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honest-moth-of-silver-grove · 10 months

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Hcs for a Tav who grew up being starved/neglected. Maybe their parents were poor or they were an orphan on the street. They don’t hoarde too much food but they don’t eat in front of others. And rarely take enough. And they refuse to shower near the others or camp super close to them. They’re almost always on alert and are really bad at self care. They’re always dirty, hair a mess. They kind of smell. And they are also ashamed of the fact no one taught them how to take care of themselves???

For Astarion, Gale, Halsin, and Wyll? ^_^

Thank you!

A/N: Oh Nonnie, I feel this! I was a child of divorce and at one house we were very disciplined and had routines for self-care and homework and everything. But the other house was chaotic and full of resentment and neglect. It’s so odd how something 20+ years ago can still affect you today, but it absolutely can. 💚

For some resources on having to figure things out as an adult, may I recommend the “How Do I Dad?” YouTube Channel and the r/InternetParents subreddit? Those are the two I like the best atm. Also remember, Google is your friend. Whenever I want a real person to answer, I usually type in my question with a plus sign then Reddit (+reddit) which will pull up real user’s threads from Reddit about the subjects you’re Googling. It’s one of the last platforms I think is usable in that way. So that's why I do that. Then again, I’m old and might just miss the old ppl’s Internet.

Anyway, on to the ask!

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TW: Mentions of Past Neglect, Disordered Eating, Food Insecurity

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🧼️ HCs for Neglected!(GN)Tav With Astarion, Halsin, & Wyll 🛁

Astarion:

Okay, he’s kinda a dick about it at first. He doesn’t mean to be. Well, I mean, yes he meant to make those petty comments, but he wouldn’t have made them if he knew about Tav’s past circumstances. Once Tav lets it slip they’re bad at self-care because no one ever taught them, Astarion immediately feels a sense of kinship.

He was a magistrate before Cazador captured and turned him, and he considered himself to be a man of some luxury, but after being taken that all changed. He lived in filth, he was fed filth, by the hells, Cazador saw him as filth. He knows what it feels like to be seen as worthless and to have to survive in meager conditions. He wants Tav to understand none of it is their fault. They had no control over their circumstances. He tells Tav to never apologize for the way they had to live in order to survive.

The first thing he offers to help Tav with is bathing and dressing. When Cazador let him out to lure victims, Astarion perfected disguising his undead scent over the decades. Part of it was using oils and perfumes, and another part was choosing the right attire. He’ll find the right kind of soap and cleansing oils for Tav's skin and hair type, insisting they get only the best the markets of Baldur’s Gate have to offer. If Tav can’t afford it, who cares? He’ll just sneak around the merchant and steal it while Tav distracts them. Or Lazel, if Tav refuses to do something so morally questionable.

He doesn’t really pick up on Tav’s refusal to eat with the others, mainly because Astarion also doesn’t eat with the others. But if Tav requests, Astarion will gladly sit and gossip with Tav as they eat their meal, away from everyone else.

Astarion might suggest the party visit an inn or a bar one night, and encourage Tav, in his way, to let their guard down and eat around the others. He wants Tav to practice consuming food in the presence of their other friends. Astarion believes it’ll do two things: 1) It’ll prove to Tav, that it’s safe to eat in their company and 2) It’ll reinforce what Astarion’s been saying to them, that there’s nothing wrong with the way they eat. Even if they scarf their food down or eat with their hands or burp extra loud- who cares? Karlach practically inhales three portions in a single bite. Gale won’t shut up while he eats, so he’s always talking with his mouth full. And Shadowheart takes the tiniest bites imaginable, meaning she takes fricken forever to finish a single plate. Everyone has their own style, and Tav’s is nothing to be ashamed of.

If Tav and Astarion are especially close or if they’re dating, Astarion will even offer to help Tav wash up. Not because he wants to see them naked, or to have sex, but because he really wants to shower them in affection. He’ll gently massage their shoulders as he works the cleansing oils into them. He’ll help them balance, bending backward as he washes their hair, gently using the very tips of his sharp nails to scratch their scalps. It feels heavenly, and it’s a great intimate, non-sexual way for the two of them to grow closer.

It may be true no one was there to take care of either Astarion or Tav in the years past. But now that they’re together, the two of them can take care of each other.

Halsin:

Halsin prefers to live amongst nature as opposed to city dwellings, so he’s more accustomed to roughing it than the others may be. That being said, he’s not unclean, or unkempt- he keeps himself very well groomed (as one must do when they tend to ask to bed anyone and everyone they come into contact with for more than five seconds). He assumes Tav is just more accustomed to frequent bathing at first. Not everyone is as fortunate as he is. But he begins to suspect something the more the days go on, and Tav’s appearance and demeanor don’t change.

He’ll try casually inviting Tav to come bathe with him. He knows the perfect spot just beyond the Grove, that’s secluded but not too small, that would well accommodate both of their bodies. He suggests this regardless of whether he and Tav are dating or not. If Tav is hesitant, he apologizes for being forward and kindly explains he just wanted to present Tav with the opportunity to take some time for themselves. When Tav breaks down in front of him, explaining why they’re so upset about the idea of grooming and self-care, Halsin is immediately sympathetic. He listens intently as Tav gets their fears off their chest.

Once Halsin understands Tav’s situation, he’ll take them into his tent, and show Tav his collection of soaps and brushes and oils. Halsin explains how he prefers to use each one, before gifting them to Tav to keep for themselves. When Tav protests that it’s too much, Halsin puts a hand up to stop them. He can always buy new items. Besides, he’s learned how to make the most of what only Mother Nature has to offer. He can manage without fancy cleansers and bristles for a time. Tav deserves them more.

Halsin might even offer Tav some clothes if he has any that wouldn’t be too difficult to tuck or take in, as he’s a very tall man. With Tav’s permission, he might even ask Shadowheart Lazel or even Astarion if they have something they could spare for the time being, if Tav is too embarrassed or shy to ask for themselves.

He offers to keep watch and guard Tav as they bathe, promising not to look unless Tav asks them to. If the two are dating, Halsin will assist them, helping Tav scrub down, and removing all the dirt, grime, and dead skin before washing them in the water. If the two are only friends, Halsin keeps his promise of not looking at Tav until they are dressed again. He’ll help detangle and braid Tav’s hair, taking care not to pull too hard on any knots. The whole ordeal leaves Tav feeling rather pampered.

As far as eating goes, Halsin will always offer to share any meal he catches while the party is camping together, which is how Halsin notices Tav’s different eating habits. Halsin swears that as long as he is well and able to hunt and gather food, Tav will never go hungry in his presence. Halsin assures Tav that it’s okay to eat full, rather than stockpile most of their meals for later. It’s much more important to eat for energy now, rather than wait to eat later. It keeps one’s energy levels stable and helps to reduce any unintentional food waste as things tend to spoil sooner rather than later.

Halsin takes it upon himself to become a provider of sorts for Tav, the one Tav never had. He plans to lavish Tav with so much attention and care, that those wounds caused by years of abandonment and neglect have no choice but to close.

Wyll:

Wyll is a bit awkward about it in the beginning. Not because he intends to be rude, but because he’s unsure of how to approach the subject with Tav without sounding like a snide ass. If it were any other companion, he might have made an offhand comment days ago, but when it comes to their leader, Wyll holds much more admiration and respect. So, Wyll holds his tongue until things become a bit more apparent, and he believes he knows the most sensitive way to navigate them.

When everyone sits down to eat, Wyll asks Tav if they’d like to join them. He does this every evening, hoping Tav will eventually say yes. If Tav still doesn’t bite, he’ll come to them, and ask if he could sit next to Tav as they eat. Wyll makes a casual conversation between bites, trying to bring Tav out of their shell. If there's still no change, Wyll opens up about being on his own, having been kicked out of his home as a young man. He reveals how for the first few years he was often hungry, tired, and cold- being forced to move around from place to place outside of Baldur’s Gate without the proper supplies to fend for himself or keep himself dry. This prompts Tav to open up a bit about their past- how they also had to survive on their own, and now, as an adult, they don’t know how to do anything other than ‘survive’.

Wyll is, of course, empathetic. Tav may not have come from a noble background like Wyll did, but that’s no excuse for all Tav had to endure, especially as a child. Wyll tells them he’s sorry Tav had to live through all that, and makes it very clear that it was in no way, Tav’s fault. They were just a kid, they should have been protected. There’s nothing to feel ashamed about. They didn’t fail, other people failed them.

Wyll had to learn how to do many things on his own, and he thinks it would be best for him to share all he’s learned. One night he sits with Tav at dinner, encouraging Tav to eat, as Wyll tells them how he learned where to stay, how to get work, when to leave, and where to train.

Together, Wyll and Tav come up with a list of items Tav most likely needs for self-care. All the while Wyll does his best to ensure Tav doesn’t feel judged for lacking such things. Again, Wyll reminds them, it’s not their fault. And there’s never any time to start like the present. If they’re close enough to a market, Wyll will take them there, and help Tav purchase everything they need. However, if they’re somewhere without vendors, say the Underdark or the Shadowlands, Wyll will approach a party member for assistance.

Out of all of the companions, Wyll asks Astarion if he has any extra cleansing soaps or oils because Wyll knows Astarion’s the most high-maintenance party member amongst them lol. Once Wyll secures those items, he gifts them to Tav, and lets them know he’d be happy to stand guard while they bathe. Wyll plants himself midway between the camp and the river, giving Tav ample space. Wyll would feel being too close to them, in this manner, at this point, even if he and Tav were in a relationship, would be inappropriate.

Once Tav is bathed and dressed, Wyll escorts them back to the fire. As Tav’s hair dries, Wyll regales them with much more upbeat stories, tales of his times as the Blade of Frontiers. His battles and triumphs, his rescues and saves- all of that. He wants Tav to know he has their back. Wyll is capable of protecting Tav, and he intends to do it in a way where Tav never has to feel abandoned or forgotten again.

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#astarion x tav #halsin x tav #wyll x tav #wyll x reader #astarion x reader #halsin x reader #bg3 imagine #bg3 x tav #bg3 x reader #hc #bg3

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 6 months

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Temporary Fix. || cheater!Johnny

Rating: E + TABOO Words: 5K with the bonus (this one got away from me, I'm sorry) CW: cheating (on Johnny's part, Reader doesn't know), smut smut smut, a bit of BAD dirty talking, oral sex (m!receiving), protected piv sex, breath play (if you squint), praise kink (lots of 'that's it' + 1 'good girl'). Tags: afab!reader, fat/chubby!reader, you/your pronouns, one-night stand but more like one-week stand. Summary: Johnny's a dog who cheats on his girlfriend, unbeknowst to reader. a/n: this is for my chubby gals and also for my @/☠️ anon, who motivated this with a DM of hers (spot the DM at the bottom of the post).

The thing about soldiers… Is that they tend to have lovers. As in, for as long as they stay deployed in a country, they’re bound to get themselves a toy they can have a shag with. Sometimes it’s prostitutes. Sometimes it’s regular women.

Even those who have a family, a wife, a partner of any kind, waiting for them at home do it. It’s an open secret. Your buddy might be cheating on his wife… And you might know your friend’s wife, hell, your wife might be great friends with his wife. But you’ll never tell her. All things considered, she might already know and be turning a blind eye.

This is a lot more common for enlisted soldiers in the Army. The types that get deployed for 9 to 18 months at a time, fighting in a way that keeps them far away from home for so long that they “can’t help” but seek affection on the side.

But that’s not to mean Special Forces soldiers, especially those kept on ‘stand by’, always ready for a quick deployment that, at most, lasts a month or two, don’t do it. They do.

John Alistair MacTavish has a bird at home. He does. He really does. But you wouldn’t think that, seeing as he cheats on her as often as he breathes.

He goes on and on about his bird every chance he gets, has phone and video calls with her whenever he has the time, coos at her as she talks about her day, tells her how much he misses her…

Only to end the call and leave base with his team to end up at some bar or club in civvy clothes, find a nice bird or bloke (he’s not picky) and go home with them.

A dog, any normal person would call him, a womanizer, a skirt chaser, a player, a cheater.

He’s not above calling himself that. He knows it’s wrong. That doesn’t mean he’s stopping. Hell, that doesn’t mean he even feels guilty. He doesn’t.

It’s not that his girl back home is bad in bed, or boring, or that he feels trapped or… It’s simply that he has an itch that he wants scratched…

And as useful as his fist is, he’s not a sixteen-year-old anymore, rubbing one out in his bathroom during a quick shower. That just doesn’t cut it anymore. If he has the option to shag someone, why wouldn’t he?

Now that he’s in the 141, the philandering just gets much worse. Whenever they have downtime on a foreign location somewhere, a night free before they return to England, a night before they get the go-ahead to go on a mission, what have you… He’s out getting himself a shag.

And, worse of all, he brings Gaz along.

Gaz doesn’t have the same issue, he’s not got a partner at home, so he can do all of this with a clear conscience. Maybe that makes Gaz a bit bad too, because he knows that Soap has someone at home, and he still goes out with his mate and they both get wasted and laid without a care.

Maybe Gaz doesn’t think it’s his place to intervene, or maybe he just doesn’t care enough to.

Camaraderie and all.

That’s how they ended up in a club downtown, flashing lights all around them, loud reggaeton playing through the speakers, men and women around them with more skin on display than they had covered rubbing their bodies, sipping drinks, spilling them over each other… Oh, the wonders of a Colombian night club.

They saw you before you saw them. Kyle tapping at Johnny’s shoulder as their eyes perused the space individually, then, he drew the Scot’s eyes to you, standing with your friends, laughing, drinking, softly swaying to the music.

Soft curves in a copper-colored dress that left little to the imagination, clinging tight to a round ass and a thick belly, the hem constantly pulled down by your hands, as it insisted on rolling up, up, up, exposing more of your smooth thighs than you wanted it to.

It didn’t stop you from still rolling your hips to the music, however, turning the fixing of your dress a near impossible task, repetitive, useless, and maddening, Sisyphus-and-his-stone.

Turning to each other, the two sergeants hands shot to the middle of their bodies, a quick rock-paper-scissors ensuing… which Johnny won.

And that’s how you ended up turning around to the sight of a foreigner with the broadest shoulders, thickest arms and pecs, and bluest eyes you’ve ever seen… As well as a mohawk, something you didn’t often see on… anyone, really.

He was a soldier, you could tell, even out of uniform. Not your first time seeing one, this being a city with a military base attached, and certainly not your last time being approached by one.

Oh, how soldiers seem to love fat women. You’ve experienced your fair few, many of them assuming your weight would equal desperation for love and affection, which would result in you accepting a rushed wedding for the sole purpose of getting him out of the barracks.

But you’re not desperate. Other than for a good lay, maybe.

“Erm… Hola.” The soldier in front of you says, blue eyes locked on your face for a surprisingly respectful amount of time considering the sinful cleavage that this dress and your bra give you.

His Spanish has the thickest accent you’ve ever heard, meaning he’s not American… But his pronunciation is off, so he’s clearly an English speaker. Though he’s not English either, you can tell.

“I speak English. Hi.” You told him, watching as he let out a little sigh of relief. Then, the corner of his mouth popped up in a dirty little smirk.

“Well, tha’ makes it easier. Hi.” He replied. “I saw ye from over there… Was wonderin’ if I can buy ye a drink?” He offered. Only then did he allow his blue eyes to slither down, down, down, trailing every inch of your exposed skin down to the black ankle booties you’re wearing, thick, square heels to prevent your hamstrings from feeling the pain of stilettos the next morning.

“Why?” You decided to ask him with a cocked brow, forcing his eyes to shoot upward to meet your face again, locking onto yours with a surprised expression.

“Why, what, pretty thing?” He replied, his own brows, thick, straight, rising up to meet his hairline. He’s confused, his eyes blinking a bit. His intentions had been clear as day. Obvious enough for you to pick up on, but you’re playing dumb, or maybe hard to get.

“Why do you wanna buy me a drink?” You asked him as you dipped your head to the side, your eyes slowly trailing over every inch of his handsome face. Those blue eyes of his are locked on you, pupils slightly dilated, hands hanging off his hips, fingers looped onto the belt loops of his jeans.

“Because you’re proper beautiful.” He replied. Your cocked brow and unimpressed glances up and down, cause him to continue. “And I’d love to take you home, find out what you’ve got on under that dress, and make sure your neighbors hate you from today onward.”

His words are crude, his voice loud and crass, disregarding the public space you’re in, the fact that there are others around, not just your friends, but complete strangers too. Maybe he’s hoping they won’t understand English. But they do. Hell, your girlfriends look at you and exchange coy looks with you, before them, and you, break into a fit of giggles.

He looks at them, noticing they caught what he said, even through the loud music, but then looks at you again. “So? What do you say?” His brogue is getting easier and easier to listen to with every word he says.

Rolling your head to the side, your squint your eyes at him and then shrug. “Do you have to buy me a drink for that?” You challenge him, your eyes snapping back and forth between his own, almost taunting him with your inquiry.

“Not if you don’t want to.” He tells you, eyes lit ablaze and a smirk on his lips.

So, you simply grab him by the arm, bid farewell to your friends, with a wave, and grab your clutch from the table, before dragging him out of the club.

Johnny was expecting a flat, a home, maybe even a university dorm room considering your age. What a surprise it came to him to find you taking him up to a hotel. Not that he’d complain when he noticed the large king-sized bed and the large view, providing a beautiful view of the illuminated city of Cartagena.

His hands were on your broad hips before you even got to closing the door, his mouth clashing onto yours as he pushed you against the wall by the door, calloused hands already sliding over the slinky fabric of your silky dress, tugging it up, so they could slip underneath.

His tongue pushed into your mouth, wet and drooling, saliva traded between your mouths as his strong fingers caught hold of a greedy handful of your ass, digging into the supple flesh and groaning in delight at just the feeling of you at his fingertips.

Your own hands already slid up and around his torso, feeling him up through the fabric of his t-shirt, before sliding down to pull the navy blue fabric out of its tuck into his jeans, rolling it up to expose a strong, bulky body covered in a generous amount of body hair.

Your lips broke apart for a moment, only long enough for you to take off his shirt, tossing it onto an armchair in the corner, and for him to unzip the side-zipper of your dress, taking it off you too.

Then, he grabbed you around the thighs, causing you to shriek, as he bounded for the bed, dropping you so hard onto it you almost swore you’d bounce off. Still wearing his jeans, he slotted himself between your parted thighs, his body bending over yours.

His stubble scratched your neck as he kissed you all over, licking stripes of your skin as his hands pulled off your boots, unfastened your bra… They were surprisingly nimble for such a hulking man. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” Johnny cooed as he let his eyes run down your body.

He dragged his mouth down from your neck, across you clavicle, over one of your breasts, and caught your nipple between his teeth, beginning to suck on it, noticing how you hissed a bit, leaning back on your elbows as he did so.

One of his hands caught your other breast, grabbing and carefully kneading it between his fingers, as his eyes shot up to your face, blue irises beneath a pair of dark eyelashes, fluttering slowly as his pupils blew out from how horny he was. His other hand found your black panties and pulled them aside, (more so ripped them with how aggressive he pulled on them), the rough and calloused pads of his fingers catching your lips immediately and beginning to slide up and down, running over your slit.

The moment his cracked fingertips grazed your clit, you whined, your legs spreading apart even more, your body jumping a bit. “Fuck…” You grumbled under your breath, your eyes locked on his face and the way he eagerly played with your nipple.

“Relax.” Johnny told you once he let go of your nipple. Then, he rolled his tongue around in his mouth, collecting some saliva, before letting it drip onto your slit, his fingers catching it and spreading it quickly as he resumed playing with your clit, hand craning in order to push a finger inside.

“Oh fuck…” You moaned softly, hips bucking up against his hand, following his ministrations as he pushed a second finger inside of you and hooked them up to graze your g-spot, pumping them in and out, the rugged feel of his cracked fingertips drawing a surprisingly pleasant sensation of pleasure from the depths of your soul.

His other hand moved away from your breasts in order to undo his belt, leaving it to hang around his waist as he also undid his jeans, sliding them and his boxer briefs down one-handed, in order to allow his cock to spring free.

Your eyes lock onto it as he continues fingering you, a bit sloppy and rough, his palm pressed to your clit and his fingers constantly drawing a ‘come hither’ motion inside your wet walls.

His cock is stubby, shorter than some of the men you’ve been with, but so thick you can’t help but wonder just how he’ll make it fit inside of you, and how straining the stretch of it will be. It’s heavy too, uncut, hanging down even while already full-mast, too heavy to spring back against his belly button. His balls are heavy too, full, round and strained as he continues to play with you, watching your reactions to his touch.

“You like what you see, huh?” He asks you, noticing the way your eyes don’t slip far from his cock before returning to it, watching it lay against one of your smooth thighs, the ruddy color and constant twitching only bringing more attention it as it rubs against your skin, dripping pre-cum over your stretch marks.

“Mhm…” You reply softly as your hand reaches down to tug at it, carefully wrapping around it and drawing it up and down over his length, only letting go to cup his taut balls and fondle them a few times.

“Tha’s it…” He murmurs and hisses under his breath as he looks you right in the eyes. “Wanna be good f’r me?” He coos at you, and you nod in reply as you bite your lip. “How about you get on your knees and let me see how you suck me off, hm?”

Nodding, you untangle yourself from around him, his fingers slipping out of you, as you took your spot on the floor, the soldier having been caring enough to toss a pillow from the bed onto the floor to cushion your knees.

He sits on the edge of the bed, strong, muscular thighs spread open, as you sunk your mouth onto him, without so much as a second’s worth of hesitation. The stretch as you tried to swallow as much of him as you can tugged at the corners of your mouth, making them feel a bit sore, your jaw already protesting at the size of him. But that doesn’t stop you.

You start lapping at the underside of his cock eagerly, wetting him as much as possible to make sure you could continue taking him down your throat. The sounds he was making were sinful, low groans and grunts, hissing through his teeth, one hand carefully fisting the bed covers.

He carefully gathered your hair away from your face, gripping it one handed. “Tha’s it… Greedy thign you are, wanna take all of my fat cock in your mouth, hm?” He goaded a bit as he looked down at you between his legs.

Any other time, any other place, any other man, you’d already be pulling off him, getting dressed, telling him to fuck off… But something in this soldier’s voice, in his accent, the growl behind his voice, the spark in his eyes…

Maybe you are just desperate for a good lay with the thickest cock you’ve ever seen… But you don’t complain. You simply nod at him and bobbed your head even more enthusiastically, lips struggling to glide up and down his length, spread open sinfully to accommodate his size.

“Tha’s a good girl…” He praises, his free hand coming to grip you at the back of your neck, tugging you slowly, forward, to make you swallow more of him down into your throat, making you gag and sputter on his length, sloppily drooling around the size of him, saliva drooling down your chin and onto the carpeted floor of your hotel room.

“Pretty fucking thing… Gonna make that make-up run, hm?” He offers as he pulled you off and back onto his cock, moving your head for you. “Show some attention to that pretty pussy of yours, go on.” He demands, causing you to nod.

One of your hands found your wet slit between your legs, sliding two fingers inside, which felt like not nearly enough after having had his own, and considering the fat cock that would soon replace them, but you’d make do.

“Both hands, don’t be coy now.” He added. Your eyes widen, already anticipating the loss of balance that’d come from the lack of support from your free hand holding you up on the bed. But you do as you’re told, trying your best to keep a perch on your knees as your other hand starts slowly padding at your clit, rolling circles with it.

When you inevitably lose balance, as you knew you would, the soldier simply pulls you forward against him, making you bury your nose against his pelvis, swallowing his cock in its entiry, causing you to choke and gag, trying to catch a breath through your nose. He, in turn, lets out a loud groan of delight, eyes rolling back, as he feels the warm wetness of your throat.

“Keep your hands where they are.” He demands of you, preventing you from trying to pull away and find balance again with your hands on the bed or the floor or his thighs. You can barely do much more than nod against his hip.

He hooks a leg over your shoulder, pinning you close to him, while his hips begin to rock into your mouth, blindly and sloppily, making you gag more and more, more saliva slipping down from your parted lips, making a mess of him and yourself. “Tha’s it… yeah… just what I fuckin’ needed… Such a good girl f’r me…” He grunts as his hand swipes your hair out of your face as it slips from his grip.

“You like this?” He asks you as he abuses your mouth and your throat, while you sputter and try to fruitlessly breathe between each thrust of his into your throat. Nodding pathetically, mouth to full to speak, you whimper against him, making him shiver and shudder. “Of course you do… greedy fuckin’ mouth…”

He only pulls you off him after another couple of minutes, which felt like an eternity, allowing you to catch your breath only for long enough for him to pull you onto the bed, bending you over at the hips, presenting your round ass to him.

