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indecisivemuch · 1 month

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The Pact

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: Seeing you yearn for a relationship and dejected over the lack of one, Luke Castellan proposes a dating pact. Little did you know, he was going to do more than just wait until the day the pact could happen (friends-to-lovers, fluff, pining, a lot of longing, lowkey jealous luke).

Note: Sort of inspired by Monica and Chandler's pact thing from Friends.

Word count: 3.4k

You were spending some time alone near the lake, trying to enjoy mid summer sunlight as well as the silence from the lack of campers and couples around. For some strange reason, the number of people dating at least tripled in the last three weeks. If you were honest, the sight of happy couples was starting to irritate you.

Your eyes glided through the lines in the novel you were reading, though you could barely get past a few pages before a degree of bitterness seeped through. You set the book down and sighed. Your head leaned against the tree behind you while shutting your eyes and furrowing your eyebrows.

Oh, if only someone could love you the same way love was portrayed in books.

Before the scowl could grow permanent on your face, you felt light finger tips setting on the crease between your eyebrows. Instead of getting scared, you remained calm. You knew immediately who it was because there was only one person who would do that. The person sat down next to you and you turned to see them already smiling at you.

To most, Luke Castellan was just the Hermes cabin counselor and best swordsman. But to you, he was a close friend and confidante. He has made it a habit to press softly against your scrunched eyebrows to prevent you from scowling further. It was somewhat sweet to you.

“What’s got you so bothered?” Luke asked, peering at you while tilting his head in a boyish manner. The look alone somehow made you blush. There was no denying that Luke was cute. You knew at least a handful of people at camp who would agree. It honestly surprised you that he was still single. Though you were somewhat relieved at that. For about a year now, you have had a little crush on the Hermes cabin counselor. It was not hard falling for his kind words and sweet actions.

“This is going to sound so stupid…” You let out a deep sigh.

“Oh, come on, since when have I judged you for being stupid?”

“Oh, so you do admit I’m stupid sometimes?”

“Yes, but is that really a problem, considering I find it endearing?” You hope he did not see the way your face heated up at his words.

Little did you know, Luke did notice it, just like he has always noticed little details about you. Knowing he was the reason behind your pink-tinted cheeks filled his heart with joy. In fact, throughout the last year, it got to the point where he would grow very bold with his flirty jokes, disguising his feelings in between them. Honestly, he was surprised you had not caught up to the truth yet.

“Okay, well, so many people have gotten together lately, and it’s got me a little bit annoyed.”

“Why?” Luke questioned.

“Because, I want that experience, you know? The teenage love thing. We already have a strange life, fighting creatures and going on quests that could kill us. I just want to at least experience an aspect of a normal teenage life,” you watched him nod and digest your words. “I didn’t want it, want it. But seeing everybody else experiencing it makes me wonder when it will be my turn, you know?” You sighed before adding, “To make matters worse, it seems like nobody is interested in me that way, so…”

Luke almost let out a chuckle of disbelief at your last remark. Oh, many Demigods found you cute. But if only you knew to look right under your nose. He has always been here. If only you could see him how he wanted you to and give him a chance.

Ever since the day Luke Castellan met you, he became a dreamer. During the night, every dream would be of you, while in the morning, he’d daydream of you until he would see you next. You filled in every thought, walking in his mind like it was your home. But even if it wasn’t your place, he’d still give you the keys without hesitation.

“So…you just want to experience teenage love?”

“Well, that, and ideally, to be loved too. I don’t just want some casual teenage love, but at the same time, I’m tired of waiting around.”

A lightbulb practically lit up inside Luke’s head as an idea popped up. The logical part of his mind was yelling that this was a bad idea, though the more chaotic side was pushing him to just give it a shot. Though, he spent little time contemplating.

“What if we make a pact? By the end of summer - so maybe in about a month - if you haven’t started dating anybody…let’s date each other,” Luke blurted out before his mind could talk him into backing out. It was stupid, and he knew it. But if that was one way to potentially date you, then so be it.

Luke’s heart squeezed when he saw you completely frozen. He started panicking. Maybe he made it too obvious, and perhaps you didn’t like him in that way and were trying to find a way to back out.

“I mean—just so the both of us could experience teenage love, you know? I think it will be great. We already get along well. We’re good friends. What could go wrong?” Luke tried in a more casual voice.

A lot could go wrong — you thought. A possible thing that could go wrong is that you would fall harder for Luke, and that feeling would absolutely destroy you when you two break up because he finally becomes genuinely interested in another girl. Or, it has you so hung up that you would confess to him, only for him to say that whatever you two had was just a pact. But Gods, your heart must actually be a fool to whisper to your brain, ‘I mean…at least you would no longer have to imagine how it would feel like to be his.’

“Sure,” you said before you could think twice about it. “Deal,” you grabbed his hand and shook it.

“Deal.”

Now…Luke just needed to do a couple more things in the meantime.

During the first week, you asked Clarisse to set you up with somebody. She introduced you to one of her friends, Dean. However, when you mentioned Dean to Luke, he clicked his tongue before warning you.

“I just think you deserve better, Y/N. I’ve known him for five years and have never seen him bring one person on a date twice. Last week alone, he went on a date with five people.” Since then, you haven’t spoken to Dean again, deciding that you don’t want to try and date a playboy.

Two weeks later, you asked this guy on a date. He came to the picnic you had set up with a bouquet of flowers. However, your smile faltered slightly when you realized they were the type of flowers you disliked. You shook the negative thoughts away. After all, it’s the effort that counts.

Things quickly went downhill as the guy started sneezing…a lot. His eyes were watering, and it seemed like he was borderline getting sick. You noticed him trying to stop sneezing. You could feel the guy trying—you really did. But the last straw broke when he turned away to sneeze mid-sentence but didn’t do it fast enough.

Three days before the day that marked the day the pact would be able to begin, you attended a party hosted by the Hermes cabin. You were honestly done with trying to find someone to date. Perhaps, this pact thing was not such a bad idea after all, even if Luke might not like you as much as you like him. But at least you knew he would treat you well.

However, your numbers must have turned because somebody had walked up to you and struck up a conversation. With similar humor, your jokes bounced off each other’s, and you almost started crying from laughing at one point.

The sound of your laughter caught the attention of the Hermes cabin counselor. Luke could feel his lips slowly curling up into a smile at the sound of your giggles and laughter. He has always found the sound so endearing.

However, when he turned his gaze over at you, his eyebrows scrunched at the sight of you conversing with another Hermes boy — Oscar, who was also one of his friends. Luke was no longer paying attention to the conversation in his circle right now. His ears were busy trying to make out what that boy was saying to make you laugh like that. However, he almost left his friends when you touched Oscar’s arm while giggling at another one of his jokes.

You always tend to physically react to Luke’s jokes, from small touches while laughing to you playfully slapping his arm at his cheekier jokes. They never fail to make the tip of his ears grow red while his cheeks match the same color. Though Luke swore he had never seen you this way with anybody else. Hence, he was less than enthusiastic at the sight of you doing the same with another guy right now.

You continued talking to Oscar, but your conversation stopped when somebody bumped into Oscar and spilled their drink onto him.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to trip…” the guy who bumped into Oscar apologized.

“Chris, it’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Oscar said, though a sigh quickly followed his words. “I’ll just go and wash the drink off, but I’ll talk to you in a bit, though?” Oscar looked at you. He smiled when you gave him a sweet nod.

“Sorry again, man,” Chris said before watching Oscar exit the cabin. He turned to you now. “So, how are you? Are you enjoying the party?” You answered Chris and started catching up with him. You and Chris met through Luke, though as the years went on you two became friends as well.

With your focus now on Chris, you did not notice the figure of the Hermes cabin counselor zooming past you two and outside, following a certain someone. However, your conversation with Chris didn’t last long because Clarisse swooped in and borrowed you from Chris.

“So, I saw you talking to Oscar. Give me the details,” she said, dragging you down to sit beside her.

“He’s great! It’s so easy to talk to him and be around him.”

“Easier than with Luke?” you gave her a warning glare. You might have told her about your little crush on Luke, though you confessed that to her out of the belief that nothing would ever happen and that it would pass soon. Fast-forward to a year later, your feelings have not changed.

“...No, but—”

“I’m telling you, Luke’s the best one for you.”

“He doesn’t like me like that.”

“If he doesn’t like you like that, he would have never made that pact with you." When you didn’t reply to her, Clarisse decided to bring something else up. “Alright, let’s move on and talk about something else then…another candidate. Dean told me you didn’t show up.”

“Show up to what?”

“He wrote you a note asking you to meet him?” the look on your face must have told Clarisse you had no idea what she was talking about. “He wanted to ask you out on a date in person after that talk you two had three weeks ago.”

“Where did he leave the note?”

“Apparently, he was planning to get me to give it to you, but he passed Luke on his way to me, who offered to give it to you.”

“Well, I never got the note. I guess it doesn’t matter anyway. Luke told me he’s quite a player.” Clarisse pondered on the information you just provided her. Dean was in no way a player. She knew he has only been on one date with another person at camp. However, the puzzle pieces quickly clicked for Clarisse and she leaned back with a smirk.

Before you could question the look on Clarisse's face, Oscar came back to the party.

“Well, if you don't mind, Oscar is back and I have a good feeling about him. So I'm going to go and talk to him,” you left Clarisse, walking in the direction Oscar did. Meanwhile, Clarisse only silently chuckled. She knew exactly what Luke was up to and it made her shook her head in amusement.

“Hey,” you touched Oscar’s arm, though the cheery grin on your face fell when he slightly flinched and shrugged your hand off. “Uhm, it’s good you got that stain off your shirt,” your eyebrows furrowed when you realized Oscar was not even making eye contact with you.

“So, tell me more about that quest you went on last year?” you asked, hoping to start a conversation again. However, Oscar quickly broke out the truth.

“Listen, you seem very lovely, but I don’t want to put myself in the middle of anything. I don’t want to cause any drama.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not the type of guy to steal girls my friends are talking to or having a thing with,” you scrunch your eyebrow in confusion. Just as you were going to question what Oscar was referring to, his eyes betrayed him and looked at someone. You followed his eyesight only to see Luke already looking at you while glancing between you and Oscar. Though realizing he had been caught, Luke looked away and back to his friends.

That was when everything made sense.

“Uh oh…” Chris’s voice snapped Luke from whatever his friends were saying. He followed his gaze to where Chris was looking, only to see you storming over.

“We need to talk,” Luke tried not to think too much about the way your hand felt on his wrist as you pulled him through the crowd and outside. As always, he blindly followed you to wherever you were taking him.

You released Luke from your grip and stood with hands on your hips. You took a deep breath.

“Are you kidding me? Have you been sabotaging me? You told me Dean plays around, but apparently he doesn’t. He also gave you a note to give to me, but you never did it. Then, Oscar, who I was getting along with, came back acting weird, wouldn’t even look me in the eye, and then told me we have a thing going on?”

Oh, Gods, you found out about what he has been doing.

“Listen…” Luke started off while rubbing his neck, though he was unsure what to say next because he was indeed guilty of every accusation you were throwing towards him. But how was he meant to trust fate that you would still be single by the time the pact would be able to come true?

So, he intervened in his own way. That included throwing away Dean’s note, having Chris spill a drink on Oscar to get the boy away from you so Luke could have a talk with him. He might have also suggested your date two weeks ago to get you flowers, despite knowing that the boy was allergic to flowers.

All he wanted to do was to make sure the pact could happen.

“Luke…why? You know I wanted this. I wanted to experience things and date someone.” You weren’t mad, but you were slightly disappointed and confused. You didn’t understand Luke’s intentions behind his actions.

However, Luke misinterpreted the look on your face. He thought you were genuinely upset, and that alone pinched Luke’s heart. He gulped at the idea that he might have disappointed you or made you sad. Screw waiting until the pact happens before confessing. What use would that be when you might somehow start hating him?

“...Maybe I wanted it to be me,” Luke confessed, watching your eyes widen. “You told me you wanted to experience teenage love and feel loved, and you’re tired of waiting until it’s your turn. But I have never told you what I want.” Luke took a step closer to you before starting.

“I want to be the one to take you on dates and give you your favorite flowers every single time. I want to be your personal hype man and be your shoulder to cry on if you ever need one. I want to sit with you by the lake while you read. I also want to read the books you read and those little annotations you make. I want to learn about the things you love and the things you don’t. I want to do things you love. I want to show and tell you just how amazing you are every single day. I want to let the feelings I have right now grow cause I really like the idea of loving you, and I want to get there someday.”

You stood there shell-shocked. This felt almost surreal, like something you read from one of your novels. You have always wished to have someone who practically walked out of a romance novel.

“I want you.”

And here he was, standing in front of you, begging for a chance to be yours.

“And I know you just want teenage love, and I could offer you that. But just know I’m also offering so much more, even if you don’t treat the pact the same way as I do and will only view it as a casual relationship. But I suggested that pact and chased all those guys away because I like you a lot, Y/N. And in hindsight, it was stupid and selfish. But I did it because I felt like it was the only way I could have you.”

“I like you too, Luke,” the words slipped out so easily like they were always meant to be said. “I want you to be my teenage love. I want you too.” You’ve been walking around asking when it would be your turn. If only you had paid attention and looked closer instead, you might have noticed he felt the same way. You wanted everything he has spoken of and be just the same for him — to be there for him and learn to love the things he does.

“And I look forward to every single one of the things you’ve told me, and be the same for you. I really can’t wait for it. However, there is one thing I really want right now,” you said as you walked closer to him, one hand taking his own into yours.

“What?” Luke rasped out, looking so tentatively at you. Gods, whatever wish that spills from your lips this second will have him scour the world for it—whatever guarantees your happiness.

“I want you to kiss me.”

Oh, you could ask him for a thousand kisses, and he would give you a million.

Luke’s cheeks grew rosy at your request. He stepped closer, tucking your hair behind your ear without breaking eye contact.

“Can I?” He whispered in a honey-like tone, and you knew right then that if he kept talking to you in that voice, you’d do absolutely anything he asked.

“Mhm,” your quiet hum granted Luke permission to his next addiction. Without hesitation, Luke attached your lips together with both hands caressing your face tenderly. In return, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled you both closer until your bodies were flushed against one another. Slowly but surely, you also tangled your fingers in his curls. Luke almost immediately melted against your touch, sighing in contentment against the kiss.

