you by surprise a little. You had to restrain yourself from laughing at his abruptness. “Yeah, why do you ask?”

He shifted underneath his blanket, trying to sit up a little more. “I was just wondering..” he replied.

“Yeah? Have you?”

He looked down at the remote in his lap, his face growing red. “No.”

It surprised you. He didn’t strike you as the completely inexperienced type. In fact, you thought of him as quite the opposite. Sometimes he just held himself so confidently, it was hard to imagine him any other way.

“Really? That’s shocking.”

“Is it?” he didn’t seem to believe you.

“Well, yeah. I mean, if you want to, I could teach you how?” It was harmless, right? You were just doing him a favor, making sure his future girlfriend had something to work with.

“Seriously?”

You nodded before pulling the blanket off of you. That’s when it actually processed for Choso. His eyes widened and his face grew even hotter. It was just making out. Friends do it all the time. Right?

It wasn’t long before you were sitting on Choso’s lap. Your legs on each side of him, in a straddling position. You could feel his chest moving up and down from his breathing. His heart beating incredibly fast. You found it cute how nervous he was.

You didn’t want to say too much, in fear that it would make him feel even more embarrassed, but you also wanted to reassure him. To begin, you pulled his chin to yours, placing just a soft kiss on his lips before doing anything too crazy.

His eyes fluttered shut, savoring the short kiss and missing your lips as soon as they parted. Luckily, he was greeted with much better the second time. It was more harsh, your mouth slightly to make room for his tongue. As soon as he realized, he allowed his instincts to take over, filling your mouth with his tongue. He grabbed the back of your head, pulling you closer desperately.

When you pulled away to breathe, you saw how beautiful he looked like this. So focused on you and nothing else. His eyes looked heavy, trying to stay open long enough to look at you, straddled on top of him. Just the sight made him want even more.

“You doing okay, Cho?” you spoke, your voice raspy and slightly out of breath.

He nodded slowly, trying to regain his composure, but it was no use. He clenched his fists at his sides, which brought something to your attention.

You grabbed his wrists, placing his hands on your hips. “Right here, okay? Or you can put them on my thighs if you want.”

His breathing intensified at the sudden movement. He felt so close to you. His hands traveled from your hips down to your thighs, squeezing them gently. The action made you let out a soft giggle.

It wasn’t long before he couldn’t wait any longer. His lips found yours once again, bringing you into the harsh sloppy kiss you had indulged in just a moment ago. This time his hands teased your inner thighs, driving your mind crazy. This was just supposed to be a makeout session, but you weren’t opposed to this leading further.

This time, he was the first to pull away. He gasped for air as your hands trailed up and down his chest. “You.. You’re really good at this.”

You giggled at the compliment. “Yeah? Thank you.”

Choso’s breath hitched when he felt your lips attach to his jaw line, leaving a trail of kisses leading to the side of your neck. You sucked a dark purple hickey on his neck, nipping at the irritated skin.

When you looked up, his head was thrown back. His eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth was slightly open. He looked fucked out from just a few hickeys. So, you quickly started covering his neck. Any visible skin was a target. He let out soft whimpers when it hurt a little more than expected and fuck it sounded delectable.

“Someone’s enjoying this quite a lot,” you teased, moving his chin down to look at you.

He whined in response, his eyes locked on yours. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all.”

He shuddered, his hips rocking upwards in desperation. It wasn’t voluntary, but you definitely noticed it. Since this was a tutoring session, it was only necessary you gave him a turn.

“You wanna try? Marking me up?” you asked, playing with the hem of his t-shirt.

He didn’t quite know how to respond, he had kind of forgotten that this was so that he knew how to make out with girls in the future. To be honest, he didn’t know if he wanted to make out with anyone else after this.

“Yes, please.” he spoke, his voice laced with desperation.

You leaned your head back, giving him easier access to your neck. It took less than three seconds for him to latch onto your neck. He wasted no time sucking soft hickeys all across your neck. He was so lost in the moment, he was pulling your shirt to find more room to mark up. You’d never seen him like this before. Life changing.

Seeing how eager he was drove you insane. Such a fast learner too. He was so happy to listen to whatever you told him, and he was damn good at it too.

“Yeah..” you breathed out, your voice faltering. “Just like that, Cho. You’re doing.. so good for me.”

Choso's hands roamed your body, caressing and squeezing your skin. He loved the way your body reacted to his touch, every shudder and soft gasp that escaped your lips, and it encouraged him to keep going.

He was determined to do this right, to do it well. Your praise fueled the fire in his core, and it showed in the way his mouth worked its way across your neck. "More," he muttered, his voice taking on an eager tone. "Give me more spots."

You giggled once more at his eagerness. Unfortunately, you had run out of spots to give him, and now you had to find a way to cover these in the morning.

“I’m covered, Cho.”

Choso couldn't help but let out a pleased little huff as he watched you admire his handiwork. The sight of so many little marks on your skin, caused by his mouth, sent a rush of satisfaction through him.

His breath hitched when your hands found their way to stomach, his muscles instantly tensing. His own hands came to rest on your hips again, his thumbs rubbing against your sides. "All mine," he repeated, his voice a bit huskier than usual.

You smiled, taking his head in your hands again. It seemed to be the end of your lesson, unfortunately.

“Well, there you go. We made out, ta-da!” you smiled, knowing Choso wasn’t anywhere near satisfied. You had gotten him all worked up, just to leave him hanging.

He whined, “are we done?”

“Mm.. we did cover everything necessary for making out. What comes next is a different lesson,” you said slyly.

“Can I maybe have that lesson too?” he asked, his hands coming to cover his face in embarrassment.

You laugh, moving his hands away from his eyes. “Of course you can.”

You pull him into another heated kiss, this time letting your hands roam further down his torso. You rested one on his lower stomach and the other on the obvious bulge in his pants. His breath hitched, breaking your kiss for a moment. His expressions only fueled your motives.

He whined into this kiss, feeling your hand start to move over his bulge. Choso tried to hold back a shudder, but failed miserably. Your words had his heart pounding in his chest, his mind spiraling with a million different thoughts.

He paused to breathe for a moment as your hand continued to palm him slowly, his body growing hotter by the minute. “Tell me that I’m a good boy, I... need to hear you say it.”

His words caught you off guard, in the best way possible. You had this boy in the palm of your hands, literally. And you could probably make him cum in his pants if you wanted to.

“You’re doing so well for me, Cho. Such a good boy for me, hm?” you snapped the elastic on his pants against his waist as a warning before pulling them down to his thighs.

He bit his lip, feeling exposed, even though it was just his boxers. Your hand reached below his waistband once more, taking him into your hand.

He whined quite loudly, his hips bucking up into your hand. You gave him a few slow strokes and it was enough to have him a whimpering mess underneath you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “Keep talking. Please.” His hips bucked up against yours again, seeking any friction he could find.

Choso let out a choked off moan, his head automatically falling back against the couch cushion. The feeling of your hand wrapped around him was driving him insane and he found himself arching his body into your touch.

“Not gonna... last long,” he managed to huff out, his hands still gripping your hips so tightly it was sure to leave marks of their own. “Not if you... keep... doing that.”

Fuck, he was adorable. He was barely gonna last and you were only jerking him off. You could only imagine how long he’d last inside of you. 2 maybe 3 thrusts? He’d be so embarrassed too, but he’d make up for it. He’d probably be so good with his tongue. His huge fingers would fill you up just as well as his cock. Your mind trailed off as you watched him unravel beneath you.

“Yeah? That’s okay, baby. Let go for me. Be my good boy.” you encouraged, continuing to kiss him all over, your hand speeding up.

Chose groaned again, his whole body quivering at the feeling of your strokes. “Fuck, I...” he panted. He loved the way the nickname sounded spilling from your lips and he wanted to hear you praise him even more. Just a little more.

“I can’t... I, ah… I’m gonna…” He was on the verge of falling apart, on the edge of ecstasy. All he needed was one more push.

“Just like that. My good boy, all mine. My pretty Cho.” you knew that was all it was gonna take. By now, you’d completely forgotten how this all started, but all that could fill your ears was a sharp whine that escaped Choso’s mouth as he reached his climax.

You felt his body tense from underneath me, and you could feel the cum dripping down your fingers. “That’s it.. You did so well for me.”

Choso’s mind went blank, the only word that could pass his lips was your name, over and over again.

He could hardly even keep himself upright, his weight leaning completely against the couch. He trembled faintly, his hands still holding on to you as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“…You got me all… messy.” He choked out, still struggling to catch his breath.

“I’m sorry, baby. You want help getting all cleaned up?” you replied, softly massaging his chest.

He nodded slowly before speaking once more. “Thank you..”

You smiled, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “You’re welcome, Cho.”

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

Khichdi ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

Summary: y/n wants to surprise lando, but her health has other plans for her.

⇗ ln x desi!reader ₊˚ෆ

⇗ fluff + sickfic ₊˚ෆ

masterlist ☾☼

y/n had been the first woman that lando felt like he was truly ready to risk it all for. he was never a person who could date someone who lived on a separate continent, but somehow, with y/n, he wanted to make it work. after almost a year of long distance, and only meeting on some weekends or holidays, y/n had decided to surprise him by visiting him in monaco. lando had felt happier than he had in a while, and as soon as he saw y/n standing at his door with her suitcase, he had wasted no time gathering y/n in his arms and twirling her around, whispering just how grateful he was that she was there. 

unfortunately, y/n had a habit of always falling sick for at least a day or two after travelling big distances. as much as she had hoped that the flight from india to monaco wouldn’t lead to her falling sick, her prayers had not been heard. the very night that she had landed in monaco, she could feel a fever coming in. as desperate as she was to ignore it, lando wouldn’t let her, and forced her into bed. 

she had slept the entire night, and then, had slept through breakfast. finally, at lunch time, lando shook her awake and asked her if she wanted to eat something. sleepily, y/n mumbled, “khichdi,” 

lando was confused. he had no idea what khichdi was. but, he also did not want to trouble y/n any further. whispering an “okay”, he left the room and headed towards his kitchen, where he was already FaceTiming y/n’s mum. 

lando had met y/n’s mum multiple times through video calls, and the first time he had visited y/n in india was also the first time he had met y/n’s mum. it had been far too early in the relationship to be meeting each other’s parents, but somehow, it had felt right. so, y/n and lando never questioned it. 

“hi, lando,” y/n’s mum’s voice rang through the house, and he quickly put on his AirPods. setting his phone against a kitchen appliance, he took a step back and looked almost scared. 