“Mmmmm, look at you…” He grunts out as he ruts his cock between your ass cheeks while tugging your head back at the scalp, causing your back to arch ever so slightly, your tits still pressed against the bed covers. “Round fuckin’ arse… Gonna love see it jiggle f’r me…”

He lets go of you again for a moment only to paw at your ass cheeks with one hand, while the other blindly looks for his wallet in his jeans. “Find me a condom, will ye?” He asks as he tosses the leather wallet next to your head, while he steps out of his jeans, underwear and boots, finally.

While looking for the little clip pocket containing them, you spot his military identification very briefly. It makes you realize you didn’t even ask him his name… Nor did he ask for yours. A green and white striped card titled ‘British Army’, with the name ‘John MacTavish’ and some extra info you don’t really pay attention to. John. That’s his name…

Once you pass him one of the silver wrappers, Johnny rips it open and puts on the slick condom quickly, barely waiting a moment before slipping himself inside of you, down to the hilt in one swift motion. You find yourself squirming against the bed covers with a whine, while he groans loudly behind you.

Although the stretch was still wildly bigger than any other man you’ve been with before, it didn’t feel as uncomfortable as you expected it too… probably because you were wetter and more eager than you expected.

He starts rutting inside of you immediately, huffing through clenched teeth as his big hands grip your ass cheeks and keep you spread open. His fingers dig deeply onto your extra fat, squeezing and kneading it, his blue eyes glued to the way your puffy lips part and stretch to swallow him whole. “Beautiful fuckin’ sight…”

“Fuck… Just like that… Don’t stop…” You beg him and whine loudly, fisting the white bed covers and digging your nails into them, your face resting on them sideways, sliding back and forth with each thrust of his.

You’re sure the hotel staff is going to have a field day washing the duvet, your make-up already staining the white fluffy fabric, sliding down with the sweat, and dragging across with each motion of your head.

You can barely speak or think, moaning in turn with him, each thrust of his causing you to croon and whimper in delight, his fat cock hitting you at every possible angle and rubbing every inch of your walls, the veins dragging against your g-spot, the condom barely there.

“Yeah… ye like tha’? Huh? Ye like it?” He coos at you, already slightly out of breath, hips barelling against your plump ass, making it jiggle as he bounces himself off them.

“Oh, fuck yes…!” You whine loudly. His hands slide up to find your hip, pushing you down against the mattress so he can shift more of his weight onto you, pumping at a downward angle, causing you to shriek desperately.

“Oh yeah…” Johnny grunts and starts huffing atop you, leaning all his weight atop of you as he pounds his hips against yours, his breath ragged against your shoulder and hair. “Fuck… Yer cunts feels so fuckin’ good…” He murmurs in your ear, his thick accent becoming.

“Oh, God…” You whimper, shuddering beneath him, feeling the familiar knot tightening in your stomach, each of his strong thrusts rattling every fiber of your being. “John…”

“Oh… tha’s it… Moan my name…” He orders as one of his hands suddenly shoots up and grips you by the back of the neck. “Moan my name…” He insists as he throws his hips down onto yours.

“John!” You call out, doing as you’re told, panting for air as he pushes your face harder into the mattress, slowing his thrusts down and bottoming out inside you each time at a slower pace.

Good thing he did too… Because the knot in your stomach only tightens more and more and more, and then snaps, making you cry out loudly with a choked moan that gets half-caught in your throat as your walls suddenly clamp down around him, tightening the grip on his fat shaft.

“Oh fuck…” Johnny grunts and picks up the pace again, grasp your hip as hard as his hands can, a bruising grip that’ll definitely leave a mark, as he pounds into your weeping cunt again and again and again…

He finally comes, losing his balance and landing on his elbows and forearms on either side of your body, his chest against your back, out of breath, as much as you, even though you feel like you barely did anything other than take him.

“Fuck… I needed that…” He grumbles under his breath as he speaks against your shoulder blade, before leaning up and biting at your earlobe. “That feel good f’r ye?” He whispers in your ear, an earnest question, receiving a little nod from you. “Good…”

Slowly, he pulled himself up, slipping his softening cock from you and rolling the condom off. “So… how long are ye and yer friends stayin’ here?” He asks you nonchalantly while tying off the condom.

“Are you trying to make small talk…?” You ask him, surprised that you can even find a voice or string together a coherent sentence in the aftermath of that. You try your best to drag yourself up and over onto the bed, and once you succeed, you look at him languidly.

“No. I have a reason to ask.” He assures you as he tosses the condom into the paper bin under the desk in the corner, before shuffling back over to you on the bed, lying lazily next to you, an arm behind his head, the other on his stomach.

“Four more days.” You tell him, and he nods at the reveal of information. You roll your head to the side to look at him, both of your bodies sweaty and sticky, your make-up undoubtedly a mess, not that he shows it in the way he looks at you… And even if he did, he’d likely only show pride at making you look like that.

“Well… I’m comin’ to pay ye a visit every night until then.” He tells you, before wrapping his free arm around you, pulling you close. “I plan on gettin’ that tight cunny wrapped around my cock fer as long as I can.”

Bonus:

cw: phone infidelity (Johnny's gf calls Johnny while he's fucking reader), lying, cheating, and reader is also not a good person.

It’s the dawn of your last day in Cartagena. And, as promised, Johnny has come to see you for the last four nights, fucking you well into the early hours of the morning, before disappearing while you sleep it off in the morning.

Your friends have been so excited for you this whole time, making you tell and retell all your sexual escapades with him, as you sightsee, go to the beach, go shopping, go out for lunch and dinner…

Meanwhile, Gaz already knows of what Soap's been up to... as do Price and Ghost. Kinda hard to miss the way he disappears every night and comes back every morning, with a smug smile on his lips and the signature walk of someone that just got laid. Ghost even took to calling Johnny 'the town bicycle'™️ every morning, not that Soap minds it.

And you definitely should be sleeping… It’s about to be 6 A.M. after all, your flight due to departing at 1 P.M., your bag already packed in the corner other for the dress Johnny stripped off you when he arrived, and the clothes you prepped for the flight.

But it’s your last night here. Your last night with this British man - Scottish you recently found out - you’ll never see again. How could you spend it any other way other than getting your guts rearranged and your thighs so sore that you’ll undoubtedly be wobbling past airport security and into your flight?

Just as he’s rutting desperately against you, murmuring about how good you feel underneath him, eyes locked on the way your breasts and stomach jiggle with each furious thrust of his hips, a phone’s ringtone comes from somewhere on the floor.

It’s a cheerful little tune, one that immediately makes his face harden into a grimace. “Fuck.” Johnny grunts atop you. “Don’t move. Don’t move…” He tells you before he rushes off to find his phone.

You assume it’s work. After all, he sun is already rising in the horizon. Isn’t that when work tends to start for soldiers? You find the idea of it dreadful, waking up so early, to work out?

But the realization washes over you when his voice becomes affectionate and sweet, calling whoever is on the other side ‘baby’. Johnny presses the phone to his ear, before rushing back onto the bed, slotting himself between your thighs.

Before you can say anything, maybe protest at what he’s doing, he’s back inside you, one of his palms clamping over your mouth as he throws his hips against yours.

“I just got up actually… Am at the gym.” Johnny lies as he pounds into you, a great excuse as to what he sounds out of breath. “Oh yeah… hip thrusts, love.” He continues speaking, his eyes locked onto you.

“Mhm… Definitely…” He grunts out. “Let me put you on speaker so I can keep going.” He adds and quickly does so, setting the phone next to your head on the bed.

“I miss you, Johnny…” A woman’s voice, sugary sweet and soft, comes from the speakers, right next to your ear. An accent similar to his, but less rugged, a bit more polished.

“I know, love… Miss you too…” Johnny says above you, eyes locked on yours as he grunts a bit and presses his hips harder into yours. “Can’t wait to finish here and go back to you…”

You don’t know what it is… You should be disgusted. You should be bucking him off, yelling at him, exposing him to this girlfriend as a cheater… But the way he looks at you, the way his cock throbs inside you, the way this feels, so forbidden and wrong… You can’t help but like it.

“What are you up to now, baby?” Johnny asks as he continues rutting against you, eyes lowering to watch the way your cunt swallows his fat cock.

“I’m about to have lunch, that’s why I called early, going with Anna and Delilah for work, just wanted to say a quick hello!” Johnny’s girlfriend says.

Johnny grunts when your walls flutter around him, tightening around him, a sign you were close to your limit. “Oh… fuck…” He grumbles and pants.

“You okay, love?” Johnny’s girlfriend asks, concerned, when she hears the way he sounds. “You’re not injuring yourself, are you? Am I distracting you?”

“No, no, baby…” Johnny grunts. “I just… love you so much!” He tells her, his face screwed into an expression of pure delight, eyes rolling a bit and eyelids fluttering as he feels you continue to squeeze around you. “Yeah… I love you and miss you… so… so much… God…”

“I miss you too, Johnny!” She says, naively, as her boyfriend lets out a grunt under his breath and comes inside of you, blowing a load inside the condom as he rests his head against your chest.

#ikea writes 💚#cod x reader #cod fanfic #masterlist #call of duty #cod fandom #john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap x reader #soap cod #cod smut #smut #johnny mactavish smut #johnny mactavish is a mutt #tw cheating #cw cheating

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pennyserenade · 8 months

Text

the devil hath power

part three: the victor

pairing: coriolanus snow x f!reader, coriolanus snow x you, coriolanus snow x nameless reader (no use of y/n) rating: e (explicit, 18+) tags/warnings: power imbalance, sex work/prostitution, degradation, smut, explicit sex, a little bit of violence, roughness, blood tw, hate sex, protected sex, handjobs, oral (female receiving), fingering, a general evilness for coriolanus snow is NOT a good guy. i hate to tag this as Dark Coriolanus because i think that's just who he is, but i will do so for the sake of this. word count: 7.9k+ summary: Coriolanus Snow is always the victor in his games. Or is he? a/n: this series was lots of fun to write and i can only hope that you all enjoyed reading this half as much as i enjoyed making it. i'll kiss you on the nose if you decide to leave a nice comment and/or reblog this, but if you only like it that's okay, too; i'll think of you fondly for having followed me on this journey regardless. no beta because life is hard but i did my best here.

part one | part two

The party did not conclude as much as it transferred to another location.

Tigris and her friends had begun to talk of a new nightclub some time after the conversation in the living room, and the idea whisked them away in their states of bubbly inebriation. They had kindly invited her along, with Tigris in particular trying to make a strong case, but she’d declined, citing early morning obligations. On the way out, Tigris had whispered to her that Coriolanus was too important for fun–but asked if she wouldn't try and help him have it anyway, being his old friend? She had promised she would and Tigris had kissed her cheek with warm affection before leaving. Not for the first time that night she could hardly believe that Coriolanus was related to the woman.

It was just as well for Coriolanus that they all left sooner than expected. He held the door open as they scattered out, delivering his charming goodbyes, but after they all had gone his amicable smile faded significantly and his shoulders slumped from the relief.

“Don’t you like them?” she asked, observing from the corner.

He wetted his lips, turning his head towards her. “Do you?”

“I’d say so, yes.”

“Of course you do. They’re fools.”

She wasn’t surprised by his turn of attitude. In fact, she felt more at ease when he was like this: transparently mean. It felt less frightening to know what she was up against.

“Even Tigris?” she inquired.

“Of course not Tigris,” he answered irritably. He pushed his frame off the wall and straightened himself out. “She’s just vulnerable to those types of people. It’s not her fault.”

“Those types of people?” As far as she could tell, they’d all been fairly well-rounded individuals. Their only fault had been curiosity, maybe overfamiliarity, but she considered that much better than what he gave off: Pomposity, contempt, a coldness when he did not think to mask it. Coriolanus could be charming–she observed this multiple times throughout the night, as he had conducted side conversations and finished off stories–but he never seemed to strike anyone as sincere. She could sense that, could feel it in the way they talked to him, not like an old friend, but like a teacher. He wasn’t like Tigris. She was lovely.

Coriolanus did not entertain the conversation any longer, though. He instead took the needle off the record that had been playing softly in the background for some time, stopping the music in the middle of a song. It was then that her thoughts spun back to her music box—how abruptly, almost violently, he had shut it when they were inside her room–and her stomach began to churn. It wasn’t nerves; it was far more complex than that. His eyes seemed to beckon her closer, to draw her in.

Despite what she had said, she had hoped maybe all Coriolanus had intended to do was flaunt her around the party, to show her the life she could have if she worked hard enough for it. That had been foolish; she was experienced enough to know with men like him it never stopped anywhere innocuous as that. He looked up at her like he expected a performance.

“Finally down to two,” she said, sitting her near-empty wine glass on one of his ornate bookshelves. “Anything else you’d like to do while I’m still on the clock?”

He laughed mirthlessly, working the knot in his tie. “Is that all you think about?”

She watched him as he had her that first night: intent, serious, a spectator to a life she could not quite imagine, nor one she exactly envied. “I don’t know—is there something else I should be thinking about?”

He eyed her as she moved closer, almost as if he intended for her to pounce. His grin was derisive. “I don’t know–don’t you have your own thoughts?” he answered brusquely.

“I do, but I don’t think you’d like them very much, Mr. Snow,” she retorted. She could sense that he was not entirely in a good mood now–could see it in the tense way he held his frame, see it in the hardness of his azure eyes–but she wasn’t sure he ever was. At least not in her company.

“I can leave as soon as you give me my money,” she added.

“Thought you said you weren’t an escort,” he sneered. She watched as his fingers undid his cufflinks. They fell with a clatter on the table before him, disregarded with an unfettered ease. She knew they probably cost more than most people could ever hope to make in a lifetime in the Districts. If she stole them, would he notice?

“I’m not, but you’ve made it abundantly clear that you’re well above paying for sex.”

“What? The game get too trying for you?” Coriolanus clicked his tongue. Though his words took on a more playful tone, his voice did not. “You almost had me convinced last week that you were a worthy playmate. So stubborn, so adamant. I thought to myself for a moment that I was lucky you were only a whore and not something as substantial as my classmate.”

Her eyes grew hard, despite herself. “So why are you trying to make me into something you so wholly believe I’m not?” she asked. “I don’t appreciate being left in the dark, Mr. Snow. In my line of business, it is best when all the cards are left on the table. When they are not I have the habit of leaving.”

He seemed to consider this as he opened the three buttons on his dress shirt. Already he had slung his suit jacket over the chair. “I’m not entirely fond of deception, either,” he said finally.

“I didn’t say anything about deception.”

“But I did. And you—“ he pointed a finger in her direction, “—know what you do is a bunch of thinly-veiled deception. I’ll tell you this: I think you could be an asset to me. You proved it tonight more than ever, with that charming little story about your Peacekeeper husband. You’re as quick on your feet as I’m sure you are on your back.” He quirked a mean grin. “But I’ll also say this: I also don’t like being left in the dark. If we are to work together the way I hope we will, I want to know your every thought as soon as you think it. I don’t care how banal.”

More than Coriolanus Snow liked conducting games, it seemed he liked winning them with an unfair advantage. Her lips twitched, daring to press into a grin. He didn’t find this amusing.

“You think I’m joking,” he gruffed.

“Quite the contrary.” She laughed, but it was more exasperated than mocking. “I think you’re serious. It’s just that you’re so goddamn predictable. You try to act above those men who come to me but you want what many of them do: power and control.”

The table that separated them lifted ever so slightly as he leaned his frame nearly all the way across it. “Of course I do,” his voice was rough. He was a frightening man when he wanted to be. She stumbled back. Anyone would’ve. “You do too. Don’t think I don’t notice just as much as you do.”

To make up for her temporary faltering and to show she was not intimated - though in truth she did wonder if maybe she ought to be - she leaned forward too, so close their noses nearly brushed. He smiled a wicked little grin that sent shivers down her spine. “You make me as sick as I make you. How's that for a thought?” she said.

No venom, no bitterness, just a fact. Her pulse quickened. For a flash, she considered the fact that he could very well kill her. That no one might know it. Was he capable of that?

She felt his breath fan across her cheek, warm, scented like roses. “I like you better like this. None of that doe-eyed, temptress act. Your fluttering eyelashes got you through the door, but only because I wanted to know more about what’s up here.”

She glowered. “You act high and mighty, Coriolanus, but I saw the tent in your pants last week. I know you liked it.”

Her mouth ghosted over his own, teasing, but he didn’t move; he smirked, brushing his nose against her cheek, daring her. Challenging her. A far cry from the Coriolanus of weeks past. His past words echoed in her mind, the gravity of them weighing on her for the first time: The game will be different next time.

She could not lose.

“You’re a petulant child, so afraid of what you don’t understand, contrary to what you say,” she whispered coldly, “And you want to fuck me so badly it terrifies you and you’re ashamed of yourself.”

He connected their lips; it was chaste, brief before he drew back. It surprised her, and she had to work hard to pretend it hadn’t. “You think that if I do, it’ll ruin me.” Another chaste kiss. “Maybe it might, but what of you? What if you like it? Could you live with yourself?”

Her eyes pressed close. The smell of roses was pungent but there was a heady scent mixed in with it; the sour-sweet smell of a clean sweat, of worry, of a long, long day. There too was alcohol. She had watched him consume a glass or two. She was sure she could take him on if need be. Certain that she had the willpower, the strength, to outdo him once more. “I’ve done far worse things and lived with it,” she whispered.

Snow’s fingertips grazed against her jawline. His eyes bore into hers when she opened them for him. “I believe that.”

Maybe it was meant to come across as condemnatory but it landed in a cushioned awe, wrapped in the quiet reverence belonging to a man who badly wants something he shouldn’t have. And he took it, his long fingers wrapping around the tantalizing column of her neck, pressing gently, an act of possession as his lips enveloped her own. There was no hesitation, no strain; he opened his mouth and she allowed his tongue to separate her lips. He tasted of roses, of wine, earthy and decadent, his lips plush and smooth as they moved hungrily against her own.

She was the one who pulled back first, searching for air, allowing his nose to bump against the tip of hers as he lurched forward for more. His eyes were closed but he still possessed enough of himself to laugh humorlessly at the impossibility of what was happening. It did feel like victory, albeit a small one. She kissed him again, hoping he felt the drip of regret straight down to the swell of his groin. Hoped he’d feel it for decades, that he’d remember this as vividly as she would: his thighs pressed into the wooden table, his fingers in her hair, on her jaw, on her neck, his want, thick and palpable - embarrassing - as he leaned closer for more, more, more.

He tugged her closer by the lapels of her jacket. There was no protest, not even the muffled sound of self-satisfaction as she crawled her way to him across the table. He held it down with his weight and watched expectantly as she came to sit before him. It was better this way, she told herself, so close. His pupils were blown wide, his lips red and bruised, whatever lipstick she might’ve still been wearing smudged against his. Even his carefully styled hair had begun to unravel. She could feel the full heat of his desire as her legs bracketed his waist.

“When I first began asking about you—“ Coriolanus’ fingers fiddled with the buttons on her blazer. She let him, leaning back on her arms, a present to be unwrapped. “—there was this man. Let’s call him Vitus.” The first button popped open, and he moved diligently to the next one. “I go to university with Vitus. He’s a wealthy young man, and arrogant, so it’s no surprise he’s on your list. Vitus spoke highly of you, but not kindly.” The other button broke open, revealing the bit of flesh before her breasts. He could see a peak of black, of sheer lace, and she watched as he reevaluated his expectations.

“Vitus,” she reminded softly. He shifted his eyes up. They were dark and unreadable. “Vitus—” he echoed, nodding. The third button slipped free. “—said you were a whore who got down on your knees for him. You sucked his cock so well that he shook. Said that was the best head he ever got, that you swallowed it down your pretty throat and left lipstick marks on his cock.”

Coriolanus’ lips twitched, as though this fact pained him. She furrowed her eyebrows, surprised by the way the words seemed to disturb him—as if he was angry that she had been with other men. He pushed her blazer open and draped it over her shoulders. His head drooped down and he took one of her nipples, which was clothed behind the sheer cup of her bra, and scraped it between his teeth.

She shuddered, one hand coming to his hair. Before it could, he pressed it back down onto the table forcefully. Her body got progressively more rigid beneath his.

“Another man said your cunt was tight.” He stared up at her with unfeeling eyes. “Tight. He said that word exactly. He was so vapid. He said you liked him. That you came on his cock not once but twice, and that you rode him until your knees gave out. And do you want to know what I asked them to get those responses?” Coriolanus pressed his lips gently on the place before her bra began. He began kissing downwards, right over the fabric. By her belly-button, he said, “If they knew who you were. Nothing else.”

He pressed warm, open-mouthed kisses at the waist of her pants. She pushed back the fawn of hair that fell over his eyes and he let her. Looking down at him, feeling the ghost of his lips, the presence of his breath against her skin, she realized he intended for her to comment.

“That doesn’t embarrass me,” she answered mildly. “I can’t stop what people choose to say about me.”

Coriolanus rolled his eyes. “I didn’t think it would. That wasn’t the point.” He began to undo the button on her pants now, too. “The point is that I wanted you to know—“ The button came loose and he carefully undid her zipper, falling to his knees before her. It was more reverent of a move that she would have figured he’d make. He nudged her exposed skin with the cold tip of his nose, letting his tongue trace lightly at the beginning of her transparent underwear. “—however well you did it for them, I want it twenty times better. This will be your best performance yet.”

His fingers gripped the underside of her thighs and he tugged her forward so abruptly, it caught her off guard. Her head rattled against the wood of the table. “Fuck!” she hissed through her teeth, her foot pushing outward to fling him back in retaliation. It worked; he jolted, his body falling flat onto the floor.

Her breath quickened, her body adjusting to the adrenaline now coursing through it. As rose on her elbow to inspect the damage, she frowned. Coriolanus sat before her, running his thumb against the bottom of his lip. When he inspected his fingers, he was overcome with quiet astonishment. They both were. There was a red droplet smeared on his finger, the blood fresh. The sight of it thrilled her. It did. She was not sorry to admit that. She only worried how he would take it, how he would respond. If he called someone, anyone important, she could be in trouble. What she did was not exactly legal.

“Coriolanus—“ she began apologetically. He rose a hand to shut her up. It was like blood on snow, the cream white of his hand smeared with the dark red of his blood. How ironic.

He rose to his feet, laughing coldly as he tongued the spot on his lip. It wasn’t terrible, but it’d be an injury he couldn’t hide. People would ask about it. She began to cower, drawing her knees up the closer he came to her.

“There’s no reason to be scared,” he assured, though the frenzied look in his eyes didn’t put her much at ease. His bloodied finger wrapped around one of her ankles. It melted in the fabric, but would no doubt stain later when it faded to rusty brown. This suit would be ruined. She tried her best to remain calm. She had survived worse. She was always surviving.

“What’s a little blood in a good game between friends?” he spoke levelly. The blood dribbled slowly down his chin and he let it.

She swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to—not like that. I just meant to—“ she sputtered. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “No you’re not. What did I say about us not deceiving each other?”

His voice was low, angry, his eyes piercing. She carefully watched his fingers on her ankle, anticipating his next move. They remained still, loose. “Maybe I deserved it,” he went on, laughingly. “What’s the saying—an eye for an eye? Maybe that just makes us even.”

Before the blood trickled down to his white shirt, she moved forward to stop it, as if this would absolve what she’d done—helping him. It was just a dribble, barely anything at all. He flinched, though, when she lurched forth to wipe it. He pinched her wrist between his fingers.

Coriolanus inspected the spot on her finger like he had his own, his lips attempting to twitch into something resembling a smile. It was unsettling, and she was happy when she pulled back and he let her. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he told her softly again. He let go of her ankle.

She stared into his eyes until they finally became penetrable again. After she nodded in quiet acquiescence, Coriolanus took her hand back. He looked her in the eyes, wrapped his warm mouth around her two blood-stained fingers and moaned. It was so lewd, so unlike anything she could’ve imagined him doing, and she couldn’t help but show her shock; she yelped as his tongue grazed between her fingers.

Her slack jawed reaction offered him the reprieve he needed to get them back on track; his lips slid off her fingers and he pulled her closer, guiding her into another kiss. She could taste cooper on his tongue more than she could his roses now. This was against her rules, anything with blood, but it felt hard earned, like a reward on her part more than his.