Luke was convinced this was now his new favorite thing to do. He wondered if you could taste it through the kiss—his feelings and borderline infatuation for you. Either way, he intended on making every kiss like this: wholeheartedly and as if it would be your last.

Now, if you were to ask Luke Castellan how to get the person of your dreams, here’s what he’d advise you:

Step 1. Be stupid and propose a dating pact (tick).

Step 2. Chase away every other potential candidate (tick).

Step 3. Confess (tick).

Step 4. Fulfill all those promises you have made about loving the person (To be continued...But, he’s intending to do this for as long as you’ll let him).

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#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan x you #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan #luke castellan fanfiction #pjo fic #pjo #charlie bushnell #pjo imagine #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo tv show #pjo series #fluff

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randomness-is-my-order · 4 months

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been seeing alot of discourse ensuing in the fandom about the pjo tv show and here’s the thing: there is alot of impetus about what the show didn’t get right but isn’t it absolutely amazing how much the show did get right????

yes, gabe is a bit different. yes, annabeth didn’t show percy around camp. yes, grover snitched on percy. yes, ms. dodds transforming could be a bit underwhleming.

BUT

we also have this: percy being an actual kid with sarcasm and sadness and anger and trauma. he’s not one-note. he’s just trying his best and his inner conflict is so painfully and wonderfully portrayed. grover being a nervous wreck at times but also sweet and earnest and guilt-ridden and brave in his own way. annabeth being a little girl wise beyond her years, with a stoicism that feels like something she was forced to practice and the spark of a dream driving her actions. luke being a likeable teenager with actual empathy towards percy which will drive home his fall from grace that much deeper.

chiron being a mentor figure who still makes questionable choices and can’t always say the words percy wants to hear, despite his best intentions. mr. d being an asshole who is still likeable, if only for his humor. sally jackson being a fierce mother with both tenderness and strength, who isn’t perfect but might as well be in percy’s eyes. clarisse being the unpleasant bully that she is, with all the rage and pettiness that she held within when we were first introduced to her yet with the promise of something more.

camp halfblood’s set and the cinematography deserve their own medals. they’re quite literally perfect.

soooo, where i’m getting at is this:

i don’t believe that all criticism pointing out inconsistencies with the books is just nitpicking. alot of it is well thought out and politely presented, too, and i think it’s important to point it out so the showrunners know where they went wrong and can try and rectify those errors–however small or big–in the next season. at the same time, undermining the entire show, discounting all the efforts made to remain faithful to the source material just because they strayed from a storyline that didn’t land as well as it could have–that’s a bit overblown, yes?

like it is an adaptation, not a word-by-word recreation from page to screen. of course, there will be changes because some things in a book don’t always translate well in a story told on the screen. for me, most changes aim to enhance rick’s work, not undermine it or take away from it in some misguided attempt to appeal to the larger audience like the movies did.

at the end of the day, it is very important to recognise the 90% of the show that depicted our beloved scenes from the book as faithfully as possible instead of constantly criticising the 10% of it that changed directions for a certain end goal that serves the screenwriting for a tv show. there can be balance of both praise and criticism and i’m very much in support of people pointing out genuine problems with the storytelling of the show but these conversations should also try and acknowledge the myriad of aspects in which the show excelled. like just the fact that i get to see so much of my imagination take form in front of my eyes, through a screen, with so much of the same authenticity that the pjo books are inlaid with–that’s genuinely mind-boggling to me.

#pjo tv spoilers #pjo tv series #pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo fandom #pjo #percy pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy and annabeth #walker scobell #leah jeffries

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hollyseb · 1 month

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I DO

Mob! Bucky x Reader - Forced Marriage AU

Warnings: swearing, violence, misogyny?, sexual content (MINORS DNI)

3.2k words

Summary; Bucky, a member of the mob, and the daughter of his enemy find themselves entangled in a complex relationship.

No fucking way.

Your throat tightened. The reflection in the mirror portrayed a stranger—pale complexion, vacant eyes.

“You look beautiful,” Nat reassured you, placing her steady hands on your bare shoulders, but you’d never felt so appalled. She was trying to comfort you but fell on deaf ears.

Your gaze dropped to the dress. It fits you perfectly, especially with your hair trailing down your back.

You wanted to rip it all off.

“Nat”, your voice meek, tears threatening to fall.

"I'll be by your side through it all, and if that mystery man dares to step out of line, well, a broken nose wouldn't hurt," she attempted a smile, but it faltered. Your best friend gave your shoulders a final squeeze.

Today is your wedding day.

As you found out yesterday. Yesterday. You seethed, manicured hands clenching.

“How could this happen to me, Nat?”, you asked through gritted teeth, the reality of the situation setting in.

Nat's gaze softened, her eyes filled with a sadness you couldn't bear to meet. "We both know why," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, the truth of her words like a knife to your heart. Your father's illicit dealings had finally caught up with you, dragging you into a web of deceit and manipulation from which there seemed to be no escape.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could I be so naive?

And so, you became a pawn in your father’s game. An object to be bought, owned and sold off at will.

It was all a show of power. You cross me, and I’ll rob your daughter of the rest of her life. You were nothing more than collateral damage.

———————————

As Bucky adjusted his tie in the mirror, the reflection staring back at him was that of a man with a steely resolve, a predator poised to strike. His jaw clenched with determination, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity.

“One last drink before you’re hitched?” Steve smirked, pushing a whiskey into his best friend's hand.

Bucky sent him a sharp look. “Come on Steve, you act like I'm not the one calling the shots here”, the glint in his eyes portraying a confidence that bordered on arrogance.

In a swift motion, he downed the alcohol and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His throat burned. He lavished the feeling.

“Marrying a woman you’ve never even seen?” Steve's grin widened, his tone holding a hint of scepticism.

Bucky dragged a hand down his face. “All part of the game, my friend” he responded cryptically, a flicker of anticipation glimmering in his eyes.

“You never know, pal, she might be a knockout”, Steve teased, a veiled reassurance towards his friend.

”Yeah. Fat fucking chance, as long as Pierce knows I can take everything he holds dear, I’m a happy man”

With a nod of agreement, Steve raised his glass in a silent salute. "I'll drink to that," he said.

———————

Deep breaths.

You felt nauseous.

You stepped into the aisle, honing your vision on the figure standing by the altar. He had his back to you but, he was tall, broad and masculine.

Ripping your eyes from the man and planting them on your feet. Just make it down the aisle without tipping over.

Bucky turned to face you. Holy shit. His surprise was palpable. He wasn’t expecting this. You knocked the breath from his lungs. You looked beautiful. Your dress moulded perfectly to your body, skin glowing. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

You felt a cool hand press against the small of your back.

“Hey”, a deep voice whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

A response far too casual for the situation at hand.

His hand moved to your waist, guiding you to face him and look at him. Fuck him. You knew this was a stupid, stubborn attempt to maintain some form of control, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

That was until he placed a finger under your chin, his touch surprisingly gentle. Oh. He is gorgeous. Sculpted face, baby blue eyes, pink lips. His touch was far too gentle for someone so evil.

“H-hi”, you stammered, your voice portraying the nervousness you felt.

Bucky’s smirk only widened at your response, as if he found amusement in your discomfort. It was infuriating. He was drinking in your wide eyes and aloof expression. You were so innocent. He almost felt bad for inviting you into his world. Almost.

He wanted to devour you.

”Well…aren’t you a sweet little thing”, his finger tilted your head back as he unashamedly raked his eyes over your features, with an almost predatory hunger.

You forced a sweet smile, concealing the disgust you felt at his patronising comment, “get your fucking hands off of me”, you retorted sharply.

Bucky’s smirk faltered for a moment, a flicker of surprise crossing his features, before being replaced by amusement again. “Such a filthy mouth for a pretty girl… I’ll sort that out for you”, he replied, his grip on your chin tightening.

You snarled at him, resisting the urge to clock him in his cocky face.

It was almost humorous, the way the interaction looked like a loving husband whispering sweet nothings to his wife, when it couldn’t be further from the truth.

The vows went by in a blur, all words sounding muted and unreal, until the time came to kiss the man you met half an hour ago.

Bucky couldn’t look anymore gleeful, revelling in your discomfort.

“Come on honey, I promise I’m a fantastic kisser”, he taunted, arrogance in his smirk.

You opened your mouth for a retort, but his lips landed on yours before you could protest. You hated how he was so gentle, caressing your cheek while his tongue ran across your bottom lip.

Damn it, he is a fantastic kisser.

Pulling away, you forced yourself to compose, concealing the turmoil within. He was so gentle, as if he was afraid you’d break in two at his kiss. Bucky’s touch held a power over you. You despised it, but it was overwhelming.

The reception blurred into a whirlwind of congratulatory embraces and forced smiles. Every glance from Bucky sent shivers down your spine. He was everywhere. A hand on the small of your back, an arm draped across your waist.

As the night wore on, you found yourself cornered by Bucky, his presence suffocating. His whispered promises of a future together sounded more like threats, each word tightening the knot of discomfort in your stomach.

“Is it time for that broken nose yet?” Nat whispered into your ear as you snorted at her comment, your first genuine smile all day.

“I’m ready whenever you are”, you replied, before taking her into an embrace. Her presence was a lifeline in the chaos of this ceremony.

Even after your moment of solace with Nat, Bucky's presence loomed like a dark cloud. His eyes followed your every move, logging everybody you spoke to, as he watched with an adverse gaze.

Unable to bear his suffocating presence any longer, you slipped away from the crowd, seeking refuge in the quiet solitude of the garden.

The cool night air enveloped you, offering a brief respite from the whirlwind wedding. Sitting on the wooden bench, you closed your eyes, simply focusing on breathing, before being unsurprisingly interrupted.

With a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, Bucky leaned against the stone wall, the faint glow of a cigarette illuminating his features in the darkness.

"You shouldn't be out here alone," he said, his voice low and gravelly, tinged with a hint of his streetwise charm.

"Yeah? Well, I’m fine," you replied curtly, refusing to show any vulnerability in his presence.

Bucky's smirk widened, the glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Sure you are," he said, his tone teasing. "But just in case you need a hand getting rid of any unwanted guests, you know what to say."

“Nobody’s watching here, you know? You don’t need to keep up this facade”, you replied, more angrily than you’d expected.

Bucky’s expression darkened at your accusation, a flicker of hurt crossing his features. “Facade? Come on, darlin’ you know me better than that”

”Do I?”, your voice echoed, not ready to submit to him.

He took a step closer, his movements fluid and deliberate. "Yeah, you do," he replied, his tone edgier now, devoid of its earlier teasing edge. "You think I’m doing this all for me?"

You found yourself unable to make eye contact with the mobster, “I think this is a game… where I’m being used as a pawn”, you confessed, a sadness in your voice.

Bucky was taken aback by your raw vulnerability. He lifted your chin with his forefinger, as he did in the ceremony, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were a cocktail of remorse and sincerity.

“A game? I won’t lie, doll, I’ve done things that I’m not proud of”, he swallowed hard, grappling with the actions that had led to this moment, “but I wouldn’t drag you into this twisted world simply to be a pawn”.

You fought internally, unsure of what to believe.

Bucky stepped back slightly, his eyes raking over your features as his finger drew an arc over your jaw. "I know this ain't the ideal situation for either of us," he began, his voice softer now, tinged with a hint of regret. "But we're in this together now."

Your features softened and you let yourself relax into his gentle touch. The voice in your head stressing about how dangerous this man was began to quieten. You needed this comfort.

"I want you to know," Bucky continued, his words measured yet genuine, "that I ain't gonna let anyone hurt you. Not while I'm around."

"Thank you," you murmured, the weight of the day's events finally beginning to lift from your shoulders. "I appreciate that."

Bucky offered you a small, understanding smile before gesturing toward the door leading back to the reception hall. "Come on," he said gently, "let's get back inside.”

Bucky flicked his cigarette into the darkness, the ember glowing brightly before fading into nothingness.

As the night wore on, the exhaustion of the day's events began to weigh heavily on you.

“You ready to call it a night?” Bucky asked, sweeping a stray hair behind your ear.

His eyes were fixated on yours until you replied with a simple nod.

You began saying your farewells to the guests, making sure to hug Nat especially hard. You eyed Bucky as he seemed to be having an enthralling conversation with a man you recalled being introduced to as Steve. You made a mental note to ask him about his friend.

You let Bucky guide you into his mansion, down the large halls, to the bridal suite. Everything was gorgeous, sophisticated and modern.

You hadn’t let your mind trail to what your wedding night would bring, you found yourself wondering whether he’d even stay in the same wing as you.

As you and Bucky stepped into the dimly lit room, the air was hot with anticipation, charged with the unspoken tension between you.

As you turned to face him, ready to bid him goodnight and retreat to your separate quarters, Bucky's gaze met yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, a rawness that took you by surprise.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" His voice was low, almost hesitant, betraying the confident facade he often wore. There was a hint of uncertainty in his words, a vulnerability that made your heartache.

It was a bold move, really, you both knew it. For a request you were so sure you would’ve declined earlier in the day, you found yourself taken aback.

“Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart. "Yes, you can stay."

As the door clicked shut behind Bucky, you felt anticipation in the air. His gaze lingered on you, his eyes tracing the contours of your figure with a certain hunger.

“Let me take off that wedding dress," he murmured, his words laced with desire. His eyes bore into yours, daring you to resist him, daring you to deny the attraction that pulsed between you.

Your head was spinning, the way he bounced between sincerity and domination.

For a brief moment, you hesitated, the thought of shedding the symbol of your forced marriage felt like an admission of defeat, surrendering to the forces that had brought you to this moment.

The primal hunger in Bucky’s eyes convinced you, with a hesitant nod, you faced your back to him and pulled your hair over your shoulder.

Bucky’s fingers delicately worked the fastens on your dress, his gaze transfixed on your back. You felt yourself becoming conscious, truly realising for the first time that this man was going to see you at your most vulnerable.

Sensing your apprehension, the air shifted, “you’re doing great, sweetheart”, he murmured, “Tonight, it’s just you and me”.

You eased at his words, as the fabric pooled at your feet in a cascade of silk and lace.

With a tender smile, Bucky reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek with a feather-light touch. “God, you’re beautiful”, he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

His words warmed you from the inside out. There was something more than desire in his gaze. It ignited a fire in you that threatened to consume everything in its path.

In the dim light of the room, you could see the raw hunger in Bucky's eyes, the longing that burned like a fire deep within his soul. But beneath the hardened exterior, there was a vulnerability—a longing for connection, for intimacy.