“what’s wrong?” she asked. 

“um, y/n’s sick. has a fever. she’s been sleeping for almost 14 hours now.” he said.

“oh no,” 

lando nodded, “yeah. but, also, i asked her what she wanted for lunch, because i know she hates soup and i can’t figure out what she would want to eat right now. and, she said something called khich- khichdi?” 

y/n’s mum nodded, “khichdi, yeah. its basically rice and lentils cooked together.” 

“right. i don’t know how to make it, so i was hoping that you could teach me?” lando almost seemed shy in his request. 

y/n’s mum smiled brightly, and began guiding him through the steps. lando had a fair collection of indian spices or as y/n called them ‘masalas’. y/n had stocked his house with all kinds of appliances, food, everything that she would need or she has in india. lando never questioned it, because it just seemed easier to already have all those things for when y/n would eventually move in with him. 

lando was scared out of his mind for most of the part. pressure cookers were loud, and honestly, a little violent in his opinion. he didn’t understand how his girlfriend cooked most of her food in such a violent and scary appliance. every time the cooker went off, lando resisted the urge to hide behind the island. he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of her mother just yet. he could do that after he had married y/n. then, y/n’s mother won’t be allowed to have a problem with him. 

after the terrifying process of making khichdi was done, lando bid y/n’s mum goodbye, and quickly scooped a decent amount of rice from the pressure cooker and into a bowl. putting it on a tray along with a glass of water and some meds, lando made his way to his bedroom. 

gently opening the door, he said, “y/n, come on, i made you lunch,” 

“five more minutes,” y/n said, as she turned and faced the other way. 

smiling at his girlfriend, lando set the tray on his bedside table, and sat down on the bed. he gently ran his fingers through her hair that had become wet from sweat. but that was good, because her fever was breaking. 

“come on, i made you khichdi,” he said. 

y/n’s eyes opened instantly. had she heard him correctly? she turned towards him slowly and stared up at his face. “you did what?” 

“i made you khichdi. you said you wanted that, so i made it.” 

y/n immediately sat up, and lando propped up pillows behind her so that she was comfortable. 

once she was settled, lando picked up the tray and settled it on her lap, making sure that it wouldn’t fall. all that while, y/n stared at him in wonderment. she looked down at the bowl, and there it was. khichdi. looking the same way as her mum’s khichdi. 

he offered her a spoon, and she took it gratefully. taking a bite of her khichdi, y/n’s heart was overflowing. it was the same as her mum’s. it tasted exactly the same, with just the right consistency and everything. 

“is it good?’ lando asked hesitantly. it was the first time he had cooked indian food. he didn’t want to get his girlfriend sick. or, more sick than she already was.

y/n looked at him with a smile, “it’s perfect. thank you. i don’t even remember saying that i wanted khichdi. how’d you make it?” 

lando smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “i- uh- called your mum. asked her how i could make it, and she taught me.” 

abandoning her bowl, y/n wrapped her arms around lando’s neck, hugging him tightly. lando reciprocated the hug. “i love you,” she whispered. 

“oh, baby, i love you too. are you okay?” he asked, worried that maybe he had crossed a line somehow. 

she sniffled and pulled back, “i’m okay. you’re just perfect, and i love you so much.” 

lando smiled at her, and pulled her against his chest. the two settled against the headboard, with y/n’s head on his chest as she slowly ate the khichdi. lando had pulled out his laptop and put on brooklyn nine nine for her. 

eventually, after she had finished eating, and he had forced the medicine down her throat, because she really did hate taking medicines, y/n had fallen asleep against his chest, wrapped in his arms, with his chin tucked over her head. lando had somehow never felt more at peace before. 

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

i hope you guys enjoyed this! ive had this idea stuck in my head for a while now. i'd gotten sick a couple weeks ago, and I thought of this and I was finally able to write it! i really hope all my desi girlies love this! i've also got a link for my taglist that you can find here!

[drabblesandimagines]

Too Many Beds

Leon Kennedy x reader, fluffy nonsense

Leon drums his fingers on the wooden counter of the rustic inn as the old man types –taps one painstaking finger at a time – into the clunky desktop PC, pausing every so often to peer down his spectacles and mutter under his breath about new-fangled technology.

It’s been a hell of a day, too many close calls for his liking – the amount of times it felt like his heart stopped beating when you took a hit or had disappeared from his eyeline - and it felt like a miracle that you’d even came across this place off the beaten track. You were near enough dead on your feet and he wasn’t far behind, so he’s thankful that it looks like a decent amount of sleep in a proper bed is on the cards… if the man ever worked out the computer system. He’s glad he pulled rank and ordered you to sit on the battered old couch just behind with the amount of time it's taking.

The man bangs the side of the monitor before giving a nod. “Sorry, grandson set us up with this thing for that “world wide web” and I promised my Martha I’d use it. Looks like we have the one room left, son, only a double, but-”

Leon doesn’t hear the rest – a mixture of exhaustion and his mind starting to spiral with the possible implications of sharing a bed.

There’d been so many moments this mission where he’d been a millisecond away from wrapping you up in his arms and kissing you. There’d always been a connection between the two of you – a fluttering feeling in his gut that he hadn’t felt since Ada, even better that you were on the same side – but it had never felt the right time to act upon it, not when you were fighting for your lives.

But sharing a bed… Well, couldn’t get a more intimate setting than that, right?

He hands over his credit card – under an alias – and smiles. “We’ll take it.”

Setting up the billing takes just as long as finding the room in the first place, but at last Leon is rewarded with an antique-looking brass key, a keyring displaying 4 attached to it.

“Room 4, son. Just up the stairs and to your left. Have a good night.”

“Thank you, sir.” Leon nods in gratitude before he turns to find you nodding off on the sofa, head propped up by an arm that’s slowly slipping off the armrest.

“Come on, sleeping beauty,” he crouches down and offers you a hand.

You accept it with a loud yawn, allowing Leon to pull you up to your feet. Weary legs cause you to stumble into him with a mumbled apology, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest. He wonders if you can feel how hard his heart is pounding at your touch through both the layers of his shirt and bullet-proof vest, having swapped round the order before the two of you had entered the establishment to avoid any questions.

“Let’s get you to bed, hm?”

“Please.”

He places a hand on the small of your back and guides you up the stairs and to the left, towards the room in question. He keeps his hand there even as he slides the key into the lock and opens the door, preparing to explain the sleeping situation - he’d take the floor and you’d protest, claiming his back has been through enough trauma today and he should just cuddle up with you in the bed and-

His eyes widen as he sees the double bed of his dreams…

..alongside two single beds and a crib.

“Wow, that’s…” His hand drops from your back in defeat. “That’s a lot of beds.”

“Mm. He said it was the family room, remember?” You yawn again, taking a few heavy steps over to the first bed – the double - and collapse down into it, not even bothering to remove your boots, jacket or gun.

Leon closes the door behind him with a muted sigh before engaging the lock, and trudges over to one of the single beds, the mattress creaking under his weight as he sits.

“Leon.”

“Mm?”

“What do you think you're doing?”

He looks over to you, your face smushed against the pillow, one eye open, brows furrowed in a confusion that mirrors his own.

He shrugs off his jacket as he replies. “Going to bed?”

“Yeah,” you scoff. “The wrong bed.”

“Huh?”

“Get over here, idiot.”

If he wasn’t so tired, he’ll argue the next morning, he would’ve put up a performance of protest, maybe thrown in a witty remark, but his legs move on their own and he finds himself laying down beside you before he can truly comprehend his actions.

You roll over to face him and before he can blink, you capture his lips in a chaste kiss, allowing him to deepen it when he regains his senses, before pulling away with a content sigh and turn back over.

He wraps his arm around your waist, legs becoming entangled as he pulls you into his chest, pressing a kiss to your crown.

“This better, sweetheart?”

“Much.”

Best night of sleep he’s had in years.

--- Inspired by this post. Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

[obae-me]

Nightbringer has already given us a decent amount of domestic Solomon, but I need MORE.

I need Solomon and MC leaving enchanted sticky notes for each other around the house, even going so far as to cast spells on them to sparkle or grow a flower or smell like their favorite scent or even give the sensation of a warm kiss.

I need Solomon pouting when he's forced out of the kitchen, looking like a puppy walled off behind the gate, brightening up when he's allowed inside but only to keep MC company. He has his own apron he puts on anyway, even if he's not permitted to participate. Any attempts to touch the food gets a playful slap on the hand.

I need some of their clothes to get mixed up together in the wash, leading to them wearing some part of each other's clothing.

I want them to work on chores together, one of them washing dishes while the other puts them away. Both of them use magic to speed up the process sometimes, but even the great sorcerer Solomon occasionally prefers to do it the normal way. It brings a bit more humanity to him. He feels more...connected that way.

I want MC to be staying late at the House of Lamentation but making sure Solomon has something filling to eat at home, a meal perfectly wrapped and preserved with a little note on top. It always hurts him when they're not here, when he knows they're out with someone else, but the meal comforts him. He reads the note over and over again until they come home.

If they share a bed, they both do their own thing next to each other before they sleep, peeking over at the other person if they laugh or gasp or make any sort of reaction. I imagine Solomon mutters to himself a lot. Waking each other up if one of them oversleeps or trying to tempt the other to stay in bed if they have to wake up to start the day.

Solomon going out to buy groceries and bringing back home stuff he thinks MC would like and forgetting what he was meant to go out and buy in the first place, resulting in them going shopping again together. He may or may not have planned it.

Solomon going out to find MC for whatever reason he can. "Oh, there's a small chance of rain today, so I thought I'd bring your umbrella to you." "I knew you would be busy today, so I thought I'd bring you a pick-me-up. Store bought, don't worry, I know." "I was simply heading home from the castle and thought I'd drop by." "I was bored." Literally anything he can do to just see MC again.

I want one of them to stay up really late for the other if they're out late only to fall asleep, the other coming in and either using magic to take them to bed or tuck them in on the couch/chair they're in, giving them a kiss on the cheek.

I want Solomon to be nervous, to be jealous in a teenager-y sort of way. I want him to be awkward, almost more so than Levi, because it's just been so long since he's connected to someone like this, if ever. He constantly shifts his hands around if they're holding them, because he's not sure if he's doing it properly. He happily announces to MC when they return home everything that he's cleaned with a child-like proudness, because it's been so long since he's been proud of himself for something. Calling MC on the phone and purposefully making it sound as casual and loving as possible just so he can go to the others and brag about the conversations he and MC have had together.

I have so many feelings about him.