Coriolanus took advantage of the fact that her slacks were unbuttoned and slid his hand down between their bodies. He spread his fingers through the patch of hair she had teased him with on that ill fated night, when he had come so close to giving in to her, reveling in the fact that he had her now. And it did feel like exactly that: like he had her, like a bird in a cage. He had her beneath his touch, he had her wearing the clothes he’d picked out, in the house of his own making, wearing the very blood she’d drawn from his lip. Even the slight pulsating feeling that resided there still only added fuel to the fire that she’d awoken in him.

She was a terrible thing, and he saw it in her eyes when she’d kicked him back—that frightening jolt of excitement that came from the illicit. The fact that she hated him, that he could see it in her eyes as clearly as he had been able to derive anything else from her, did not bother him. It comforted him. She was no Lucy Gray. Not even throwing poor Lucy Gray in an arena to fight to the death could make her half as jaded as the woman beneath his touch. She had done worse and lived through it. Yes, he believed her.

The simple truth of it was that if she wasn’t a whore and destitute, he’d marry her in a heartbeat. While Livia Cardew was a wonderful choice, and one he was close to sealing the deal on, Livia wasn’t like this woman. He knew that there would never be a danger of loving either of them, that his heart could never open the way it had for Lucy Gray for anyone so cold and cynical. But he knew, unlike with Livia, he could delight in life with this one—that she could make him better, not for all her surrender, but the process of wearing her down to it. He pictured it: the Presidential Palace of his dreams, expansive and grand, and her lying in a four-poster bed waiting for him after a long day in red silk sheets, wearing nothing but this black transparent set. When he entered her it would not be a chore, or something given, but a game hard won—and he knew she’d like it too, that the defeat would fill her with comfort because she knew the depths of true exhaustion and it wouldn’t be like that. He’d seen the hollowed home of hers, knew she lived through the Dark Days just as well as the rest of them and recovered about as well as his family had. To lose his game would be nothing; he’d cloth her and feed her and fuck her full of heirs no matter what.

He wouldn’t want Livia to do this. She wouldn’t do it half as well. There was a vulnerability to this woman that Livia Cardew didn’t possess, a vulnerability she tried hard to forge into strength and almost succeeded at. It was thrilling to watch, to see her hold her head up so assuredly beneath his hard gazes, to watch the devastating power she possessed when she needed something badly enough. He hated her but she no longer disgusted him; she thrilled him. He’d be happy to play this game every day for the rest of his life—would be pleased to shed blood for something as giving as this pursuit. He’d done more for less.

Her cunt was hot and wet, and rubbing a single finger through it relieved him more than he would readily communicate. But he didn’t have to; he slumped into her, gave way. She gripped at his arms, let him swallow her breathy little moans into his mouth as he teased over her core with his fingertip. He knew that when he entered her, it would change something—ruin him, maybe, the way she’d forecasted—and he didn’t yet want to do it. A part of him would lose and would remain lost forever, and he wasn’t ready to contend with that truth yet.

He gathered her slick on his fingers and began to grind down on her clit. Slowly at first, letting her adjust to the feeling, then quickly, delighting wholly in the way she couldn’t help but tighten her grip on his arms.

Coriolanus was not a man who liked self-imposed ignorance. After returning from District 12, he’d begun to undertake his study in sexuality, with nearly as much ardor as he had his education. He and Lucy Gray never had done anything beyond kissing and heavy petting. It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to—he’d wanted to wait until she seemed eager, ready, when they could be alone, away from the Covey, from Sejanus—but it never worked out. He understood it to be for the best. If they had he’d probably be tethered to the foolish notion that sex had to mean something. When he got back, Coriolanus took to the female attention that had been directed towards him for much longer than he had wished it to be. It had started with Clemensia, for he had known he could trust her for her frankness and he found her to be the prettiest.

He knew what he was doing now—had undertaken many hours in the laboratory of women’s intricate, often complex forms. Sometimes men, too, he wasn’t ashamed to admit. There was nothing he did not want to know—especially about himself. Lucy Gray had taken him by surprise because he’d made the mistake of being unknowing, of not having a strong sense of his character and a fluid purpose. He worked through that, saw himself out to the other side: he knew what he liked, who he liked, when he liked it.

Well, mostly. She surprised him, but that was perfectly fine because he was solving this too, wasn’t he?

Her nails dug crescent shaped indentations into the pale of his skin, nearly cutting enough to draw blood again, but not quite. He nuzzled against her throat with his nose, taking to the sting of it. He went faster on her clit, harder. “You can never just play nice, can you?” he husked. He nipped alongside the edge of her jaw, ignoring the ache in his lip. “You’re so fucking wet. You like this. Like my blood on your tongue and my hands down the front of your pants. Makes you feel powerful doesn’t it?”

She covered his mouth with one of her hands, her face contorting into a fine pleasure-pain expression that sent jolts right down to his cock. He could tell she was close, that she was going to come any second based on the way she was drawing her legs together—or at least trying to. Her grip was fierce on his arm and she was uncaring of the wound she had given him, pressing her palm to it. If she drew fresh blood, he wouldn’t be surprised. Wouldn’t mind. He’d lick it from her palm, too.

He finally relented when he felt she was getting too close, and he sunk a single finger into her, keeping his thumb pressed steadily onto her clit as he did. She moaned, loud and audacious, her entire body arching up into him. With his free hand, he gripped her chin hard and, shaking off her hand from his face, pushed his lips into hers. She came, her fingers tugging on his hair, her nails clawing at his arm, her tongue touching his, exploring, tasting, lingering.

And then she slumped against him, sated and out of breath. He smirked, though she could not see it. This was his victory, and a sweet victory it was. Here she was: docile, collasped in his arms, pleased because he had made her so.

When he felt she had had enough time to recuperate, he took his finger from the welcomed heat of her cunt and placed it on her tongue. It did not shock her the way he thought it might’ve—the way he would’ve liked. She wrapped her lips around it without a second thought, drawing it in deeper, her eyes latching seductively onto his. His cock twitched at the sight and at the feel of it, knowing that she was tasting of herself and without a hint of shame or remorse coloring her. Good Capital girls weren’t ever so bold. It took awhile to get them to do things like this, or to even admit that they might like the idea of it.

And she knew he liked it—that what had been plebeian before now seemed desirable as he explored and touched and undid. The state she found herself in was not an unprecedented outcome as much as it was a detour. She would still end up where she had intended to be in the beginning. Coriolanus was better than she would’ve thought he could’ve been, sure, but it did not detract from the fact that at his core he was fundamentally the same as the rest of them. That in his eyes, which burned wildly of passion, and his mind, which no doubt thought single-mindedly of success, was like that of a million others before him. Unexceptional in his perceived exceptionalism.

She took her mouth off of him, sucking her cheeks so hollowly around his finger that she made a sweet popping sound. Coriolanus was like a spectator. That’s the best way she could perceive him: as an audience, taken completely with her and her unpredictability, hanging onto the edge of his seat, wondering what on earth she would do next. His eyes followed her movements closely. She thought of his Games—the one with the tributes that could be bet on, and watched constantly—and she wondered how much different this was to that for him. How sick of a man was he? Where was the line, as he asked her? Did he know it?

She guided his hand down to her chest. This he seemed to understand, taking the lead, catching her pebbled nippled against his palm as he massaged one of her breasts. She shrugged off the blazer—which had scarcely been hanging on for a while now—and tugged down her bra impatiently, exposing more of herself to him. He took the opportunity to lean his head down again. Coriolanus ran the flat of his tongue against one of her nipples, while squeezing the other between his fingers. The nature of it bordered on painful but he never committed to it, edging her up to the slight sting of too much pressure and then coaxing her out of it, sucking, rubbing lightly.

His lips were glossy when he perched up to kiss her. She smiled. “You’re awful agreeable when your cock is hard—though I guess I knew it would be. I think that’s why you hate whores like me: we excite you to the state of pliability.”

He took her bottom lip between his teeth and tugged at the flesh. “You’d like to think that,” He kissed over the spot, tending it with an affection that didn’t belong to him. It felt borrowed, stolen, an amusing role he was trying to fill out as not to startle her with the true depth of his cruelty. “I hate what you do but I understand it, don’t you see? I told you as much before. You whores — as you so crassly put it — are like a small stain on a good piece of fabric: some you can hide better than others.”

She yanked roughly at his hair, drawing a hiss from his lips. But his grin did not fade. “What does that make you, then?” she retorted, “With your cock hard for me? Paying to finger me?”

She palmed him through his slacks and Coriolanus let out a shuddery breath, shocked by the sudden relief of it. His next response was amused, his voice lighter. “But you’re not like other whores are you? There’s a hierarchy and you’re at the top of yours. The finest quality. If there’s ever a cunt to sink into, it’s yours—“ His eyes rolled back as she unzipped his slacks and slid her hand beneath the waistband of his boxers. Her fingers gripped tightly around his base and his nose brushed against hers as he leaned into her touch, his palms flattening on the table. “—fuck.”

With her free hand she propped him up, laughing against his shoulder. “Oh, Coriolanus,” she purred against the shell of his ear. His shaft was leaking pre-cum and she rubbed some of it down his cock, taking note of his response to her grip; the way the muscles in his neck fluctuated, how his hips bounced back and forth, how his breathing labored. Her teeth tugged on his earlobe. “You ought to get a condom, before you make a mess of yourself in your slacks. I can tell you want it so bad, Coryo.”

His hand gripped her throat. “Don’t call me that,” he said, his voice low—ringing serious, desperate. She didn’t listen.

“Coryo, please,” she begged. His cock twitched in her hand and his hand tightened on her throat, threatening. It was a warning. She wanted to ruin him—wanted him to think about her forever, wanted to hate her as badly as she felt she hated him—but she couldn’t let him finish like this. She needed him inside of her, the truest defeat.

“I’ll show you how good I can be,” she coaxed, her tugs on his cock becoming more lingering. From the tip to the base, slow and teasing. He was decently sized. more girth than he was length. She was happy he knew what foreplay was. “I’ll show you how good we can be, and that’s what you really want, isn’t it? To know that I can submit to you as you’ve to me? And I can, Coryo.”

His eyes pressed closed. She kissed the side of his mouth. “You don’t want what those men want, do you? Not even in a better form. You want more from me. Something I’ve never given them. Isn’t that right?” She kissed him fully on the lips now and he let her—even opened his mouth to accept her tongue against his. A man heavily seduced. “I bet you’d like to fuck me with nothing on, wouldn’t you?”

She knew what he wanted. She needed him to say it to. To admit it for the both of them. His eyes looked so light, almost crystal, when he opened them again. He swallowed hard. “You’re such a cunt.”

“You’re not paying me to lie to you. You’re paying for my every thought, isn’t that right?” She gripped his cock tighter in her hand and he sucked in a breath through his gritted teeth. “I think you want to tell me what you’re thinking so badly it’s killing you. You shouldn’t be afraid of it, not anymore. We’ve already come so far. A little farther won’t kill you.”

“Such a dirty wh—“

“You told me, you said however banal the thought—“

“I know what you’re doing.”

“I’m not doing anything. You’re just afraid of it—the depth of your want.”

“Fuck,” he said under his breath. He rutted into her hand, the warmth of it beyond relieving after so much of nothing. She let him. As his hips pushed into her, into the table, she watched how the desperation took hold of him. Coriolanus' breathing became labored. She wondered how long it had been—if he denied himself this pleasure. He gripped tightly onto the edge of the table, drawing closer and closer, his thrusts becoming more erratic.

With an almost sickening amount of satisfaction, she let go of his cock. Coriolanus rutted into nothing with a harsh grunt, his head bouncing into her shoulders as he realized what she’d done and began to sag from the betrayal.

He gripped her face between his hands. “You think you’re so very clever—and you are—but you won’t win this. Not against me.” He squished up her cheeks, drew her closer to his face. His patience had thinned. “I’m not like those bastards you fool around with. Everyone knows you don’t fuck whores without a condom—even the most cunning ones. Don’t play the cards you don’t have because it’s beneath you,” he growled out before letting her go.

She watched with mild curiosity as he stalked away from her. It was an act she found equal parts amusing and hypocritical. He reminded her of a wounded animal, snapping at whatever it perceives to be a threat in blind rage.

“You like the game, don’t you, Coriolanus?” she asked him lightly.

He peered at her over his shoulder. “I have always liked the making of it more than I liked the playing of it.”

He had retreated back to his clinical tone; measured, calculated, clipped. She gathered her composure and slid off the table. He tensed beneath her when she wrapped herself around his torso, and his hands gripped onto her own. But he did not push her away. He was warm, still flushed from his desire, and she knew he did not have it in him to deny her. His cock was hard, leaking, and he allowed himself the room to want this. To imagine it. They were too far into this now.

She laid her head against his back and toyed with the buttons on his shirt. She slid her hand beneath the cool fabric. Her fingers explored the hardened expanse of his chest, dipped down to his abs teasingly. His heart hammered away in his chest—perhaps the most honest thing about him. His body began to ease, unintentionally, back into her own, and she undid the few remaining buttons on his dress shirt. He let it fly open.

Coriolanus turned around. He kissed her suddenly, and it wasn’t like before—not rough, but almost tender, all consuming. “I think we should go to my bedroom in case Tigris comes back. Sometimes she does that,” he whispered against her lips.

“Lead the way,” she responded. And he did.

Coriolanus’ room was luxurious, but sensible; it was obvious from the design it was a space meant to be slept in rather than inhabited: the four poster bed, the orange hued lamps, the heavy drawn curtains. Everything was the best quality, but it was plain, almost antiquated. Like hers, if she could have his money.

He didn't put much stock in how she felt about the room, though. When the door shut, they resumed their working relationship. He eased her out of the slacks and she relieved him of his shirt; he unlatched her diaphanous bra, and she tugged on his pants; he shimmed the underwear off her hips and he stepped out of his for her without protest, without thought. They were naked in seconds and seemed to understand each other better for it. She laid down on his bed and he stood at the foot of it.

His cock, which had begun to soften, sprung back to life now without aid. He touched his cock in lazy strokes, noncommittal but desperate. He did have a good looking cock, velvet soft and veiny. A terrible thing for a man so evil, so repressed, to be gifted with something like that. “No more tricks,” he demanded.

She opened her legs, the air of the room cool against her wet core. “No more tricks,” she echoed. Coriolanus devoured her before he touched her.

He moved methodically to the desk in the corner of his room. The condoms were stored in the second drawer, wrapped in gold. Before she could offer to help him put one on, he was already undoing the wrapper and lining himself up to the latex. She watched curiously as he did it. He was stately about it, not coltish or inelegant. In this way, he was unmatched. Men usually bowed to their desires but it seemed he led a disciplined existence. He was too important for fun.

Her stomach began to flutter with the anticipation of it. It was a betrayal, but not one she couldn’t contend with. Not one that she hadn’t before, in fact. This was how the body worked. This was work. This meant nothing.

“Are you wet enough?” he asked.

“I’d say so. I must say, you surprised me.” After a pause, she added, “You surprise me. Present tense.”

His smirk was unmistakable and predicted. “Isn’t it nice, not fucking men like Vitus? Don’t you see what a life you could have if you work for me?”

“Yes,” she cooed. Pliant, sated, prepared beautifully on his satin sheets. A dream he had long awaited and one he wanted so badly it would terrify him if he didn’t understand it throughly.

Coriolanus crawled between her thighs. He kissed her again, hard, urgent, and she responded in kind, sucking at the end of his tongue, tugging on his now unruly hair. His cock rested on the curve of her stomach, present, aching, seemingly growing harder by the minute. He worked hard not to rub against her. He refused to hump against her like some goddamn puppy who knew no better.

“Now,” she whispered. He nodded in assent. It was all done by his permission, by his standards. Her hand wrapped around his cock and she guided him to her core, but it was he who pushed in. He who teased the tip, he who slid so slowly that both of their bodies drew in a rigid sigh, he who bottomed out and he who drew up one of her legs to go a little deeper still.

He needed her and there was a certain release to being able to admit that. It was encouraging. It made him throb inside of her. They looked at one another, breathed in the scent of their sex, and it began. Coriolanus drew back his hips, then pressed forward. His movements were harsh but steady. He delighted in the way she looked up at him like that: like he was fucking her and she felt it, really felt it. And fuck, she was wet, so wet that he could hear it. His cock was a welcome entity inside of her; she clenched around him, seeming to urge him in, begging him to stay.

An unspeakable thing grew inside of him. The thing she had been right about. The thing that terrified him. His head hung and he watched the way his cock glistened with her slick, how it entered and exited out of her. “You’re mine,” he growled. It came from within and sounded frail. And it was. It belonged to a version of him he did not like. A version of him he could seldom control. He did not do this much anymore and it was for good reason. He had learned what he had needed to.

She gave a beautiful performance, though. Bleary-eyed with want, convincing as she raised her hips to meet him—like she might need this half as badly as he did. “Yes,” she answered. He hated her.

You hate her. You hate her. He repeated it like a mantra, his hips snapping into hers based on the unvaried rhythm of it. And he did hate her. She was a whore and she was a good one. His arms bracketed her head and said it. “I hate you.”

“Fuck,” was her response. Fuck. His cock pounded inside of her and she moaned. Her nails began to dig into his skin again. This he liked most of all. The nobility of having shed blood had grown on him since he had first killed a person.

He brought up the other leg. She gasped. It could not be any easier to push inside of her than it was now. God she was wet. He began to grind inside of her. She drew blood on his back. The sting of it was a relief. Penance. Fuck.

He didn’t bother with making her come. He thought about it but he felt she didn’t need to. Not again. He was paying her for this. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, not for someone like her. To come inside of her because of his own thoughts was one thing but to come because she did, because she was trembling with her own want and he liked it—

He came. His body went slack and it surprised them both. She wrapped her hands in his hair as he collapsed into her body, and he could feel the heavy thud of heart. Or maybe that was his. It was hard to tell where one began and one ended during these things. He hated that most of all.

Coriolanus drew out of her as soon as he could. He was not embarrassed. He was startled, but not embarrassed. It felt cleansing. But then he did something unforgivable. He did not leave her with her legs parted, did not watch with scorn as she laid in the filth of her occupation. Did not hate her because of what she was but rewarded her for it.

Her gasp was as genuine when his tongue parted her folds. He ate her out in earnest, his eyes watching the way his tongue made her react. When she played with her nipples, so unabashed about what she wanted, he put his mouth on her clit and sucked. He did want her to come. Because of him. For him. Her hips jerked and he followed along with the movements.

She tasted vaguely of him, but acidic, tangy, dangerous, too. Her fingers raked through his hair, and he entered two fingers inside of her. Clemmie used to like this. Livia would, too. He was good at it.

“Oh, Coriolanus,” she whined. He hummed against her and the vibration reached her core. She shook and tugged and pleaded, her hips doing their best to get away, but he wouldn’t let them. He felt her clinch around his fingers. “Coriolanus,” she gasped. She came once, twice. Three times would be too indulgent. This is where he drew the line.

He fell to her side with a heaving chest. They were both too warm, spent, surprised by the extent of what they had done to speak about it. In his mind he was building her a cage, and she was already searching for the key next to him.

After a while, he turned to her. She did not look at him but continued to stare blankly at the ceiling. “How much?” he asked her. It felt customary.

She wanted to say: More than you can give. She wanted to say: Everything you’ve got. She wanted to say: I will tell you no secrets, I won’t help you, I hate you. But she didn’t. She thought of home, what remained of it, and she said: “More than the first time.”

She was nothing like him but one did not need to be Coriolanus Snow to understand this: money was king, and he who had the most was the winner.

But she understood something far better than he did. She had taken something from him he hadn’t intended to give, and that was something money could not buy. His blood was beneath her fingernails. His cuff links were in the pocket of her blood stained suit. Tomorrow she would begin to make her house right again. Tomorrow she would tell him what she knew about the men she slept with—all of it. Turn them all against each other, hopefully, ruin the whole damn empire. Maybe she would steal something else, eat his food, fuck him again, see how far she could go before he noticed how much of his life she usurped. Would he begin to blur the line between performance and reality? She was sure he might. Already he had his hand on her wrist, tracing lightly against it.

He was the winner but now she was out for more than just a single victory. This was war and she was choosing her battles wisely.

Looking in his direction, she turned her lips up almost imperceptibly into a grin. Her eyes were soft, still teary from the sex. He seemed…at ease. Sated.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“This opportunity,” she said warmly. “I know it’s going to change things for me. I can see that.”

In his eyes it appeared: the propensity for being needed. He smiled, too. “It will,” he told her.

Yes, she was the victor and the crown had yet to feel heavy.

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x reader #young coriolanus snow #thg #the hunger games fanfic #tbosas fanfic #tbosas fanfiction #tom blyth #tom blyth fanfic

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vinjinssunglasses · 1 month

Text

———————————————————————————

✮ character: vasco

✮ summary: him in a relationship w u <33 [sfw]

✮ start: 12 Aug (1:45am)

✮ end: 14 aug (edited 21st aug)

✮ a/n: I love him sm 🙏🙏

———————————————————————————

- He’s very inexperienced — he’ll do embarrassing things that he learnt in videos such as “how to impress a girl” or use silly advice from Jace, who, in fact has never dated either.

- Initally, he’s very awkward and flustered, but as time flies, he’s become so relaxed around you. Before, at the beginning of your relationship, he used to fluster when you asked him out on an one-on-one outing, but now he’s eased enough to make light-hearted jokes, gradually becoming comfortable enough to reveal his true self to you.

- Type of guy to do anything for you, no matter how big or small the task is. Whether it’s staying up late with you, calming you down when you’re distressed or simply wanting his attention, he never hesitates to put your needs above his own. You feel so soothed knowing he’s always by your side no matter what.

- Absolutely makes sure you never have to lift a finger around the house. Chores such as: laundry, cleaning, cooking, etc., he does it all for you so you can just sit back.

- Contrary to what you might expect, he wouldn’t go for pet names in day to day life. Instead, he’d prefer to call you by your name while slipping in ‘baby’ or ‘sweetheart’ to catch you off guard.

- He loves the idea of matching accessories with you. He’ll create little bracelets, one bearing your name and the other with his and wear his constantly, no matter how childish he may seem. Wherever he goes, he’ll always be reminded of you. Quite cheesy, but you love it nonetheless.

- Though he may appear intimidating to others, his gaze always softens when he’s with you. When he walks past a flower shop, he can’t resist but buy your favourites, even if it’s just an ordinary day. He knows that he wasn’t supposed to spend money, but he finds it all worth it when he sees the smile spread across your face.

╰┈➤ On that note, although they not may be the richest, expect be pampered with gifts, including new clothes he thinks you’ll look gorgeous in, necklaces, and other surprises you can barely keep up with.. He’ll spend ages debating with the rest of Burn Knuckles what dress to get you or simple gift to get you. They mindlessly debate on what would fit you better until they finally come to a half-hearted agreement.

(They even make you handmade gifts that you find adorable.)

- Showers you with compliments. ‘Beautiful’ ‘Pretty’ ‘Talented’, words you hear so often but you never have a doubt about his sincerity, given by the smooth, gentle tone of his voice when he whispers those sweet words into your ear.

- Vasco never gets angry at you — He simply cant. To raise his voice or to even think about causing you any harm is unimaginable. He loves and adores you way too much to harm you.

- His favourite thing to do with you that he’ll never admit is simply holding you close, feeling your breath on his chest and body nestled against his. Vasco doesn’t mind being big spoon or small spoon — he just wants to be with you.

- Another thing Vasco’ll never admit he loves is when you wear his clothes. When you wear his classic tank top or his Burn Knuckles uniform, he can suddenly feel his cheeks burning up as he quietly murmurs ‘you look good’, all while holding back what he really wants to say.

- To date him, you have to get use to his constant hands all over you. He never turns down affection, gladly pulling you in by your hips when you ask to cuddle. When you’re casually doing anything, he naturally wraps his arms around your waist and nestles his head into your shoulder like its second nature.

- No matter where he takes you, his attention is all on you. During movie dates, he finds himself constantly taking glances at you to see if you're enjoying it. While on a picnic date — although has never thought of being on one, but only considered it when Jace suggested it — he's still only has you on his mind.

- Vasco always talks about you to others: your beauty, your voice — everything about you is captivating. He’s practically deaf to anything that isn’t related to you.

- When your first anniversary came around, Burn Knuckles all cheered and decided to throw a surprise party. Cake, balloons, music - all of the usual elements of a celebration. You’ve never seen Vasco this excited; he was practically on cloud nine. The constant chatter and questions left you drained. By the end of the day, you were so exhausted that you just let yourself collapse atop his broad chest which felt especially inviting. His heartbeat thumped. loudly in your ear, its rhythm increasing with each passing second as you slowly drifted off to sleep. He then wrapped the two of you in a warm blanket, letting his chest serve as your pillow, secretly savouring this quiet, cozy embrace while letting his fingers gently glide through your hair before slipping into sleep himself.