You doubted he was some sort of blushing virgin, especially with the stunt he pulled at the altar, but it was hard to believe he looked at other women like this.

“W-will you… are you going to…”, you faltered, not quite knowing how to ask him the question.

”Going to what, doll?”

“You know… it’s an arranged marriage. Are you planning to…see other women?”, you ventured, your voice hesitant, uncertain of how to broach the topic.

Bucky's gaze softened as he sensed the gravity of your words, his expression shifting from one of intensity to one of attentiveness. He reached out, gently grasping your hand in his, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand.

“I understand why you might have doubts, especially given the circumstances," he began, his voice calm and reassuring. "But I want you to know that I take this marriage seriously. This isn’t a game to me. You’re my wife".

His words carried a weight of sincerity that eased some of the tension in your chest. "I won't deny that my past may have been... adventurous," he continued with a wry smile, "but when it comes to you, I'm all in. I won't be seeing other women. You have my word."

“O-okay”, a small smile playing on your lips.

“And just so we’re clear”, he added, a playful glint in his eye, “you’re not allowed to see other men either”.

You rolled your eyes at that, your smile widening.

Bucky's eyes softened as they landed on your lips, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his own. "You've got a beautiful smile, you know," he remarked, his tone unexpectedly sincere.

As you met his gaze once more, you couldn't help but notice the way his eyes sparkled with a warmth that mirrored your own.

“Thank you," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, feeling the electricity between you intensify with each passing moment. The hunger in his eyes mirrored your own.

With a boldness you didn't know you possessed, you reach out to him, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt as you draw him closer. The air crackles with tension as your lips meet in a searing kiss, passion and need colliding in a heady rush of sensation.

His hands pulled on your hips, desperate to get you impossibly closer. Your head was spinning.

Bucky gently walked you to the bed, falling onto the sheets when your calves knocked the frame. He ate up the gasp that escaped from your lips hungrily.

“Fuck. I want to devour you”, he murmured against your lips, before taking your bottom one between his teeth. You could only gasp in response as he rolled it.

Bucky’s hands grabbed your wrists, gently placing them above your head. A stark contrast between his gentleness and dominance. His lips trailed down the curve of your neck, nipping and tucking, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You arched against him, a soft “B-Bucky” escaping your lips.

Bucky released a guttural moan as you bucked your hips into the muscular thigh positioned between your legs.

”Easy, sweetheart”, he whispered, his voice husky with desire. “I don’t want to overwhelm you”.

Bucky's hands trembled slightly as he fought to restrain his desire, the urge to lose himself in the moment almost overwhelming. His breath came in ragged gasps as he tried to control the primal urges that threatened to consume him.

His hands, which had been so commanding just moments before, now moved with a feather-light touch.

"I need to slow down," he muttered, more to himself than to you, his voice strained with effort.

You placed a gentle hand on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your touch, “we can slow down, Bucky”, you whispered reassuringly, your eyes filled with concern.

Bucky's struggle was like a battle raging within him, the conflicting desires tearing at his very core. He was used to being in control, but with you, he felt a primal urge to let go, to surrender to the passion that threatened to consume him.

But he couldn't. Not yet. Not with you.

He looked into your eyes, his own filled with gratitude and longing. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice tinged with relief. "I just want to make sure I'm not pushing you too far, too fast."

He’d never cared for the women he’d taken to bed in the past. There was something about you, an innocence he wanted to preserve, but simultaneously fuck out of you, make it his own.

“I’m okay, I promise”, you reassured him.

“No…it’s me. I want to lose myself in you but… I won’t be able to control myself. I want to do this right”, he admitted.

You caressed his face with your hand, letting a silence fall over you and your husband. He traced circles on your bare skin with his fingertips.

Bucky's arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a warm embrace, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. Feeling the weight of the day finally catching up with you, you nestled into Bucky's embrace, allowing the rhythm of his steady breathing to lull you into a peaceful slumber.

Bucky drifted into a calm sleep, the calmest he’d had in months, until the shrill ring of his phone shattered the silence. Groaning, he fumbled for the source of the disturbance, his hand eventually finding the cold metal of his cell phone on the nightstand.

"Steve?" Bucky muttered, his voice thick with sleep as he answered the call, his mind struggling to shake off the fog of slumber.

"Yeah, it's me," Steve's urgent voice crackled through the line, cutting through Bucky's drowsiness like a knife. "We got a problem”.

Bucky sent a glance to your sleeping form, the sheets pooling around your waist, with your chest lifting rhythmically.

He ran a hand down his face and groaned, not wanting to leave you. “How bad is it?”, he asked, debating whether to throw the phone at the wall.

“Bad enough”, Steve replied grimly.

——————————

Taglist!

@casa-boiardi @winterslove1917 @writingpastmybedtime @thealyrs @kandis-mom @blackhawkfanatic @scott-loki-barnes @mrsevans90 @melsunshine

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #mob bucky #mob bucky au #mob bucky x reader #mafia bucky x reader #sebastian stan

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octoberautumnbox · 3 months

Text

Discordant Waltz: Friday

Oh Sieun ICE Oh Rosi (Former IZ*ONE/Soloist Jo Yuri) & Male Reader

Categories/warnings: smut, anal, uniform, clothed sex, rough anal, uhh anal, loud sex, fuck buddy, fwb, ANAL

Word count: 1.9k

| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 (coming soon) |

a/n: Based very loosely on Friday by IU actually, but like in a really really perverted way. Also based on Hang On by Jo Yuri babygurl lol. I hope the emotions I want to portray come across well lmao

Your phone buzzed as you set it at 0% volume. The sparkly bits of the curb shone the orange sunlight into your eyes. Worried about Sieun, you resolved to be a bit early for your regular Friday "date" with her, but the loud angry voices and clanging sounds coming from within her house gave you the impression that she was… busy. At this rate, the six-pack of beer you brought for the two of you would be warm before you even see her.

You leaned back onto the side of her house, waiting for the noises to stop, fiddling with your phone, picking at the gravel beneath your shoes. It was a good spot, the one you’re sitting at, just out of view from the front door in case anyone leaves. You’re not here to intrude, just worried about your… friend. Yeah, just a friend.

Friends look out for each other, after all. They’re supposed to offer support in the times and ways their friends need them to. That’s all you’re doing, just offering support to your friend. Your friend who invites you over to her house to fuck on a weekly basis. Your friend who recently came her brains out in a school restroom with you. Your friend whose visuals while sucking your cock are burned into your mind and easily accessible whenever you need a quick release.

A voice rings loud from near their front door. You try to hide yourself more, but with such an open space, there’s not much to do. You’re sure you hear Sieun yelling, followed by a loud slam of a door and trudging steps leading away from the house.

You place your phone in your backpack and, once the coast is clear, you walk up quietly, respectfully, to the poor front door. Before your knuckles come into contact with the wood, the door swings open to reveal your friend, teary-eyed and distraught.

“Look, I– I’m fine,” she says between sobs and ragged breaths. She keeps her eyes shut and covered with her hands as she tries her best not to ruin her makeup. “There’s no reason to…”

You cut her off then and there; whatever’s bothering her can wait. The door shuts and she suddenly finds her back is shoved up against the wall and your hands on her shoulders. Your sudden attack catches her off guard, but your friend is more than willing to let your tongue into her mouth like she always does. She moans a little moan as you lick her tongue back, and she places her hands on each of your cheeks to keep you in place.

Pull away and give her some breathing room. Notice her unsteady breathing, her tears running down her cheeks. “I brought beer,” you mention casually as if you didn’t just take her breath away, “might be warm by now. Let’s drink it after.”

“I-” is all she can say before you come in for another torrid kiss. Despite a bit more hesitance from her, she welcomes your tongue back in her mouth and tries to match your energy. Run your hands down the sides of her uniform and reach the hem of her skirt. Without breaking the kiss, you open your eyes and find hers closed, with a tear forming and falling down her cheek. She must be really upset.

Thinking she must really need this, you choose not to waste any more time and grab your friend's ass through her panties under her skirt. She lets out an “ah~” when she feels you kneading the flesh of her butt and melts back into your kiss deeply. You pick her up by her behind, and her legs wrap around your waist as she gets lifted up off the ground.

You’ve done this a million times by now; you know the way from the front door to her bedroom like the back of your hand. You know it so well that it was no issue at all to carry her there without breaking the kiss. Throw her onto the mattress, forcing her bedframe to groan and creak like you’ve heard countless nights before. She looks at you expectantly, maybe a bit scared, definitely like she forgot about what was on her mind earlier. Now you’ve got her.

Your shirt leaves your body and you join her in bed, taking your royal place beside her. She captures your lips with hers again, but surprisingly just after a few seconds she pulls you down to her neck.

Thinking nothing of the new "interests" she now has, you attack her neck, gently biting and licking at her skin and causing her to groan at the feeling of you ravaging previously untouched territory. You enjoy how she feels against your lips and the sweet smell of her long hair that you’ve never been allowed to sniff before.

She brings your hand over to her thighs, and you graciously start squeezing them and feeling her soft and smooth skin. You found it weird she hasn't asked for your dick yet, but you gather she's still shaken from her earlier fight with whoever that was. Give her time to settle, but also give her the love she needs.

Feeling her thighs warming up, you inch your hand closer to her waiting core. Her legs part and allow access, and you find a large wet spot right over her sex. Pull aside the thin fabric and trace circles around her nub, bite and pull at the skin of her neck. She grows wetter by the second, and moans spill out of her mouth faster than you can rub her off.

"No marks, please…" she whimpers, obviously flustered but not yet fully needy: just a bit more.

You respond with another kiss and an attempt to insert two fingers into her leaking pussy, but she pushes your hand away.

“In my ass…” She whispers quietly to you, as if ashamed of wanting it. Your friend shifts to lie on her side and face away from you, presenting you with her pink, virgin asshole.

Never minding her choices for today, you reach for a condom and the unopened bottle of lube in her nightstand. You strip yourself of your pants and put the rubber on by yourself. You slather lube first on your erect cock, and put some on your fingers before sliding one of them into your friend's butt.

"Oh oppa, that's good…" she moans as you invade deeper and deeper into her ass. You try finding her good spots inside her tight asshole, but resolve to just get it over with and fuck her as quick as you can. Forget about how she isn’t as chatty as she typically is, forget how oppa is a nickname you’ve never heard from her before. Just forget, and make sure she remembers this, you, instead.

Steady her with a hand on her hip, grip the side of her uniform, line up your rock-hard cock with her waiting hole. Fighting back your lust for the gorgeous woman in bed with you, you give her a taste by inserting your head slowly into her. She sucks in air between her teeth and hisses her pleasure quietly.

"Mmm…" she tries to contain a loud moan you're sure she wouldn't have been able to hold back if you fucked her as hard as you usually do. Go easy, she needs to relax today.

You push your cock deeper and deeper into her despite her weak protests. She tries fighting, whispering "not too deep, please," and taking your hand from her hip to grip it hard between hers. You find it increasingly difficult to keep from plowing her as hard as you can, and the way her tight asshole stretches to take you isn't doing you any favors.

A sense of confusion creeps into your mind: you know she takes rougher than this from you all the time, but she seems to genuinely be hurting now. On the other hand, if she's hurting then she would just say your safe word and get herself some breathing room. You soldier on (you know how sick she is in the head), but take extra care not to hurt your friend too bad.

Soon after, your continued thrusts start earning her sweet moans instead. She acclimates to your cock rubbing against the insides of her ass and even starts meeting your thrusts into her. Feel her plump ass on your pelvis, admire how your friend’s skin is smooth against yours. Pull her close, never mind the wrinkles that form on the formerly clean-pressed white blazer she has on.

There’s no reason to muffle her this time, she can be as loud as she likes. She can bite and kick and scream for all you care, all you need is her to feel as good as she always does on Friday nights.

“I-I’m close…” Relish in how pliant, how willing, how submissive she is for you. How she takes you so obediently despite her pain like she knows you own her. Her eagerness and the way her insides squeeze your cock so lovingly drive you crazy. As much as you want this night to last forever, you know it’s about to end.

Fuck her faster. Make sure she feels every vein on your cock, make her yours as her throat sores with her groans.

Pound her harder. She’s pulling at her bedsheets, voice quaking, straining to keep her sanity. Her asshole clenches around you, trying to keep you all for herself.

With a final deep thrust, your orgasm hits you like a bolt of lightning. Bury your thick cock as deep as humanly possible into the woman of your dreams. Your dick twitches and sends waves of pleasure up her spine as her voice strains for higher and higher notes to match her ecstasy.

At the same time, she's forced over the edge of her sanity and falls into a purgatory of mind-numbing pleasure. She lets out stream after stream of her cum onto the sheets and mattress. Her bite marks imprint on the pillow case, as does whatever ruined makeup she was wearing.

You both come down from your highs, and you spend a minute, at most two, cuddling her. Finally, expending your energy to peek at whether she's still alert and aware, you get up and lean on your elbow only to find her eyes lazily half-shut, her breathing deep and slow, and her tongue out and resting on the pillow too.

Remind yourself: this is your friend. This isn't the woman of your dreams; it can't be. Why would you even think otherwise? What else could there be between the two of you? Nothing at all, just friends.

You make sure she's comfortable in bed, drape a blanket over her, and leave her bedroom. On your way out, you place the six-pack of beer into the fridge.

The walk back home is quiet and somber, like a shower of rain hanging in the sky that’s too stubborn to fall. Must be the post-nut clarity, but you start to wonder: why was Sieun so submissive this time? Why was she letting you kiss her neck, fuck her ass? And what the hell was that uniform?

You vaguely notice your phone vibrate at the bottom of your backpack. You reach in and fish it out, absent-mindedly unlocking it and reading your notifications.