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch.14

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Ch. Notes: Angst, action, gun violence, character death

Summary: Things quickly escalate as Fisk tries to end the struggle for power once abd for all.

An: ... So it's been a minute. Sorry about that and frankly idk when the next update will be, hopefully sooner. However, whatever you thinks going to happen here, I don't think you'll see this coming.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Wilson Fisk didn’t often smile. He was a sad and angry man that did his best to keep a neutral scowl on his face. What was there to smile about when he had lost everything. His wife, his daughter, his freedom, all irreplaceable. Being in prison while his wife and daughter were being buried is an ache that will never truly get over.

The void inside of him can only be filled by power and control. He will have the city and he will claim it for all that he has lost. He knew that to be a irrefutable fact.

Now, his smile was something straight out of a nightmare. It sat lopsided on his round face. It was there and it was horrifying. His smile only widens as he heard hushed voice over his phone.

When the line goes dead, he claps his hands together. He leans back in his desk chair. The smile doesn’t leave his features.

“Sleeping beauty has opened his eyes.”

Plans change at a wits notice, and things pivot, but goals could still be accomplished. Fisk wants Dragos gone and like a shark surrounding an injured surfer he smells blood in the water. It is time for him to strike.

Bowling was the activity that you came up with. Something in a place full of people, something that you enjoyed much in your youth, something that Pietro was unequivocally skilled at.

“Another strike ladies are you even trying?” Pietro gloats after looking at the scoreboard.

You might’ve been putting in a decent amount of effort, Wanda as well, but the two of you could tell Natasha was handing the man the win.

“Natasha, maybe take him down a peg,” you whisper in her ear.

“I thought we were supposed to be cheering him up, lisichka,” she taunts you with a smile.

“He can be happy without his ego being stroked,” Wanda puffs out in annoyance.

Natasha laughs at their bitterness, but nonetheless when it was her turn she quickly bowled a strike.

“Let’s go Natty,” you clap for her and Wanda let’s out a whistle.

“Is this where I realize you've been letting me win all night,” Pietro pouts.

Nat plops her hand on his shoulder, “I’m afraid so."

You all share a laugh and for moment everything feels normal. You could almost forget your ties and affiliations and feel like normal people. The moments were becoming more present in your life to the domestic nature of your relationship with Wanda and Natasha.

By now you should’ve known that sitting in any of those feelings did you no good.

When your phone rings you answer it immediately.

“Hello?”

“Y/n you will get through this. Do not let this be the end of what we’ve worked for, you don’t- you don’t need me malysh.”

“Papa? You’re awake, what are you you-”

“Y/N! Listen please, just take care of our family. I called you because, I trust you.”

As he speaks on the phone you gather Wanda, Pietro, and Natasha urgently. You have to go, it’s urgent. They can tell you’re shaken and when you put the phone on speaker they understand.

“Papa I don’t understand,” your voice trembles as you speak.

“Tell Flora, that my love with her doesn’t end with my last breath. Tell my Pietro that he’s the heart of all of this. Tell Wanda that all I want from her is for her to be happy.”

Natasha is the one that ushers you all into the car as you begin to shut down slightly.

“You can’t do this to us again papa,” your voice cracks in the end.

“It’s out of my hands,” you can hear fear in his voice and it terrifies you.

You hear a dark chuckle in the background of the call, “He’s right you know, it’s not in his hands.”

The smile in Fisk’s voice is present and it scares you, but you bluff the man.

“Haven’t you already made this play before, and it didn't work out for you did it?”

“Only because you interfered, and I got you back pretty significantly for that didn't I, sweetheart?”

Your jaw clenches, “Fisk , take a moment to think, really think what you're about to do. We are already enemies, in competition for control of the city, but that’s just business. Every move you’ve made recently has been personal. Going to war over turf it’s respectable, but if we go to war over family, there’s only one way this ends.”

“This is why I enjoy you so much kid, you have such an intelligent mind. Even under pressure you string together the right words. However, you’ve got it all wrong. There’s always only been one way this is going to end,” you hear the sound of the gun clicking.

“We will leave the city, just don't shoot him,” Pietro finds his voice.

You, Wanda, and Natasha look at him like he’s lost his mind.

“I didn't know we had guests on the phone with us, what a surprise. Keep talking little Maximoff, I like what you're offering.”

Pietro begins spewing nonsense, “We will disappear from New York and never come back. We will cut all ties with city and anything in it. It will be yours for the taking. Please, just don’t shoot him.”

“Anyone else want to beg for his life?”

Wanda’s mouth opens and closes a few times as her eyes water. You take the initiative instead.

“Wilson, you lost your family. Your wife and daughter were taken from you. Good people caught in the crossfire of your criminal actions. Who helped you get back on your feet after you got out of jail ? Who kept a corner of New York for you? Who gave you a jump start on your way back to this lifestyle? Who was there for you? The history between the two of you isn’t as convoluted as you’re making it out to be.”

Kingpin takes a pause, “That’s in the past.”

“It’s only history because you are making it that way. We have made a good relationship between our businesses until recently,” you keep him on the phone.

Natasha’s only about 5 minutes from the hospital, you just need to stall a bit longer.

“I’m not a beggar or a dog, Y/Ln. I don’t take scraps,” he says in a menacing tone.

You pause when he says your last name. It’s not something you hear regularly, you don’t ever use it. How’d he know about it?

“Quiet now Y/Ln, surprised I know that name? That’s not the only thing I know about you sweetheart. I know something that the Maximoff’s have been hiding from you, something that might sway your loyalty."

You look at Wanda and Pietro who were already on edge, but worse than that, they avoid your gaze.

“This is my family, my loyalty won’t ever change,” you speak strongly.

He chuckles, “Not even when I tell you they killed your mother.”

“What?”

“They killed your mother. Ever wonder, why she didn’t come after you, why she didn’t bombard or harass you after you left? She was dead within a week. Your father was debriefed, and relocated shortly after your graduation. These people sweetheart, before your family, they’re the mob.”

You’re in front of the hospital now, but you don’t move to exit the car. It feels like something has pierced through your heart.

You want to say something to combat him, to say it doesn’t matter, but you couldn’t say that earnestly.

You push your feelings aside for a second, “We’ve both lost a lot, Fisk. Things that we can’t get back. Things that fuel us to want more than what the world has offered us.”

“We’re alike in that way sweetheart, robbed of a happy ending. Forced to create our own,” he’s trying to flip you but you aren't buying it.

“Losing another parental figure in my life isn't a happy ending for me,” you grit your teeth.

Natasha pulls you out of the car and starts giving hand signal directions.

“I sympathize with you, Y/n. You’re not one of them, you never were. I’ll tell you what, the Maximoff’s leave, but you stay and work for me. That’s my offer.”

“We aren't leaving without Y/n,” Wanda finds her words for the first time in the conversation.

“It’s either that or I put a bullet in his head. You’ve got 15 minutes to think it over, when I call back you better have an answer,” he hangs up.

“Y/n,” Pietro starts, but you don't look at him.

“We’ve got 15 minutes to save Dragos, that's what I'm focused on,” you dismiss his attempt at an explanation.

Natasha begins laying out a plan, “ We don’t know who in this building reports to Fisk, so we have to be careful if we go in. Dragos is supposed to have security at his door, I don't think the guards there would be ours if Fisk is in the room.”

“We need a deliberate distraction,” you open the car door and reach into your bag.

You bring out your laptop and hook your phone to it. You knew what room Dragos was in with Fisk’s call you should be able to ping how many devices were around him.

“3 guards, outside the rooms. These are the phone numbers, names, home addresses, close family,” you memorize the information.

You see a group walking into the hospital and figure its your best chance to blend in, “We’ve got to go now.”

Wanda and Natasha hold frustration about the way you’re moving, but they follow you nonetheless.

“We don’t have a plan for this,” Wanda argues.

“Blend in get to the floor they’re on and then I’ll handle the guards. Once they’re dealt with Natasha will go in and disarm Fisk,” you say straying from the group you walked in with to another group heading for the elevator.

Once you're in the elevator you speak to Natasha, “Send people to these addresses make sure they get pictures, the quickest means please.”

When you step off the elevator you spot the guards. You send them individual text messages, with their names addresses and a threat to their loved ones by name.

You see 2 of 3 panic while the other one believes it’s a bluff. Natasha sends the pictures of their homes to you, and you forward them to the guards.

You see them pale instantly, the look at each other and bicker lightly. Wanda wants to go forward and strike, but you shake your head. You wait as one of the guards takes off running from the room. The other follows not even a second after. The third looks at his phone and then in the direction the others had ran before doing the same as they did.

“Natasha, we’ll be on the other side of the door one steady knock when he’s disarmed so we can get in,” you instruct her.

She doesn’t hesitate to nod at your orders. Before she goes Wanda squeezes her hand in a pleading manner, but Natasha reassures her with a soft look.

You wait with baited breath when Natasha enters the room. For a moment it’s silent, no struggle can be heard, but then there’s a gunshot.

Wanda’s the first one rushing to the room door, with Pietro and yourself directly behind her. Her hand is on the handle as she attempts to yank the door open. You move her out of the way, and open it first.

Instead of a cool metal, you feel a searing hot metal burning your chest.

“Why don’t you all file in, so we can talk,” Kingpin rests the gun on your chest and you shuffle into the room, eyes shooting across to where Natasha grips her bloody arm.

Wanda and Pietro shuffle in, the red head immediately going to her wife’s side.

“Isn’t this a lovely little family affair?”

“Wilson, take the gun off of her. Your problem is with me, my family, they’ve done nothing wrong,” Dragos tries to reason with the man.

He digs the butt of the recently fired gun further into your chest and you grit your teeth, but refuse to break eye contact with the bald man.

“She is your strongest solider Dragos, she can take it. Y/n’s not even your blood, she’s your orphan project and you’ve raised her better than your incompetent children. She’s quick witted, brilliant, useful. I want her on my side,” Fisk eyes you with a shark like grin on his face.

“You’re out numbered,” Pietro reminds the man as he stands tall in room.

Fisk scoffs, “ Bed ridden patient, shot Russian, and girl with her gun to her chest. You and your sister aren’t enough to stop me, you could barely even run the business when I took your father out. None of the Maximoff’s have been running anything as of late. It’s all been Y/n, even before Wanda came back. She’s been the brains of this whole operation for a while now.”

“If you feel that way, then why would you go after Dragos first and not me?”

Fisk chuckles, “This information isn't something I've always known. I only had this epiphany a small time before I had an example made out of you.”

“I’ll never work for you,” you stand your ground.