- Expect to be treated like the second in command of Burn Knuckles. They all applaud and smile in your presence and hold you with such high regard that even Jace feels like you’ve taken over his role. Damon, to top it off, even gifted you one of his precious ducks, as a kind gesture to the new ‘second in command of Burn Knuckles’.

#lookism #euntae lee #lookism x reader #vasco x reader #lookism manhwa #lookism comic #greenest of green flags #lookism vasco #lookism x you #lookism hcs

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oneweirdbookaddict · 10 months

Text

Hello, Whyareyoudo! (I didn't know if you wanted the tag lol) Finally got this written out for you, hope it's alright! It was so interesting to research Tourette's as I wrote this. Thanks for the request!

1182 words.

No warnings! Let me know if that should change!

~~~~

“Shh!” Four hisses, expression pinching.

Those closer to Four frown at the smithy.

“Four? You… uh, ok?” Wind asks, glancing at his friend.

The smith blinks awkwardly, ears flushing. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry, just ignore me.”

“Were you shushing someone?” Wild asks curiously.

“No. Nope. Just… making noise. Sorry. I’ll shut up.” And they let it go. No more questions are asked, and Four doesn’t make any more unexplainable noises.

However, he does keep twitching oddly, wincing as if… he’s in pain. First, his arm twitches, moving halfway to his chest before the smith scowls and moves it back down. Then randomly ticks his head to the side.

He watches carefully until Four catches him and scowls. “What?”

“You have tourettes.” He states simply. Not an accusation, not a question. Just puts it out there.

Four pauses. “I have- I… What? No. I mean…” The smith trails off. Blinks.

Then settles on, “How the hell do you know that?”

“Because I have it, too.” He says easily. Shrugs when Four’s eyes go wide.

“Wait, ok, hold up. What’s tour- ett’s?” Wild frowns. “Can we help?”

“Tourettes.” Four says. “Its a neurological-”

“It affects the nervous system and makes it so you make movements and noises you don’t mean to.” He says before Four can launch into an overly complicated, full science report-sounding explanation.

“And you both have it?” Twi says, looking interested.

“Well, I do. And I think Four does, too.”

“Wait so like when you swear randomly you don’t even mean to?” Wind asks.

He considers this. “Sometimes. But now you’ll never know which ones I do purposefully so you’ll never be able to tell me off, Old Man.”

That gets some laughter into the group, easing the awkwardness that had developed.

Four, he notices, doesn’t even smile.

He seems deep in thought, biting his lip in that way he does when he’s thinking. Or maybe it’s another tic.

“I don’t think I do.” Four says finally, slowly. “It’s not always the same, it’s just random little… movements. Aren’t tics more… repetitive?”

“Sure, sometimes. Not always, though. There are other types… but I’m not gonna get too deep into that. Mine were like that, yeah, but I also know someone who’s also diagnosed and his are more like yours. It’s just rarer, I think.”

Four considers this, then nods slowly. “I’ll have to do some research, I think. It’d be nice to…”

The smith’s eyes snap to him. “You said were. Past tense. It went away?”

“It did for me. Well, not entirely. It just… got much less frequent as I got older. It doesn’t happen for everyone.”

Four nods, fingers twitching. Then shrugs somewhat awkwardly.

He shrugs, too, feeling bad for putting him on the spot. “We should keep going. I smell rain.”

So they continue down the path.

~~~~

They find a town before the rain comes, and an inn as well. With enough rooms open that they all get their own- a rare occurrence.

Since they’re inside with the rain, Wild and Wars just pass out rations for dinner and they all take to their rooms.

It’s been a rough few days, and they all go to bed rather early.

Or so he thought. He wakes up to the door next to his creaking open, soft footsteps fading as they move down the hall.

He waits a few minutes, then goes in search of the smithy with a sigh.

Out the inn, wandering aimlessly around town for a bit to give Four some alone time, then stumbles across the library in town.

Four, naturally, is buried in a stack of books, eyes slightly crossed as he fixates on the one under his nose.

“Smithy, it is three in the goddamn morning.” He grunts, and Four jumps and drops the book.

“Librarian said it was ok.” Four yawns, finding his page again.

“Wasn’t my point. You even gonna try to sleep tonight?”

“How can I?” Four mutters. It’s not sharp, not angry, but he still winces anyway.

“I’m sorry for… I don’t know. You know it doesn’t matter if you do, right? It’s not going to fix the tics or change… well, anything, really. There’s no way to treat-” Four closes the book and shoots him a look. “I don’t have Tourette's and we both know that. I would’ve had these tics since childhood and I haven’t, they’re not nearly repetitive enough to be considered tics, and-” Four sighs. “I know what causes it. Something that happened on my adventure. I appreciate you giving me an out, but I feel awful for lying.”

He takes a seat next to the smith. “You don’t have to lie. Just…”

“Lead them to believe the wrong thing,” Four says flatly.

“You did with Wolfie.” He counters, and Four winces.

“That’s different. It was his secret.”

“And this is yours. Listen, you don’t want to tell people about whatever this is. I get it. But they’re gonna ask- letting them believe this will stop the questions. Otherwise, they’ll just keep asking. Not with the intent of prying of course, but just out of curiosity. And that’ll make it worse. Maybe every once and a while you get a question about Tourette’s, but that’ll be it. If you keep deflecting questions they’ll keep asking.”

Four looks away, considering this. Then nods. “Thanks, Legend.”

He smiles, getting to his feet. “Anytime, Smithy. Now get some sleep- you look beat. Come back to the inn with me.” Four looks around, nodding. “I just… gotta put all these away first.”

Gives a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

He laughs, helping the smith put the books back on the shelves, then walking with him back to the inn.

“Goodnight, smithy.” He says as Four enters his room.

“Night, Leg.” Four yawns, giving a slight wave as he closes the door.

~~~~

Four raises his arms above his head, stretching as he walks up to the lake.

Walks up to Wild, who’s standing at the very very end of the dock, just his heels hanging on.

A strong gust of wind would put him in the lake.

“Whatcha looking at?” The smithy asks, and Wild shrugs.

“Just trying to see if there’s any fish in here.”

“So you can bomb them?” Four snickers, and Wild scowls playfully.

“It’s more efficient than sitting there with a worm on a string!” The champion insists, laughing. Four peers at the water, then points at a spot.

“I think I see some there.”

Wild crouches, squinting. “Where?” “Over- shit.”

Four’s arm twitches, knocking into Wild’s back.

The champion flails frantically, grabbing-

SPLOOSH.

The others on the land burst into laughter as Wild surfaces, staring in surprise and offense at Forur. “Smithy! I did nothing to you! Well, besides the peppers… and the tomatoes… ok, maybe I deserved that.” Wild sighs, laying back to float in the water.

“Sorry,” Four shrugs, but he can’t keep the grin off of his face. “Tourette’s.”

Wild sends a splash of water at the smith, causing Four to laugh and dart back to the safety of dry land.

~~~~

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu four #lu legend #four my beloved #linked universe four #four lu #four linked universe #legend linked universe #linked universe legend #legend lu #always taking requests!#If anyone wants to send one I'd love to write it!#requests #whyareyoudo #my writing

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vivalas-vega · 1 year

Text

into you / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader

heyooooo -- this is a request I’m excited to finally get out! as always my requests are open and let me know what you think!

into you / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader

request: you can find that here!

word count: 2.3k

warnings: drinking, angst, miscommunication

You stood off to the side of the hangar after touching back down on the ground overlooking Jake and Phoenix as they laughed and talked about the training exercise, feeling your stomach twist in dread as you did. Phoenix looked ethereal, just as she always did, with the setting San Diego illuminating her profile and a smile bright enough to blind you… you couldn’t even be disappointed, of course the Navy’s two most beautiful pilots would just gravitate towards each other.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Rooster asked suddenly from beside you and you jumped as you placed a hand over your heart, looking around to try and see where the hell he might have come from.

“Can you like… announce yourself?” you asked, pulling yourself away from watching your heartbreak in real time to instead busy yourself with heading towards the locker rooms and of course Rooster was hot on your tail.

“I said your name three times,” he pointed out and you rolled your eyes. “Seemed to be staring awfully intensely there… which one is it?”

“What are you talking about?” you tried to deflect, pushing the doors open and grabbing your civilian clothes from your locker as he leaned against the one beside yours.

“I’ve been watching you watching them for a few weeks now but what I haven’t been able to observe is which one actually has your attention… unless it’s both?” he asked, genuinely curious as you let out a sigh.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Roo,” you said and he just smirked at you.

“Sure sure,” he finally decided after a moment of pondering his response, “you coming to the bar?”

“Yeah, I’ll meet you there,” you said with a soft smile as you unzipped your flight suit and Rooster took that as his cue to leave. You were terrified that he had been the one to pick up on it, you loved Rooster with your whole heart but you had never pegged him as the observant type, or one to even care enough to try and put the pieces together. Your only saving grace was that he hadn’t yet deduced who had captured your affections and you intended to keep it that way.

Jake had snuck up on you… when you all first got recalled you hadn’t thought much of him, other than he was a bit of an arrogant ass but the energy had shifted when he all but ran after Rooster and Maverick to save them from sudden death… when you learned you were going to be a permanent squad after Admiral Simpson had decided you all worked impeccably well together (after an adjustment period) it seemed his attitude change wasn’t just a phase. Sure, he was still a bit of an ass sometimes, but it was more endearing than it was before. You found yourself looking forward to his banter, and looking forward to the moments the two of you spent alone while everyone else was preoccupied at the bar.

You’d started to learn more about him… his family, his upbringing, why he joined the Navy and he learned all the same about you. You’d call him a genuine friend, and one of your closest at that but somewhere along the way you found your stolen glances lingering, wanting to soak up as much of that smile or the way he commanded a room as you could and suddenly you were falling headfirst for Jake Seresin. Something you had never imagined you would do… but you had resorted to silent pining and longing stares because he seemed to focus his affection towards Phoenix. Over the past few weeks you’d noticed the two of them growing closer, something you were happy about considering other than Rooster those two had the most ground to make up, but you had this sinking feeling that it was more than mending fences. Each time you saw them laughing together or stealing looks across the ready room, clearly chuckling at some silent inside joke you couldn’t make any sense of you felt your heart ache in a way you’d never experienced before.

“There she is! Kiddo, come rack ‘em!” Jake called out to you as you entered the Hard Deck and you couldn’t tell if his eyes raked down your form, clad in a sundress, or if you were simply going crazy and creating things that were never there. Your chest felt tight at the nickname he’d bestowed upon you… you knew it was a term of endearment, and that nothing negative was meant by it, you were simply just the youngest on the team but it made you feel rather juvenile every time he said it.

“Start without me, I need a drink,” you responded, waving him off as you approached Penny.

“What’s the mood tonight? Beer or something stronger?” she asked and you gave her a smile.

“How about both?” you responded and she nodded, setting a shot in front of you as well as a fresh bottle of beer. You took the shot quickly and forgoed using the lime in favor of dropping it down the neck of your beer as you turned to walk towards the pool table, trying not to have a reaction to Phoenix and Jake going head to head. You decided to hang back, sitting in one of the stools beside Bob and giving him a mischievous smile when you reached your hand over to snag some of his peanuts.

“Ma’am, that is theft,” he teased and you chuckled.

“Sharing is caring, Bobby,” you responded as you grabbed a few more and he didn’t put up a fight. You knew you were being more reserved than usual, you weren’t known for hanging off to the side or not forcing yourself into the limelight, and you knew everyone was picking up on it but you’d hoped no one would say anything. You made small talk with Bob and Fanboy, contributing the bare minimum to actually be considered a part of the conversation and you were doing everything in your power to avoid looking at the pool table. You had to get over this crush, it clearly wasn’t reciprocated and allowing yourself to give it anymore of your attention would only result in you feeling more hurt than you already did. It was time to nip it in the bud.

“You’re being more obvious now than you were before,” Rooster said, stepping into your bubble from behind and whispering in your ear, sending a shiver up your spine and you tried to ignore him as you let your dart fly towards the board, smirking when it landed dead center.

“What do you mean?” you asked, lining up your second shot and being acutely aware of how close he still was.

“You couldn’t stop staring before, now you’ve barely spared them a second look… everyone knows you're off tonight and your avoidance is making the reason incredibly clear,” he replied and you shook your head as you threw your last dart. You turned your head slightly, taking a step forward when your face nearly collided with his to give him a questioning look before going to grab your darts from the board.

“Why are you so interested in this?” you asked as you wrote your score on the board and stepped aside to let Coyote take his turn.

He shrugged, “things are slow, I like stirring the pot.”

“You’re insufferable,” you sighed, watching as Coyote secured his win against you and you begrudgingly gave him a high five. The dart board was where you were reigning champion, people gaining a victory over you was incredibly rare and you knew it was because your focus was elsewhere.

“Incoming,” Rooster said suddenly, slipping away to get a fresh drink and you looked after him confused until suddenly your vision was clouded by Jake’s figure.

“Hey kiddo, what’s up?” he asked, slinging an arm over your shoulder as he pulled you over to the bar as well and you gave him a forced smile.

“Nothing new, you?” you replied and he gave you a strange look as he held up two fingers to Penny.

“That’s not what I meant, you seem different tonight.”

“Just a long day, I guess,” you shrugged and he nodded but didn’t really buy it.

“You sure that’s all it is?” he asked as he used his fingers to tilt your head towards him, forcing you to make eye contact and you gave a sharp nod.

“I’m fine, Jake,” you said, brushing off his contact, “I’m just going to go grab some air, thanks for the beer,” you said, grabbing the bottle and slipping through the crowd where you nearly stumbled out into the fresh air. You took in a deep breath, letting the smell of the ocean ground you as you chastised yourself for your behavior… he was just asking how you were, making sure you were okay, there was no reason to blow him off like that. You just couldn’t help it, you felt cornered and you were sure if he asked you again you were going to blurt out what you’d been trying so hard to tamp down.

“What is going on with you?” you heard from behind you and you jumped slightly as you turned to see Jake and you let out a sigh as you wiped a hand over your forehead. “Come on, kid, talk to me.”

“I’m not a kid,” you muttered and you felt embarrassed. You knew you were being indignant for no real reason.

“You know that’s not what I- what’s wrong?” he asked, deciding to not let yourselves get sidetracked over something trivial.

“I told you, just a long day.” you tried but he was seeing right through you, he could tell just by looking at your eyes that there was something bothering you and he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

“I’m not,” you answered defensively, turning your attention back to the ocean as you leaned over the railing and he scoffed as he followed suit.

“I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s going on. Did I do something?”

“I don’t need help, Jake.”

“I thought we were past this, since when do you not talk to me?” he pleaded and you did your best to avoid looking at him but you couldn’t help yourself and your resolve crumbled as soon as you met those green eyes. “What’s wrong?

“Since I-” you stopped for a moment, trying to come up with any plausible excuse or continuation of that sentence that wasn’t the truth but it just came flying out. “Everything’s wrong!” you nearly shouted and you didn’t miss the way he was taken aback. “Literally everything because I am so into you and you’re obviously into Phoenix which is great, but not so much for me at the moment. I’m handling it and I’m fine but I can’t really talk to you about that.”

“Wait what?” he asked, confusion clear on his face and you winced at the prospect of explaining yourself.

“I just… we don’t need to talk about it, Jake. I don’t want to talk about it,” you replied, turning your head back towards the water.

“No, I want to talk about it. Who the hell said I was into Phoenix?” he asked and this had your attention snapping back to him.

“You did, with your body language and the banter,” you said and you heard how stupid it was as it left your mouth and you watched him stifle a laugh.

“Oh sweetheart,” he said and it came out rather patronizing, making your cheeks burn as you willed the tears to stay put until he was out of your sight. “Oh hey, no no no.” he said, noticing your eyes well up, “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not into Phoenix.”

“You’re not?” you asked and he shook his head.

“I’m into you,” he said, wrapping a hand around your forearm and pulling you away from the railing, closer to him. “I’ve been trying to tell you but I kept chickening out… Phoenix has actually been egging me on, telling me to just get it over with,” he said and your eyes widened. “I’ve liked you since the first day I met you but you’re too sweet, too good. I didn’t think you’d want anything to do with me,” he said with a shrug and you shook your head.

“I feel pretty stupid right now,” you chuckled. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me because you always call me kid.”

“It’s easier to pretend I don’t want to kiss you every time I see you if I call you kid instead of sweetheart.” He yanked you closer, pressing your body against his as his hands settled on your waist and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Well, you don’t have to pretend anymore,” you said with a small smirk and his lips were on yours in an instant. You melted into him, letting him take the lead and you moaned softly when his tongue trailed along your bottom lip. You soaked up as much of this feeling as you could… his hands gripping your body, his tongue exploring your mouth, and the way your whole body tingles from head to toe before he pulled away to grin down at you.

“So, sweetheart… Can I take you on a date?” he asked hopefully and you nodded.

“Yeah, I would really like that… but I was also thinking you could take me home?” you asked with a suggestive raise of your eyebrows and he was quick to wrap his hand around yours and tug you to his car.

“I like the way you think.”

taglist: @callsignspirit @thegodessc @failuretothrivesstuff @olliepig @cruelmissdior @underaveragefangirl @grxcieluvr @amatswimming @camilaricci (if your name is struck through it means I couldn’t tag you - sorry!)

#jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman #hangman fanfiction #hangman x reader #hangman x you #top gun maverick #top gun fan fiction

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thegreatwicked · 2 months

Text

50 NSFW Character Questions: Obi-Wan Kenobi

Alright! Here you go, you buncha smut hounds! JK, I was gonna do this anyway, lol. Have funsies.

Biggest turn-on? When you're in work mode and you've completely forgotten he's there, watching you, discreetly, of course. Your confidence in your abilities and the simple grace with which you execute the simplest of duties. The graceful way your hands hold your lightsaber, he knows what those hands are capable of and he often has to cough away a groan that's threatening to break free.

Biggest turn-off? Arrogance and deceit. Don't lie to him, ever. He'll know.

3. Quiest way to get horny? Clandestine touches that linger a bit too long, teasing him. A brush of your foot against his calf when you sit at the same table while crossing your legs, pretending you didn't notice. Lingering glances when you catch him staring at you followed by a quick appraisal of him, you know he's watching and he likes that. When sitting next to him and your hand brushes his knee then takes a little caressing detail on his thigh before pulling away. It looks so innocent and perhaps even an accident, doesn't it? He knows better, and it only makes him want you more.

4. Top 3 places to be touched?

Lower back, shoulders, thighs. Those Jedi robes are so thick and sometimes heavy, especially when wet. So when he's able to get them off and he tugs off his boots after a long day a sweet caress of your hands across his lower back where the aches tend to lodge does wonders for him. Most back pain is psychological and Obi-Wan carries much of his weight on his shoulders so a little gentle and circular pressure on the tight muscles on his shoulders will always put him in an agreeable mood. His thighs, it's a particular situation that finds this type of touch a possibility and it usually involves shim sitting on the bed or the floor meditating. It's the perfect opportunity to slink up behind him and run your hands along his muscular thighs and watch how the muscles tense and flex under your fingertips.

5. Do you like the idea of a threesome or a moresome?

He's no virgin and he surely had some escapades in his youth though those are tales he keeps to himself, certainly. He considers himself a one-woman/man partner. He likes to keep things intimate between the two of you. More than one partner sounds tiring these days.

6. Sex or masturbation?

He indulges in both though he's more likely to enjoy sex rather than masturbation not because he's denying himself pleasure but because he doesn't often think about it without you there to stir his passions. Still, there are moments late at night when you're on his mind and he's missing your touch, or times when the water in the refresher is the perfect temperature and the water gliding down his body reminds him of your lips on his skin...

7. Spit or swallow?

He knows not all women enjoy swallowing so he'll never expect you to. But if you want to see a side of Master Kenobi that few have ever seen, swallow every drop and lick your lips while looking him in the eye. Then ask him for more.

8. Rough or romantic sex?

He's a passionate and sensual lover so he loves taking his time, after all, you deserve no less, don't you? However, there are instances where he's a little more... needy for control. It's about as rare an instance as they come, but even a total solar eclipse comes around like clockwork.

9. Loud or quiet partners?

He's considerate of those who might be within earshot, and it's not about the volume, it's about the enthusiasm. Your quiet little whimpers affect him just as deeply as when you cry out his name. He's a fan of moments where you have to be quiet, keeping his thrusts slow and deep with his finger in your mouth to give you something to occupy yourself. All the while telling you,

"Shh, darling, that's right, we wouldn't want anyone to find us, now would we? That's a good girl."

10. How much foreplay?

Hours. The man will stretch this intimate act out for as long as he can because for him the art of seduction deserves no less. He loves it that you crave him so much that you're practically mauling him to take you.

11. How much teasing does he like?

He certainly likes a bit of teasing but it's never to be cruel. Only to heighten desire and sensation. As for him being teased, even if he begs you to end his torment, he secretly loves every second of it.

12. Hookups or only partners?

He's had a few hookups as a young Padawan, but those tapered off as he took on a Padawan of his own. Now he much prefers the comfort of a relationship with a partner who he knows and trusts, to know you so well that he knows your thoughts and desires before you even think it. All the better for him to please you.

13. How much kissing during sex?

The only thing that stops him from kissing you is the position you're in. If it were up to him, he'd never stop, that's what lips were made for.

14. Favorite place to have sex?

He has a penchant for wanting you when it's least convenient and he doesn't particularly care where that is. But he enjoys it mostly when it's someplace safe and secure like a private quarters. But if a senator's office happens to be vacant for a short time, the mood tends to strike him.

15. Would he have sex in public?

He would never put you in a position where either of your reputations could be sullied by such a sacred act but he would most certainly not turn down the opportunity.

16. Last place he had sex?

His quarters on the ship just before docking, darling, don't you remember? Must have done quite a number on you then...

17. Where would he most like to have sex?

He doesn't care but if he could, he would whisk you away to some quiet planet far from the chaos of Coruscant and the Temple, a place where only the noon sun would wake you and clothing would be optional, of course.

18. Spontaneous sex or does he need to be in the mood?

He has to mostly be in the mood because he is a Jedi Master after all, he does have to restrain himself and duties to attend to. However, when you tease him like you did this morning in that council meeting... Well... Spontaneity can be the harbinger of bliss.

19. Would he go for a hookup at a stranger's house?

When he was younger, probably. These days, no.

20. Biggest kink?

Sensory play. He loves cutting off your senses to heighten all others. Blindfolds, masks, dark rooms, each one isn't only an encounter, it's an opportunity. And he is a man of opportunity.

21. Is he ok with name-calling?

No, it takes real prodding to get him to call you anything worse than his naughty girl. He would never call you his little slut, or so he thinks...

22. Would he do BDSM?

Yes, it's an exercise in complete trust, control and respect.

23. Would he prefer to tie you up or be tied up?

He'll do both. He loves to have you at his mercy but surprisingly enough, he adores it when you take control and restrain him. He loves the feeling of letting go and being overwhelmed by pleasure by one who knows him so well. To know that you can touch him but he can't touch you, after a busy day as a Master on the High Council making decisions and ordering others around, he's perfectly content letting you call the shots.

24. Does he like orgasm denial?

He'll never deny you anything for long, he can't bear it. You were meant for him to touch as please and spoil. Even if he agrees to such a game, he'll be giving in faster than you. On the flip side, he wasn't sure what he thought of the idea at first until he learned to relish the exquisite pleasure of denial and the tsunami of ecstasy that awaited him once you gave in to his pleading.

25. Does he like overstimulation?

Yes, but his tolerance is low. After one he's a bit of a mess and it's a rare occasion when you can bring him to three in a row before he's begging to touch you instead. Pleading for the exquisite torment to end. And when it's his turn, he's unmerciful because he knows you love it when he takes control and you're powerless to stop the tide of pleasure that washes over you on his command. But he will always stop when you tell him to, that's what safewords are for, darling.

26. Does he like pain being involved?

No. Sex is for pleasure, not pain. You've both experienced far too much of that for it to have any place in your bed.

27. Does he like dirty talk?

Oh. Stars. They don't call him the Negotiator for nothing. He's a silver tongue in every sense of the word and he'll use the most eloquent and beautiful words to describe in excruciating detail all the things and ways he wants to ravage your body.