Twenty-seven missed calls.

~~~

| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 (coming soon) |

a/n: and there you have it! if im being totally honest this was really awkward to write but i hope the anal part earns me a little bit of exp for the next time i write it. btw the emotions i wanted to portray were awkward and weird and conflicted lol. as always feedback is always welcome and i look forward your asks and dms all the time :))))

#girl group smut #kpop smut #izone smut #jo yuri smut

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bunnyabricot · 5 months

Text

Automn nights ༄ ‧₊˚

✧ pairing : max verstappen x fem!reader

✧ warning(s) : fluff, smut ; established relationship, grinding, piv, needy max and reader🤭🤭, unprotected sex, pet names (beautiful, love, good girl..), slight overstimulation, cum mention, etc etc

✧ summary : Cold nights with Max always ended up in him pressed close against your back while you listen to his warm and slow breathing tickling your ear. But tonight, you both got all worked up.

✧ words : 1.7k

✧ a/n : first work + not my first language (raahh 🦅🦅🇫🇷) be kind pls and/or give advice pls🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

***

You hummed, satisfied as your lover held you close to his chest ; Max Verstappen, the f1 driver oh so famous for his anger issues and his trouble of keeping his cool. Obviously, graciously exaggerated by the medias who wouldn’t miss for anything a chance to portray a man who doesn’t like to lose as a bad guy and go as far as giving him the nickname of "the vilain of the f1" just to sell more papers or make more views. Despite those accusations, "Mad Max" as they also like to call him, holds you gently and tenderly as if he was a 5 years old and you were his most precious and fragile treasure. Nights like these were the best and you wouldn’t trade those for anything.

Your heartbeat accelerated by your unconditional and deep love of your Max. Your smile fondly and you felt a kiss being placed in the crook of your neck which made your cheeks a tinted pink fortunately covered by the dim light of your shared bedroom. You shifted your neck and quietly giggled.

"Gosh I love you.. " you sighed under your breath.

Your partner kisses you once more as to accentuate how much you mean to him “I love you too, goodnight beautiful.” he answered.

You shift a bit trying to find a comfortable position to sleep under the comforter and the fluffy blanket above it while your boyfriend’s arm was around your waist, you were the little spoon.

Despite the warmth of your dear lover, his closeness and the way he was holding you made your mind wanders and refrained you from sleeping. You couldn’t sleep. Not when he was so hot in both ways, so close yet not enough. The way his crotch kept pressing against your back accelerates your breathing and by the time he was asking if you were alright you were already hyperventilating.

“Are you alright my love ?” he asked quite concerned and taken aback.

You bit your bottom lip and pressed yourself further onto him subconsciously. “Y-Yes don’t worry.” You were in fact not okay. Everything about him was enticing. From his innocent smile to his soft hair when you brush them delicately, to his piercing eyes and persistant character that makes you so proud but your mind so fuzzy. You brush your hand on his arm. “I’m okay, just.. go back to sleep.” You stopped yourself from acting as a horny teenager and chose instead to sleep early as a responsible adult.

Little did you know your boyfriend was everything but a responsible adult and sometimes couldn’t help himself from acting as a 17 years old boy who just got a girlfriend and wants his dick wet when it came to you.

He smirked as he finally understood why you were breathing so fast when you rubbed against him. He grips your waist tighter and kisses your neck. “Feeling needy are we ?”

The cold weather was soon forgotten when your skin was burning hot with every words Max was saying. “I-Mph..” You were going to find an excuse, or more like a lie, but Max cuts you short by rubbing his clothed core to your ass.

You shakily breathed out some air with your mouth open trying not to moan. You didn’t want to sound too desperate, moaning like that when he wasn’t even touching you properly.

He took this opportunity and put his fingers in your mouth. You obediently close your mouth around them and bite them gently.

He was caressing your body with his other free hand. From your hand, to your arm, your shoulder to finally stop at your warm chest. He pressed his hand against your breast while you were mewling with your mouth full with his fingers.

Your winter pyjamas were now too much for you to handle now that your temperature was elevating more and more. Max seemed to notice because of your cheeks rosing. He always thought the way he made you flustered easily was cute. What can you say you are so enamoured with him you can’t help it.

He kisses your neck once more. Max then shifts his position to be on top of you and he kisses you with so must lust. His tongue finding yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as you squeeze his hand, feeling overwhelmed. You could never get enough of him.

His lips press to your collarbones as he places sloppy kisses onto it. Your bite your lips but a sound escapes your mouth nonetheless. Your chest elevates with each deep breath that you take and you buck your hips in the air trying desperately to have a friction with Max’s hard on, impatient when it came to those kind of activities. Nevertheless, you tried your best to be patient for him and take what Max gives you.

Your obedience payed off when Max took your shirt off, finally relieved from the radiating heat engulfing your body. He took a moment to admire your breasts, his eyes full of hunger. He finally decided to continue his attack but now on them, sucking small hickeys and licking your sensitive buds. Your were moaning. The more he went on, the more you felt yourself leaking in your pyjama pants. Extending your arms to the brim of his top, your lifted it to take it off, wanting nothing more than to see him naked at the moment.

“Please Max, God.. give it to me.." you say while looking up to him. In this angle he looked so so hot and you think you wouldn’t mind making him your husband, or a daddy matter of fact. You just wanted him. All of him.

To accentuate your envy, you rub his hard dick with your hand on top of his pants, making agonizing slow movements. "Please..".

"Shit" he lets out while closing his eyes while frowning ever so slightly. The way you look at him with adoring eyes as if he created the world is driving him crazy. You drive him crazy.

He quickly takes off his bottom. You stare at him, he is so handsome. Yours is rapidly next as you raise your hips while your beautiful driver is removing painfully slowly your pants to tease you back. You arch your back at this action.

You are now both naked, your hot skin touching his. Your hand naturally found its place, gripping his strong shoulder as the other rests at the side of his neck.

Your lovely husband to be placed his tip at your entrance and raised his head to have your approval. You face was all the confirmation he needed but he always made sure you were feeling happy and safe with him. You nodded fervently, eager to feel him inside of you. You feel his thick cock stretching your walls and your whine loudly.

“Shh it’s okay beautiful, you’re okay. Take it like a good girl." you lover said leaning on top of your, his arms caging you.

You always loved when he called you like this. The way he was looking on top of you and how he’s calling you these sweet names makes you want to be filled with his cum.

You shut your eyes and immediately, your mouth, attracted to his like a magnet, crashes into Max’s to have a languorous kiss. You grip the back of his head and tug on his brown hair. You also hold his shoulder tighter for support.

The passion between the both of you mutters the sting in between you legs. Soon, Max starts to move and all the discomfort turns into pleasure. The way he’s made for you mentally and physically is almost disturbing.

Both of your moans are harmonising in sync with Max’s thrusts. You grip Max’s hair tightly and slightly scratch his back with your nails to attenuate your ecstasy which only earn you hard trusts from your lover in response. “A-Aaah ! Max..s too much..! ♡ ” you almost scream from pleasure. “You can do it my love. You’re so beautiful gosh..” he says short of breath from the effort but continuing his ruthless pace nonetheless. Wether it’s on tracks or in bed, Max can’t help but be fast.

He mercilessly fucks into you as he calls you sweet names. “My pretty girl”, “Fuck you’re so perfect” and even let slip a quiet “my wife..” which was mostly meant for himself.

You feel tears pricking at the corner of your eyes and you know that you’re close. With the way Max ruts inside you like a desperate man and how he sometimes clumsily slips out of you because of his mind fusing you can tell that he is too. You open your mouth and a loud moan escape it signaling that you reached your climax. “Max ! ♡” you scream his name as you cum.

He continues his pace nevertheless and you tap on his shoulder as to surrender. “Max god please please I c-can’t !” You scream still sensitive from your orgasm and overstimulated from your lover who doesn’t seem to budge at how helpless you sound. “Just a little bit more m’love..” he says, panting.

He slams into you a few times before finally plunging deeply into you and filling you with his warm cum. He gently and slowly pull out of you as he takes a deep breath. Max takes a step back to look at his art ; you looking so gorgeous as ever, his cum leaking out of your pussy, dazed eyes, messy hair, panting from your hot making love session. He could die here a happy man.

You looked up at him feeling so dearly enamoured and loyal to this man. “Max ?” You asked still high from your orgasm. “Yes beautiful ?” he answered immediately with a gentle smile. “Instead of saying under your breath during sex that I’m your wife, why don’t you officially make me a Verstappen ?” You mindlessly asked. Max was to say taken aback by your sudden question. He didn’t think much of it during the action. He didn’t even think you would hear it. It’s not that he never thought about it. In fact he’d love to make you properly his. He had this idea in mind more than you could ever guess. So obviously he smiled so fondly and laughed at how you talked about such and important subject like it’s nothing when you both look like a mess.

He approached you and passionately kissed you. You put your hand on his cheek and when you opened your eyes, you see a lovesick Max with a wide grin. “I’d love to.” He answered your pending question before cuddling you dearly for the rest of the night.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #f1 #f1 x reader #max verstappen x you #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula one #max verstappen x female reader #max verstappen fanfic #bun’s fanfics .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 🪙 ⊹₊ ⋆

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wildernessuntothemselves · 6 months

Text

Jealousy, Jealousy... | Part 7

A/N: don't even have a summary for this. oc is in love with gyu and gyu is in love with another girl but both are virgin losers and gyu is a horndog who would let oc do what she wants to him just as long as he gets to cum.

Word count: 9.8k

Genre: Smut, angst, fluff

Warnings: fem!reader, dom!reader kinda, riding, blowjob, power play, descriptions of a horror movie, inaccurate portrayal of photographers and creative directors, lots of cute moments

You’re on set with the boys shooting promotional pictures for one of their new songs that Yeonjun insisted you'd be perfect for given your affinity for all things horror. It’s called Frost and the concept for the shoot is supposed to portray guys who are hearing voices in their heads trying to drive them mad and they are attempting to fight against them before ultimately succumbing to them, and so you’re doing shots of them getting swayed by the voices contrasting with others where they express fear about what’s happening to them.

Surprisingly all the boys suit the concept well, even sweet Hyuka was doing a remarkably good job. He was doing this manic laugh and shooting you evil looks that come out really well in the pictures.

“Wow, Hyuka. These are really awesome shots.” You say, showing him the camera and he laughs. “You sound surprised.”

“I actually am. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Well, you know I’m full of surprises, baby.” He winks, flustering you. Who the hell knew he had it in him?

“Don’t flirt with my girlfriend.” Yeonjun scolds, playfully smacking him.

“I’m just messing with her. You should’ve seen the look on her face.” Hyuka laughs his piercing laugh, as mischievous as ever, and you give him an indignant chuckle. “You little shit!”

You raise your hand into a fist, pretending to threaten him, and he bolts, yelling a panicked bye over his shoulder. You shake your head, staring at his retreating form with fondness.

You’re already done with Soobin and Taehyun’s shots, both of whom did really well too, but your favorite so far you have to say is Taehyun’s. The contact lenses you have him wear coupled with his naturally very intense gaze makes it so he doesn’t need to do much to come off as intimidating.

“Is it my turn yet?” Yeonjun asks, kissing your temple.

“No, baby, I’ve saved the best for last.” You coo, never missing an opportunity to compliment him, just so you can see the shy, pleased smile on his face, and he gives you just that. “Beomgyu is next.”

“Oh, are you going to be okay?” His smile falls and concern replaces it instead, making you roll your eyes. “He’s not going to eat me.”

“No, but I’m worried about you. You haven’t really talked to him for a while. Do you want me to come oversee the shoot?”

You kinda do. You are just acting strong for him. Fake it till you make it, right? He can’t hold your hand forever. “Don’t be silly. I know you’re starving. Go eat something and I’ll call you when we’re done.”

“But–” He’s interrupted by his own stomach growling and you laugh, leaning up to kiss him. “Go eat, baby.”

“Okay. I’ll be thinking of you.” He shouts as he leaves, bringing his hands together across his chest and mimicking a heart beating.

You laugh again at his antics, but quickly stop when your gaze lands on Beomgyu. He’s sitting by himself on one of the chairs, eyes glued to his phone and blocking everything else out. You walk towards him, clearing your throat. “Beomgyu. It’s your turn.”

He sighs, pocketing his phone and following you silently. You show him where he needs to stand before getting behind the camera.

“Beomgyu, I want you to lean onto the mirror and look into it, smiling menacingly as if you’re taunting your reflection. We’ll do another one after that of you looking terrified as if you’re trapped in the mirror. So you should play off that. Got it?”

He nods, resting his arm above the mirror and leaning forward, staring at himself with a smile.

“Okay, that’s not really what I’m going for. I’m not feeling any chills. I want a piercing gaze and a crazed smile. Try to have your mouth open as if you’re panting, like you’ve just won a fight. Don’t furrow your eyebrows and don’t tense up your shoulders.”

Beomgyu tries again, leaning his head down so he’s glaring up at the mirror and puts on a lopsided smirk. But you’re still not feeling it.

“You’re putting on an act, Beomgyu. I can see you thinking. I want you to really believe it. Wait.” You walk towards him, reaching up to fix his hair in the way you want. Or more like make it more messy and unhinged. “Let’s just push this over your eyes like this…”

You’re so used to doing this, you don’t even think about it, messing with his hair and making his makeup more smudged, streaking his eyeshadow here and blotting his lipstick there. It’s only when you’re done and realize he has been staring at you that you quickly step back. “There, all good.”

You try again and again with him, but none of the pictures come out like what you had in mind. You don’t get it. He’s usually much better than this. You’ve done plenty of shoots with him before, and he has never given you this much trouble. You keep trying to instruct him but his head doesn’t seem to be in it, too distracted by something else.

Normally, you’d ask him what he’s thinking about that got him so out of it but you don’t think you can. Things are too awkward for you and him right now and you’re not sure if opening that can of worms here is the best idea, which all just makes you even more frustrated.

“Beomgyu, the concept is mad not sad.” You sigh, annoyed after what must be the hundredth bad shot.

“Well, maybe if you gave better directions I would know what to do.” He snaps back, irritating you further. Beomgyu has never criticized your skills before and you don’t exactly take it well, the remark hurting more that it’s coming from him. He has always been a wall of unbending support for you so for him to call you out like this causes cracks in the very foundation of your sense of self worth.