“Then I’ll drop you where you stand and then I'll kill everyone in this room and own this cit-”

The gun was in your hand before he finished the sentence. You place it under his chin before cocking it back.

“Do it, kill me then sweetheart. This wouldn’t be your first time killing someone who just wanted to help you right? Poor little Lucas, didn’t even get the chance to grow up.”

You pull the trigger and instantly your face is covered in the mans blood. No one in the room saw it coming. You were usually better at not acting irrationally, but this time you had met your limit.

The gun drops from your hand and you rush out of the hospital without a single clue to where you were going.

“Go, someone go after her,” Dragos yells at his children and soon Wanda is on her feet.

“I will take care of it go,” Natasha reassures her.

Wanda’s eyes linger on her wife’s injured arm, “Wanda now.”

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok @tarathia @bgwlsmahf25 @lezzylover @og-kxsh-420 @vanessashands @untoldreader @sxlfishbrokenheart @marvelgirlx @elle161989

[anticanonsposts]

Early flirting/relationship things

(I'm just thinking out loud)

SFW:

i feel like when you first start to flirt with him he is kind of oblivious

talking to you already makes him so nervous so I think if you were intentionally being flirty he would already be so nervous that he wouldn’t notice

when you two do officially start going out…

he tends to make very prolonged eye contact when talking to you

especially when you guys go on more ‘traditional’ restaurant style dates 

like his eyes would NOT leave you 

defo from the beginning he pays for EVERYTHING 

even when he doesn’t fucking get anything

one time he invited you for coffee and pastries, you got there, and he didn’t order anything…

he said oh no I’m not hungry but like he wasn’t being rude, he wasn’t doing it for any other reason

but he still insisted on paying 

(he really just wanted an excuse to see you and used food) 

idk why but I feel like at the beginning he would be a little cautious about eating around you

i just feel like sometimes with social anxiety, eating in front of people can be more difficult

so i feel like he would eat a more ‘normal’ amount/portion instead of his normal much bigger amount

but his stomach would give him hell so usually after he took you out to lunch or something, on the drive home or wherever you were going next he’d ask if you wanted to stop somewhere for a ‘snack’ 

then he would eat a whole other meal 

he kept doing this until you were ordering at a restaurant once and you just touched his arm and said ‘is that all you want? Get more if you’re hungry babe’ 

and he realized he wasn’t as slick as he thought 

from then on he’s just your human garbage disposal 

any time you have left overs you don’t want, already taken care of 

considering he isn’t from the US (this only applies ig if y’all are living in the US) 

i always see people from the states go on vacation in other places and they lose weight because the food is better quality/better for you/less banned ingredients lol anywhere outside of the U.S.

i think the reverse would happen for König

one thing about him, guy likes to eat

so I think when he first comes here he’s a little overwhelmed by all of the snack/food options and would gain a decent amount of weight 

also regardless of where you guys live/where you are from/your heritage I think he would love learning about your cultural foods and your favorite foods, he would want to try everything 

not food related…

before moving in together, the guy would get so giddy whenever you spent the night with him

especially when you would forget or leave stuff at his house

it would brighten his day when you aren’t there and he sees something of yours, like a body care product, a perfume (which he would defo steal/hide forever), or a piece of clothing

in the most wholesome way possible, he would love being in bed with you 

just being cozy and feeling your body against his 

he would also start sleeping better the more you guys slept together 

i honestly don’t think he’s super picky about cuddle position, as long as you two are wrapped around each other in some way, he doesn’t give a fuck <3

NSFW: MDNI!!!

things that i think definitely happen before you guys’ first time together…

literally googles ‘how to eat pussy’

idk if I headcanon him as a virgin or not, considering I like to write about mid 20s him, more likely??

for sure he doesn’t have much relationship experience, like bullied, then 17 joined the military, not much opportunity there

but sex, maybe he’s had sex before, but either way would be really nervous about pleasing you 

first time together he really wants you to lead the way but honestly

he gets super into it very quickly and just gets obsessed with how you feel

basically devours your face and neck with his mouth 

when he is finally able to pull himself away he eats you out for so fucking long

at least 3 orgasms with is mouth/hands because he is nervous and making you cum makes him less nervous and because let's face it….dude has a third leg

he wants to make sure you are prepped enough that he won’t cause any discomfort 

i think he would be very attentive to facial expressions and body language during sex, so when you looked a little nervous after seeing how big he was he rushed to comfort you but you just said-

‘don’t worry, I’ll make it fit’ which ngl besides the amount of concern he had for you made him even more flustered 

i also think this man is just vocal in general, but ESPECIALLY at the beginning 

partly bc he wanted you to know it felt good but also because it was just so overwhelmingly good 

[unpunishablelamb]

hiiii!!!!! ও Im not sure if you still post creepypasta headcannons but I really liked the headcannons you gave the creepypastas, it's really nice to realistic headcannons, if you want I was wondering if you could do headcannons for the friendship of the reader and ticci Toby 0_o

(If I made any typos or used bad grammar I'm really sorry (◞‸◟ㆀ) )

Realistic Ticci Toby headcanons (SFW+NSFW)

A/N: Okeyy so for the friendship headcanons just ignore the NSFW part! I just decided to combine your ask with multiple anon asks who requested relationship/NSFW headcanons🫶🏻

SFW

-First of all he isn’t the one to settle down. He has a bad past with people and it’s incredibly hard for him to trust so he prefers not spending a lot of time at your place, if he ever goes there at all

-He’s basically homeless and probably squatting in abandoned places outside of smaller towns so if you ever want to spend a little more time with him it’s there or in the woods

-In contrary to popular belief i don’t think he is shy. He is very wary and kind of feral so physical touch is a hard one with him

-He is touch starved to some degree but then again he’s become so callous due to everything that has happened, that he won’t initiate or reciprocate for a long time. He won’t push you away either though

-I think if you ever share a bed/mattress with him, you might be woken up with a hatchet to your throat or a hand wrapped around it. At least in the first few months of your relationship, simply because he’s not used to having anyone around so he panics when he gets startled and his fight instincts kick in.

-Despite everything, i do think he’s very thoughtful once he warms up to you. I can imagine him leaving you things like rocks or trinkets he finds which remind him of you

-He’s really possessive no doubt. Hardly anyone has treated him with the smallest amount of kindness, and now that you’re in his life he won’t settle for less ever again.

-I can definitely see him being the type that wouldn’t let you get out of the relationship/ friendship alive in case you ever want to leave him. Either you stay with him or he kills you. Of course it would be hard for him to do since he “loves” you but the thought of you being with someone else, leaving him to rot, is much harder

NSFW

-I don’t think he’s had experiences before you which doesn’t make him shy but even more greedy

-I think it would take him a long time to trust you enough with something like that. He isn’t reckless or sleeps around but he wants to know that you won’t backstab him (literally)

-He knows how sex works, he’s not stupid and he’s watched campers in the woods do it, thinking they were being sneaky. Of course he couldn’t help imagining it was him and you

-Now that you conditioned him to get used to a certain degree of affection and physical touch he expects more, of course he does and you love him after all right?

-Let’s hope you’re ready to sleep with him when he wants you because i do think he’d pressure you into it

-I don’t think it’d be him getting physically violent but he’d try to make you feel bad for him, try to blackmail you, manipulate you etc.

-If that doesn’t work maybe he would wait until you’re asleep, start sliding his hand under your shirt and do his thing

-I think he’s decent in bed, clumsy at first and he’s so pent up that his pleasure is all he can think about at first.

-If you do criticise him make sure to be gentle about it, he’s insecure and he will get mad easily thinking you don’t want him but he does like you please you after all and he enjoys having you show him what you like

-Hickeys. Everywhere. Good luck trying to hide them because it will look ridiculous but he can’t help it. He has to make sure others know you’re not available

[dokries]

always for you (my heart beats)

pairing: hong jisoo (joshua) x gender neutral reader

genre: comfort, established relationship

word count: 875

warnings: some crying, passing mention of food near the end, reader not feeling well

author note: hi ! this is another repost, so if you’ve seen it, you probably have :D this is also very self indulgent but. i want a joshua :(

masterlist

it isn’t until you step into your shared apartment and slump down on the couch, tossing aside your things on the floor with a loud thud, that you feel the sheer exhaustion set into your bones.

you sigh, wiping your face with your hands before pushing the heels of your palms into your eyes.

today is not your day, to say the least. the drink you bought in the morning had found its way onto your clothes, and though you brushed it off with a weary smile when the barista apologized furiously, you’re just so tired. you don’t know why either, considering you got a decent amount of sleep last night.

lost in your thoughts, you don’t notice the sound of the key turning in the front door’s lock, and joshua making his way over to you.

“darling? are you alright?” he asks, squatting down and gently moving your hands away from your eyes, that are…tearing up? huh. when did the tears start rolling down your face?

“–y love. my love?” noticing that you aren’t paying attention to his words, joshua takes your face into his hands, slowly wiping your cheeks with his thumbs; the pads of his fingers are warm against your skin.

“darling, is anyone in there?” he says jokingly. you hum a reply, not having the energy to form words.

he frowns at your response (or lack thereof) before getting up to sit beside your defeated form. without saying anything, he takes your hands into his before squeezing gently, rubbing calming circles with his thumbs. his bangs fall into his eyes, and you notice how disheveled his appearance is. did he run here on his way home from work?

you aren’t unfamiliar with the sixth sense joshua seems to have when it comes to you feeling unwell. on days you feel off, he often grabs you a drink or small trinket from the shop close by on his way home, only saying that he felt as if you needed a pick-me-up, as if he just knows.

you don’t know how long you stare at that mote of dust in his left eyebrow before your voice comes out in a hoarse whisper. “i’m sorry.”

joshua immediately pulls you into himself, stroking the top of your head. “no, no, you don’t need to apologize to me ever, especially when you feel like this. no apologies in our relationship.”

his chest is warm against your head and you’re suddenly surrounded by his steady heartbeat, keeping him alive. you find yourself wondering if your heart beats as steady as his, even though you’re crumbling in his comforting arms. as his hands rub soothing shapes into your back, you focus on breathing, using the way joshua’s chest slowly rises and falls as an example.

after an eternity, or maybe just two minutes, joshua pushes you back slightly so that your back rests against the couch and he can see your face again.

“wanna talk about it?” he asks softly. you know joshua would never push you to talk if you didn’t want to but you feel like maybe it would help; you know he did it often when he was upset. if it worked for him, maybe it would for you too?

mustering up the energy to speak, you shake your head. “just had a bad day, shua. it just–it felt like nothing was going my way today.” you pause before your boyfriend nods for you to continue, softly grabbing your hands again. “this week has been so hectic, you know? for both of us.”

he smiles softly before bringing your hand up to his mouth, and places a small kiss on the side of it.