28. Does he own sex toys? How many?

While there are toys available across the galaxy, Obi-Wan prefers a more... blasphemous approach. After all, what greater toy is there than the invisible Force that binds all things and flows through all creatures that he can bend to his will just as readily and easily as you can? Yes, the occasional toy might make it into the sanctuary that is your bedroom but they're never a prominent feature for long.

29. What does he masturbate to?

Mostly memories of you. He's well aware such holos exist but while he's watched them, when he's alone his thoughts are consumed with you. Remembering all the ways you quiver when he touches you and the ferocity in which you shatter for him and how you beg for more.

30. Multiple rounds or will he settle for one orgasm?

Multiple rounds. He is a Jedi after all. Just don't expect to give him back-to-back orgasms, the poor man is a bit delicate in that regard.

31. Does he enjoy giving oral?

He enjoys it and treats it like a performance or a ritual. He relished every taste of you knowing he's the only one who will ever have the pleasure. Connecting with you in a way when you're at your most vulnerable, your most exposed, using his in-depth knowledge of your body to bring you as much pleasure as you can stand.

32. Does he prefer giving or receiving oral?

He's a giver but the poor man rarely allows himself to be spoiled, so sometimes you have to simply take charge. He sometimes seems to forget that pleasure is mutual and once he gives in, it never takes long, he's a mess of a man. Legs splayed wide, his hair a disheveled mess, chest heaving struggling to remember how to breathe, he can't bring himself to stop his hips thrusting upward and even though you're gagging on him he still insists on trying to get out an apology. A gentleman even at this moment. And he's not quiet about it, he's loud. Each moan is so unrestrained it's almost music, especially when he begins to stutter his words, signaling his impending orgasm. When it washes over him he's nearly boneless as if he forgot just how good it feels to be spoiled himself.

33. What makes him orgasm the fastest?

Not that he'll ever admit it, and not that it works for anyone else except for you, but calling him by his title of Master or specifically General seems to have quite an effect on him. When your eyes roll back in ecstasy and you beg him for more, to hurt you a little bit is what usually signals the end for him. It's close to darkness and it's tempting to fall over with you.

34. Does he like/do anal/pegging?

He'll try probably try anything once, if you want him to fuck your ass he'll do it because he wants you and desires your pleasure. And if he's being honest with himself, he's always wanted to have you completely like that. But he would never be the first to mention it or ask for it. As for pegging, it would be a slow and sensual process because it is at that moment about his pleasure and while he might be a bit reluctant to admit it, he wants someone to take control over him. Be gentle with your General here.

35. Favorite position?

Loves having you in his lap because he's thinking about how much he wants to have you riding him in his council chair. Loves having you on top because he can lay back and admire your beauty. He also likes the Lotus, because it goes well with meditation. He also loves the Lazy Dog because it makes it easier to whisper all those salacious things to you and you can't escape him.

36. Does he use protection?

What Jedi doesn't? He would be very careful.

37. Does he masturbate with clothes on?

And risk making a mess of his robes? Never. He likes being naked.

38. How does he prefer his partner's hair/grooming?

He prefers a kept appearance but ultimately he's not terribly particular.

39. What does he wear to bed?

If he's alone? Nothing. He likes the feeling of smooth sheets on his skin because it reminds him of your touch.

40. What does he like his partner to wear?

He's a simple man and he likes you in nothing at all. But he loves finding you in his shirt or just his robes.

41. Does he like his balls played with?

Quickest was to make a mess of Master Kenobi while giving in him a blow job. He loves it.

42. What is his sexuality?

As straight as my spine, but he's loyal to his lover. He is probably pansexual.

43. Does he have extreme or unusual kinks?

Nothing extreme but he has a bit of a taboo role play he likes and that's the classic Master/Padawan, but only with you, of course.

44. How often does he masturbate?

He tends to neglect his personal desires, so not often but when he finds himself in a rare moment of peace, and arousal, maybe several times in a single day. He's never counted.

45. Favorite toy?

You.

46. Does he like roleplay?

Yes, loves it. Conisders it a healthy and safe way to discover one's own darkness and know oneself. Loves the Master/Padawan thing, after he discovered Anakin and Padme's romance he realized he likes the idea of the Jedi and the Civil Servant, with emphasis on the servant.

47. Any festishes?

No.

48. Aftercare?

You could not ask for a better lover for aftercare. He will hold you till you stop shaking, draw warm water for a bath, and sink into it with you while washing your hair all the while telling you how beautiful you look and how amazing you are.

49. Does he ever go comando?

You know it. Jedi robes come standard, underwear? Not so much.

50. Phone sex?

Com conversations are usually not something that can be concealed but if he steps away from earshot he might tell you how much he's looking forward to having you alone again. And if a holo transmission happens to come through and he's alone in his quarters for the night, he'll take great pleasure in instructing you to do as he likes and he'll absolutely return the favor.

Alright! That's Obi-Wan, what did you guys think? Should I do more? Oh, should I do a Sith Obi-Wan???? Who else should I do? Maul? Hux? Quinlan Voss? Enjoy my dears.

@pickleprickle @hereticpriest @decembermidnight @burnthecheshirewitch @starvingbrokestudent @bad4amficideas @split-spectrum @imherefordeanandbones @rivnedell

#headcanon #obiwan head canon #fictional men and their kinks #lord help me i am going straight to hell #obiwan kenobi smut #obiwan kenobi #obiwan kenobi imagine #dark obiwan imagine #he's a switch #he's not entirely straight #daddy wan kenobi #this man needs good sex

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fullsunised · 1 year

Note

Hi, can do an Imagine for the dreamies getting jealous of their idol girlfriend bond with Jeonghan?

jealousy.

ɴᴄᴛ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ²: ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜs ᴏғ ᴊᴇᴏɴɢʜᴀɴ

➶-͙˚✶ genre: fluff

➶-͙˚✶ trigger warnings: none hehehe

➶-͙˚✶ requests open

a/n: man I didn't know the difference between imagines and scenarios, so when anon said imagine I searched it up, all the results were story types? so I assume anon wanted a story. if not I apologise but here you go. IT TOOK ME A WHILE BECAUSE I HAD TO WRITE. APOLOGIES.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ✧. ┊ ⁭ ❝ 𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗟𝗘𝗘 ❞

mark very well understood how close jeonghan and you were as friends. the boundaries between you two were always blurred, it wasn't a bad thing per say considering how jeonghan was the one who practically raised you during your trainee days.

he knew very well what you meant to each other, but he couldn't help but let jealousy cloud his mind on those few days when he realised you'd tell jeonghan everything, even the things you have never shared with mark. in a sense, jeonghan knew you better than you did yourself.

while watching you and jeonghan interact through the screen of the video call he was in with you, mark frowned slightly. it shouldn't affect him so much, but it did. you have always made sure to press on the fact that, you and the seventeen member shared everything platonic and nothing romantic, but to a third eye it wasn't like that. even to mark who knew you for ages long felt something weird creep up inside him at the fact that you two were so close, it was like you were dating jeonghan and not him.

"Is everything okay?"

your voice pulled him out of his thoughts and into your presence. mark nodded, hesitant. is it better to talk things out? or let them run wild? you turned to him concerned. this video session was meant for both of you to see each other one last time before the award show. "Are you sure? you look like you are thinking about something serious?", you pressed wanting to get an answer.

mark decided its high time. taking a deep breathe he began. "I'm sorry, I know you probably had this convo with someone else before but I don't like you and jeonghan being so close", he mumbled barely audible. but thankfully for him, you heard it. a laugh escaped your lips.

"Are you jealous?", you quirked your eyebrows up wiggling them in a teasing manner. mark stumbled upon his words, his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning red during. it then finally hit him, he was indeed jealous. his eyes stayed on the paper infront, the speech he had prepared incase one of his groups wins an award.

an airy chuckle left you again, the urge to squish mark's cheeks increasing inside. "Stop laughing", he pouted ready to close the call, just so he could deal with this bitter feeling all by himself but you knew better than to let him do that. heaving a soft sigh, you spoke.

"Babe, I know me and jeonghan are really close. like a lot, but that doesn't mean I like you any less and I trust you any less. yes, I hang out with him often, but what we share is strictly platonic. the last person you should be worrying about stealing me is jeonghan".

his ears perked up at the last line, his eyes rolling. a smile rested on his lips now, contrary to the past ten minutes. mark nodded taking a deep breathe. he shouldn't never be letting something like this ruin what you two share, and after recieveing all the reassurance he needed, he knew better than to let his doubts run wild again.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ✧. ┊ ⁭ ❝ 𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗝𝗨𝗡 𝗛𝗨𝗔𝗡𝗚 ❞

yeah, the world was a better place with you around but not when you are busy helping jeonghan set his hair for an important event while renjun was around waiting for you to pay attention to him. it wasn't fair how much attention you gave the older seventeen member, even when he was just there breathing.

of course he knew you two were close, like closer than anyone but he was your boyfriend, how dare you pay attention to someone else with him around. if looks could kill, you'd be dead by now. renjun was sitting on the corner of your couch, his eyes shooting daggers at you and jeonghan at the kitchen island.

"Does it look okay?"

"You made it, angel. its more than okay". renjun scoffed. there it was, the infamous nickname jeonghan called you, which both your and his fans adored to death. renjun had his arms crossed against his chest, his eyes staying on you two the whole time, along with a scoff leaving his mouth every minute.

"Please don't cut your hair short, never", you pressed adjusting the oldest's bow tie. jeonghan chuckled nodding. his eyes drifted to the mirror one last time before he stood up, ready to leave. the door to your dorm swung open, and there stood mingyu waiting for jeonghan to join.

the seventeen members hugged you goodbyes, promising to have dinner later together with you. your eyes finally landed on your boyfriend, sticking himself to the corner of the couch, an uninterested expression played across his whole face. a chuckle escaped you instantly.

"Should we watch something now?"

in answer all you recieved was silence. with your eyebrows raised, you walked to renjun sitting next to him. your hands sliding into his in an attempt to make him face you, but unusually enough he pulled away.

"What?", by now you were growing frustrated. the only time you ever got was now, why was he acting like that. "Why don't you go have lunch with your jeonghan", he snickered finally. your head fell back as fits of laughter took over you.

"Are you seriously jealous of jeonghan?"

renjun turned his head away embarrassed. after what felt like ages, when you finally calmed down, you used to fingers to turn his head to you. "Pretty face, I know damn well, you know how close me and jeonghan are and I also know you know whatever we share isn't romantic at all. I've only loved one person, which is you", you reassured caressing the side of his cheek.

he pouted. well, now he looks like an idiot. you chuckle again, holding his hand successfully and resting your head on his shoulder while the movie played. renjun finally let go of his feelings, content that he gets to spend time with you.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ✧. ┊ ⁭ ❝ 𝗝𝗘𝗡𝗢 𝗟𝗘𝗘 ❞

jeno's absolute favourite thing to do was to watch you go live, interact with your fans. it was to watch you do stupid shit your mind tells you to do. it was his favourite but not today, not this moment considering how blessing him wasn't just your beautiful presence but instead you were also accompanied by jeonghan, your closest of friends.

he didn't hate the older man per say, but jeno preferred if jeonghan was a bit less into your life. 'I bought hannie food yesterday', your voice said in the live. jeno rolled his eyes unconsciously at the nickname that left you. your eyes turned to your phone, picking it up to send a text.

jeno's phone pinged.

you: are you watching my live?

jeno: no

you: why not :(

jeno: because he's next to you

you: jeonghan?

jeno: yea

he heard you chuckle. 'stop using your phone', jeonghan commended you. jeno yet again rolled his eyes, disliking jeonghan for preventing you from talking to your boyfriend. you leaned in showing the phone screen to the seventeen member who chuckled loudly after reading the texts.

jeno widened his eyes for a second, before completely turning off the live. he didn't wanna see jeonghan make fun of his jealously or you take everything so not seriously. he knew you two were close but never guessed you were as close as to showing each other your messages.

his phone dinged again.

he didn't look not wanting to fuel his feelings more but curiosity got the best of him. your message stood on his page, instantly lighting up his face, and turning his eyes into two crescent moons.

you: I love you

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ✧. ┊ ⁭ ❝ 𝗛𝗔𝗘𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗡 𝗟𝗘𝗘 ❞

haechan had his eyes on you, his pupils turning into mini hearts while he watched you introduce his group for the music bank interview. "Stop staring at her, your fans are right there", doyoung from next tonl the tanned whispered. haechan just rolled his eyes finding utmost amusement in watching you smile, talk and pretend.

all was fine until his heart eyes turned into mad stares. everything was fine until your CO mc, yeonjun mentioned jeonghan who was standing along side his group.

"Y/n, isn't jeonghan the closest person to you", he said. what was meant to be a friendly comment triggered bitterness inside the tanned which he too never experienced before. of course, he had seen you talk to the seventeen member in the past but none ever made him feel this bitter- this jealous.

his eyes stayed on you, who began smiling at the mention of the bond you and jeonghan shared. it was special to you, really. jeonghan was legit with you through everything, so it was natural for you to be really close.

haechan didn't understand if he mad at you, jeonghan or at yeonjun for bringing that up, but either way he was pissed. his tongue began uncontrollably poking against his cheek, peeking through his skin, which everyone around him very well knew was a sign that he was upset about something.

reasonably enough, you noticed it. when yeonjun was busy bickering with your third Co host, your eyes for a split second drifted to your boyfriend, who definetly looked pissed. you let your eyes stay on him longer, just to see what it was about when you noticed how he constantly looked between you and jeonghan.

a soft sigh escaped your lips, eyes falling back to the script in your hand. continuing like you noticed nothing, you finished the interview successfully. when everyone else dispersed off, you pulled haechan by his hand, kissing his lips swiftly before leaving to rehearse for the next.

haechan visibly relaxed, feeling his sane self return to him just after feeling your soft lips on his. that one swift kiss giving him the reassurance he needed.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ✧. ┊ ⁭ ❝ 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗠𝗜𝗡 𝗡𝗔 ❞

jaemin was foul for expecting his name in your award speech. he knew that because you weren't even out to public yet- you can't be going around saying his name, and thanking him for being so loving. you not saying his name didn't bother him, but what did was you mentioning your boy bestfriend, jeonghan in the list of people you thanked.

of course he knew you two were really close, closer than he could ever be with you. but that didn't never bother him before but today, especially when he heard your fans scream like they're about to go crazy at the mention of the seventeen member's name.

his eyes narrowed in your direction, as you got off the stage and into the arms of jeonghan who was waiting to give you a hug. jeonghan wrapped his arms around your shoulder, while you did around his waist. the two of you hugged for a second longer, parting to sit in your respective seats.

jaemin appreciated all the love the older gave you, helping you with a lot of stuff before jaemin even walked into your life but you had no reason to mention him in your speech, atleast not when you couldn't mention jaemin himself.

his eyes stayed on you the whole time, the insides of his cheeks bleeding from biting constantly. realising its difficult to catch your attention just from staring, he decided to text you.

jaemin: hahaha isn't jeonghan so important to you

you: yes he is

jaemin: more important than me?

you: .....ofc yes

jaemin: go date him then

you: jaem look up

his eyes turned to you, his uninterested eyes or like he pretended to be, turning soft as soon as you blew a kiss towards him. you grinned pointing towards his phone again.

you: jeonghan is important, but you are legit my heart. so relax.

he instantly looked up, only to find you talking to jeonghan. this time though jaemin smiled.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ✧. ┊ ⁭ ❝ 𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗡𝗟𝗘 𝗭𝗛𝗢𝗡𝗚 ❞

chenle was crazy about you, his whole family, his members everyone knew that fact and acknowledged it. even you did, so why didn't jeonghan? why was he being all touchy with you?

it was the after party of an award show, you as a soloist, and many other great artists have attended. chenle was surrounded by his members, all bickering amongst each other while sipping on some champagne. his eyes were busy shooting daggers at you and jeonghan at the bar counter taking some shots while giggling. chenle was too busy to notice jisung who was trying to make a conversation with the older.

"Stop killing them with your stares", jisung mumbled in his ears. chenle snickered rolling his eyes. taking another glass of champagne he stood up walking towards you and jeonghan. you, who noticed your boyfriend waved slightly, calling him over.

chenle reached you and instantly snaked an arm around your waist, resulting in jeonghan to chuckle slightly. he knew that expression all too well, everyone you have ever dated before had the same death stares. chenle gave jeonghan an uninterested smile before leaning in to speak into your ear.

"I feel like punching him, why is he staring at you like that"

you nudged the side of his stomach slightly forcing him stay quiet. chenle huffed, trusting you to take care of the job, which was to get rid of jeonghan. you turned to the seventeen member offering him a very sneaky but familiar smile, which meant 'my man is jealous, I'll see you later'.

jeonghan chuckled nodding. he leaned in to kiss the top of your head, later leaving you and your boyfriend alone. chenle who noticed jeonghan catching on to his feelings scoffed. you turned to chenle slapping his arm tightly resulting him yelping loudly.

"Stop being jealous of jeonghan, he's like a brother to me. also, respect him, he's still older than you". chenle pouted nodding, after all he too admired seventeen to death, just like you.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ✧. ┊ ⁭ ❝ 𝗝𝗜𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚 𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 ❞

jisung wasn't the type to spend so much time watching YouTube videos, atleast compilations of you interacting with your different idol friends, even him. his original plan was to watch a single video, of the moments you and him shared together. but what was meant to be a 10min youtube session turned into am hour long one, as soon as he stumbled upon videos with 'jeongy/n' in the title.

he definitely didn't want to be petty, but why did he just share two or three videos with you while jeonghan hogged more than twenty videos, all worth almost 10 mins. a pout rested on his face whilst watching how you and jeonghan interacted.

"is that my voice?", you called out walking into jisung's bedroom in his dorm. the maknae of his group nodded, not looking at you. you tilt your head to the side, confused. what was he watching? giving yourself a sheepish smile, you jumped onto the bed, next to jisung who instantly hid his screen.

you narrowed your eyes using your hands to steal the phone. after a few seconds of fighting, you finally landed your hands on the device. "Jeongy/n the nation's favourite ship", you read out loud turning to jisung before laughing loudly.

jisung pouted looking down at his hands, while you still laughed throwing your head back and that. "You're so adorable", you cooed pinching jisung's cheeks. he didn't budge pouting still. the fact that you and jeonghan were more shipped by your fans than you and him upsetting him a little.

"What's wrong baby?"

no answer. it didn't take a genius to put two and two together, and you definetly weren't that dumb to not realise he was jealous. chuckling softly, you cupped both his cheeks making him look right into your eyes. "Ji, you don't have to upset or jealous over jeonghan, he's like a brother to me. and if you are worried about my fans, then maybe we should interact more often", you winked making him blush.

jisung nodded wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a hug.

©️FULLSUNISED.

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604to647 · 10 months

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Safest with You - Ch. 6 (The Courtship, Din's POV)

4.3K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Din continues his courting ways.

Warnings: 18+ content (MDNI please), even though it's mostly Fluff, pet names (the usual: Pretty bird, sweetheart, etc.), a little bit of angst (Din struggles with his FEELINGS), mentions of parental loss, a wee bit of dirty talk.

A/N: I didn't switch to a second person narration for Din, but I still consider this to be his POV because we "follow" him this week. We get a little backstory on Din's past with the Fett Family, and come to understand Din and Paz's relationship a bit as well. Greef is mentioned! Thank you for reading!

Series Masterlist

The next morning, Din picks you up and takes you and the dog to a big farmer’s market just outside the city. You walk hand in hand, weaving through the different stalls, lazily sampling baked goods and seasonal produce. Al receives his share of pets and samples as well, and the three of you look the epitome of contentment. After a light lunch, Din loads your purchases into the truck; in addition to some fruits and veggies for your own pantry, you got everything you needed to make a spaghetti sauce from scratch, having offered to cook dinner for Din before your movie date tonight.

Although the original plan was for you to do the cooking at your place with Din meeting you there after work, Din finds himself no longer wanting to part from you, even if only for the afternoon. He volunteers his own kitchen for cooking; with his apartment residing on the top floor of the gym’s building, he reasons that he can help you while easily popping downstairs periodically for work.

Putting one hand on your hip, you tilt your head and tease, “You know, this is sending mixed signals.”

“Hmm?” Din’s eyes widen in innocence.

“We agree to take things slow, and now you’re luring me back to your place?”

Din knows you’re only teasing, but looking down at your playful expression, he also knows that you don’t know the real reason he’s been hesitant to take the next step with you. Din’s insistence that you take things slow has nothing to do with any type of antiquated feelings about sex or so-called propriety, and everything to do with a deeply rooted concern that he doesn’t deserve you. Since he met you at the coffeeshop, you’ve been his own personal ray of sunshine; brightening his world with your sweet nature and calming presence. But what is he bringing to your life? He knows that you think of him as caring and considerate, traits that he loves about you and it fills him with pride that you see those qualities in him as well.

Does he deserve to be held in your high esteem?

Would you still be unafraid of him if you knew the brutality he’s capable of inflicting, inside and outside in the ring? Would you still feel safe around him if you knew how many men he’s sent to the hospital? Din’s proud of the man he is, and he wakes up every day doing his best to be a good person. You deserve someone who’s good, and he wants to be good enough for you. He would like to have earned your affections, his place next to you, so that you never look at him differently than the way you do now. This time he’s spending courting you, it’s for you to get to know this him. Not the fighter, not the enforcer, but a man who is kind, loyal, compassionate and gentle. He wants you to know this man and to choose him.

Although you can’t read his thoughts, you soften, “Hey, I’m just messing with you, Din. You’re being so sweet, and it makes me happy. Honestly.” You bring your hand up to Din’s cheek and he immediately leans into it before turning into your palm and giving it a gentle kiss. His own palms now flat against the car, caging you in and causing your back to press up against the door, Din says in a low voice only you can hear, “You won’t think I’m so sweet when I finally take you to bed and take you apart, pretty bird.”

His voice is so intoxicating you nearly whimper, “That’s a heavy promise, Djarin.”

“I plan on delivering,” he murmurs against your lips, kissing you long and slow against the car, leaving you breathless when he goes to open your door for you.

---

When you arrive back at the gym, Din shows you an entrance on the very right-hand side of the building that you hadn’t noticed before. The door unlocks to a long flight of stairs that you and Al climb, with Din bringing up the rear and all your farmer’s market bags. On a small landing a little past half way, there is a door on your left with a small window; you peek through and see that it leads to the second floor loft of the gym where Din’s office is located. He wasn’t kidding when he said he could easily pop downstairs for work, you realize, amused.

Reaching the top floor, you step aside for Din to pass and unlock his front door. He holds it open for you to go in first; you walk in, barely concealing your curiosity. The space is huge, which is no surprise considering the apartment takes up the entire floor; you step into an open living area, homey and lived in with a big comfy couch and several arm chairs, all pointed at large television. Both walls flanking this space are lined with bookshelves reaching from floor to ceiling, running the length of the large room. The shelves are filled with books, boxing trophies, knickknacks, and various mementos, including several framed photos of people with smiling faces. Walking towards where you can see the kitchen behind a partition wall, you grin as you recognize photos of Din at various ages with an older man that must have been his father. Just left of the dining nook that rests below a cut-out window that looks into the kitchen, there are some closed doors and the start of a hallway that must run back down the length of the apartment; you figure out that the bedrooms must be at the front of the apartment, overlooking the street. You imagine Din growing up in this space, and remembering what Din has told you about his childhood, you're satisfied that this must have been a good home to the Djarin men.

Din watches you take in your surroundings; this place holds many memories for him, of his childhood and his father. Moving back in when dad got sick had been an adjustment, but Din is glad he did it – while the last few years together may have been difficult, Din would not have traded them for the world. The bond between father and son had never been stronger than in those last years, and because of it, those years had been joyous in their own way. You’re the first new person to enter this space in a long time, and he wonders what you see, no longer trusting his own eyes.

You turn to Din, “I love it,” you say, beaming, and Din knows that you mean that you love more than just the physical space or layout. He sweeps you in his arms and kisses you warmly, silently conveying: thank you.

Cooking together is more fun that Din could have imagined. You’re a bundle of energy in the kitchen, putting your methodical mind to good use and assigning him tasks to help with the recipe you’ve memorized, all while chattering away and learning the lay of his kitchen. You poke around mischievously looking for everything and Din grins as he watches you putter around; he has a feeling you’re opening more drawers and cabinets than necessary, more to satisfy your own natural curiosity than actually searching for tools and ingredients. Smartly, he feels, he gives you free rein of the space and also choice over what music to play over the kitchen speakers. He doesn’t know all the songs you put on, but the way you’re enjoying yourself, bopping around him and moving your body to the beat, has him winding his arms around your waist and swaying along even to the ones he doesn’t know. The carrots are chopped, the onions are diced, the wine is reduced, all while you and Din kiss and dance. Sometimes Al will join in for a particularly upbeat number, but mainly concerns himself with nosing for food offerings. Din’s kitchen is coming alive in a way that he had nearly forgotten it could, and he feels invigorated.