“If my direction was bad then how come all the others had no problem following it?” You hiss, getting defensive to cover the cracks up, but you quickly back down when you see him opening his mouth to retaliate. You’re not going to get into it with Beomgyu right now. You’re at work. You can’t ruin this for yourself.

“Forget it. You’ve already wasted so much time. I’ll get around to you later.” You shut him down and walk off, not giving him the chance to argue.

Were you being short with him? Maybe, but you’ve wanted an opportunity like this for a long time and you were doing so well before him. You need to prove yourself. The boys are gaining more attention every day and this shoot could be really good for your career.

You also have a more personal reason to be snappy with him. After all, he has been avoiding you ever since you’ve admitted that you’ve slept the night with Yeonjun and you’re fucking bitter about that. You don’t understand why he’s acting this way and it’s driving you up the wall. You can take the pain of him not loving you back. You can take the pain of him getting angry at you for stupid reasons. But to ignore you? That you can't bear.

______________________________________

“Yeonjun, I need you to look more sharp. I want you to look at the camera as if you’re going to devour it. Don’t look so sweet. And move your right arm up like this.” You instruct him and he follows your lead flawlessly, so different from Beomgyu, and it slowly eases your nerves and allows you to get back in the mood.

“Good. Keep your head down and look up at the camera with your eyes. Smile a little, no, not too much. We want you to look crazy, but not funny crazy.”

He laughs at that, offended. “Hey!”

You snap a couple of pictures of him laughing. You know, just for your own personal collection. “Sorry, babe. There is such a thing as overdoing it.”

He pouts, acting sulky, and you take pictures of that too.

“What are you doing?” He raises an eyebrow and you blush. “Doing my job?”

“Those pictures would never make it as promotional pictures and you know it.” He calls your bluff and you shrug. “They can make it as my lock screen though.”

“I knew it. You’re so down bad for me.” He laughs and you scowl at him. “Shut up. Be professional.” You demand as if you weren’t using paid time to take pictures of your boyfriend for your own personal use.

“Yes, ma’am.” He salutes you, “Do you think I could play the song on my phone? It might help me get more into the character.”

“Sure, if you think it will help.”

He pulls out his phone and plays the song, closing his eyes for a second like he does before doing a dance routine, Kai’s manic laugh from the song ringing around the room before Yeonjun opens his eyes and looks at you, completely transforming in front of you.

“That’s really good. Keep going.” You encourage. You don’t even have to give him much direction after that, he does it on his own. You just give little modifications here and there but he’s embodying this concept so well by himself.

“Really lost my mind. Really, really, really lost it.” He mouths the words, pressing two fingers to his head in a trigger motion before rolling his head around.

“Remember to look at the camera, baby. Not all the time, I want some shots of you looking away so it seems I’ve caught you in the middle of it.” You keep shooting him, getting in different positions and angles to get the best shots as he gets into the music, channeling the darkness of it through him.

“Now, I want you to snap out of it. Look around as if you’re trying to find the source of the voice.” You instruct and he does it as if a switch had been flipped. He has such a talent for this. “Grab your head and stumble around a bit as if you’re losing your balance. Good.”

“Now look at the camera.” He looks up at you, eyes wide and filled with fear. You take a few shots before you lower the camera down. “Wow, baby, you did amazing. You’re such a good model.” You praise him and he gives you a lovely smile, completely changing his vibe once again and turning into the sweet boy that only you get to see.

You smirk, grabbing his chin and making him look at you. “Does someone like being told he’s a good boy?”

His breath hitches and his smile falls. Shit. You forgot that this is Yeonjun, not Beomgyu. He’s probably not into this. You let go of his chin and step away, an apology on your tongue, but he pulls you back, kissing you. “I do like it. Maybe when we’re done you can show me how much of a good boy I am?”

Relief soothes your racing heart and you reach up to run your hand through his hair, tugging on the bright orange mess. “Only if you behave.” You brush your lips over his neck, making him shiver.

“Guys, really? We have children present.” Soobin complains, pointing to Kai.

“Hey, I’m not a child!” Kai protests in turn, “But I’ll agree to act like a child if it will get those two to stop. Seriously you’re worse than Beomgyu and Haeun."

That last remark makes your face drop real quick. You're lucky Haeun was too busy to come to the shoot today. With how stressed you are, you might've snapped at her and Beomgyu and made a huge scene. You already almost did it with Beomgyu. You’re sure if she was here, you would’ve lost your cool.

“Sorry, guys.” You step away from Yeonjun, clearing your throat. You look at Beomgyu to see him staring right at you and Yeonjun, and if looks could kill, you and Yeonjun would be dead now… wait that’s it! That’s the look you want from him.

“Beomgyu, come with me. I think we can do your shots now.” You motion to him quickly, and Yeonjun gives you a confused look.

“He’s got the look I want from him. Be right back.” You explain to Yeonjun, getting up on your toes and giving him a quick kiss, partly because you love kissing Yeonjun’s plump lips and partly to annoy Beomgyu further and get him more mad in order to get the pictures you want.

___________________________

Things go much more smoothly this time. Beomgyu was giving you just the look you wanted, glaring at you like he actually wants to pounce on you. It’s great for the shoot, but bad for your heart.

“Now give me a smile.” You say and his lips move ever so slightly, shaped into a weird distorted smile that is so tense, it looks like it might snap into a snarl any second now. It’s the exact vibe you were going for and you didn’t even have to instruct him to do it. It was almost too spot on.

“Perfect. Now grab your neck as if you’re trying to claw something out, like you can’t breathe.” Even that he does perfectly, fingers digging into his neck as if he’s not worried about his well-being at all. He’s doing it so well that you only take a few snaps before stepping in to quickly stop him.

“Okay, that’s enough. We’re done here.” You can’t help but walk towards him, pulling his hand off his neck and inspecting the little marks he made there, smoothing your thumb over them as if you could make them go away.

“What, I don’t get a good boy?” He asks and you snap out of your worried daze, stepping back.

“Beomgyu…” You warn, annoyed at yourself for slipping. “Don’t start now.”

“I guess he’s your muse now.” He mutters, looking away, and you follow his gaze to see Yeonjun looking at you.

Is he? Yeonjun is a natural model–he has proven that today–while Beomgyu requires more prompting. Yeonjun is intense and chic while Beomgyu is ethereal and melancholic.They’re completely different from one another. Can you really compare them?

You guess that’s a lie. Yeonjun can embody whatever concept you give him, but Beomgyu inspires you to make new concepts. He’ll always be your muse.

You don’t tell him that though. It would only cause trouble. Instead, you deflect, “We need to do the group shoot now.”

You gather all the boys in one spot, posing them every which way you want, instructing them on where to look, how to stand and what expression to make. It’s a bit overwhelming making sure that they all look good at once, but you’ll have to get used to this if you wanna make a career out of it.

You’re almost done with the shoot and you’re so proud of how all of you have done so far. You just need a couple more pictures and that’s it.

“Soobin, look to the side and tilt your head a little to the right. No more. More. A little less. Yes, perfect! The rest of you stay like you are.” You take a few pictures like this, before you call out again, “Baby, look at the camera”

When you say that, both Yeonjun and Beomgyu turn their heads to face you, and an awkward moment of silence passes before you stutter, “Yeonjun… I mean. Look at the camera, Yeonjun.”

“Awkward…” Hyuka sings and Taehyun elbows him in the stomach.

You brush right past it, pretending that it didn’t even happen. Though your stammering and blushing doesn’t fool anyone. Thankfully though, it’s all over soon.

“Okay, boys, that’s it. We’re done!” You cheer, exhausted but happy and confident that you’ve gotten all the pictures you needed. “Anyone want to see some of the photos?”

They all gather to look at them with varying degrees of enthusiasm. As you scroll through the pictures, they oh and ah at their own shots while making fun of the others for any awkward ones. You expected nothing less from them.

“Hey, how come your boyfriend got all the best shots?” Soobin grumbles, and you roll your eyes. “He got all the good shots because he posed the best out of all of you.”

“Bullshit.” Taehyun interjects and Hyuka agrees, “Nepotism is what it is.”

“Shut up, Kai. That’s not even what nepotism means.”

“Oh yeah, then how come you gave him the best set and accessories?” He challenges and Yeonjun wraps his arm around you, “So what if she favors me? Are any of you giving it to her good every night? I don’t think so.” Yeonjun boasts, making you blush deeply.

Whatever reply you were going to make gets cut off by Beomgyu slamming his drink down and storming off.

“Someone’s in a pissy mood.” Taehyun mutters and Kai adds, “Probably pissed off that all the good shots went to the photographer’s boyfriend.”

“Drop it, Kai.” Yeonjun snaps and the younger guy raises his hands up in surrender.

“Ignore them, baby. I think all the shots are stunning.” Yeonjun says, holding you.

“You really think so?”

He nods, rubbing your arms soothingly, before grinning. “But mine are the best, of course.”

“You’re all assholes.” You grumble, pushing him away but inside you’re thankful he diffused the awkward situation.

“Let me make it up to you. You wanna grab something to eat? I’ll buy you your favorite fried crap.” He offers and you clap, excited. “Oh, yum!"

“Can I come too, baby?” Kai asks, making kissy faces at you before running away as Yeonjun takes off his shoe and throws it at him.

_________________________

“Junnie?” You call out and he blinks, looking up at you. “Are you okay? You’ve been quiet for a while now.”

“I’m just a bit worried.” He sighs, making you frown. “About what?”

“I think we’re really close to being signed. We’re having promising talks with a couple of record companies and the whole process is really stressed out.”

“But isn’t it a good thing?” You ask, confused. Didn’t the boys want to be signed for a long time? Is he having second thoughts?

“It is, but we all know the stories of artists getting scammed by companies and having their masters stolen, or having their creativity stifled by the execs, or losing their sound… as the front man I really wanna make sure to do this right. I don’t want to let my members down.”

“Oh, Junnie, I know you’ll do your best.” You reach out to grab his hand, squeezing in comfortingly. He’s such a good hyung to his members, always so reliable and trying to make everything easier for them so they don’t have to stress like him. “But you can’t put all of this on your shoulders only. The boys need to contribute to the decision too. After all, it’s their future too.”

“I know but it really bums them out thinking about all this. They’re here for the music, you know? Not the corporate dance.”

“Neither are you. They’re big boys. They can handle it. They need to do this too. They need to take on part of the responsibility.” Your hand moves up his arm, stroking it. It’s not fair for him to take on all this burden by himself. Besides, it’s not good in the long run. The boys need to make a joint decision or conflict and blame could arise later. “I can’t have you losing your hair over this. I don’t really like bald guys.”

Yeonjun gives you a betrayed look. “Hey! Are you saying you won’t be with me if I was bald?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” You confirm and he scoffs, pretending to be offended. “You’re so fake.”

“Probably. But I took your mind off it for a second there.” You tease, using the same trick he used on you when you were crying.

“I think you’re gonna need to do a lot more to take my mind off it.” He tells you suggestively and you roll your eyes.

“Eat your heart attack-inducing food first, then we’ll talk.”

He grabs a drumstick and bites off a piece of it like he’s in a cartoon, making you burst out laughing.

"You know what I noticed?" He asks after chewing his food, and you hum in acknowledgement, prompting him to go on, "Your style has changed since we've started dating. It's become edgier and more trendy. If I didn't know any better I'd say you were trying to impress me."

You blush, feeling caught. "Good thing you know better then."

"Well, since I know better, I won't say that I would find it really cute if you were trying to impress me or that it would make me feel really special."

"Well, if I were doing it to impress you, it would be because you're really special.” You say sincerely, looking him right in the eyes, before shrugging, “Luckily, this is all hypothetical."

You continue to stare at him as he laughs.

“What?” He asks, and you tell him, "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?" He gives you a confused look.

"Laughing in that adorable way that makes your nose scrunch up and makes me wanna tackle you to the ground and kiss you all over your stupid face."

What happens next is so groundbreaking, you almost can't believe your eyes. You actually make him blush. And your stupid heart that has been beating non-stop for Beomgyu, falters in its incessant pace a second to let Yeonjun in.

___________________________

It’s going good with Yeonjun. Despite the flirty and confident persona he portrays for his fans, behind closed doors he’s shown you many sweet and shy moments. He’s attentive to you despite how busy he is with his career and his clear passion for music. And he’s really, really sexy.

Yes, his flirtiness can make you feel insecure sometimes and it does make you wonder if he’ll get sick of you one day and jump to someone prettier and new like guys in a band so often do, but you think you could overcome that feeling with time. You’re just being insecure. It’s part of his job. He’s not actually this cocky playboy. He has to act that way to bring in the fans.

Except he kind of is a playboy. He has dated many other girls before you and he has broken up with all of them. Who is to say that that won’t happen to you too soon? Who knows when he’ll get sick of you? Maybe he’s just waiting to scope out his next girlfriend before breaking up with you.

No, you’re being paranoid. He’s just entertaining his fans. It means nothing. Just because he dated a lot before you, doesn’t mean you’re just another notch on his belt. This doesn’t mean anything, especially not his innocuous interactions with his fans.

Yeah, you’re not bothered at all watching him deliver not-so-subtle pick up lines to his horde of fangirls and watching them giggle and swoon over him. You don’t care that he lets them touch him and hug him. You don’t even notice the panties they throw on stage for him or that they ask him to sign their bras. It’s all good.

“You okay, doll?” Yeonjun throws his arm around you, nudging you.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t let me keep you from your girlfriends.” You mutter, pushing his arm off, and storming off. Okay, maybe you are a little bothered.

You hear footsteps behind you and quicken your pace but he catches up to you eventually. Damn his long legs. “Hey, hey, what was all that about?”

“This may come as a shock to you but I don’t exactly enjoy you flirting with other women.” You grit, your anger bubbling up in your stomach and forming acid around your bitter words.

“You know I’m just doing my job.” He defends himself and you scoff. “Your job is singing. Not getting their panties wet.”

“That is still part of the job. You think all those successful bands don’t get where they are by appealing to the fangirls? You really think it’s just about the music?” He may have a point but that doesn’t make you feel any better about his behavior. At the end of the day he is still acting inappropriately around girls who aren’t his girlfriend. “No, you’re right. I’m sorry. Want me to go invite some of them back to your room for some quality fanservice?”

He laughs at that, and it’s far from the sweet laugh you adore. “You have no right to act jealous. Not when I have to watch you everyday staring longingly at your best friend. Your best friend who you live with and have messed around with before by the way. How do I know you won’t fall to your knees the moment he asks you to suck him off?”

"Fuck you, Yeonjun." You tear up at the unexpected attack, and turn around to leave. You can't believe he is throwing this in your face.