“yeah…you’re right. is there anything i can do for you today though?” he nudges your knee for an answer.

you speak hesitantly. “can you…let me listen to your heartbeat?” you see him raise an eyebrow and you rush to continue, face growing warm. “i—i was more calm when i heard it. it’s like, hearing your heartbeat grounds me because i know you’re alive, and i’m alive with you,” you finish, looking down at your intertwined hands.

you hear joshua let out a low breath and look up at his wide eyed expression as he kisses you on the cheek before moving back from your face slightly, your noses almost touching. his tone warm, he calls your name gently. “of course. you can always hear my heart beat, as it beats for you.”

you giggle a little at his slightly very corny line and at his goofy grin, knowing he’s just trying to cheer you up. you move towards joshua’s chest, his arms wrapping around you once more.

you close your eyes, savouring the warmth of being hugged by him, and listen to his heart beat, just for you.

soon enough, you fall asleep and joshua lifts you up slowly before moving you to your bed and wishing you sweet dreams with a peck on the forehead. when you wake up, he’ll make soup is what he plans in his head, as he moves to sit down on the couch.

a small smile creeps up on his face as he puts his hand to his heart. the one beats for you, always.

[some-pers0n]

I'm gonna be blunt and say that I really don't think a lot of people kinda get these two characters. Sure, yeah, there'll be people like "Psshh no?? Me?? I know exactly who these guys are" and like, yeah maybe you do. Maybe you'll read this while nodding your head and whatnot. Maybe you won't.

Either way, I think there's a decent amount of people who don't...get Qibli and Winter. I mainly see it in shipping stuff. I know it's kinda idiotic to go looking for character stuff in shipping-- you know what?? No. I think it's perfectly sound logic to try and look for meaningful character writing in ship stuff, especially with fanfics. I've got that aroace mindset where I can only comprehend a ship if it has a clear and exact thematical and character-driven purpose.

Anywho, I think there's something to be craved with how Qinter is talked about in the fandom. I think there's something in general to be desired when discussing Qibli and Winter in general (or, hell, most of the characters) or other ships they're in, but I want to discuss Qinter mainly as a means to view them through the lens of a relationship. Some sort of duo and pair. Two young dragonets trying to survive.

Winter and Qibli come from incredibly similar backgrounds. That sounds ridiculous at a first glance, but when you think about it, they do. They both were raised with terrible parents who held them to an unrealistic standard that neither really wanted to be.

Winter was forced to become a child soldier and be the best of the best, despite his best rightfully not being absolutely perfect and having a ton of heart and soul in him. Ironically enough, his sheer loyalty to his friends that he displays later would be commended in the IceWing army, but is only looked down upon because he's showing anything other than pure apathy at existence and disgust when confronted with the other tribes. Winter is a kind soul who was shaped and twisted into becoming somebody far meaner to fit the idea of what his parents wanted him to be. It's a mask he wears to fit in. To be at least be tolerated by the dragons he only wants the approval from.

Qibli was raised in the slums of Scorpion Den. The back alleys and dark, seedy streets that are avoided. He had to fit the build of a thief. A petty pickpocket that lurks around like his family, doing nothing more than swiping whatever goods they could get their hands on. Qibli was kind and sweet, which obviously was a terrible sin in the eyes of his family. Like Winter, this planted a seed of wanting to be loved, although to a significantly larger extent than Winter felt. Qibli became obsessed with the idea of being loved as he hated being seen as nothing. He wanted nothing more than to be praised and admired because of just how neglected he was. So, he pretends to be somebody likable. Somebody who others care about. A mask to conceal the dragon he feels can never be loved.

Because of their backgrounds, they feel at odds when they're introduced to one another. Qibli is the laid-back jokester type while Winter is snarly and angry. Thanks to Moon's powers though, we get a look into them even before their book.

We see that Qibli is paranoid and his brain is constantly trying to predict others. He's always in a state of stress and fear, putting on a performance to try and be liked and see which dragons are the biggest threats to him. He's never gotten used to living outside of the crime-filled Scorpion Den, and the memories of childhood where he had to lay awake thinking that some dragon who his mother stole from will murder them all in their sleep remain. He's scared and afraid.

Winter managed to convince himself that he is this mean and nasty dragon, but really he's not. There's moments of hesitancy in MR from him. He's also just. generally not really that much in the wrong in the book. Sorry my Winter Apologist side is coming out but y'all hate too much on a character who was just kinda mean for some random dragon he only knew for a couple days at most by then doing stuff that was very suspicious. Yeah obviously Moon is the protagonist and we like her and know the full context, but Winter?? He doesn't know anything!

I digress however. They're in. not the best of states. Sure, yeah, Qibli had ran from Vulture and Cobra and was now Thorn's adoptive son of sorts, but he was obsessed with Thorn to the point of almost blind worship. He hailed her as some grand dragon because he had never been loved before. Being loved by somebody felt incomprehensible. He wants to repay it since he feels like he doesn't deserve it.

Winter on the other hand has just gotten away from a terrible situation, where his family more or less just hates him. They hate him so much it's not even funny. Winter had gotten Hailstorm, somebody who Winter loved and admired, was stolen away by the SkyWings and presumed dead for years because of him. He blames himself. He constantly thinks that he should've been the one taken away instead. He doesn't see himself worthy to live, especially not compared to Hailstorm. Hailstorm is charming, smart, strong, and better in every capacity to Winter. How could he ever live up to that?

Their shared flaw is that they feel inadequate. They feel as though there's something inherently flawed with themselves, something that they need to hide away. It was shaped because of their similar backstories, where they were neglected and abused and put down because of them never being able to meet the unreasonable expectations placed on them. Because of this trauma, their personalities in the present are shaped to try and fit in.

It's only by being with the Jade Winglet do they begin to unlearn those habits. I would imagine that, in moments where they chat with each other for the first real time (not fighting or anything), they...notice how alike they are. Like holding up a mirror to themselves. Despite how differing their personalities are, they feel one in the same. The other side of the coin.

It's why I think Qinter really works as something more than a cheap means for comedic relief. They bounce off each other really well and in an interesting way, which makes for their interactions feeling a lot more meaningful when they put away the act and show and are genuine. I honestly think that they would want to help each other out. They see themselves in the other and don't want them to feel like they have to do this, but they can't even save themselves.

It's only with time however. Healing is a process. It's sure as hell hard to do it all alone. It's why I love a lot the themes of friendship and togetherness in arc 2 especially. All of the POVs learn how to be more confident and sure of themselves through their friends. I just wish that Qinter was talked about in a more intellectually stimulating way than "yellow boy laughs at blue boy for being angsty teen"

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part five

authors notes: hi! you guys are so freaking awesome and sweet and like gawww, so grateful for such kind words and support!

so i realized that i used the wwe names for jimmy, jey, naomi, etc. that was my bad. i'll be using their real names moving forward for the sake of flow and consistency.

also keep forgetting to state that current timeline is 2023. like, this chapter is fall 2023. everything, so far, post breakup for joe and reader has been 2023. i plan to follow that timeline, so make of that what you will.

i hope this chapter isn't too boring to people!

warnings: fluff, language, suggestive content

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

words: 5.7k

tags: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion

“So, are we just going to continue to ignore each other?”

You’re not sure how, but you sense his presence long before he even says anything. And instantly, your mood is dampened, not that you were in the best spirits to begin with. You didn’t get much sleep the night before, for reasons you cannot fathom. But, it’s annoying as hell, especially when you have an ex turned fuck buddy who can’t seem to get a fucking clue ready to confront you outside of your daughter's preschool.

Sighing heavily, you pull out your phone to play around with your lock screen, because you really don’t have anyone you need to message in this moment. But, he doesn’t need to know that. “Not now, Amir.”

“Because you’re so busy?”

“Because I don’t care.” One thing you’ve learned about yourself over the years is that once you’re annoyed with someone, there’s no filter on your mouth and you cannot be held liable for what comes out of it. “Now, please, go away.”

He just looks at you, sun shining down on his waves and chocolate complexion. It’s unfortunate outside of his looks that he’s an overall trash partner. Decent friend. Shitty boyfriend. “You always do that shit, you know? Pull and then push. It was kinda cute when we were kids. Now, it’s just annoying.”

You were standing outside of Callie’s preschool, waiting for the kids to be dismissed, waiting for your little girl to come running out with a smile on her face, request on the tip of her tongue. It’s usually something small like wanting to show you what she learned in school. Lately, it’s been the same.

Can I call Joe?

A part of you feels bad for the amount of calls he probably gets in one day just from Callie alone. She took your offer for her to call him whenever he was available to another degree, not that he minded. He took as many as he could, listening to her talk and talk about whatever happened to be on her mind in that moment. And you let her.

What kind of mother would you be if you stopped her from talking to her dad? Even if she doesn’t know that’s who he is. 

It’s been almost two weeks since he left, and she clearly misses him. You often overhear her asking about when he’s coming again. You also receive those questions. It’s something you and him discuss via text but haven’t landed on a date yet. 

Communicating with Joe is also something that’s still an adjustment. It’s not as difficult or uncomfortable, because it’s almost entirely about Callie, but still. 

“If that’s the case, why do you bother?” You manage a less insensitive tone, even if you know good and well you’ve never led this man on. Amir has always heard and believed what he wanted to believe. That was the problem. He never listened to you.

“Because I fucking care about your annoying ass, duh.”

His delivery, the tone, and cadence. You laugh. It’s probably inappropriate at the moment, but it does bring a smile to his face as well. “Softie.”

He moves closer to you, arms crossed. “I’m serious, Y/N. You know how I feel about you. How I’ve always felt about you.” 

Leaning against your car, you respond as calmly as you can, “and you know I’ve always made it clear I’m not looking for anything more. We had our time, Amir. It didn’t work out. Now we just help each other get off. I don’t know why you keep trying to make it more than what it is.”

“A date. One date,” he implores. A waste of time, because your answer is no. It’s been no and will continue to be no. “You haven’t even given ‘adult’ us a chance.”

There’s a headache in your near future, one that’s reminiscent of past ones only Amir seems to induce. It’s interesting how he went from indifferent asshole to clingy asshole. You almost miss the earlier version.

Chocolate was supposed to be good for the soul, so why was he so draining to yours?