He leaves you looking through his spices with a concentrated look on your face to go downstairs to the gym. Greef will be coming in a few hours to take over the floor, and until then, Din has a bit of paper work to finish off; he does so from a bench seat he takes on the main floor, overseeing the usual Saturday crowd. Paz comes by while Din’s finishing up some forms, hair wet from the showers after his workout.

Embracing as is their customary greeting, Paz checks in, “Hey brother. Glad I caught you. Something I might need your help with next week. You got some time to chat now?”

Here goes nothing, Din thinks, “Can’t, Paz. I’m actually… on a date right now. She’s upstairs cooking.”

Paz raises his eyebrows in surprise. He knows how private of a person Din is, and especially how protective he is of the memories of his late father in their space; for Din to let you in and leave you alone in the apartment… you must be special, “New girl? Huh. No wonder Brian and the guys have been saying you’ve been less of a grump lately.”

“Wha-“ Din is cut off from looking around the room for the young boxer when Paz jokingly punches him in the shoulder.

“So… when do I get to meet her?” Paz asks, expectantly.

“I’m thinking of bringing her to the fight next Saturday.”

“Perfect. Can’t wait to introduce myself to her… ‘bout time she meets a real Mando,” Paz laughs.

“Wouldn’t want you to strain yourself, Vizsla. She uses big words,” quips Din, easily dodging Paz’s cross-cut. The two friends play box for another minute before Paz claps Din on the back, “Happy for you, brother.”

Din knows he is. The two make plans to meet up for an early lunch tomorrow to go over what Paz needs. When Paz is gone, Din looks up to the ceiling, as if looking through to where you are in the apartment above, and thinks about you meeting his friends. Meet “a real Mando” Paz had said – Din grins at the childhood “club name” that had been given to their group of friends, naming the tightknit group of kids after the gym where they all hung out. Of course, after getting older, most of group had gone to work for Boba Fett as muscle, security, some times both; it was in that capacity, as a unit, the Mandos had carved out a reputation for being an effective and elite strike team. Everyone in the neighbourhood knew that messing with the Mandos or having the Mandos sent after you was a fate most preferably avoided.

Was he proud of this moniker and his association with it? The truth was, yes – Boba and Din’s dad had grown up together, friends until the end; Boba’s family was Din’s family, and vice versa. There is nothing Din wouldn’t do for the Fetts, and anything he had ever done, however morally grey, he had done with conviction and would do again in a heartbeat if it meant helping his family. Din’s commitment and loyalty to his friends and family were his creed, steadfast and unwavering. His thoughts drift back to you: Would you understand?

He remembers the hurt you tried to hide from him yesterday when you very honestly confessed that you thought he might not be wanting you. Without a doubt he does, but once again, Din wrestles with needing to feel he deserves you; that he deserves the way you want him. Din is not ashamed of who he is or what he’s done, but he can’t quite reconcile how that man is upstanding enough to deserve someone like you. And he would like to be deserving of you. You don’t deserve anything less.

As Din climbs the stairs to his apartment, he realizes how hard he’s fallen for you in such a short amount of time; just being away from you for a little over an hour has him missing you terribly, and he’s glad that he suggested the change of plans and invited you into his little home.

What he is not prepared for is the scene laid out before him as he enters the apartment; you, so beautiful and relaxed, the picture of comfort curled up on his couch with the dog, reading a book you had pulled off his shelf. This picture of domesticity make his pulse quicken and ache for you in an entirely different way than the pure lust he has felt for you every night this past week. You look up with a sweet smile, “The sauce needs to simmer.”

Din comes over and you make room for him on the couch, curling up close when he sits. You discuss the books you found on his shelf, and later you joke that you were either going to rifle through the bookshelves or his medicine cabinet. As the two of you talk, even in this close proximity, Din can’t help but make the point to always be touching you. Your hair, your hands, your face, your entire being is soft and delicate, though not breakable, and so, so precious and enticing to him. Quiet conversation coupled with looks of longing and gentle touches lead to lazy and languid kisses that seem to stretch out the afternoon. There’s nothing urgent about today. Din feels your body relax in his arms, soothed; looking at you, he can tell your eyes are closed not just from pleasure, but that you’re genuinely tired, “Pretty bird, do you want to take a nap?”

“I can’t take a nap in the middle of a date. It’s rude,” you reply, eyes still closed.

“You’ve had an exhausting week. You need sleep.” Din isn’t wrong, and you hardly need any more convincing, already half asleep.

You feel Din getting up from his seat and place your hand on his wrist so he’ll look at you, “Please set an alarm for an hour on my phone? Need to check on the sauce.”

Stroking your hair gently, Din reassures you, “Okay. I’ll go back to work and let you nap. I’ll lock the door, okay? You’re safe here, pretty bird. I’ll be just downstairs if you need anything.”

Din covers you with a blanket, and after pulling a separate blanket over the dog, gets ready to head to the gym. He leans over you, pressing his lips to yours lightly, “You know, it’s also pretty rude to leave your date to go to work.”

“We’re both so rude,” you yawn.

“Yup. The worst,” Din kisses you softly, “Perfect for each other.”

“Mmmhmmm,” you hum before drifting off into a deep sleep.

---

You wake, not to your alarm, but to a delicious and aromatic smell filling the apartment. You sit up and stretch, looking around. Some time during the nap, Al has rolled over onto his back, exposing his stomach and shooting all four legs straight up in the air – really making himself at home on Din’s couch; you’re scratching Al’s stomach when you see Din stirring the sauce and call softly to him. He comes over and leans over the back of the couch; brushing your hair out of your face, he kisses you gently.

“You let me sleep?”

“I did. Couldn’t bear to wake you, you looked so peaceful. Your snores are very cute, you know?”

You bury your face in your hands, “Oh noooooo… I snore?”

“Like an adorable kitten.”

It’s been a while since any one has been in a position to let you know, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Doesn’t bother me. I don’t plan on getting much sleep around you, in any case,” he winks, as he walks back to the kitchen.

Din hasn’t just stirred the sauce, he’s made the rest of dinner already; you’re impressed and grateful and you make sure to let him know. After you help set the table, the two of you enjoy a wonderful early dinner together. A quick clean-up later, you drop Al off at home to have his own dinner, then you and Din head out to the movie.

Din doesn’t even remember what the movie is about, but he remembers the way you put up the middle partition and curl up in your seat and into his side, making it easy for him to comfortably drape his arm around you. A little more than an hour through the movie, when the male and female leads are barreling towards a misunderstanding, Din looks down to see you watching him instead of the screen and he leans down to kiss you, somehow not stopping until the lights turn on in the theatre.

---

After the dog has been properly walked, and more long, soft kisses dispensed, you tell Din, “That was my favourite of our dates.”

“We’ve only had two.”

“I know, and this one is my favourite one so far.” And you mean it.

Tonight’s kisses mirror those of the afternoon; lazy, slow, sweet. Din sends you upstairs with the promise that the dates are only going to get better from here on out.

Sunday morning, Din receives a video call from your brunch: a cheerful, and somewhat chaotic video of you and your friends who apparently want to thank him for the books he bought them. The one named Katie, utters an innuendo that has you blushing a deep shade of crimson before quickly ending the call. You and your friends are adorable peas in a pod, Din thinks.

He’s still chuckling as he sits down to his own meal with Paz. Meeting at their usual table in a restaurant frequented by Fett family members, Din looks across to Paz who is perusing the menu, pretending he isn’t going to order the same thing he’s ordered every time since they started eating here when they were teenagers. Friends since childhood and both embraced by the Fett family, Din and Paz Vizsla have been running around the streets, starting and then later stopping trouble since they had training wheels on their bikes. Both had gotten into youth boxing at Mando’s gym, but while Din boxed all the way through college, Paz had gone straight to work for Boba after junior high. Of the two men, Din had always had the more strategic mind, rising faster in the Fett organization than others, and eventually becoming Boba’s lead enforcer; but Din was ever cognizant that his success and how tightly he ran the Fett family security could not have been possible without his friend and right hand man, Paz. When Din had stepped back from the organization, Paz was the natural choice to be Din’s replacement. The two men remained close as ever; there was no one with whom Din trusted his life more than Paz, and the feeling was returned, ten-fold.

As he had already explained to you, once in a while, Paz would ask for Din’s help with Fett family business, be it strategizing and brainstorming a mission plan, reviewing proposed tactics, or occasionally, coming out into the field with the team again. There were simply times where Paz just ultimately felt better if Din was involved, and Din could not and would never deny his brother assistance. Looks like this upcoming week would be one of those times. Paz’s strength and authority has always come from his formidable presence and his capacity for brute force, but Boba currently needs some intel on a target that would come easier via surveillance rather than intimidation. Over lunch, Din and Paz map out a plan and team assignments, including a few shifts that make the most sense if Din is on site. By the end of the planning session, Din knows that this week, he will be the one having long work hours; between his surveillance work with Paz and his responsibilities at the gym, your third date would have to wait.

He lets you in on his disappointment that night during the dog walk, which has now been cemented as part of your daily routine. As expected, you’re understanding and reasonably curious, but easily placated with Din’s promise to still come by every night to walk Al with you.

Monday through Thursday have Din burning the candle at both ends. He finds himself being infinitely appreciative for having an excellent head boxing trainer in Greef Karga who competently doubles as a floor manager. Several of the gym staff and boxers also work for Paz and Boba, so Din is not the only one pulling double duty this week – everyone knows what it means to do their part. Most nights, Din leaves Paz and the team late in the evening and comes straight to see you.

He's tired on these nights, but you’re always a sight for his exhausted eyes; you take to bringing him a little sweet treat each night, aware that he needs an extra pick me up these days. Regardless of what he sees or has to deal with during the day, Din is content when he ends the night in the softness of your embrace; with you in his arms, your lips on his.

By Friday, everything has wrapped up on the security end, but Din ends up having to work late at the gym to catch up on some accounting admin he had pushed back; happy to turn the tables on him, you bring him dinner when it’s obvious he might forget to eat.

When you see him hunched over, squinting at a spreadsheet for 5 minutes straight, you offer to take a look, helping yourself to a makeshift seat in his lap. Within 10 minutes you’ve whipped him up a new template that rolls over month-to-month, and calculates the information needed with less than a third of the monthly inputs Din was typing in before. With your encouragement, he finishes his reports speedily, while you go back to eating dinner. Coming over to the mini couch in his office that you’ve been lounging on, Din flops down and pulls you close so your legs lay over his, “Are you a wizard?”

You laugh, “I like spreadsheets.”

“I don’t. I don’t think I really like any technology. Can’t trust it,” grimaces Din.

“I figured, old man. Is that why you don’t have any socials?”

“Any what?” Din gives you a confused look.

Confession time. “Social Media. The girls and I tried to find you online that night after I ran into you at the bookstore! Nothing.”

“I might have an old Facebook? Don’t remember the login,” Din muses, face scrunching up as if the idea of inadvertently having an online presence gives him a headache.

You roll your eyes and climb over Din’s lap, straddling him, “Good thing you’re so pretty.”

Din raises his brow, “Oh yeah? I’m the pretty one?”

“Oh yes. These brown eyes are so pretty. And these crinkles around your pretty eyes when you smile are so, so pretty. Beard is so pretty, too. This is my favourite part, this little spot right here that looks like a little heart, it’s the prettiest.” You press a deep kiss to his jaw in the middle of the patchy spot on his left side and breath in deeply, humming contently before resting your head on Din’s shoulder.

“Didn’t realize you think so much about me, sweet girl.”

You face Din again, closing your eyes and leaning in to find his mouth already waiting for yours and murmur low, between kisses, “Mmmmhmmmm. Think about you all the time, Din. When I wake up, in the shower, at work, at home in bed. Especially when I’m in bed. I think about you a lot in bed.”

Din’s hands start to wander, creeping under your shirt and gripping your bare waist, fingers dipping into the waistband of your leggings, “What you do you think about, when you think about me in bed, sweetheart?”

The kisses are getting a little sloppier as you grind down gently, rhythmically; you answer in shallow, gasping breaths, “I think about you on top of me, baby. I think about you getting a little rough with me and positioning me any way you want. I think about your hands and how they would feel touching every inch of me, pulling my hair, squeezing around my nec-“

“Pretty bird, I think I should take you home now or I’m not going to be able to control myself.” Din cuts you off abruptly, a dark look in his eyes.

Shy under his intense gaze, you nod and agree.

---

Having had the car ride to your place and the dog walk to calm down, you now rest comfortably in Din’s arms, playing with his hair while looking deep into his eyes between sweet, lingering kisses. Din opens his mouth to yours, again and again, lazily chasing your tongue with his own, “I’m looking forward to our date tomorrow, pretty bird.”

You sigh, “Me too! I don’t know what to wear though. I’ve never been to a boxing match before.”

“I’m sure you’ll look perfect.” Din leans down and whispers, “Wear something I can take off easily.”

You can’t help the small whine that escapes your lips when you take in his words. Din chuckles, “You tease me all the time, pretty bird. You think I can’t tease you back?” Finding his boyish grin irresistible, you pull him in for a string of hungry and passionate kisses that leave the both you panting and you warm with arousal. You aren’t even being cheeky when you whisper to Din, “I’m going to go to bed to think about you now,” before turning to head in, leaving Din looking and feeling completely transfixed.

#din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #modern au #no y/n #modern!din djarin #din djarin fluff

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ryuichirou · 5 months

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if you want to, could you share your headcanons for the twst omegas in heat? like i can see riddle getting frustrated/flustered because he keeps forgetting rules…including the one that says if he’s in head he can just relax trey pls help him

Like I said in another ABO-related hc post, it’s incredible how much I end up yapping about it considering that that at the beginning I always think that I have nothing to say about omegaverse-related things lol

Sorry for the wait, Anon! And thank you for this ask, it was interesting to think about all of the boys… As always, starting with Riddle, and I actually agree with everything you’ve said about him!

Riddle – his first estrus is going to hit him like a truck. He’ll absolutely get flustered, start forgetting rules, feel dizzy; overall he’d seriously underestimate just how bad it’s going to be. Maybe it’s because he is a late bloomer… He is very snappy whenever he is in heat, not only because of how shitty he feels, but also because he is embarrassed to be in this state. Riddle knows that he is allowed to take it easy when he’s in heat, but he doesn’t want to! Trey tries to take care of him, but never really oversteps , even though he knows that getting laid would help Riddle a lot… he should really hurry and make up his mind though, because if he isn’t, a certain huge-ass fish is going to scratch the Goldfishie’s itch and drown him in eel juices~

Deuce – oh he hates being in heat, and he is a bit traumatised by it because of that one time he didn’t take his meds when he was a delinquent and almost got in trouble. Now he takes them every single time, but they don’t help him as much as he would like them to; maybe it’s because his body built up tolerance, maybe it’s because he takes the cheapest widely available meds. He should talk to other omegas, but he is too embarrassed, so he just tries to combat it silently… He is also sure that people don’t know that he is an omega, but everyone around him knows. His Heartslabyul senpais know. Jack knows (and it’s a bit difficult for him to run near Deuce when he’s in heat, so he runs faster lol). Even Ace knows… but doesn’t address it because he’s waiting for Deuce to do it. But it’s a very hard thing to do, when your closest friend starts smelling so deliciously every month, being active, sweating and smelling even more. They’re 100% going to have sex before they have an actual conversation about them being an alpha and an omega.

Leona – “don’t touch me I am in foul mood” type of estrus. Well, actually, he has very good medications that were tailored to his personal health and needs specifically, so it shouldn’t be a problem for him, but he still gets lazy and moody. The fact that he is an omega is an open secret – people in Savanaclaw usually don’t assume that, but it’s not like it’s hidden from those who pay attention. Ruggie noticed that instantly and became Leona’s personal plaything since the first estrus that Ruggie was present for. It kind of happened on accident, but then became an agreement of sorts; so not every time Leona is in heat, Ruggie is always there to have sex with him and make him feel better. As long as he doesn’t claim him, it’s all allowed, and Leona prefers to calm himself with sex and not meds anyway.

Jamil – he is very careful when he is in heat: he tracks his cycle, he takes all the meds, he is extra careful about his hygiene and uses different types of deodorant, and he even avoids food that could affect his hormones in any way. In result, he is seemingly flawless, even his performance during his basketball practice doesn’t suffer when he is in heat; there is only a couple of people in the school who even know that Jamil is an omega. But this is because they don’t see how much he suffers at night, when the meds wear off and he has to bite his pillow and push his fingers deep inside to ease himself a little bit. He had to use snake whisper on someone once though because that random Scarabia student saw him doing just that, and Jamil erased his memory. Should’ve used him to have sex… But he just panickedbecause the guy saw him as he was suffocating himself with Kalim’s dirty shirt.

Vil – he completely conquered estrus lol He learned how to make the most perfect soothing potion that doesn’t make him sleepy, but keeps him calm, dulls his scent significantly and ALSO gives him some extra vitamins, calcium, collagen or something among the lines. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work for all omegas as perfectly as it works for him, so it’s not like he’s just gatekeeping it for himself. Still, he isn’t hidden as perfectly as Jamil is – those who have heightened sense of smell (like Rook or the Tweels or Jack) could still figure out that he is in heat, he just isn’t affected by it. Also, whenever he has time to relax and unwind, it becomes even more obvious that he is in heat because he has his clingy horny moments, “passive” moments when he just lies there and looks at his lover like he is waiting to get eaten. And when Vil finally gets fucked by him, he clings to an alpha’s dick as if his life depends on it. He enjoys indulging on his omega instincts much more than he cares to admit, to be honest… he tries to always be proper and think rationally, but a feral hungry beast (bitch..??) inside him jumps out sometimes.

Epel – he is damn lucky that his first estrus happened when he was already under Vil’s wing because he shares all the remedies and potions with Epel and even tries to be kinder to him when he suffers through his heat. That being said, during that estrus Epel threw a tantrum, got angry and refused Vil’s help because he really wasn’t ready to face the fact that he is an omega (the signs were there all this time, but Epel was in denial…). Did he end up lying on the floor of the Pomefiore’s hallway, whining and moaning in a puddle of his own slick, unable to stand up because of his shaky legs? Of course he did. And almost felt his uterus (of which existence he was unaware only an hour ago) jump out of him because there was an alpha nearby, and it was the first time Epel felt this mix of fear and strong desire: he didn’t care who it was, but he was very scared of him and still wanted that alpha to fuck him. Luckily, it was just Rook who came to pick Epel up~ And he was his usual comforting silly Rook self, but when he warned Epel that any other alpha could’ve easily taken advantage of him, Epel felt cold… but also a little disappointed, as if Rook just refused him. What the fuck was this feeling??

Idia – he is lucky because his estrus isn’t as strong, plus the Shrouds are pretty much a dynasty of omegas, so the meds they provide are pretty good. He still feels the tingles and dull pain, plus he gets a bit dizzy and sleepy, but he spends all his time in his room anyway, surrounding by comforting scents and Ortho who is completely unbothered by this whole ABO thing. Idia loves to talk about how Ortho is the perfect companion during his estrus because he isn’t going crazy because of his scent, he brings him everything that he needs; Ortho even massages Idia’s nape and stomach, which usually soothes him a lot, sometimes Idia even feels like purring when it happens. But sometimes Ortho pushes these spots in a way that stimulates Idia’s omega parts, so Idia gets hornier instead. He usually just asks Ortho to stop massaging him, awkwardly says that everything is okay and runs to the bathroom, but Ortho knows that Idia can’t run from it forever: he has to stimulate his body and ejaculate from time to time! Also, when Idia actually touches himself (very rarely), sometimes he starts thinking if Crimson Muscle is an alpha… he probably is, right? But Idia shouldn’t think about it, this is just pointless…

Silver – at first it seems like he doesn’t care about being in heat at all, but it’s because he is very well-trained and does everything for it not to bother him, but unfortunately his methods are a bit… “primitive”. A lot of it is just him pushing through his own arousal, pain and fatigue, plus some plant-based remedies he learned back when he used to live in the woods. The only more-or-less modern thing that he does is that he uses a buttplug (Lilia’s gift!), which sounds very counter-intuitive… and it absolutely is, but maybe due to it being a habit, it helps Silver to stay focused when he’s training + it seems to help to cover his scent a little bit. But whenever he pulls it out, it’s waterfalls of omega juice… it’s honestly a miracle that Sebek didn’t jump him yet, but when he learns how Silver is handling his body, he’ll get so mad that he’ll eat him alive lol But also Lilia rewards Silver generously for being a good boy after a couple of days of him suffering in heat, so it’s all good~

Malleus – his estrus hits him the hardest, it’s like the nature glitches with him: dragon fae don’t even produce offsprings all that often, but his body is still super demanding every other month. And it happens even before he is in heat: he loses appetite, gets a bit snappy, and then, when he is in heat, he starts hiding and wants to either be alone or be with his lover at all times. Lilia always asks him not to hide and just stay in his room because he doesn’t want to go looking for him, but somehow it always ends with Malleus telling Lilia that it shouldn’t be that difficult for him to find Malleus, since he knows the scent so well and all, and somehow it leads to them having sex. Lilia always tells himself that he should stop doing it, and that this is the last time he’s giving in and indulging both of them like this. Malleus should find himself an alpha, goddamnit!

#replies #headcanons

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unnerving-presence · 2 years

Note

Haya bestie. Bet you can't make some head cannons with your favorite killers, who have a S/O who's a fucking feral grimlen hyped up on monster in redbull 24/7

knowing how i USED to write my gremlin requests i will try to make them not as cringe as before and will not make as many stupid pop culture references 😭 let’s hope this one is better than the others LMAO

i did already do this request for some of my other favorites so i’ll include some others i love 😈😈

♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎

Albert Wesker:

Honestly the fact that you are even this energetic in a place like the Entity’s realm is something even he can’t understand given your position.

He also does not understand why you are so determined to bother him with all the energy you have. Does that give you the right to bother anybody else? No. You stay by him like a good little s/o.

He has no interest in humoring you. At least not intentionally. You say some weird shit? He’ll probably say something along the lines of “That’s very nice, dear” or “Yes dear, I know”.

Though he has to admit, he does like it when your spurts of energy compel you to be affectionate in some way. He doesn’t say it, but the smirk on his face tells you that he absolutely adores it when you want to bombard him with affection, given that it is the appropriate time of course.

He has to physically stop you from messing with everything in his realm. He has those set in place for a reason and he would very much like it if it was kept that way. Does that stop you from trying to take whatever you think is cool? Probably not.

“No dearest, you can’t touch that.”

“I WANT IT“

Also never admits it but your energy lightens up his life a bit more. He may seem tired of your antics, but he can’t stop himself from loving them either.

Tarhos Kovács:

He insists that does not have time for all of this energy but the way he continues to feed into your nonsense proves otherwise.

He probably wants you to stop bothering him with your antics, so he will encourage you if you insist on messing around with his devoted followers. Don’t mess around with them too much though. You are his companion! Not theirs!

Will constantly ask what you are talking about if you say something that is either slang, a reference, or some type of joke. He does not understand. What is an e girl and what are i ladies..

Tarhos doesn’t crave nor seek out affection, so he has no idea what to do when you decide that he is your next victim in your burst of energy. Should he be irritated or grateful that you are peppering his helmet with kisses? Does he want to push you away or attempt to get back to his duties while you attempt to wrap your arms all the way around him in a hug? It’s all very confusing for him but he silently appreciates the love.

Even his guards wonder why he puts up with you and even he doesn’t know. Do you have some kind of magical power that makes him attached to you no matter what you do? He has considered that theory multiple times. He’s still adjusting to having a partner and he would figure that even his cold and dark personality would scare you away. It confuses him that despite his past and motives you’re still bold enough to do such things as trying to jump on his back or even trying to wield his claymore which he does not approve of.

He can’t quite understand why he hasn’t thought about murdering you yet despite you doing things that he would consider disgusting if it were anybody else. He doesn’t bother questioning it much anymore. You make him content and that’s all that matters.

#dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader #albert wesker x reader #tarhos kovács x reader

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virgobingo · 8 months

Note

Hi! I have a question, I hope I can explain myself: how would you describe Gojo on a moral level? I see the majority of the fandom (jjk in general, not just the shipping ones) considers him a good person, but I'd argue he's more on the grey side...and not a light grey. See, I can't really wrap my head around the way he blatantly ignores the fact the Suguru was completely fucked up, to the point that in chap 236 he wishes Suguru was with him before fighting Sukuna and imagining him (adult Suguro, the fucked up one) together with the same students he tried to kill in jjk0. How on earth? If I'm not mistaken Gojo never really says "yeah, Suguru was my friend but he used to be completely different, this is not the Suguru I used to be friends with". He never says Suguru was wrong. He just misses him, even though he was surrounded by people who liked him. At least Shoko clearly doesn't feel any affection towards Suguru. And let's not talk about the way he doesn't really seem concerned about the future of his students in chap 236. What do you think? Just to clarify: I do like Gojo. But I don't share the sentiment of the rest of the fandom: he's not a good person. I guess Nanami was right

i sort of explained how i think gojo sees the matter of suguru before but it's buried in my blog since i don't tag properly so to any one else reading this i might be repeating myself.

to gojo the "suguru he knew in hs" and the "suguru he killed" are one and the same. i don't believe gojo is the type to draw hard lines like the average person since he is "enlightened"— as his name (satoru) suggests. "past" suguru is at his core the same as "future" suguru. to him the person suguru becomes doesn't exist in a vacuum (his path is ultimately a product of their society). in other words, to gojo the distinction lies not in what suguru did, but who suguru is (gojo doesn't conflate actions with the "self"). i think this is how gege, who seems to be an overthinker, looks at the whole thing anyways. the matter doesn't boil down to "good" or "bad".

and the thing is gojo loves suguru at his core (or i choose to interpret it that way anyways). gege frames him as gojo's "one and only friend" for a reason. i think he's the only person who ever really made gojo feel that he was "just like everyone else."

being "liked" by others (and even reciprocating those feelings) doesn't help fill the gap gojo felt from losing suguru. gojo's simply been growing around the loss. i think this diagram explains gojo's sentiments best:

i also don't think that gojo's unconcerned for his students so much as choosing to be an optimist (once more, which aligns with his progressive ideals too),

honestly, there's not much left for gojo to do beyond the grave either.+he really went all out. he didn't exactly roll over and die haha there was a possibility his own hollow purple might kill him but that was a sacrifice he was willing to take to beat sukuna, for his students sake... but also because he was feeling experimental

in any case, if you look at his desires, sukuna wasn't even his priority,

in conclusion: i don't think gojo's a bad person or that nanami even implies that in ch 236 haha i think he's shown to be human (he loves to fight despite everything and he fails to connect with others).

sukuna even calls gojo greedy two chapters later. that's a very human trait. the thing is sukuna is technically right too because despite all gojo's power, wealth, success, and the people who like him— there's only one thing he wanted (geto by his side),

tldr: it's complicated. gojo's doing his best lol hope that makes sense?

#i will notice some horrific typo later #i need to go back and tag things so i can find them ahshsj #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk 236 #asks #satosugu #i guess

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fuyuu-chan · 5 months

Note

hellu! how are u? i adore the entirety of ur blog, its very cute! : D

i was wondering if you could write vyn with a reader who lets their emotions overtake them? like theyre very sensitive! then they meet a calm vyn that affects them to be more at peace w/ themselves.

thank u sm! i hope ure doing well!! 🤍

Love Who You Are

Fuyuu-chan: Hi Hi. I'm good, how about you?? Thank you for requesting!! Love your idea, also idk if i did this right 🥹 but i hope you like it <3

Pairing: Vyn Richter x Reader

✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

You were just here to browse for a new book to read when someone approached you out of nowhere.

"Excuse me...are you perhaps interested in that book?" Someone asked.

You looked from the book you were holding to the person who probably asked the question to you.

"Are you talking to me?" You asked as you let your eyes scanned your surroundings only to found you and this guy.

"Yes I am" he nod and smiled slightly. You looked back at the guy again.

"Oh well...to answer your question..yes, I took an interest on this book, why do you ask?" You asked.

"Oh its nothing...its because its my first time seeing someone took an interest on that book...not many people like those types of book" he explained.

You frown slightly which made the man taken aback. "Oh...are you telling me...never mind" you said as you avert your gaze for a few seconds before turning back to the man. 'Is he telling me I had bad taste in books?' you thought. Seeming to notice your silence the guys asked. "Did...I say something wrong?"

"...umm do you meant that in a bad way or like??" You asked.

The man took a second only to realize what he said earlier. He probably had offended you accidentally considering your also a book lover. "Oh no I'm sorry...I meant it in a good way...that book was actually nice to read while relaxing, I was just surprised to see someone also interested, since whenever I came here no one really looked at that book." He explained. Usually people take his compliment but you...thought it was an insult? Sure maybe bevause of his wordings and all but... People still usually assume its a compliment or sometimes they just dont ask about it.

"Oh...I see" you nod in acknowledgement. "I..never got your name by the way?"

"Ah how could I forget to introduce myself... My name is Vyn Richter, what about yours?"

"(Name), nice to meet you Vyn" you said.

~~~

Ever since that encounter you two usually met coincidentally there at that book shop and sometimes at the café across from that book store.

Of course with those encounters you two exchange a word or two that extends to conversations that extends for quite some time. So at the end of the day you two got to know each other.

Your time with Vyn only grows and he got to know you. He got to realize about your sensitivity for words at your first meeting. So he make sure that he watch his words much more carefully so he won't accidentally offend you like last time. He also realized your sensitivity for loud noises.

That happened when he invited you to catch up after not meeting each other after a busy week. Vyn invited you to catch up in the usual café you two always meet up.

As usual you also met up at the same time as always. But you noticed, lots of people starts to pack up the café. Like every once in a while you would hear the bell meaning some new people just entered. Then you realized then. "Is it holiday today?" You asked Vyn as you put down your drink.

"I think so..." He said as he looked down and took his phone that is on the table. He opened his calendar and looked to see if it is holiday or something.

He looked up after confirming. "It is holiday" he said as he smiled. "Oh...this café must be really famous" you said as you drink again.

Vyn nods. "Even if it weekday it doesn't have much people but I didn't expect to see this many now that its holiday." He said as he looked around.

"Mhm" you hummed trying to calm yourself down since its starting to get loud by people's chattering.

Vyn who looked back noticed how quiet and how you look uncomfortable. Not to mention the urge for you to cover your ears. (He could see by your body language) After gathering his thoughts he asked. "Hmm its getting a bit hot here too, do you want to go somewhere peaceful and have some fresh air (name)?"

You who was looking down the entire time to calm yourself looked up at the mention of leaving the once peaceful café. You immediately nod and so Vyn stands up as he extends his hand to you.

You took his hand out as you two left the café and goes to a park where its just you two. You sat down at the vacant swing as he too sat down next to yours.

He glanced at you checking if you starts to calm down. "Are you alright?" He asked. You looked at him and smiled softly. "Yeah thanks for offering to leave"

He shook his head. "No problem. Though I'm sorry for not noticing immediately that you dont like noisy places"

"No no I should be the one saying sorry....we were having a good time but had to stop because of..me" you looked down as you said that. "My fault too for not bringing my earphones"

"You should not blame yourself (name), besides I was also about to offer to leave the café because it was getting hot there and so we could also watch the sunset here" Vyn said as he smiled to reassure you and sure enough you smiled back.

"Thank you..." You said as you looked at the view in front of you. "You're welcome, you should tell me next time if you got uncomfortable too" he said as he also looked in front.

~~~

After that day, he made sure to bring extra earphones just in case it became too loud for your liking. And considering your comfort Vyn started to invite you to his home to just relax while listening to his collection of classical musics, have tea, read, bake or anything else because at least there its just you two and peaceful for you.

It doesn't mean that you two won't hangout anymore to other places, you two would still do that. He would let you choose the places you like to go to and when its his turn to pick he would search/research about some places where its quiet, where there is no much people.

You notice how caring Vyn is, how he watch his words (even though you two became comfortable with each other and even though he made a mistake or two you completely understand since you know he mean no harm). Vyn also doesn't judge you like how people would normally do instead he helped you.

He also doesn't push you to get over the things your sensitive at instead he told you its alright to just be you, since he would be there no matter what. There always at your side but if you want to actually do it he would tell you to do it at a slow pace or a pace were you are comfortable.

Vyn is literally there that helped you through it all and most importantly he helped you to be at peace with yourself. Because of how calm Vyn is, you got affected that you also starts to be calm too (with his help of course).

When in the past you hated who you are and your sensitivity. Vyn...vyn loved who you were and guided you. In the end he is also the reason you start to accept yourself, love yourself, and starts to be a new person.

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cinnamonest · 2 years

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Will any of the yandere boys try to put a ring on their darling and even have an official marriage or is keeping them locked up good enough for them? 👀

Ooh I like this concept! Not really an AU but kinda sorta AU-ish, basically Teyvat being more accurate to the time period it's roughly based on than the actual game, and thereby more... traditional if you get me. Traditionalist hyperconservative restrictive judgemental societies add flavor 👌

I also added the ones least likely to be into marriage, so this list goes down a scale of most likely to least likely to want to marry. There’s a few not in here but I think this is most of the boys, I may make another one later covering the rest. For some I did the idea of it being forced upon darling, and for others that darling is the one wanting it just to make it work.

I'm also blessed to have this opportunity to return to the Xingqiu reverse shotgun wedding agenda so thank you anon <3

//mentions of stigmas around premarital sex, mentions of a character being young-ish, fem reader, pregnancy mentions for some, slutshaming, some traditional wife stuff, forced (fictional) culture/identity erasure, the usual for this blog

---

Okay so you have some who are very into the idea of marriage and insist upon it, some who don't care, and some who actively dismiss the idea. Even between those that would be willing to, there's another significant divider between "would initiate getting married" and "would never think about or bring it up, would require you to initiate."

Marriage can also be a good idea on your part -- if you're the one to initiate such a commitment, you may just find yourself significantly decreasing the likelihood of ever being fully confined, if not escaping the risk entirely. Several would-be kidnappers would feel comforted by a legal bind such as marriage, and may be able to use it to their advantage.

We're going from most likely/insistent on marriage, to least.

---

Ayato is probably the most insistent out of anyone. It's largely an upbringing thing. That whole upper-class lifestyle really emphasizes the importance of marriage, and upper-class parents such as his were tend to be very traditional when it comes to such matters -- nobility are very strictly taught to be married at a fairly young age, and the "no sex before marriage" thing is likewise heavily hammered into their heads. For such people of high economic and social standing, the thought of a premarital sex scandal is heavily frowned upon, especially if, gods forbid, it results in pregnancy.

On that note, he's also the most patient, willing to actually wait until marrying you to actually have sex, since that's just the proper way things are done. He does things the "normal" way too, seeing as he's the type to strongly prefer a relationship that mimics one two normal, well-adjusted people might have. No unseemly, brutish things unbefitting of himself like forcefully abducting you or anything of the sort. He would consider himself to be above such acts, he has too much of a sense of pride and dignity to resort to it. After all, doing that would imply that he can't win you over with ease on his own.

Which he puts every effort into doing, that much isn't hard. He's good with words and has a natural charisma, and even if that's not enough, constantly spending money on you will make you feel grateful, no? The proper way of doing things involves a period of courtship, and that will provide enough time to earn your affection too. So it will be easy to assure that, when the time comes to bring the matter up to you -- which isn't very long, only a few months in -- you will answer in the affirmative.

Just in case, though, he takes certain measures to ensure it.

He makes sure to ask you on the matter in front of a large number of people. Presents you with gifts of astronomical monetary value in the moment. Ensures that he's spent all the time leading up to the moment carefully, slowly taking control over every aspect of your life, rendering you dependent. Making you need him. First you lost your job with no warning, then there was a fearsome incident so close to your house that you just had to find somewhere to stay for a few days, then one of your family members was seriously injured in some sort of freak accident, and who was the one who covered those expenses when you couldn't? Gave you so many gifts you didn't have enough space for it all in your home? Ensured you were always safe, walking you back to your home at night?

So even if there was a moment of hesitation in your mind, the feeling of indebtment inevitably weighs down. And you don't have a particular reason to say no, now do you? So just as planned, just as ensured, you say yes.

Oh, and don't worry. He'll take care of everything, or at least, delegate someone to have everything taken care of. He'll still do the choosing, though, and just have someone take care of actually doing the contacting and reserving and mailing and the like.

He'll choose everything. The expenses, the arrangements for everything needed, a list of invitees.

And which members of your family will come. What date it will be. Where it will be. What you wear. What you'll say as a vow. How any hair and your face will be made up. He'll take care of all of those things... so just accept what he does. It's only fair, he is paying for everything.

Oh, and if you're from one of the other nations, don't expect to include anything of your own. It would be... unseemly, is all. No wedding dresses traditional of one of the other nations, he'll get you one that fits Inazuma's traditions. Likewise, anything you find perhaps a bit unnerving will be dismissed as a cultural difference. Yes, it's very normal to get married to someone you've known for a short time.

This is such a happy occasion and all... surely you won't spoil the atmosphere and excitement by making any negative comments or questioning his choices, right? And if you should begin to express second thoughts, if he gets the sense that you’re trying to back out of it all… well, maybe you just need reminders about everything he’s done for you. And if that doesn’t work, perhaps a more direct method of telling you what could happen to you if you try to back out will be more effective.

Come on now, don't be like that. It will be perfect. You'll see.

---

Diluc has every intention to do the same when it comes to marrying. He was raised to believe it's important and good, that it's right, and his father always told him it reflects how you view the person you're with too. That if you don't marry first, it means you don't have respect for the other person. And more importantly, if people find out, it will be frowned upon.

However, he has a bit less self-control than Ayato, so he's more likely to end up giving into impulsive, heat-of-the-moment urges, thereby making a "mistake." And besides, he has a lot less charm to his personality, so he wouldn't know how to smooth-talk his way back into another opportunity like Ayato would, and instead leaps at the chance to have sex because his typical sternness doesn't do him many favors in terms of winning affection.

He doesn't need a pregnancy scare to get the metaphorical wheels turning. The most likely case scenario is that you sleep together once, and the moment the post-nut clarity sets in, it's full force. Guilt and panic come crashing down. It's one of a few times you'll actually see him very blatantly anxious.

Okay. It's alright. Don't worry. This can be fixed. He can have an ordained minister come by tomorrow evening -- no, that's not soon enough. He'll just go grab one of the horses and make his way to the city and go ahead and knock on the door of the church until someone answers and get it arranged right now. Okay? Okay. Easy. He'll leave right now, just, uh, put on clothes and--

...Why are you looking at him like that? You have this bewildered expression on your face.

You sort of stumble over your words, in part due to not wanting to offend and in part due to sheer confusion, but you manage to get out that it's... it's not necessary to do that...? Isn’t that, uh, rushing things a bit? You don’t really know each other that well, you say…

He sighs. You’re very particular about how things are done, you must want to take time to make sure it’s all perfect or something. That makes sense – he doesn’t really care about such things, but you must want a big pretty wedding or something and need time to prepare… Okay, so then how long do you want to put it off? A week? A month?

You stare straight ahead, blinking all perplexed and uneasy. You take a moment before you speak again.

We don’t… have to do that at all, you know…? Why would you…?

He can't really conceive of how you could possibly be okay with this arrangement. It goes against his social programming. Why not?? Don’t you want to? At first he’s just confused… but then as he thinks about it, he starts to feel… hurt. Why don’t you want to? That’s clearly the expectation here, is it not? You wouldn’t have done this with him if you didn’t intend to marry, so what made you change your mind?

Eventually, as you go through a rather awkward exchange, you have to get the message across to him that the two of you seem to have… different conceptions of how things work. That you weren’t… implying anything by spending the night like this. That’s a pretty harsh blow, but he tries not to let that show.

You get the sense, though, that this conversation hasn’t deterred him much from the line of reasoning that it’s not a matter of if, but when, and that your rejection is actually just a matter of putting off something that will happen. You come to see him again, albeit a bit hesitant… but when he’s so persistent that you come back (approaching you in the middle of town, asking why you haven’t come by since then, eyes a bit too wide to the point you feel uneasy), you figure that he’s over the matter and you want to give him another chance. He’s nice enough, after all.

Once when he ran into you in town, he made a displeased face, leaned over and fastened an extra button at the top of your shirt, claiming you shouldn’t walk around with that much of it undone. Little aspects of control, as if in his mind he already has the authority over you. And he still seems to feel a lot of guilt whenever you spend a night there and inevitably end up sleeping together again. Still, he doesn’t say a word, doesn’t bring it up… but you can feel a sort of desperation in the way he keeps an arm wrapped around you.

While he has some restraint as well as self-awareness when it comes to his own internal feelings, he’s actually rather low on self-awareness in the sense of gauging how his actions are perceived at times. He doesn’t realize just how overbearing he’s quickly becoming. He avoids using the exact words or blatantly addressing marriage itself, in fact he hasn’t brought the word up since the first night… but you feel the pressure nonetheless.

But even if he doesn’t realize it, you’re acutely aware of the behaviors, and if anything it all makes the prospect more frightening. If he’s like this now, how much more controlling would he get when he actually has a piece of paper tying you together? You’re starting to think you don’t want to ever find out… and you’re very worried about how he would react to that sentiment.

---

Tighnari really likes the idea of marriage, because in his mind, a legal bind is the closest thing he can get to making sure you experience the same need to remain together as him. Recognizing that you don't share his hyper-monogamous nature puts him in a very vulnerable position.

At the same time, he knows the same is not true for you. He's seen plenty of couples get together, stay with each other anywhere from weeks to years, only to split up and break apart and go to someone else. That frightens him. He can't fathom such a thing.

He tries not to think about what all that really means -- you don't need him like he needs you, and no matter what, with your human nature, you can never be as attached to him as he is to you. That... hurts.

You may get a wandering eye, even if you never act upon it. You may get tired of him. He may do something that upsets you to the point you no longer feel you want him. You will never experience the same unyielding need. It's painful, and it's frightening. It makes him feel vulnerable, anxious, paranoid that you're going to slip away from him forever.

Marriage is thus a very useful tool to him. Without it, it would be easy for you to leave him. You wouldn't have to hesitate. But if there's something legally binding you to him? You'll be much less likely, you'll hesitate more. And being willing to marry is a sign of commitment, which is comforting, because if you agree to it then that means you can at least envision the two of you being together for life, right? He fixates on the concept, spends a lot of his time as he goes about his work thinking about the matter.

He's still afraid of rejection, though, so he hesitates to bring it up. He has to balance the deep desire to latch onto any conceivable way to tie you down to him, and trying to abide by societal conventions of normalcy and appropriateness, such as not getting married to someone you've known for a week. He would like that, but he knows it's not normal, that suggesting it would make you feel uneasy and potentially drive you away.

So while the thought is constantly lingering in the back of his mind, he holds himself back. He does obsess over that thought though, spends at least some time each day contemplating. He's started going through a calendar, marking dates to determine how long you have known him, internally debating with himself as to what day is suitable -- maybe 100 days in? Can he push it a little closer? Maybe 80? Or maybe be safe and make it 200? How is he supposed to know? And more importantly, no matter how long he waits, you could always say no anyway.

He ends up trying to gradually ease into it rather than asking outright. Asks you about your plans for the future, for your life as a whole, subtly trying to gain information and gently nudging you towards certain choices -- no, probably shouldn't move far away, sticking around here would be a lot better in the long run... you don't need to pursue something big like a really good job or higher education, it would be better to focus on building a future where you're happy with someone else, right? You wouldn't want to end up all alone because you focused so much on work or study that you never made time for anyone else and drove people away, would you...?

Once he can actually get you to agree to it, after all that effort and gradually, so painstakingly slowly moving towards this moment, he considers it all to be worth it.

---

Xingqiu has the same upbringing as Ayato and Diluc, but due to being younger, he has a lot less self-control. Of the "rich family" trio, he's the least likely to actually wait to be married before giving into urges, so to speak, what with those teen boy hormones and all.

Besides that, there's a few key differences between him versus Ayato or Diluc. One, he has living parents, who will inevitably be involved. Two, he's several years younger, and most people would consider him to be a bit below the normal marriage age, whereas the other two are right around that age where people start asking and expecting them to find a spouse. Especially among nobility -- the men marry later, they spend a few extra years acclimating to the world of higher-up business and political figures before “settling down.”

His youth becomes a problem when he's also the least likely to take preventative measures, doesn't have a very good sex education, and consequently ends up inevitably getting you knocked up within a fairly short time.

…Whoops.

You see his eyes go wide and he freezes up when you tell him. No, no, he's happy! He has to reassure you of this, because his face looks like he's in abject horror. It's just that... well... his parents... um, they might not be… super overjoyed about the matter… In fact, even though you offer, he insists it’s… best that you’re not there when he tells them. You can tell how nervous he is, even if he tries to act otherwise.

They’re still polite to you when you next see them, although you sense a strong disdain. You smile and try your best to talk to them, say it’s not a problem, you won’t tell anyone, you won’t cause a scandal…

But they seem almost perplexed by your words. Of course you won’t cause a scandal. Sure, people will talk a bit, but as long as the marriage is taken care of quickly, it will all be fine.

They say it very casually. As if it’s not a big deal, as if it’s expected, as if you already understood that this was the plan. You find yourself blinking, mouth open, processing what’s being said as it continues… have to get this and that prepared and arranged… make sure certain important people are aware of the occurrence… and you, make sure you’re trained in certain etiquettes to ensure you don’t cause embarrassment with your... lower-class upbringing and all.

It all goes very fast. You never get time to interject. You never get the opportunity to speak up. You might have questioned it, might have objected or tried to slow things down, but before you really get the chance, there’s someone dragging you over this way to go measure you all over, another person dragging you over somewhere else to pick out various aspects of the whole thing. It’s too much, too quickly. If you try to bring the matter up to him – if he feels like you’re about to express some kind of dissent – he changes the subject, interrupting you, talking over you, anything to avoid letting you voice your thoughts.

It all feels like a blur, and suddenly the day comes and your choices are essentially gone. You know that if you were to act up now, cause a scene, they could ruin you and your family. And his parents, at least, probably would. You know that. It keeps you quiet.

People do make comments. In fact, it becomes almost immediately obvious that everyone... knows. They all acknowledge that there's only one real reason why he'd be getting married so young, why there was such little time between the announcement and wedding itself. They think there's only one reason why nobility would marry so far down the social ladder. You see a few judgemental gazes, looking you up and down with some vague feeling of condescension, eyes occasionally fixating on your lower stomach. You hear choice words.

Some are kind. Oh, being so dedicated so young, how... sweet. There’s an edge to their voices, though, an insincerity. Most, however, are not kind even in the slightest.

…sure didn’t waste any time…

…not visible yet… probably wanted to get it done before it became too obvious…

…just some commoner, too… parents must be furious… their own fault for not raising him right…

...not a prostitute, though, right? Surely not...

If he hears it, too, he doesn’t let it show. Maybe he’s just ignoring it. Maybe he’s too happy to care. He’s too happy for you to voice anything. He’s so, so happy. The thought of taking that away makes you feel so horrible guilty. The thought of the consequences of not going along with everything… you don’t want to think about it, both out of guilt and genuine fear.

Words come out of your mouth without you really thinking about it, mechanical and rehearsed, when the time comes for you to give your affirmation. You can almost feel the consequence and weight of it, like the click of a chain locking around you as you condemn yourself. Nobility don’t get divorced, either, you know, it’s simply not how things are done. You don’t like to think about it, but you know you’ve sealed your fate permanently.

---

Perhaps surprising to see him high up on the list, but Kaeya would actually be very enthusiastic about marriage... and rushes into it. Due to his inclinations to act on those pesky subconscious abandonment issues of his, marriage is a very comforting concept.

He's one of the fastest to suggest so, too. He's actually a rather impulsive person sometimes, despite having a composed demeanor. He's made a lot of regretful decisions based on going with what he feels like in the moment without thinking it through. Alcohol significantly increases the likelihood of making such decisions, though.

Impulsive binge drinking on a week night, leading to him wasting his allotted vacation days in bed with hangovers. Impulsive unnecessary purchases, impulsive potentially dangerous decisions in battle, impulsive 3 a.m. walks through the empty streets.

And, perhaps the biggest issue, impulsively developing attachments to people to a degree that is inappropriately disproportionate to how long he's known them or how well he knows them. He's had to learn to reign that tendency in over the years, learned how to hold back in his teen years and has practiced it pretty well ever since. It gets a lot easier with time and maturity… but sometimes one can fall into old tendencies, under the right conditions. You just so happen to meet him on one of the nights where he's feeling especially depressed, self-restraint barely held together by a thread that will break with ease by you being so, so nice.