“Wait. I’m sorry.” He holds you back, brushing your hair away from your face and seeing the tears budding in your eyes. “I don’t mean to be an asshole. I know you don’t like the way I act but it’s my job. My livelihood depends on it. I’m not doing it just for fun. You know that.”

You look away, conflicted. Yes, you do know but that doesn’t make it suck any less. “Do you have to let it go that far though?” You pout, images of your boyfriend with his arm around random girls or letting them touch his face or hold his hand flashing behind your eyelids.

“I will try to tone it down.” He concedes and you finally look at him. “No letting them kiss you?”

“No.”

“No sexual innuendos?”

“No.”

“No signing their bras?”

“So just their breasts?”

You go to leave but he pulls you back flush against his body. “I’m kidding.” He kisses you and you reluctantly let yourself fall into the kiss. God, why do you pick the hardest boys to love?

Speaking of which…

“And I’m sorry for what I said about Beomgyu. I trust in you not to do that just as you trust in me not to cheat. But I’m not sorry about the part where I don’t like you living together.”

“What?” Your frown. What is he trying to say?

“You’re in love with the guy. Living with him won’t allow you to move on. You need to move away from him to let us move on.” He clarifies, not really making it easier for your brain to compute.

“Oh."

"We can never move forward in our relationship if you're holding onto him." He presses, seeing your resistance to his words. “Come live with me. Leave whatever this thing you have with him in the past and take the next step with me.”

"But he's my best friend. We promised each other we'd stay together." You say as if that means anything to him, and the look he gives you is what an adult would give to a naive child thinking their family pet really went to live on a farm. "Are you going to live together even when both of you are married?"

"No. But it's too fast. He's so freaked out about everything changing. This is gonna send him into a breakdown." You resist still, maybe because some of what you’re saying applies to you too. You’re not sure if you’re ready to do this.

"Don't you think that's a little weird?” Yeonjun challenges your statement, forcing you to examine your unusual situation with Beomgyu for the first time. “You two have an unhealthy attachment to each other. You’re not together and believe me no boyfriend or girlfriend is gonna tolerate how you two are acting. I know I can't."

But you can’t think about it too deeply right now, not on the spot like this, not when there is a plain threat in his words. "Are you giving me an ultimatum?"

"No. I'm just asking you to set some boundaries."

Is that the same thing? You sigh. "Can you… just give me some time to think it through?"

Yeonjun doesn’t like that. "You know I'm right."

"Please."

What he’s asking you is huge. With how Beomgyu isn’t talking to you, moving out of the apartment might spell complete doom to your friendship, and you don’t know if you are ready to risk that yet. Maybe you can work it out while still living with Beomgyu. Maybe you can find a way to move forward with Yeonjun while still retaining your friendship with Beomgyu.

"Fine." Yeonjun backs down for now, but this is clearly not the end of it.

____________________

When you get home, you find a strange surprise waiting for you… A pillow fort?

"What's this?" You ask Beomgyu suspiciously and he beams at you, pulling you towards the structure he made. "Come on in. Come on in!"

You let him take you inside with him, seeing it lined with pillows and soft fuzzy blankets and all kinds of snacks you could ever need. The only light illuminating the inside coming from the small laptop filled with movies for you to watch.

"What's all this for?" You ask, very confused at the sudden change in his attitude. What has gotten into him?

"Well, I know I've been an ass–"

You don't mean to snort but you can’t help it–interrupting him–and he shoots you glare, albeit a playful one.

"I know I've been an asshole," He repeats, not deterred. "But I was worried about what Yeonjun was gonna do to you and I was frustrated you weren’t listening to me. I’ve seen him blow through girlfriends many times before–maybe not in a way that is meant to intentionally hurt them but he just doesn’t seem to be ready for something serious yet. It always seemed like the girls were way more into him than he was into them and that eventually leads to the relationship breaking down and the girls getting hurt and I didn’t want that to happen to you. I didn’t want you to get hurt like that.”

His words echo your own doubts. You’ve been wondering about this exact yourself. Yeonjun is great. He’s fun and sweet and he makes you smile, but if you let yourself fall for him, will he be able to love you too?

Is that even a fair question to ask? Doesn’t everyone go into relationships not knowing if the other person will end up liking them the same amount? And can you really be the one wondering about this when you’re the one in love with your best friend?

You don’t say anything though, just letting Beomgyu continue, curious about where he is going with this. “But in my attempt to try to prevent that I've stupidly gone and hurt you myself. I got angry and vindictive and I lost sight of what I was trying to do… I also was being selfish because I didn’t want to lose you to him. I’m so used to it just being the two of us and it made me a little jealous that suddenly he’s taking all your time and attention. I used to be your number one guy.”

You look at his pout, trying miserably to fight down the tears his words are springing up. He is still your number one. That’s the problem.

“You said all of this already.” You say quietly, looking down and trying to hide your glossy eyes from him.

“I know, but what I didn’t say is that I don't know if Yeonjun will stay like this forever or if he's going to break your heart and force me to cut his balls off, but I wanna be there regardless.” He proclaims, sounding exactly like the best friend you terribly missed, the obvious joke not taking away from the seriousness of what he’s saying. “I don’t want to lose you over this. I want us to go back to how we were before all this mess. Do you think we can do that?"

You look up at him, his pretty face shimmering and swimming around in your tearful vision, making his already ethereal features appear celestial. He looks at you as if you could ever deny his request. How can you ever say no to him?

"Yes, Beommie." You finally say, letting the tears fall.

"Hey, hey…" He coos, grabbing your face and kissing your tears away. "Don't cry. You know seeing you cry will just make me cry too."

“I can’t help it. I missed you, you idiot.” You wail, and he pulls you into his arms, rocking you back and forth and rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“I missed you too. So much. You don’t even know.” You hear his voice falter and you know he’s crying too.

You stay there for a while–you don’t know how long–until you and him have calmed down enough to be able to string together words again. He’s the first to pull back, but only so he can look you in the eyes.

“You look so pretty when you cry.” He whispers, wiping your tears away and you cover the way your heart skips a beat at that with a cough, pushing him away to give yourself room to breathe in something that isn’t him.

“Shut up.” You mumble, wiping your tears away with your sleeve before looking around awkwardly, trying to change the subject. “So what movies do you have for us?"

Thankfully, Beomgyu follows your lead. "Top gun of course!'

You groan.

"I'm kidding. I'm kidding. I got you one of those foreign horror movies you love so much." He shows you that he chose a French movie called Martyrs.

"Aw, you really do love me." You exclaim, covering your heart with your hand.

“I know. I’m an idiot, aren’t I?” He mutters, sitting down and motioning for you to do the same. You sit down next to him, leaving a small gap between you.

“Hey, what are you doing?” He asks, and you look at him in confusion. He rolls his eyes and opens his arms to you. “You can’t have Movies and Cuddles Monday without the cuddles.”

You hesitate for a second, wondering if you really should do this. Is this too intimate? Would this be considered cheating on Yeonjun?

No, you’re being ridiculous. People cuddle with their best friends all the time. You can do that.

“Right.” You get into his embrace, and he holds in in both arms.

“Okay, let’s start the massacre.”

_____________________________

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” Beomgyu groans, burying his face in your neck as screen shows the main lead being flayed alive.

“Well, don’t do it on me!” You squeak, trying to pull away to hide the goosebumps that have erupted on your skin when his lips brush against you, but he’s holding onto you too tightly. “Don’t go. You made me see this. I’m traumatized.”

“You’re the one who picked the movie.”

“Because I wanted to satisfy your blood thirst.” He mumbles and you laugh. “I don’t even like gore. I prefer the subtly creepy.”

“Yeah like that game you like where the character takes a pill and entrails fall from the sky.”

“Hey, entrails can be subtle.” You grumble, relaxing back in his arms. “Now shut up. I wanna see the ending.”

Beomgyu sits in silence, holding onto you tightly as the character called Mademoiselle leans over the flayed woman to hear what she has to say after achieving martyrdom. You watch with bated breath, not feeling any of the anxiety you’re supposed to feel as the cult members ask the Mademoiselle what the main character told her–too relaxed with the way Beomgyu massages your scalp with his fingers. If you were a cat, you’d be purring right now.

Even Beomgyu keeps his mouth shut as the Mademoiselle grabs a gun and shoots herself, taking the secret with her to the grave–the both of you seeming to be in a trance. It’s only when the credits roll does he speak up.

“I can’t believe they didn’t tell us the secret to the afterlife.” Beomgyu complains softly, not making any move to disentangle you from his arms,and neither do you.

“Yeah right, like they would tell us the secret to the afterlife.” You snort at your naive friend, “Besides the movie isn’t about that.”

“Yeah, and what is it about, genius?” He challenges.

“Um, it’s clearly about the exploitation of the working class so the rich can achieve knowledge and even more power–no it’s about the exploitation of women of the working class.”

“You just pulled that out of your ass.”

“Maybe. But that could be right.” You shrug, your shoulder once again brushing against his lips. “Do you have a better theory, idiot?”

“Yeah, my theory is that the director just wanted to make the most disgusting movie possible and made up this whole martyrdom story to justify the torture inflicted on the characters, and that’s why he couldn’t come up with an actual answer to what happens after death.”

“Maybe that’s the point. We were never meant to know the answer. Knowing the answer renders life and its struggles meaningless. That’s why the Mademoiselle killed herself.”

“Or maybe Anna told her a lie that she knew would fuck her up and get her to kill herself. Perfect revenge.”

“That doesn’t make sense. At the start of the movie we see that when Lucy got revenge on one of the families, it still wouldn’t make her guilt go away so clearly the movie views revenge as a non-viable option.”

“Hey, when did you become so smart? I thought Movies and Cuddles Monday was supposed to be about mindless consumption of media and making stupid jokes about plots we’re not smart enough to comprehend.” He looks at you in suspicion and you meekly answer, “I may possibly have started reading some books–”

He gasps. “Books? Dear lord, save us.”

“You’re just worried you’ll stay the only dumb one.” You poke his nose teasingly and he tries to bite your finger, making you withdraw it with a giggle.

“Doesn’t matter. Smarts are for ugly people. I’m too pretty.”

You smile fondly. “Yes, you are.”

He wraps his arms around you even tighter, letting out a small contented hum as the credits roll, neither of you moving to start another movie or turn off the computer. How can you when it makes you feel so safe and content, like you could want for nothing else in the world as he strokes your hair with one hand and your arm with the other.

Every emotion you've been working so hard to smother comes roaring back. And you realize that you and Beomgyu are not just friends. Probably can never be just friends. This is why Yeonjun insisted you move out. You can't be this close to Beomgyu without falling back into your old habits. If you wanna give Yeonjun an honest chance, you need to get some space.

“Beomgyu… do you ever think about living with Haeun?”

He frowns. “Why? Did she say anything to you?” You almost laugh at his look of terror. Almost. If you weren’t so terrified of what you have to say to him.

"Yeah she told me on one of our weekly get togethers." You snort, then hesitate. “It’s just… Yeonjun wants me to move in with him.”

He pulls away from you, face hardening, and your body is suddenly left defenseless against the cold chill in the air. "What did you tell him?"

You want to tell him that you said No. You want him to take you back in his arms. Even if he doesn’t love you back, this can be enough for you, right? "I said I'd think about it."

"Think about what? This is way too soon. You can't just move in with him. What if you break up? Then you'd be left homeless because you were so stupid as to move in with a guy you've only been dating a few months."

His anger is like lashings to your cold skin. Why does he keep doing this to you, making you let your guard down before attacking you once more? Does he not know how hard this is for you too? "Beomgyu, you said you weren't going to be an asshole anymore."

"I just don't understand why you'd do something like that." His frustration is palpable. He is looking at you as if you’re just doing this to hurt him.

"Because Yeonjun doesn't like me living with you after we messed around."

You shouldn't have said that. That just makes him angrier. "And you’re just going to do whatever he tells you to do? Are you one of those girls who does everything her boyfriend tells her?"

His accusation pisses you off. He’s treating you like you’ve committed a crime for wanting to move forward with your boyfriend. "No, but he has a right to be weirded out by us living together. I know I wouldn't be happy about him living with a girl he hooked up with."

"Oh yeah, and what's next? He's too weirded out by us hanging out? Talking? Looking at each other?"

"You're being overdramatic."

"Am I?" He shouts, “This is why I didn’t want you to date him. He is taking you from me.”

The fucking audacity for him to say this as if he hasn’t been terrible to you ever since you started even expressing interest in Yeonjun. This would never have happened if he had been an actual goddamn friend to you.

“He isn’t taking me from you. You’re pushing me away.”

“You know he’s only going to hurt you?” He says, hitting you right where it hurts. It’s one thing for you to doubt your relationship with Yeonjun, but it’s another thing entirely for your friend and his to keep telling you that it’s never gonna last.

Does he really have no faith in you? Does he not think you’re pretty enough, good enough to keep yeonjun’s attention? Does he think it’s impossible for Yeonjun to actually love you?

You start tearing up again. "Why are you being like this?"

“Because it’s what he is. You’re making a huge mistake. You're choosing this guy you just started dating over our years of friendship."

You shake your head. "Why does it have to be either or. Why can’t I have my boyfriend and my best friend?"

He lets out a condescending laugh. “I’m not the one making you choose!”

But he is. He has been making you choose since the beginning. He just doesn’t like it because for once you’re not putting him and his ridiculous demands first.

“He is not making me choose.” You defend Yeonjun and yourself. “He just doesn’t want us to live together.”

“You really think he’ll end it at that? You don’t think he’ll demand more bit by bit? Next it will be ‘I don’t like him touching you.’ then it will be ‘don’t hang out with him so much’ and then ‘why do you even need to see him. We can just stay in.’ and before long he’ll have completely phased me out!”

“Well maybe there should be some boundaries. We did hook up together. It’s normal for him to feel insecure. And maybe we’re a bit more touchy than other friends are. Maybe I should only be cuddling with my boyfriend and that only my boyfriend should be kissing me…” You’re saying this more to yourself than to him. Even what happened earlier wasn’t really appropriate. It could be for completely platonic friends but you know that’s not what you and Beomgyu are. Not for you, at least.

“See? It’s already happening!” He exclaims, and you sigh. There is no point arguing with him. He’s too upset to see reason. “I’m sorry, Beomgyu…”

"Forget it. Forget all of this." He stands up and takes the pillow-fort apart. "Enjoy living with your boyfriend."

__________________

You quickly gathered a few essential items that you'll need along with a change of clothes before you texted Yeonjun to come pick you up. You'll get the rest of your stuff later. You just can’t handle being in this house anymore.