“Amir…..” You try to pick your words carefully and be mindful of your tone. “This is getting real old. I think we need to stop messing around, because we’re clearly not on the same page.” The next part is something you probably shouldn’t share, but you call yourself trying to be open and clear. “Calista’s dad is back, and we’re trying to navigate coparenting, so—” 

“What?” He stops you, shock written over his handsome face. “Are you serious? You’re letting that motherfucker back in ya’ll life?”

This time, it’s his tone that jumps, accusatory and harsh. You immediately grow defensive. “You don’t know him.”

“God, why do you defend him like this? Is it that Stockholm Syndrome shit? He left you. He left you and his kid. What kind of man does that? And you’re just letting him back in? Just gonna jump back on his dick? Letting him around Callie? She’s old enough now to remember when he decides to leave again. I don’t get how you don’t see that. You her mama. You supposed to look out for her.”

And now, you’re done trying to be nice, trying to be mindful that he’s still another human being with feelings. Because one thing you never have and never will tolerate is someone insinuating you’re not looking out for your daughter. You’re not perfect, but you know that you’re a devoted, dutiful mother. 

“It’s obvious comprehension isn’t your strong suit, which I should have known based off the fact that I always had to help your dumbass do your homework back when we were in school.” All bets….off. “My baby? My life? My pussy? All my business. You don’t get to judge the decisions I make for my child nor the role that her father has in her life. That’s between me and him. Keep your nose out my fucking business. Don’t worry about me hitting you up anymore. That’s dead.”

Your rose will do just fine. Hell, there’s gotta be at least one other eligible bachelor in town you could fuck if absolutely need be. But, you know damn well you won’t be messaging Amir anymore. He comes with too much baggage. It’s not worth it. You refuse to let a nigga whose height starts with a 5 stress you out.

True to his nature, he starts gaslighting you. Typical Amir. “There you go overreacting and shit.”

“No, I’m not. You’re trying to question my parenting when you don’t know shit about shit.”

He sucks his teeth, rolling his eyes. This was why people used to say you had a temper in high school. Because of him. Because he loved to tell people what you said but never what he did. Always tried to make you feel crazy. Truth be told, you’re stupid for even opening that door with him again, even if it’s just for sex.

“Whatever, Y/N.” He turns to walk back over to his car. You really wish his damn sister would change her work schedule so she can pick up her son instead of this asshole. You’ll catch a case fucking with his dumbass. “I’ll wait for your text.”

He’ll be waiting. “Fuck you, Amir.” 

You should be more mindful of your language at a damn preschool, but Amir has managed to get under your skin, something that hasn’t happened since you were in college. You know a good part of it is because you’re sleep deprived, but you also know it’s partially because of his dig at Joe.

You understand the optics seem to indicate that he’s a deadbeat, but you’ve expressed to Amir countless times that it was a complicated situation. He didn’t know the specifics, but you made it clear Joe didn’t abandon you or Callie. That’s just the narrative Amir keeps running with, and now with Joe being back in your life and especially in Callie’s life, you’re not gonna let it continue. 

“Mommy!” Your head snaps to see and feel Callie run up to and hug her body against your leg. “Boo!”

Shit. Did she hear any of that? You hope not and paste on a smile that’s hopefully authentic enough to sell that everything is fine. “Callie Bear.” You lean down and pick her up, kissing her cheek. “Did you have a good day?”

She nods and starts explaining the activities while you buckle her into her carseat, trying your best to calm down and not give away your high stress levels in that moment. Callie is super perceptive, and you don’t want to ruin the obviously great day she’s had.

And sure enough, as you’re putting on your seatbelt and starting up the car, the golden question is shouted with pre-excitement. 

“Can I call Joe when I get home?”

Smiling at her through the rearview mirror, you answer, “yes, you can.”

In the almost two weeks that have passed since Joe’s departure, not one day has passed that Callie doesn’t asks to call Joe or just outright helps yourself to her iPad to call him. Sometimes several times a day during the weekends. And she’ll talk to him for as long as she can, as long as he’s able to hold a conversation with her. You’ll give it to him, he’s done an exceptional job handling all of it. On some level, you wonder if you should set some restrictions or time parameters, but how do you limit how much a daughter interacts with her father?

Callie rejoices at your approval and requests for you to put on the Disney playlist you made specifically for her on Spotify. 

The drive, no more than 10 minutes, consists of the two of you singing along to a few Disney tunes. It’s a bit of a tradition between you, a way to bond via your shared love of Disney. A love that ties not only you to her but to the women before you. Your mom and grandma. 

Arriving to your apartment complex, you decide to leave your work bag in the car. It’s Thanksgiving break. You most likely won’t do any work until the day or two before having to return.

You do carry Callie on your hip and swing her bag around your shoulder, walking the two of you up to the second floor. Sometimes, you regret not accepting the apartment they had available on the first floor. The older you get, the less your joints like to cooperate, your almost 15 years of cheer probably taking a toll on your body. 

And just age in general. 

But your regret quickly turns to a level of gratitude when you reach your door. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Dropping Callie to the floor, she’s of the complete opposite reaction, gasping and smiling broadly. 

“Look mommy, more boxes!”

The smile is strained but you manage to maintain it, sticking the key in the door, unlocking and pushing it open.

She walks in, and you place her bag on the floor near the door, one foot keeping it open. “What do you think it is?” She asks as you pick them up and bring them inside, kicking the door closed behind you.

You know exactly what it is. What it all is. 

Gifts.

From Joe. 

In his absence, you’ve had several deliveries waiting outside your door when you got home from work and picking Callie up. And all of them were for Callie, gifts of variable nature but all of them things she loves. Disney, stuffed animals, dolls. Essentially anything that could make a 4 year old feel like she’s won the lottery. 

She’s literally bouncing on her toes, already with her kids scissors in her hands. 

When the hell did she grab those?

“Can I open them, please? Please?”

A part of you wants to say no, save them for christmas gifts, though you’re almost entirely certain he’ll have another set of gifts for her then. And it seems almost cruel to make her wait over a month when she knows there are presents waiting for her.

“Sure, but….” You scamper into the kitchen and grab your adult size scissors, returning and showing her. “Let mommy cut them, and then you open them.”

You don’t need this child accidentally cutting herself. Again, medical bills are not in the budget, especially around the holidays. Money’s already tight to some extent. 

Not that….not that it’d be much of an issue with Callie. You’d never fix your moth to ask Joe for anything, especially not financially, but if it was something involving your daughter, you’re pretty sure your tune would change. It would still bother you to ask for help, but you know he’d have zero qualms helping you out.

He’d probably pay for it in its entirety.

Your proposition pleases her. “Okay!” She places her scissors on the nearest flat surface and sits down, legs crossed, bouncing impatiently. 

Chuckling, you glide your scissors across, careful not to open anything. You want to save that moment for her and your plan. 

Once done, you place the scissors on the kitchen island and reach for your phone. “Wait before you open, baby.” 

Immediately, she frowns and scowls, “whyyyyyy.”

Rolling your eyes, you sit on the floor too to be at her eye level and open Snapchat. “Okay, now.” 

You hit record and watch intermittently through and outside of the screen as she opens the boxes, smile permanent and excitement palpable. She especially gets excited when she pulls out a freaking box of the new Little Mermaid and all of her sisters. More….dolls. 

“Look, mommy!!!” She then grabs a doll who has a surprisingly similar complexion and curl pattern to hers, holding it against her face. “She looks like me!”  

“She does,” you agree, realizing it’s a customized American Girl doll. Damn. Those things can run up to $200. You weren’t stupid, knowing Joe’s probably spent more money on Callie alone in two weeks than you’ve spent all year, but just how much has he spent?

It’s when she opens the final box, surrounded by nothing but toys and packaging that you’re already dreading having to stuff all this in your trash bin, “what do you say, baby?”

Callie hugs the American Doll close to her chest and directs to the camera, “thank you, Joe!” She gasps and adds on, “I miss you, but mommy said I can call you tonight!”

You hold back your giggle and agree, adding, “after she helps mommy clean up all this.” 

Her smile drops, pout returning, “I hate cleaning.” 

Snickering, you mutter, “you and me too, sis.” 

You end the video, save it and enter Joe’s chat to attach the video, adding a message.

You: You’re spoiling her, Joe. 😫 This is the third delivery this week alone. 

You’re able to clean up some of the packaging and throw it away before your phone chimes with his response. Callie has grabbed the amount you expected her to grab and discard. Her attention span is trash at the moment. She’s a child surrounded by toys. It’s expected. 

Joe: She's my little girl. Of course, I’m gonna spoil her.

Joe: There should be another one by the weekend. If not, let me know.

You sigh aloud, this man is gonna have your place looking like freaking KB Toys.

You: Omg

You: ….You know I live in an APARTMENT, right? Just where the hell am I supposed to put all of this stuff?

It’s sweet he’s so keen on gifting her these things, but he also has to realize you’re not living in a mansion in Malibu. And despite having a child who leaves messes wherever she goes, you do your best to keep your place tidy. 

 If you didn’t know Joe, didn’t see how easily he connected with Callie, you’d maybe accuse him of trying to “buy” her love. But, you know that’s not the case, know that he clearly just wants to make her happy. You just hope he knows that he does that all by himself, no gifts needed. 

Joe: She has a whole playroom.

You: Yes. Playroom, not Toys-R-Us. 

Joe: 🤷🏽‍♂️

You: 🙄 You’re aggravating.

He doesn’t say anything after that, so you decide to finish cleaning because at some point your child wandered off, most likely to her playroom to add all her new stuff with her slightly new stuff. Taking advantage of the alone time, you also decide to text your mom to figure out thanksgiving plans. Specifically, what drink, dessert, and/or condiments she wants you to bring because you damn well know she won’t ask you to cook.

She still hasn’t forgiven you for that accidental fire that one year.

And it’s when you’re sitting on the sofa, also starting to think about black friday plans that your mind wanders, your anxiety grows out of nowhere.

You’ve taken the approach to not have any say in Joe’s relationship with Callie, to intervene only when absolutely necessary. And as that hasn’t hasn’t occurred, you’ve not done so. You let him and her do their thing. But a small part of you wonders if you should put some parameters around Callie. She calls him several times a day, Joe, who spends more time on the road than there are days in the year.

You know he wants to establish a relationship with her, but that can be done with boundaries. Anxiety getting the best of you, you grab your phone and shoot him a text. 

You: Is it okay if she calls you today? I know it’s been a lot, and if too much, just let me know. I’ll talk to her. 

His reply comes almost immediately this time around.