It doesn't matter if you met last night. It doesn't matter if the only conversation you have had was inebriated. He's already financially and logistically planned out the next ten to twenty years of life together in his head while you were still asleep. And added some leeway for variations based on what type of house you want or how many kids you were thinking of having, he’s not particularly picky on that matter.

He’s actually rather daring, though, in that he might as well take a chance and try something, even though he makes sure his wording could be interpretable as not serious.

Hey, you wanna get married?

He sort of chuckles after saying it, trying to make it sound like more of a lighthearted, playful joke. Just direct enough that if by some miracle you were to say yes despite having known each other for less than 24 hours, he could immediately jump at the chance, but just playful enough that if you were to laugh in response or show some sort of displeasure he could easily pull a haha, I’m kidding, I’m kidding.

He gauges your reaction and responds accordingly, most likely leading to the latter of the two possible scenarios… and a bit of hurt disappointment, although he doesn’t let it show, and tells himself he really shouldn’t have expected any different.

He takes it pretty well, actually, as he’s fairly rational on the matter and, more importantly, believes that it’s just a matter of time, he can certainly win you over.

Which he does certainly try to do. He can be patient. And he’s willing to put in a lot of effort.

That being said… the longer you go seemingly not growing attached to him as he anticipated, the more desperate he starts to become, and while he’s normally very good at hiding such things, every now and then the frustration becomes evident.

Eventually, if you’re taking too long to do exactly what he wants you to do, or gods forbid start going for someone else or otherwise try to distance yourself from him, he’ll probably just decide that kidnapping you is easier.

And at that point, not really much of a need for marriage… although in particularly spiteful moments, he may use that against you. You could have been so happy, could have done things the normal way, could have had one of those nice weddings people dream about… but this is the way you chose instead, so you have no one but yourself to blame.

---

Thoma is in a position where social expectations to be married are not nearly as big of a deal as it would be for higher ranking individuals like those above, but he still has somewhat of a public image to maintain, can’t afford scandals as it would reflect poorly on his superiors.

Not that he’s opposed to it on a personal level, no. The only reason he hasn’t asked at this point is to not drive you away. You've known each other for what, a few weeks? If he asked now, you'd probably get weirded out and break things off entirely. He certainly would after a matter of time that feels sufficient, though, as soon as he feels what he’s gauged as the socially acceptable amount of time has passed to not be rejected. Even then, a more short-term scenario wherein you bring up the matter after knowing each other a short while is an entirely different situation.

Thoma would leap at the opportunity. All things considered, even though he’s grown wise on matters of politics and exchange in the scope of his work, he’s still very, very naïve when it comes to things like romantic love. He would jump in without a second of hesitation, euphoric and overjoyed with the belief that you must really love him.

He makes a big deal out of it, too. Takes every opportunity to tell people, often more than once, to which others usually get annoyed and remind him that yes, they’re aware, he’s made sure to tell everyone he knows that he’s getting married five times already… The boundless eagerness is quite cute, really.

That being said, if you prefer something quiet and small, he’s fine with that. Or if you want something big and extravagant. He doesn’t really care! Whatever you want is what he wants.

Unless, of course, he gets this… subtle feeling like maybe you’re losing enthusiasm for it. You don’t seem as excited as you did before. Whether or not this is a genuine and accurate observation, or just him being paranoid, is up to you. Regardless, if that’s the case, well, he starts to need your reassurance. You do love him, right? You do want this, don’t you?

The first few times, you think he’s just having a normal level of insecurity that everyone has, but then it begins to grow in intensity. He starts to want more than just words. You love him, right? So you’ll gladly walk around in public holding hands. That one is, of course, easily filled, but it starts to get more intense. Perhaps a bit more uncomfortable. You’ll kiss him in front of people. You’ll spend the night as his place every night. You’ll remind him you love him. You’ll let him touch you and hold you and cum in you – even if that’s something you haven’t done together before.

It’s okay because you’re getting married anyway, right? Should you disagree, though, he might just take that as a sign of hesitation, and then he might need to take more drastic measures to ensure you remain his…

---

Albeit raised in a sort of pseudo-nobility environment (even fallen clans were still once of higher standing, and thus still preserve their typically traditional values and all), social expectation is not necessarily Kazuha's primary reason for wanting to get married. Sure, it's up there on the list of reasons, and he does have it ingrained into his mentality that it's a necessary in the long term, but more importantly, it's very practical to have a legal bind for all sorts of reasons… and, well, he just likes it.

Really, it’s just the kind of person he is. Romantic at heart, hopelessly so, sentimental and so very head-over-heels in the intensity of his affections. The concept of unity and lifelong togetherness between two individuals has been one of fixation by humanity for centuries, and with good reason, he thinks. It’s a beautiful concept in a profound, poetic sort of way.

Thus, he gets very excited on the matter and would jump at the chance. If you two actually have a mutual, shared feeling, it’s actually very cute, in addition to how overtly affectionate he is in general. He has the kind of affection people roll their eyes at, goes overboard with the pet names and constant reminders and gestures, it’s so sappy and sweet, but highly endearing.

If the sentiment is not mutual, however… well, he’s perceptive enough to sense that, and he won’t push. He knows that pushing for it will only turn you off to the idea. This applies even if you’re already in the “non-consensually dragged along with him under not-so-subtle force/threat” stage you two eventually enter (don’t want to make you resent him even more than you already do…).

So he doesn’t bring it up, but subtly tries to make certain implications, taking every opportunity he can. You struggle with some sort of legal matters when trying to cross from one nation to another, due to you not having certain necessary documentation that he didn’t exactly think of getting before dragging you away from your home.

Ah, what a headache. It would be so much easier if we could just have one set of papers. The rest left unspoken would be that, of course, in most of the nations, a married couple can have only one set that counts for both. So on and so on, little hints like that.

On another note, for the sake of social conventions and avoiding any stigma – swear that’s the only reason! – he does lie. Every time you take shelter for the night in an inn, every time you run into other travelers. Introduces himself, and then—

—and this is my wife. Gives them a soft smile as he gestures over to you.

He asks you not to get angry for him saying so. He tells you he’s just saying it because some of the innkeepers and patrons, particularly the elderly ones or ones in certain areas, wouldn’t take kindly to the two of you staying and traveling by yourselves if he were honest. Might be given judgmental glares and the like, some particularly pretentious owners might even deny you the right to stay. Besides, it’s quite the inverse when he lies – people find it so sweet, they smile and say you’re so cute together, wish you the best in your travels.

And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t also take into account the aspect of an actual contract of marriage being a legally binding force. Going back to practical purposes of marriage, being married entitles him to certain privileges… the most important of which being, that if you were to “go missing,” go running off and far away in hopes he can’t find you… well, he can always go to whatever law enforcement exists in the current nation you’re in, and they’ll help.

If he were just some random guy who claimed to know you or be a lover to you, they’d be suspicious and likely not keep him well informed. But of course they’re going to be more than willing to keep a rightfully concerned, loving husband updated as to every little detail about his missing wife. They’ll gladly tell him that someone claims to have seen you, that there’s record of you making a purchase at this place or that, and from such clues he can easily get a good idea of where you’re going, and more importantly, to be sure he knows where to intercept you. As it’s often said, marriage has little perks like that.

---

Childe would, actually, be the one to initiate, but only after a very specific point.

Not that he doesn’t like the thought of it all, he almost just kind of… forgets you’re not married. After forcefully dragging – rather, escorting you away from your home, you’ve been traveling with him and all the various attendants and grunts that travel with each Fatui mission with you, and he’s sort of just started treating you like a wife anyway.

You’re pretty sure he referred to you as “wife” to several people already. When he politely and very sweetly asked you to sign a paper so that you could get a proper passport necessary for entering some regions, after getting over your initial refusal (and warning squeeze to your thigh that told you that if you keep being a brat in front of these people you will regret it later so just sign the damn thing), he had you sign it… but made it clear to use his surname and not yours.

Complicates things legally, you see. As he’s been going about signing for this or that, reservations for places to stay and documentation for travel and the like, he may or may not have already been lying and claiming you to be a married couple on all the documents. He even specifically checked a box to indicate such a few times. And registered you as having his surname. So, uh, play along, don’t make things unnecessarily complicated.

But despite all of that, he kind of… forgets to actually get it done. In order to get married, you have to obtain it from a specific place, and different nations sometimes don’t recognize certain certificates under certain circumstances, so he thinks it’s best get one that will be recognized back home. And because, unfortunately, the one in the nation you’re currently staying in requires both of you to sign and that’s a big issue… anyway, problem is, he hasn’t gone back home yet to find someone legally authorized to do it.

By the time it becomes relevant, he’s almost forgotten he’s never actually legally married you.

But, see, he insists you meet his family. He is a family-oriented guy and it means a lot to him, so after acquiring you he's very determined on getting you to come home with him the next time he visits family... and to make sure you're compliant and broken in enough that he can trust you to be good for such a venture beforehand.

It’ll be so great! You’ll do this and that, he’ll have to show you this or that thing, meet this or that person… he spends the night before your arrival rambling on and on about it, slowly turning to quiet murmuring, until he starts to drift off to sleep, with you doing the same…

Until his eyes snap wide open, and he bolts upright in a sudden motion of alarm.

Oh no.

His parents are going to kill him.

You're not actually married!! He's mentioned you more than once in recent letters, and divulged the information that you're coming back with him. The way he worded things makes it obvious you've been spending a lot of time together, and that you're traveling together, which would obviously make it likewise evident that you’ve been… well, you know.

And, uh, he... may or may not have embellished a bit and said you were married? Like, word for word, non-interpretable any other way, specifically used the phrase “got married”? Complete with lots of details and a specific date to make it believable?

Listen, he just knew that it would make them happy, and he totally intended to do it, he just forgot! Don’t give him that look. You just have to also go along with the story he told them. It’s not like they’ll actually want to see the certificate.

…Or maybe they would… he can’t say with certainty that they wouldn’t… he can just lie, right? No, that wouldn’t work, since there would be no reason to have left it anywhere else, and they’d be pissed if he said he lost it. He definitely needs that. Oh no.

As to why it’s so important, well, it’s just one of those cultural values things. Rural area, very traditional people and all that. Word travels fast in small rural places. What would all his relatives and all the local elderly leaders and all his parents' friends think?? They’d all see it as if he had committed some kind of transgression against you.

Besides – most important of all – if you're not married, they'll disapprove of you sleeping in the same room!! They'd probably force him to sleep on the couch and let you take his bed for the entire three days and he can’t have that. If he can't whip out proof of marriage the moment he walks through his front door, he'll never hear the end of it.

This can only be resolved by getting married immediately. Good thing he has the authority to force an entire ship to make a stop in a major city for the sole purpose of dragging you out to the nearest judicial establishment. Easy. Solved. He’ll just, uh, have to grab a pen and tweak the date written on the bottom to the best of his ability.

And you, well, you just have to play along with what he tells them. Don't you dare tell them the truth. Seriously, he's begging you. Besides, now you’re really married. Isn’t that great? Sure, grabbing a paper from a courthouse in a fifteen-minute dash might not have been the ideal way you pictured your future marriage, but he’ll make sure to get you a bunch of nice stuff as a celebratory measure. Don’t ruin the joyousness of it all by getting him skinned alive by his parents. Please.

---

Bennett and Chongyun are, as you might expect, a fairly nice middle ground due to having some degree of higher patience than some and far less forceful about the matter.

Well... in some ways. They both lack the gall to be physically forceful or threatening to get you to agree to it, and that's simply not in either boy's nature anyway. Why would you want to scare someone into it? Then it wouldn't be sincere, and who would want that? Likewise, they lack any financial or social status power to pressure you into the matter.

But despite consciously wanting it to be genuine... that doesn't necessarily mean they might not subconsciously act on urges to give you a push. In both cases, they utilize family.

Bennett was also raised to value the concept of marriage, albeit not as much as wealthier, higher status families. Still, several of his fathers had advice for him, plenty had stories about how they met a wife... several more bitter individuals had cautionary tales about their ex-wives, told him to be careful. Still, he was raised to be very optimistic towards the idea.

Bennett is also rather good at emotional manipulation, whether or not he realizes it. It’s what he’s always done – you often hang around with him more than you’d really like because you feel bad for him being so disliked and avoided by others, you slept on his couch overnight because he seemed so worried about an injury and you wanted to ensure he was okay. His happy demeanor in and of itself creates an inherent guilt; you don’t really feel comfortable being alone, but he was just so excited when he invited you to go on an outing in the forest that you would have felt terrible for saying no and disappointing him…

What he ultimately ends up doing is creating an expectation that you would feel guilty for not following. See, several of his dads are older, don't have the sharpest of memories anymore, get confused on some things sometimes. One of them seemed to have gotten something mixed up and was under the impression you were already married. Oh, haha, he just laughs it off awkwardly… but later tells you not to tell him otherwise, he’s just confused is all! Don’t worry, he’ll forget the whole conversation, no big deal.

It seems to happen more and more often… almost as if they’re being fed the idea from somewhere, that leads so many of them to getting “confused.” He says he’s not sure… but it’s kinda sweet, isn’t it? Haha, they must really think it’s in your fate… or something like that, you know? He drops the topic as soon as he sees you get an odd look on your face… but brings it up again the next time it happens. And again, and again… hoping that maybe it will lead to something. If not, he can always try getting a little more direct, but this slow conditioning to the normalcy of the idea is certainly helpful even if he reaches that point.

Similarly, Chongyun’s clan family has, in the past, worried about his prospects, seeing as he has his energy-related issues and episodes. That could turn some potential partners off.

So they’re very, very excited to meet someone he has supposedly been spending a large amount of time with. He actually doesn’t have to do much of the work – he knows his family is pretty insistent on trying to persuade you, so he doesn’t have to ask them to do so or anything.

They’re so nice. You’ve never been given so many gifts by essentially strangers. You’ve never been so warmly welcomed to a new place. It’s… almost a little creepy. Still, he doesn’t make any effort to get them to stop being so forward and overbearingly eager to talk to you, so it must be normal for this family, right? Maybe they’re just naturally really affectionate.

It does strike you as odd that they seem to be talking about the future quite a bit… mentioning things that seem to be getting way too ahead of themselves, things like where you’ll live and what you’ll be doing long-term… all as if they’ve already decided that the two of you would be together in the long-term. You wouldn’t want to disappoint them, then… or so he hopes.

He’s very awkward about the matter himself, though, and get flustered just thinking about it. So likewise, he takes indirect methods of bringing the matter up. Largely things about the future, what you want out of life and all that… he listens to your answers, gauges exactly how he can best project the idea that being with him forever is the ideal way to meet those goals. And if, unfortunately, they turn out to be very antithetical to the idea of getting married in general, he will, as slowly and subtly as possible, try to steer you away from those plans and dreams and towards ones he finds more favorable.

If you still don’t give up, though, he may just be able to convince himself to take certain measures to ensure that whole career of yours or whatever doesn’t work out. And then, you’ll need someone to take care of you, right? Such is his logic. That’s just an added bonus. You’ll surely agree to it then… hopefully.

Notably, these two are also very much exemplary of being able to deter someone from worse actions with a compromise. Both could be easily persuaded that kidnapping you and invoking resentment from you is not worth the risk, not when you’ve already agreed to be married. They’re both relieved enough by your agreement to be married that it will deter them from taking any measures that might ruin the tranquil and mutual feelings between you two, so getting married is actually quite a wise choice if you prefer a legal document to... you know, any one of far worse situations you could end up in.

---

Now we get to the ones who, at least initially, actually would be against marriage.

Xiao just finds it pointless. Why would he bother to emulate humans?

It's dumb anyway. He's seen weddings, stumbled across a few happening at random over the centuries, and some people have even held weddings at the inn. He's watched them out of curiosity, hidden in a high vantage point looking down below. They have these big noisy get-togethers and eat tons of food and be loud. There's usually a part where they talk and drone on for a long time and you have to sit there and wait for it to be over. How boring. What's the point.

...No, seriously, what's the point? He's always sort of wondered. Why do they do this? You would know, you're human. He asks you with genuine curiosity.

You say something about commitment, the desire to display love to others, an act of symbolism of the bond... it ties two people together, you say.

He just looks at you with eyebrows furrowed in confusion, glazed-over eyes. Symbolic gestures are pretty much lost on him. He sees no point in getting the law involved regarding commitment, he doesn't doubt his own commitment. And you don't have a choice anyway.

What's the point in a legal document to "tie you together?" Metaphorical wording like that is so strange... how does a piece of paper "tie" you to anything? If he needed to tie you to him, it would be much more effective to just use a rope. But even so, he can't afford to be tied together, he has things he has to do. So rather than tying, just keeping you locked away in this room is better suited for your situation. A piece of paper doesn't prevent you from walking away, but a locked windowless room certainly does. His way is more effective. The humans should take note.

It's a way of showing everyone how much you love someone.

What's the point in that? Do humans truly believe that if you don't want to show your relation to someone off, it means your feelings for them are somehow less genuine? That's ridiculous.

There's social stigma if people have sex or children without being married.

Huh? Why would he care?

Eventually he just gets frustrated with any further dialogue on the matter. He has cemented in his mind that it is a pointless waste of time, like so many other human traditional practices, that they perform for reasons he will never comprehend and are most likely dumb reasons anyway. He’s perfectly content keeping you inside.

He gets frustrated the more you bring it up, staunchly refuses and insists it’s pointless. But… oh, now you’re mad at him. You’re being cold, you won’t talk to him. This has to be remedied.

When you go back later an envision the events that must have taken place after that conversation, it’s quite amusing to picture – the poor thing must have been very awkward, going into some building, having to talk to someone (and did he even know what to ask for? Or did the person have to take time to explain how the documentation process works?) but in the end, a day after you discussed the matter (while you’re still sulking and giving him a cold shoulder), he comes back with a piece of paper freshly obtained.

This is what you wanted, right? Or so he thinks. He sees it as a very simple formula wherein obtaining this thing you wanted will make you happy and love him and will fix everything. The thought that you might have wanted the whole package, so to speak, with more than just signing a legal document… well, that didn’t cross his mind. This should fix you. Come on. Sign it.

In truth, he never goes on to take it to a legal agency to certify and approve or, nor to really do anything with it, just stores it away in the inn somewhere. He just hopes it will at least win back a bit of your favor. Just love him and go back to being nice.

----

Albedo's relatively low position here is solely for a specific reason: a deadset intention of eventual confinement, and an incapacity to be deterred away from that course, from day one.

For most, kidnapping is sort of a somewhat gradual process, even for those that do it very quickly. The thought pops up a few times, they push it away out of paranoia and not wanting to accept that there's something wrong with them for thinking something so abnormal, realistic acknowledgement of potential consequences, or merely a moral compass. The vast majority who do end up kidnapping you and/or locking you inside do so spontaneously, after a specific occurrence or something that sets them off.

Likewise, as previously mentioned, a lot of the boys above who might have otherwise kidnapped you, could be placated into not doing so by marriage – after all, if you're willingly loving them, there's no need to lock you away, especially not if it could potentially upset you. They're content if they feel their affection is fully returned, or if they feel marriage alone is enough to bind you to them to a degree that is satisfactory.

He qualifies under none of those. He's one of a few who would very willingly "ruin" a fully consensual relationship through this means – keeping you hidden away is preferable to a somewhat normal life. Even if it makes you upset or resentful, even if you were fully willing to marry and stay by his side forever, that isn’t going to change anything.

There’s no guarantee you would feel that way forever, so why take the risk when he could… not? Why have to deal with the frustration of knowing you’re outside interacting with others on a daily basis when he’s not there, when he could rest assured knowing you’re locked up in a dark room for him to come back to? He simply doesn't trust you enough. It's easier to not trust you. Why leave that proverbial window of opportunity open, when you can keep it shut?

Additionally, his is much more well thought-out and determined ahead of time, rather than spontaneous or on impulse after trying to fight the urge for a while. He knows from the beginning that that is what he will eventually do, and has no reservations; it's not a 'what-if,' but a 'when.' He just takes a sufficient amount of time to plan every aspect of it before acting upon it. Consequently, the notion of legal marriage is... problematic.

After all, when a person goes missing, and that person happens to be married, who is the first person that authorities usually look towards as a suspect?

Exactly. There lies the issue.

And you, well, you are a soon-to-be missing person, even though you're certainly not currently aware of it. Having a written record that ties you to him could potentially come back to bite him. The authorities would be right to suspect him, and they’d likely find you.

If you say something about it, he just sort of goes on a quiet slow mumble-spiel against the idea. It's an arbitrary concept, you know, essentially just a social institution created for community status and taxation benefits, and by no means does it actually reflect the quality or intensity of the bond between two individuals and—blah, blah.

He’s conflicted – on one hand, it’s incredibly pleasing and makes him very happy you want that, but on the other hand, it puts him in an awkward position in which he has to essentially reject you (and feels very bad about it, wishes he could explain that it’s not that he doesn’t love you, it’s just that he loves you more than that even). He’s worried, too, that you’re hurt by what you perceive as rejection… which just means he has to hurry. So basically, bringing it up is actually just going to accelerate the speed that he executes his plans and reduce the amount of time you have left in which you see the sun regularly.

He can explain it to you later, which will hopefully make you feel better. He still loves you, you know. In fact, he still goes out of his way to go get you a ring, hoping it will make you feel better. Gets one for himself, too. The sentiment is what's important.

---

And at the very bottom, is Razor.

You would have thought that that wouldn’t be the case, based on your experience with him so far. He likes mimicking a lot of things humans do, and he does so at every opportunity when it comes to expressions of affection. The first time he saw a couple walking down the street holding hands and inquired about it – it’s because they love each other, you had said – he practically wouldn’t let go of your hand in public places from there on out.

He’s always quietly observed people, often staring out windows even while you do your own tasks, and has taken it upon himself to spontaneously recreate the things he sees. He brings you flowers (complete with dirt still hanging off the roots, crumbling all over the floor). He made you food (once, but with the resulting disaster left behind you’ve tried to steer him towards other creative outlets). He brought you (read: stole) jewelry he saw sitting on a display by one of the local stores (since no one was watching it anyway, so they must be okay with him taking it).

So you’d think he would be on board with any means to express or display affection, but as it turns out, marriage is different. He doesn't directly admit to it, he's very wary of anything involving written contracts due to his own illiteracy.

He's become less and less naive in recent days, the more he interacts with people and, well, learns just how horrible they can be. He experienced someone who caught onto his lack of monetary knowledge and effectively swindled him, there was a time you lied to him and he found out (poor thing couldn't even conceive of what a lie was prior to that), and so on. Consequently, this has made him more and more paranoid. He's come to learn what "truth" is: it's when someone says something, and what they say matches what actually happened or when the thing they say is actually the way they said it is. But when people say something, it isn't necessarily "true." Sometimes they say things that aren't true – these are "lies." It's all very confusing.

Animals don't lie. He's not used to having to consider the possibility that someone could be telling him something that isn't true. It makes him very paranoid.

Granted, Varka managed to teach him how to write his own name, so he's capable of signing things (and Miss Lisa even let him practice signing off on packages that arrived for the library!), but he would have no idea what the paper he's signing says. Sure, it can be read out loud to him, but... what if you're not telling the truth, when he asks what it means? What if there's something you leave out, like something saying you can leave him at any time? That's no good. He can’t know for sure.

And there's so many big, weird words. 'Matrimony?' 'Cherish?' ‘Fidelity?’ What does any of that mean? You can try to explain it, but you can tell by the expression on his face that it’s like talking to a brick wall.

It’s not even necessary though, right? Humans do this thing, but wolves don't do it and they're just fine. In fact, wolves stick to each other even better than humans. Wolves will stay together in their mated pairs no matter what. Humans have divorces and leave each other, so clearly, their ceremonies and rings and stuff don't actually mean anything. No point.

There’s… not really much of a point in pushing it, if you were even the one that wanted it in the first place. He’s too wary. He’ll get you things that have symbolic meaning to you – you wanted the “marriage” because you wanted this or that thing, right? He can get you that. But to actually, legally have it done, is simply not going to happen, and he just gets frustrated if you continue to try. He can’t fathom the cultural significance or importance of the matter, so to him it’s like you’re just continuously asking for something with no real meaning.

#lena's asks #i love the xq reverse shotgun wedding concept I need to make a longer post for it eventually #my beloved rich boy #tagging them all for this hhhhh #.ay #.dl #.xq #.tnr #.ky #.th #.kz #.ch #.bn #.cy #.x #.rz #.al

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