"Are you okay?" Yeonjun asks when you get into his car.

"Yeah, it's just Beomgyu is really mad at me." You sniffle, trying to hold back your tears.

"Of course. That fucking idiot." Yeonjun curses and you agree. "Such an idiot."

"Want me to go beat him up?" He offers but you shake your head. "I really don't think you two having a cat fight is gonna lift my spirit up."

"Hey!" He shouts, offended, but he can't help but give you a smile–his sweet smile that you love so much.

"But that might." You smile back, wiping your nose before bending over to give him a kiss.

"Didn’t know I'd be eating snot today." He says as he pulls back and you smack him. "I wiped before I kissed you!"

He laughs and tries to kiss you again but you push him away. "No. I've revoked your right to kisses."

“Is that so?” He quirks an eyebrow up and you nod, indignant.

"And what if I told you I have some great news that will make you wanna kiss my face off?"

“What?” You look suspiciously at the massive grin on his face. "You know the director of Elements magazine?"

"Do I? Of course! She's one of my inspirations." You gush, excited at what he could possibly have to say about her.

"Well, I've been talking to her about you–"

"What?” Your face falls, terrified. “What–what would you talk to her about me for?"

"She's interested in your work." He tells you and you give him an unflattering snort in disbelief. "Yeah, right. What do I have to show her?"

"She's actually seen the shoot you did with us and would like you to send her more of your stuff because she thinks she may want you to do a pictorial for the magazine."

“Shut up.” You gape at him. You? Do a pictorial for Elements magazine? "Oh god, I think I'm gonna pass out."

“Please, don’t. I don’t know how I’d be able to explain why I have a passed out girl in my car to anyone who saw.”

You shoot him a glare, but there is no heat behind it. "How do you even know her?”

"I've done some modeling for her before." He shrugs as if that isn’t a big fucking achievement, "I told you, networking is everything."

"You're amazing." You breathe out in awe.

"I know." He replies confidently and you suddenly shriek, kicking your feet in excitement. "Oh my god, I can't believe she liked my stuff!"

"Why wouldn't she? You’re great." You turn to him, a huge smile on your face before you bend over the console and give him a big kiss. "You are so getting laid."

"That's why I did it." He jokes, starting the car before pulling out of the parking spot.

___________________

"Welcome home." Yeonjun says, putting your bag down in his bedroom.

Yeah, you guess this is home now. You look around, trying to process the fact, and Yeonjun comes up behind you to wrap his arms around you. “You can redecorate a bit if you want. I’ll give you a whole corner of the room.”

You turn around in his arms, wrapping your own around his neck. “You’re very generous.” You kiss him slowly, deepening the kiss as you go, pushing your tongue into his mouth as your lips move against each other. “My good boy.”

“Oh, are we doing this?” He raises an eyebrow at you.

“You deserve it.” You push his jacket off before slipping his white tank top over his head. As soon as his chest is bare, you attack your lips to it, kissing it all over. Your lips tingle as it comes in contact with his warm skin over and over again and you feel his little moans vibrating through his chest as he slowly gives into the pleasure, shivering a bit when you wrap your lips around one of his nipples.

Your hands trail down his body, grabbing at his waist on the way, kneading it, before moving to his pants. You unbutton and unzip them slowly, rubbing the back of your hand over the bulge there, making his breathing stutter.

“Baby…” He pouts at your teasing, and you lean up to give his pretty lips a kiss.

“Want it, darling?” You ask, continuing to brush your hand over him teasingly and he nods. “Okay. Just because you’ve been so good to me.”

You put your hand in his boxers and pull out his cock, stroking it to full hardness while kissing his addictive lips.

“You’re so good to me, Yeonjun. You deserve to be pampered.” You tell him, twisting your hand over the head of his cock as your lips go down his neck and along his chest until you have to get on your knees to go further. You kiss his abs gently before opening your mouth and giving his skin a playful nip which makes him jump.

“Hey, that’s not pampering.” He protests and you laugh, licking the reddening spot soothingly as you continue to tease his dick with your hand.

“I was just thinking about how you seduced me with this at the party.” You tell him and he grins. “So I was–ahh–right? It was my rock–fuck–hard abs that got you?”

It’s hard for him to keep a straight face when your fingers are twisting so sinfully around his hard cock. “Maybe I ran into you on purpose t-to–shit–give me the chance to take off my shirt in front of you.”

“Diabolical.” You hum, kissing all over his tummy, getting closer and closer to his aching cock before moving up again, just to tease him, then repeating the process all over again until he starts dripping in need.

“Baby, please…” He finally calls out when he becomes so needy that your palm gets all sticky with his arousal.

“I got you, baby.” You finally take him into your mouth, the taste of him familiar by now.

Over the few months you’ve been dating Yeonjun, you’ve gotten very acquainted with what he likes and how he likes to be touched. You learn what makes him tick and where he is sensitive. It’s no longer entirely nerve-wracking to be with him. There are some things you can do and say that you can rely on that are guaranteed to get him in the mood

But today is different. You’ve never tried to take the lead from him before. In a way, you’re both more confident and more nervous–more confident because you know how to do this better, you’ve done this a lot with Beomgyu… and more nervous because you’ve never done it with Yeonjun. What if he doesn’t like it?

Your movements are slow, meant to tease and build up rather than push him over the edge. Your tongue swirls slowly around his flushed head and laps up any precum leaking from his slit while your thumb and index finger make a circle around his cock and slowly move up and down the bottom of his shaft, working him up until he’s begging again.

“More–please, I need more.” He breathes, voice tight and needy.

It’s a lot different from Beomgyu… If it was Beomgyu, he’d be crying and whining loudly, his mouth spouting off all kinds of filth in an attempt to get you to throat his dick. He’d be squirming and trying to push his dick further down your mouth, bucking his hips into your hand so you’d jerk him off faster…

But Yeonjun is not Beomgyu. He stands there, as still as he can, and lets you do what you want.

Only interrupting with a quiet plea when he can’t take it anymore. Is that better? Is it worse? You don’t know. All you know is that you need to get Beomgyu out of your mind, stop comparing them. Yeonjun is yours, Beomgyu is not. Yeonjun is here for you to touch and taste and feel, Beomgyu isn’t. Yeonjun has opened his heart up to you, and it’s insulting to think of another guy when you’re with him.

So you get off your knees and kiss Yeonjun, letting yourself focus on him and only him. You push the rest of his clothes off his body, and let him do the same to you, letting his hands wander and squeeze and caress as he does so–because you’re his.

You lead him towards the bed, pushing him on it and climbing on top of him, lining yourself up with his hard cock before catching his gaze, seeing the way he lies still and waits for you to do, before you sink down on him.

He lets out a deep sigh when you’re seated on his hips, his cock buried all the way inside you.

“This what you wanted, darling?”

He nods, resting his hands on your thighs, not pushing or pulling, just letting you take your time. Is it a sign of patience and letting you take the lead or is it a lack of passion and indifference? These are the thoughts that plague you.

But you’re too much of a coward to ask, so you just lift yourself up and fall down on his cock, establishing a steady rhythm. He lets out quiet moans and pants, responding to the way your hips move and your pussy works over his cock, his eyes alternating from staring at your form to rolling into the back of his skull when the pleasure becomes too much.

“Is it good?” You ask and he nods. “So good.”

Still restrained. Still subdued. But you take it. You take it and you run with it, bouncing faster on his cock, your gaze stuck to his face, eating up every little twitch and sigh that escapes him, so focused on him that you neglect your own pleasure, only noticing when his right hand brushes up your thigh and his thumb grazes your clit.

“What are you doing, baby?” You ask, hand circling around his wrist but not pulling it away.

“Don’t wanna cum alone. Want you with me.”

Is it really you domming him if he can still do whatever he wants? You don’t know but you don’t have to decide right now. You can just take it slow. You can work things out the kinks bit by bit.

“That’s a bit quick, don’t you think?” You venture to tease him, hoping he’d give you the response you’re looking for, and he does… somewhat. “Can’t help it. You just look so sexy bouncing on my cock. You should dom me every day.”

You groan, thighs burning as you ride him faster, needing him to really mean it. “Don’t talk like that.”

“Like what?” He purrs, his thumb still circling your sensitive nub.

“Like you’re still in control.” You finally push his hand away, pinning his arms next to his head, but maddeningly, he just smirks up at you.

“You want the control, you’re going to have to take it, doll. I am not going to just show my belly and give you the lead so easily.”

“You’re insufferable.” You hold his wrists with one hand and use the other to wrap around his throat, not cutting off his circulation but just holding it tight enough to make a point.

“That’s more like it.” He gasps, craning his head back to give you an easier purchase on his neck. “I’m close.”

“Why should I let you cum?” You challenge, digging your fingers just a little more into his neck, clenching your pussy just a little tighter around his cock.

“Because you like it when I empty my balls inside your little pussy.” He sucks in a sharp breath, his control slipping just a little bit, and you latch onto that.

“I do like it, but what I like more is making bad boys cry.” You threaten, slowing down your movement until you’re barely riding him. “I’m sure it would feel just as good getting off your cock and making myself cum on my fingers. Just seeing your needy cock all hard and red with no relief would be more than enough to get me off.”

He frowns. “You wouldn’t…”

You make a show of getting off his cock and he quickly cries out. “No, wait. Okay. You win. I’ll be good.”

You raise an eyebrow at him before going back to riding him fast, not giving him the chance to challenge you again. “Well, that was easy.”

He does well by shutting up this time, his full lips pulled into a hilarious pout.

“Are you close?” You ask him when his eyebrows begin to furrow and he nods. You let go of his wrist, telling him to keep them there as if you could’ve stopped him if he wanted to overpower you.

You use your now free hand to rub your clit, pushing yourself towards your own high.

Yeonjun doesn’t like that. “I could do that for you.”

He tries to reach out to touch you but you let go of his throat and swat his hands away. “No. Only good boys get to touch.”

He gives you a little whine–a semblance of what you crave from him. Maybe the rest will come in time.

“I’m close.” You tell him, fingers desperately moving over your pussy as you ride him. “Want you to cum with me.”

He nods, his hips moving for the first time under you, helping the both of you over the edge.

“Yeonjun–fuck!” You throw your head back, eyes squeezed tight as your body shudders with release. Yeonjun hands reach out to hold your hips flush against his as he empties himself inside you, a long groan slipping from his pretty lips.

“Fuck.” You gasp, falling down when your orgasm leaves you, and Yeonjun opens his arms to take you in, holding you close to him, your hearts beating rapidly still.

This whole day has been an emotional rollercoaster for you, and the release of pent up energy leaves you spent, your body all but becoming boneless in Yeonjun’s embrace.

He kisses the top of your head, his hand smoothing through your wet hair as the both of you catch your breath. You feel your eyelids getting heavy with exhaustion, the heat of his embrace now a familiar night-time companion, and you find yourself drifting off to sleep.

"Thank you again for choosing me for the Frost shoot." You mumble, eyes closed. He may have just changed the whole trajectory of your career.

"No need to thank me. It was all Beomgyu's idea."

____________________

A/N: one more chapter to go. as always your feedback makes me update faster so don't be shy to drop in a message. the author note in the last chapter will contain a link to my patreon for the alternative ending for the losing boy so look forward to that

and for the final time

Taglist: @blxxsss@sanasour@tinkw1nks@lol6sposts@zuzuhasablog@beomsl@seolis-world @stantxtorurmissingout@wonwooz1@yaorzu-blog@allylikesdabee@rkivezzs@malieno@leviathanlee26@yomomas-stuff@kurisaiyunobara@girlwholovekpop@zuzuhasablog @viaaasdiary @ho3forkpop@skzvcr @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n @izzyexe @boomfrogg @kpop-cakepops-recs @chronicallygyu @girlwholovekpop

#txt smut #tomorrow x together smut #fem!reader #dom!reader

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ourautumn86 · 1 year

Text

in heat

eddie munson x fem! reader

synopsis; in which your teasing becomes too much and eddie finally gives you the fuck you needed —and what you had been wanting all along; his cum filling you to the brim—.

cw; 18+ content! minors dni!!, teasing, daddy kink, use of pet names like pretty girl, baby, princess…, corruption kink, innocence kink, degradation, fingering (r receiving), spanking (thighs and cunt), orgasm denial, degradation, use of names like slut and whore, praising, filthy oral sex (m receiving), dirty talking, throat fucking, breeding kink, unprotected piv sex (guys wrap it before you tap it), cream pie, multiple orgasms, horny feral dirty sex, nipple play, hickeys…

REMINDER: english is not my mother language so i apologize if there are some mistakes <3 !¡ either ways, i hope y’all like it. <3

REPOSTS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

“Come on, gorgeous. Stop playing with me.” he sighed, completely out of it. The only thing he could focus was just how beautiful you looked in that night pink lace nightgown, lace thigh tights and lace panties? Fucking paradise.

“I’m not playing daddy.” you smiled. And if he knew better, he would have believed you. But Eddie Munson had corrupted you long ago, he wouldn’t fall for that false innocence that you once truly portrayed anymore. He hissed when your little clothed feet pressed a little bit too hard against his growing dick underneath his pants. You had been teasing him for half an hour now, as you both watched a film. You had playfully started to climb his chest with your feet just to slip them down and go at it again, exposing your little clothed cunt and plushy thighs to his hungry eyes.

Oh, but you were. And he knew that. You always started teasing him the most when that pussy of yours would clench and grow wet in slick in hopes of getting filled and split open with the big and fat cock of your daddy. You loooved to tease him, actually. Always trying to push his buttons ‘till he couldn’t take it anymore and snap at you.

You sought out for those angry reactions that only made you want him more, for his harsh treatment and words, and lastly, for the rough hate fucking that came with it. You wanted him to split you in half, to choke you and spit in your mouth as he relentlessly fucked into you, edging you to the point of tears just to give you a goddamn lesson after having spanked your plushy ass.

The best reward after taking him so good would be feeling him spill in you, all that white cum breeding you to sleep. He’d also leave his cock inside to keep it warm for the next morning, when he would once again abuse your sore cunt. You loved it, had you drooling and a babbling mess just for him.

“Stop.” he said in a harsh tone, each of his hands taking one of your ankles to push them against the sofa so you would stop with your fucking games, still leaving those pretty thighs of yours parted for him to watch.

You only giggled a little bit when you noticed the bulge in between his own, your eyes going back to the movie that you were supposed to watch but weren’t paring attention to. Why pay attention to something so boring when you could have so much fun playing with your daddy?

He had got your legs, fine. But you still had your hands…, and your mouth.