Joe: She can call me 100 times. I don’t care. I wanna talk to her.

And instantly, the anxiety is almost non-existent. Deep down, you know this is what he wants. He wants to have interaction with her, and incessant Facetime calls are the only option with his crazy schedule, so it’s what he takes. It’s what he wants. 

Pleased and no longer stressing over an issue that was never an issue, you lock your phone and place it back at your side. A quick glance at the clock reminds you that it’s almost time for Callie’s bath. 

A couple minutes later, your phone dings with a text notification. From Joe.

You open it right away. 

Joe: This weekend. Don’t tell her. I wanna surprise her. 

You have to read it a couple of times before it registers. He’s coming back in town. This weekend. As in less than two days. You’re excited at this, happy as well. For Callie. But also, for yourself. Why? You haven’t a clue, well, maybe there’s a slight clue, but you don’t want to acknowledge that right now. 

You simply want to focus on the fact that you’re happy your daughter will be happy her dad is town. 

Who cares that you will be too.

________

Joe’s just walked out the bathroom, having showered and almost entirely prepped for bed when his phone rings. 

Moving over to the hotel nightstand, he’s surprised when he sees Callie’s smiling face filling his screen. A glance at the clock in the corner of his phone reads 11:06, which means it’s 9:06 her time. Well past her bedtime. What is she doing up?

Curious, and regardless, he answers the phone. It takes a second for the connection to finalize when it does, he’s instantly smiling, mostly because it’s Callie but also because of her setup.

It’s obvious she’s under a blanket, a flashlight in the corner illuminating the space, a stuffed animal in her lap. 

She’s the first to speak, her voice both loud and hushed in a way only she can do. “hi!”

“Hi, sweetheart.” He can’t help but ask almost immediately, “what are you doing up?” As he told you, he’d talk to her 24/7 if he could. And even though this call is unexpected and appreciated, she’s also a 4-year-old kid who needs her sleep.

Her little shoulders lift in a shrug. “I can’t sleep.”

Nodding, he follows up with, “where’s mommy?” 

“Sleeping,” she answers with a level of disappointment. “I don’t wanna wake her up. She had a bad day.”

“Really?” Joe moves around so he’s laying on the bed, on his side, phone propped on the nightstand. “How do you know?”

“Cause–cause she was yelling at Mr. Amir, and–and he was yelling at her too.”

Joe hasn’t a clue why, but that instantly upsets him. Who the fuck is this Amir person, and who the hell does he think he is to raise his voice at you? Around Callie of all people.

“Who is Mr. Amir?” Joe hates asking her all of these questions, but it’s also hard not to. 

“The basketball coach at the school for big kids.” She’s caressing the fur of the stuffed animal in her lap. “Aunt Mariah said he was mommy’s boyfriend when she was a big kid.”

“Really.” It’s not really a question as much as it is a general statement. Joe doesn’t know why he’s suddenly annoyed, not with Callie, but the entire situation. And definitely this Amir person even more now. He’s an ex. He dated you. It shouldn’t make him feel any type of way, but it does, and he hates that shit. 

He hates a man he’s never even met.

“I don’t like Mr. Amir,” Callie suddenly announces with a scowl. Same, kid. Same. Joe looks at her, seeing so much of you in her right now. He knows you’ve mentioned how you see a lot of him in Callie, but when she’s glowering like this, she’s 100% her mama’s daughter. “He made mommy mad today.”

“Has he ever been mean to you?” Joe has to ask, because he’s also realizing a part of him is upset at the thought of Callie being around men. You’re a grown woman and allowed to do what you want, but bringing men around Callie….that’s an absolute fucking no. 

He doesn’t give a damn if he’s only been in her life for two weeks or two minutes. She’s his daughter, and outside of himself and family, who you date should be kept far away from his daughter.

Joe mentally prepares to have this conversation—potential argument—with you. 

“No,” she answers, slightly calmer. “He doesn’t like Disney.” She says it like it’s a sin, like it’s almost inconceivable for anyone to not like Disney.

Playing along with this, Joe gasps, grateful for the distraction that is Callie’s intricacies. “He sucks.”

“Yeah, he sucks,” she agrees, nodding. Joe has to keep his smile to himself. “Do you say bad words?”

The randomness and topic change take him by surprise, but he’s learning that you weren’t exaggerating when you said Callie was filled with incessant, unrelated questions. “Sometimes.” 

“Mommy does too,” she reveals. “Grandma says Jesus doesn’t want us to say bad words, but I heard grandma call Ms. Beverly from church a bitch.”

At that, Joe can’t help his laughter. Her delivery, the punctuation she puts on the word ‘bitch’, to how she seems to not even process that she’s just said a bad word. It’s hilarious. “Well, sometimes grown ups say things we shouldn’t, and you just make sure you’re not saying things you shouldn’t.” 

“Okay,” she agrees, almost sheepishly. And then, a yawn. “I’m sleepy.” 

Joe knew she was from the moment she called, but he had a feeling she just needed to get the whole Amir thing off her chest. She doesn’t seem like the child who likes to or even can hold things in, which is preferable. “You should try to go to sleep then, sweetheart.”

She wipes at her eyes, expression suddenly saddened. “When are you coming back? You’ve been gone a really long time.”

He’s torn in this moment, wanting to tell her that he’ll be there this weekend but also not wanting to get her hopes up in case something comes up. There’s few things that could come up to keep him from going to see her, wrestling be damned, but still. Life has a way of lifing. So, he goes with the safe yet disappointing answer.

“Soon, I promise.” She’s clearly indifferent to this answer and doesn’t say anything, instead shifts on her bed, moving to lay down. “You should really try to sleep, Callie.”

Eyes starting to blink, clearly her exhaustion catching up with her, she asks, softly, “will you stay with me till I fall asleep?”

Her request tugs at his heartstrings. “Of course, sweetie.” 

Seemingly pleased by this answer, she closes her eyes, and he watches. He stares at this tiny human whose existence he only learned about not even a month ago yet would do anything to make happy. Joe thinks about Callie constantly, finds himself smiling at the thought of some of the Snapchat videos you’d send him of her in all of her randomness. She was so entertaining, so full of life, a genuinely happy kid. His kid. 

And it’s why he’s going to find out more about this Amir guy and why Amir is having any type of interaction with his daughter. 

________

Joe: You should know she called me last night.

You’re in the middle of perusing early Black Friday deals, needing to budget for that now and taking full advantage of Callie being down for a nap. However, you frown, reading his message, not understanding why he’s stating the obvious. You were there when she asked for the iPad and when she returned it after the call was finished.

You: I’m aware….

Joe: No. After that. 

Your eyebrows arch together, confused.  

You: What? when?

Joe: It was 11 my time, so 9 yours.

You gasp, typing away, wondering how the hell she snuck in your room and managed a whole ass Facetime call without you hearing shit. Were you really that damn exhausted?

You: What the hell was she doing up at 9? What did she say?  No wonder she was crabby this morning. 

Joe: She said she couldn’t sleep.

You: A bad dream?

Joe: Naw, said you got into an argument with someone named Amir earlier that day and didn’t want to bother you….I think it was bothering her.

Your stomach twists at that. You had a feeling she’d overheard the incident with Amir, but you prayed that you were wrong. Clearly, you weren’t.

Joe: Who is Amir?

You pause at Joe’s question. Why is he asking this? What business of his is Amir? Irritation washes over you, but is waned by realizing he’s probably asking because of Callie. As her father, he has a right to know if you’re with someone, because for all he knows that someone could be around his daughter. 

You really are trying with this co-parenting thing.

You: A lot of things. A pain in the ass being the most recent one. 

You: We dated in high school and college on and off. He’s the basketball coach at our local high school. 

It’s more information than probably what’s necessary, but there’s this small, conflicting part of you that wants him to know you have no ties to Amir. That there are no feelings there and haven’t been for literal years. 

That you’re not with Amir.

Joe: Are you dating him again? Why were you arguing around Callie?

The interrogating is getting old, but you’re trying to play nice. Coparent peacefully. His delivery is off, but he has valid questions.

Sorta.

You: No. We just….we fuck around from time to time. He tries to make it more than what it is.  Was about that. 

You: I was waiting for her to be released from pre-school, and he picks up his nephew for his sister. It just happened, and I didn’t know/mean for her to hear.

Honestly, you’re more worried and concerned about Callie and how to approach this with her without making her feel like she was in trouble. Yes, she knows damn well she shouldn’t be on the iPad that late at night, but can you really be mad at her for talking to her dad about something that upset her?

Joe: You bring him around her?

You absolutely can be mad though at her dad who’s about to make you cuss him out next too. All of the questions are becoming too much. He gets to be concerned, but he doesn’t get to micromanage and invade. 

Feeling petty and recalcitrant, you type out a reply that you should probably think twice before sending.

But fuck it.

You: No. I only ride his dick at his place. 🙂 

There’s a small ounce of regret for being so crude, but not a whole lot. He knows how you are, or he should, at least.

To some extent.

But your phone rings again, and you find yourself staring mouth agape at his reply.

Joe: You may ride his dick, but you had my kid. Clearly, only one of us knows how to please you. 

Your face is burning hot, and you hate how you shift in your seat. Why the fuck would he say that? You want to say it’s inappropriate, but you also opened this door. 

Is he entirely wrong?

Slapping away that wild ass thought, you focus on the real conversation at hand here. It takes a couple of rewrites before you ultimately decide to change the subject. 

You: I’ve never bought any man around her and never will that’s not you, if that’s what you’re asking. 

You’re grateful to see he’s also agreeing to change the subject.

Joe: It is. Thank you.

Rolling your eyes, you send a text back, getting back to being annoyed at his 21 Questions. This is a two-way street, and since he’s opened this door, why not?

You: You know that goes both ways though. I don’t want her around any bitches.

Joe: Seriously? 

Joe: There’s no one for me to bring her around. 

You…..you don’t know how to feel about that, don’t know how to feel about the bit of relief you feel at this message. Why should you feel relieved? Even if there was, that’s his business, and he’s allowed to….do whatever it is that he does.

It reminds you and brings you to your next topic. 

You: What about your wife? We need to figure that out as well. She’s eventually going to need to know about Calista and will probably be around her at some point. I get she’s your wife, but I’m Callie’s mother, I need to be there whenever you wanna introduce Callie. I need to be involved in that process as well.

He doesn’t reply. 

________

Joe doesn’t really get mad. 

Not often at least and definitely not outwardly. 

It’s always been his thing to never let anyone have access to that “button” that triggers his anger, and for the most part, it works well. 

Except for when it comes to you.

You’ve always been able to trigger many things for him, anger being one of them.

He knows he should have spoken to you in person about the situation, or even over the phone. But with the craziness of his schedule and differing time zones, he just decided to message you, and while it didn’t go horribly, it didn’t go great. He knows you’re annoyed with him.

Hence your crudity. 

Joe also refuses to admit that the thought of you fucking this kid pisses him the fuck off, even though you’re not together, even though he has no right to be upset. 

But goddamn that doesn’t make him any less upset or annoyed at the thought of someone else touching you.

“Uce?” Jon asks, standing at the door before inventing himself in Joe’s locker room for this week’s Smackdown. “You ready to talk man?”

At that, Joe looks confused. “Talk about what?”

“Whatever it is that got you all worked up.” The twins have always been very perceptive, even back when they were all kids. Joe might be good at hiding his frustration from others but not them. The difference between Jon and Josh though has always been Josh has the wherewithal to not say anything. 

Jon hasn’t caught on to that just yet. 

“I’m fine,” Joe dismisses, hoping it’s enough to dead the conversation, even though he knows better. 

“Lie detector determined that was a goddamn lie.” Jon can be pushy, but he means well, and truthfully, Joe doesn’t have a strong desire to outright shut down this conversation. A different perspective is always beneficial. 

Usually. 

So, he explains it all, starting with his call with Callie and ending with the text exchange between him and you.

“I see,” Jon nods, clearly absorbing all of this information. Finally, he concludes, “so you’re jealous.”

That’s the first thing to evoke a genuine laugh out of Joe since his exchange with Y/N. “I’m not jealous.”

“And I’m not a twin,” Jon dismisses. “Look, Uce, it’s obvious you still got feelings for ole girl. You ask me, I don’t think you ever got over her—”

“I didn’t ask you.” 

“--Now you sitting up here annoyed cause she fucking Coach Carter nephew instead of doing something about it.” Joe rolls his eyes. “I mean have you even told her about you and J—”

“No,” he interrupts, swiftly. “Not yet, at least.”

Nodding, Jon speaks again after a minute of silence. “All I’m saying is ya’ll got the history, got the connection, got the kid too! Don’t see why you need to be letting Jesus Shuttlesworth steal your girl.”

At that, Joe chuckles. One thing his cousins will always be good for, especially Jon, is comedic relief. Even some sound advice from time to time.

“Thanks.”

Joe is, surprisingly, thankful for the equally surprising advice from his cousin. He’s not entirely sure if he’s really jealous or just overreacting for a reason he hasn’t quite uncovered, but he is starting to lean more on the side of he does still have some level of feelings for Y/N. 

It’s not a complete shock. He had a feeling when he reacted so strongly to just seeing your picture. It was the whole Callie situation and finding out how you kept her from him that made his vision murky. 

But, as his relationship with her strengthens, the clearer he can see. 

The clearer his feelings are becoming. Now. it’s just a matter of figuring out what to do with said feelings.

And find out where you stand as well. 

Joe remains quiet, thinking more and more how this might end up being an eventful trip.

[jwanniie]

Hiii again!!

can I make a request about g!p minji x reader fcking in the library?

I got too excited with this idea😁

Secret crush.

You have been struggling in school for the past two months due to some family issues and just life has been exhausting and draining, you weren’t dumb you just needed a little break and someone who takes care of you. From the start of the school year you have been getting decent grades, they were good but if we compare it to the amount you study for you should definitely get better grades, that really did unmotivate you because what do you mean someone who didn’t even touch a book will get a better grade than someone who pulls all nighters, skips meal just to study and never skips a class?You are happy for them but still there is a little unpleasant feeling inside you that you can’t deny ,And on top of that your family starts complaining about you not trying hard and not getting full marks. So you thought about what is the point of trying hard but still not reaching?

The way your grades dropped made your teacher really unhappy because you definitely weren’t dumb in fact you were very intelligent so she decided to talk to you and try to convince you to get a tutor and maybe she can help you choose one.

“___can you stay a little after class, we need to discuss something?”

You were tired and wanted to go home, you wanted to deny but what if she has something important to say?

“Sure” you replied with tired eyes that anyone could literally notice that you hadn’t been getting proper sleep for days, and yeah you don’t even remember when you last had that 10 hour uninterrupted sleep.

Class ended faster than usual, once all of the students went out of the class the teacher sat you down and took a deep breath before starting to talk.

“___ has anything happened home or do you have something going on that is not very pleasant…since your grades been dropping and I’m wondering what’s the reason and if we could try to fix it?” She spat, she really didn’t want to express her thoughts in a hurtful or negative way so she tried to sound as kind as possible.

You took an exhale before speaking “miss everything is going fine at home it’s just that I’m very unmotivated towards school and my mental health overall is not really helping with school” you spoke trying to sound as ok as possible even tho tears are starting to well in your eyes, recalling everything that is happening and all of your family problems.

“I see, do you think if we could ask a student to tutor you so you could perhaps make friends at the same time while studying do you think that would help you a little? And ___ you are nowhere near stupid you just need a little push and that will get you started all over again and I care for you, you are one of my favorite students here, always kind and enthusiastic to learn new things so seeing you like this really does hurt me.” She uttered in the most comforting tone ever, you smiled at her request and nodded because maybe that will make your school life and mental health better “a tutor could work!” Your teacher smiled warmly at your answer “then I will look for a tutor” she said, she lastly bid you goodbye and you went home a little smile on your face knowing that you have a new start and could improve.

The next week the teacher gave you the name of the student who will tutor you and when will you meet, the first lesson would be in the library. Damn, you haven’t been there for a long time you thought to yourself. You checked the paper that the teacher gave you once more and you looked at the name again “Minji”. You have heard the name before but the image of the person didn’t really click. You decide to pick a place near the entrance of the library so as soon as minji steps inside she could see you, you dont think she even recognize you but let’s just hope for the best.

You waited silently for about seven minutes till you saw a girl with a school uniform, your school never restricted what the students wear but that’s what she is comfortable wearing, now the image clicked, She is minji! You have never interacted with her nor your friends did but she was known for having one of the best grades in school if not the best. She was quiet,didn’t really have much friends, a bookworm and kinda cold or perhaps a better word distant? You always saw her with a book in hand or had her head deep down writing something. She didn’t really put much effort in socializing but one thing undeniable about her was her beauty she was that handsome type of beauty. You waved your hands at her you were maybe too excited she just walked towards her expression hard to read, she always had a resting face.

“I was kinda late, sorry” she spoke a little cold it gave you chills, is she always this serious? You didn’t expect any type of laughter or giggling but a little smile wouldn’t hurt anyone!

The tutoring session went pretty smoothly she told you the basic stuff and you immediately got the hang of it, like the teacher said you weren’t stupid you just needed someone to take interest in you. It was very silent, yeah a library is supposed to be silent but this maybe was too silent. You looked around and saw no one near you or even far away from you. You looked at the entrance of the library and there was no one even the bored librarian wasn’t there you looked around a little more and there was literally no one. A panic immediately started to hit you, you can’t be stuck in here seriously. Minji saw how uncomfortable you were and decided to give you a little hug whispering “hey calm down, we are going to get out of here. Let’s call someone” minji maybe was too calm about this whole situation but deep inside she was having a little panic attack. Yeah she didn’t show much emotions but that didn’t mean she didn’t care about people’s feelings, she just couldn’t express with words but her actions did.

You called the school principal and he said that they will come get the both out while waiting you decide to make a little chit chat to burn some time and comfort you a little. “I know this might sound weird but have you had any crush” this was the basic middle school dudes question while playing truth or dare but in this situation you didn’t honestly care, If she wants to think your weird then so be it. “Yeah” she answered tone little softer now, as a nosy person you couldn’t help but ask who, “oooh do you mind telling me who?” You said to excited, she gave you a little smirk making a point below your stomach tingle “what about I will describe it and you should guess, I’m pretty sure you know them” she said in a seductive voice immediately shocking you seeing the new side of her, your not complaining tho it was pretty hot. “Why not, tell me” you said too excited. “Hmmm well she is a girl, she is very gorgeous and adorable, she has never interacted with me before but did now and Uhmm her mental health hasn’t been the best which was secretly hurting me. I have always admired her from a far” she uttered scooting closer to you. Her description definitely had some suspicion in you, deep inside you wanted it to be you but the chances of her licking you were very very slim. “Uhm I don’t…know, please tell me” you stated. She was so close to you now, “hmm sure why not” she brought her face near you inches a part. Your breath hitched and you closed your eyes, she brought her plush lips to your pair and soon you felt something kissing you softly, when she moved her lips from yours, you were shocked a good shocked tho. “Did this tell enough, princess or…?” She questioned looking deep into your eyes, intoxicating you with her pair of eyes almost like hypnotizing you and before you knew you grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her into a deep kiss passionate and warm. She immediately kissed back, placing her hand on your upper back and gently laying you down. She took her skirt off revealing her erection, and damn, was she big? She was huge and her length being hard doubling it size. Without much of thinking you grabbed it touching it earning a groan from her, she was thick and had girth. You went on your knees and saw how her tip was filled with precum. Your tongue exploring her tip and length, her precum was very creamy but salty. Her hand found its way to your neck and squeezed it “don’t tease doll!” Her breath hitched. You tried to take her in one go but she was too big. She gave you a dark giggle full of lust “too big for you baby?” You tried to take her one more time but you gagged uncontrollably while coughing. But still you wanted to please her so you started sucking half of her length, bobbing your head around it. Soon after she started twitching inside your mouth, breath getting faster and moans getting louder. Without warning her thick white salty cum filled your mouth. She looked you in the eyes “swallow it, all of it” and as a good girl you obeyed her, swallowing her release. She was satisfied,way too satisfied. “On all fours baby, mommy is going to reward you for being so good” the excitement of her words flood your brain and your body immediately reacted to her, taking off your pants and panties leaving you with only an oversized shirt. And getting onto all fours, she groaned seeing how obedient you are for her. She couldn’t wait anymore and gave you her whole length, not even letting you adjust to her, immediately thrusting passionately hitting spots you never thought existed. Bumping into your g-spot and to spots people never even named. Her ruthless pace never cooled down if anything it only got rougher, with few more thrusts and few ass reddening spanks your release flood all over your thighs. Her relentless pace didn’t stop, the way you got now tighter made her eyes roll back and a hitched groan came from her “fuck baby so tight”. With how clenching you are around her length it didn’t take her long to feel her high close. Few seconds later she pulled out and white sperm got released on your back.