Your fingers pressed against the corner of your mouth, running trough your bottom lip as you parted it in an ‘innocent’ fidgeting, eyes glued to the screen in supposed concentration. You acted as if you couldn’t feel the burning gaze of the curly haired on you, or the tightening of his fingers around your ankles when you popped one of your finger inside your mouth, lolling your tongue around it as you would with one of the sweets Eddie always bought for you, sucking on it from time to time. The wet sounds of your drool somehow sounding louder than the screams that came from the tv.

You could hear his breathing get heavier as your other hand snaked down your body, outlining the curve of your tits on your way down in between your thighs. Your hand just stood there, cupping your cunt before you’d tickle yourself with soft breathy strokes up and down your slit. It was enough to make you yearn for more, but not to subside that aching inside of you.

“What are you doing?” you had to fight the smile that wanted to curve your busy lips when your boyfriend’s voice —low with desire and anger— reached your ears.

You didn’t even look at him, continuing with your teasing as you ‘concentrated’ on the film. “Nothing daddy.” you answered, fully knowing that lying wasn’t really gonna help you for him to be gentler. Not as if you wanted it anyways.

He grunted, hands kneading the flesh of your calfs, nails digging on the lace of your tights and making you slightly squirm. “Stop lying.” that made you look straight into his eyes, and your pussy fluttered when you saw just how blown his pupils were, the brown of his eyes almost pitch black as he stared at you. Almost there…

“But I’m not lying daddy…” you pouted, hips rocking against your hand when you pushed harder against your clit, a little whine leaving your lips at the lightning of pleasure that hit your body. “I’m not doing anything…”

The next thing you felt was a big pull of your legs — body scooting closed to your boyfriend’s— and the harsh spank that his hand left on one of your thighs. “Oh, yeah? Then what is this?” your mouth fell open when his own fingers pressed against the wet spot on your panties, making you gasp for air when he had bumped against your clit. You let out a little whimper when he pushed away your hand, copying the little strokes you had been teasing him with before harshly pushing his hand down your panties. He grunted when your slick coated his fingers. You were dripping. “Look at the mess you’ve made.” you let out a little cry when he pulled them down your thighs, stripes of lick connecting your wet cunt with the lace. “Aw, that’s embarrassing.”

“Daddy…” you received a spank on the side of your thighs as two of his fingers slammed inside your pussy, harsh thrusts touching the spot in your gummy walls that made you see little stars dancing in the dark of your closed eyes. Your back arched and lips parted, a sinful amount of high pitched moans filling the room as he finger-fucked you. Your thighs closed when his thumb pressed against your swollen clit, the sudden pleasure making you curl on yourself.

“Did I told you you could play with this little pussy of mine, hmm?” Another slap, this time to your cunt, was given once he had pushed them part one again. The pain had you whimpering and bucking your hips towards him for more, what made him chuckle. “Filthy little fucking whore.” you cried out at his degradation, even more when he went back to fuck you with his fingers. He was shifting in the sofa, pushing himself in between your thighs and on top of you. Your fingers gripped on his Black Sabbath tee, pulling from it so he could lean down and kiss you, but he wasn’t having it. “Nuh-uh, only good girls deserve a kiss.” tears swell your eyes at his words, his face making a fake pout when he saw them stream down your cheeks, not really caring about your pleading. Your head fell backwards when his fingers curved inside of you, fingertips pressing against your g spot and making you jolt under him. “ You liked that? Did that feel good?” you were nodding, walls clenching around his fingers as he worked you towards your imminent orgasm. His free hand around your neck made you a little bit more silent, taking your breath away, but it only made that burning coil on your lower stomach expand. There was nothing you loved more than having your boyfriend’s hand on your neck. Well maybe his dick. You definitely liked his dick more…

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum…” you muttered in between thrusts, feeling yourself get higher and higher and…

And then, you were falling.

“No, please daddy, please I was so close… Please, please, please…”

“Too bad.” You were crying at the emptiness that his fingers had left inside of you, your hips bucking towards his hand, as if you could fuck them back in. “You thought you could go ahead and be a little slut, tease me for almost an hour and then go and get to cum?” he whispered against your ear, his fingers digging in the flesh of your neck, which was damped with your tears. “You don’t deserve to feel this good.” you were nodding, too desperate for a release to even fully register the anger in his voice. He was pissed. Really pissed. “So I’m gonna use you.” your ears took in the sound of his belt being unbuckled and the ruffling of his clothes being pushed down his thighs.

You moaned in pain when his hand moved upwards towards your hair, pulling from it hard enough to have you stumbling and falling down the sofa and in between his now parted legs, his leaking cock twitching and fully hard against his happy trail. The sight made your mouth water. You loved Eddie’s dick, wether it was inside your or deep down your throat. It was so big… And it always was so fucking hard to take…

But you loved it. Lived for him to make a mess of your insides every time he fucked your brains out.

“Open up.” you followed his instruction, rosy lips parting and tongue sticking out, what made him groan, fingers with which he had just fucked your cunt pushing inside your throat. You gagged a little bit, but still took them, your tongue swirling around them, cleaning them up as you sucked, cheeks shallowing. He relished on the way your beautiful and wet eyes looked at him, so needy and thankful to have something in your mouth… But you found yourself whimpering when he pulled from them, a string of spit connecting his fingers with your mouth, which opened in need to seek them back around you tongue, but the harsh grip on your hair stopped you. “Such a greedy whore…”

“Please daddy, let me suck your cock, please…” you pleaded, making him click his tongue when you took him in one of your hands, your cheek pressed against it as your glossy doe eyes stared up at him from between his thighs.

He groaned.

“Fucking slut, look at you, down on your knees and begging to let you choke on my cock…” he scoffed, his fist gripping your hair and pushing down on it, making you gag. “That’s it, fuuuck, you have such a good fucking mouth baby, always so wet and warm for me…” you whimpered, your nails digging on his thighs, making her moan. “Atta girl…” he praised as you deep throated him, letting him fuck your throat. tears were brimming your eyes, and your jaw was staring to hurt, but your cunt was also so wet… You loved it when he used you like this. And you loved his cock, suck it, jerk it, even fuck it.

You were grinding down on your heels desperately, trying to get some friction, to relieve the aching of your little throbbing clit.

Spit was pooling at his base and dripping down to his balls. eddie loved it messy. And you were always so fucking messy while sucking him off… You always ate him as if you were starved for it.

He let out a loud yet deep moan when you let his cock go with a pop to suck on his balls, your hand wrapping around his cock to fuck him with your fist.

“Fuck baby, just like that…” he sighed, feeling his balls tighten. due to your teasing he had been trying to fight a boner for hours… He was fucking pent up. And you looked so fucking hot with your gloss all smeared and chin dripping on his pre cum and spit… “Shit baby, need your mouth on me…” he said, and you were quick to take him down your throat, relaxing when you felt his hand start to guide you once again, each time harder and deeper, faster… “ ‘M gonna cum baby.” he groaned, fucking your throat, groaning when you pushed away and instead jerked him with your hand.

“Want it inside daddy, please, please fuck your cum into me…” you whined, and his dick twitched on your hand.

“Fuuuck…” he sighed, trying really hard not to bust his loud right there and then. there were some days in which you’d beg him to not pull out as you fucked, to fuck you full of his cum. Those days you always had the best sex, ‘cause you were always fucking dripping, and so hot Eddie swore he would melt. You were extra sensitive, and so needy it made you blush at the memory of it the morning after. He could still hear your cries for more from the last time, as he fucked you from the back, fingertips bruising your hips and pussy leaking with already two of his loads. “Come up here princess, come sit on your Daddy’s cock.”

You were fast. Fast to get rid of your goddamn drenched panties and skirt to straddle his lap. Your pussy was completely soaked, almost drooling on his tip. You were fucking horny, and you needed him now.

You whimpered as you sank down on it, hearing Eddie groan, his hands clasping your hips.

“Ah, eddie, fuck…” you sounded so fucking desperate it was pathetic. But you felt in fucking heat.

“Shit. Pussy always ready for me, hm? Ready for my fucking cum.” he grunted, his head leaking, he was gonna cum so hard…

“Yes, yes Eddie please, fuck!” you whined, feeling him completely sink into you, caressing your cervix and making your eyes roll to the back of your head. It didn’t take long until you felt him twitch, right before he came deep into your cunt. You whimpered, and he grunted as you rolled your hips to feel him more, deeper… Your back arched at the feeling of hot spurts of cum painting your walls, and Eddie was sucking new bruises on your neck, marking you up to make everybody know you were his.

“Feeling better sweet girl? This what you wanted, for me to fuck you full, hm?” his voice was deep, and hoarse, but before you could answer his hips were snapping upwards, and his cock was hitting your g spot, the squelch of his cum inside your wet pussy making you blush. “Listen to her, she’s begging for more, isn’t she? You still want more, baby?” you moaned, nodding, your nails digging on his shoulders. “Of course you do…“ he teased you, and the breath got punched out of your lungs when he dragged you down onto his cock.

“Eddie!” you cried out, his lips latching to your neck, one of his arms surrounded your waist and with his now free arm he pushed up the clothing on your chest to suck on your tits, making you let out a pornographic moan that had his dick leaking. “I’m gonna cum!” tears were rolling down your cheeks as his pace quickened. He was fucking you brainless. You were letting out little sounds and cut out moans with every harsh thrust, and you were getting so tight…

“You gonna cum, baby? Gonna cum all over my cock?“ he inquired, and you nodded, the knot on your stomach about to snap.

“Need your cum…” you whimpered, desperately riding his dick as his hips snapped up into your dripping core.

“Need my cum baby? Need me to breed you? Fuck a baby into this little cunt of yours?” you moaned, choking on air.

“Yes, fuck, Eddie, please…”

He groaned, fucking you harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling up the trailer. You were sure his neighbors could hear you. He was babbling something about fucking you full as soon as you would cum, and that’s what you needed to fall apart in between his arms, your pussy gushing all over his cock as your moans became more and more loud. Your walls pulsated and tightened around him, and as he had promised, he filled you up to the brim with his second load. You two fucked each other through it, moaning and grunting, panting. Your thighs were shaking, and Eddie’s fringe was sticking to his forehead.

His tongue pushed into your mouth for a lazy wet kiss, and you sat on his cock for what it seemed hours on end, keeping him cum all warm and inside.

Let’s say that Eddie fucked you one more time that night before going to sleep that night… Or maybe four.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

a/n; been so long since i started writing this and never ended it… hope y’all like it <3

stranger things masterlist! <3

xxx

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powerfulblob · 4 months

Text

puts on my clown hat

behold, as requested: The Trans Franky Essay. Like most of this is still jot notes and I wrote this when half-asleep so like. I don’t know

Please don’t shoot me.

Section 0: Most importantly...

Due to the Somerton stuff, I really am trying my best not to plagarize.

Unlike TikTok user @theyboss._.franky, I’m not planning to talk about if he’s trans based on physical features, personality, etc.

I’m here to talk about the narrative in particular, and allegory.

also kudos to @punkitt-is-here

[ID: A screenshot of an X post by @punkittdev that reads “this is also partially why i am a franky one piece trans man truther” It features Franky, a cyborg with a shirt that reads “I HRT”.with a sun between the words “I” and “HRT” Franky is a tall man with tan skin and blue hair, and has part of his arms replaced with blue metal with a star at the end. end ID]

Section 1: Cyborgs are inherently trans

I’m literally just going to link The transgender cyborg: an inexhaustive primer because the article does a much better job than I can, but to summarize:

Trans people are not only cyborg-adjacent because of the transphobes who call us that, but primarily because we are used in the same way cyborgs are in text: As a talking point, a disruptive metaphor about humanity as a whole.

That brings us onto the next place...

Section 2: Cyborgs are extra trans in this case.

The reason why I latched onto this in the first place is this character’s backstory.

Franky, who eventually becomes the Straw Hat’s shipwright, starts as a joke character in the Water Seven Arc.

He’s a 40-ish year old man who runs around in a speedo and shoots lasers at people, making a living off of dismantling ships.

However, as more information is revealed, the story starts to humanize and give him a backstory.

quotes from Chapter 358:

“My body got wrecked and parts of it weren’t working anymore... So I transformed myself using scrap metal. It’s how I survived!”

“Waste wood, scrap iron... I fit right in. First I’ve got to... ... Do something about this useless body of mine!”

What do these have in common? Retrofitting the self, and rebuilding the body. I think there’s something trans there but IDK

Deadnames (partially joking here): As said by another character “Cutty Flam of Tom’s Workers is dead. As long as you don’t use that name... ... There’s nothing connecting us” (for context, Franky was changing his name to evade government capture, but shhh let’s just pretend we’re talking about deadnames)

Actual Section 2: The Boats are trans now

speaking of the self as a construct...

I think it would be giving Oda too much credit for doing this on purpose.

But, he also accidentally created one of the best analogies I’ve ever heard for gender identity and against gender essentialism:

And of course, it has to be boats.

chapter 353: “Franky, there’s no such thing as blueprints for a pirate ship!! If the sailors who board that ship run up a skull-and-crossbones, then it’s a pirate ship. If they fly a seagull flag, it’s a navy ship. Build whatever you want to build, Franky.”

Like again: It’s the idea that there’s no instructions for a person, it’s what you decide to create out of oneself?

Alright. So, in terms of most manga, he actually does a rather good job. One Piece is primarily a series about misfits and outcasts: The series is goofy and over-the-top as a rule. So, one could argue the extreme way in which he portrays trans people up until the Wano arc is just a part of the series.

yeah idk

#franky #one piece #I guess #i don't know what the fuck I’m doing with this I hope it's good #will probably edit this later

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cixteenyne · 27 days

Note

i nEED more izu content and you are the best of the best so i needed to come to you

personally, the thing that i think gets over looked about midoriya is that

1: he’s strong as fuck??? (gets me so weak in the knees heaven knows)

2: BLACK. WHIP.

jesus christ he’s just!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i think he’s so neat i want him to do things to me

anyways, smutfic about him coming home to reader after she’s been a brat to him all day & him being such a sweet & loving dom but also that type of menacing & powerful hero he is. he loves his s/o to no end, but will not hesitate to put her in her place!!! wow my stomach turns just thinking about it

basically, brat tamer izuku, using blackwhip. i’m so down bad for him it hurts

I remember getting this ask and salivating at it, yet I had no idea how to write and interpret it into a full blown post instead of just a thirst and I just didn’t feel like posting (I meant it when I said I’m barley consistent). SOOO in April 1, no, this isn’t an april fools joke!! I bring you, angry izuku ..

Warning(s): vulgar wording (yk how we do), restraints, mean izuku/passive aggressive, manhandling, inappropriate use of black whip, brat taming, slight intimidation if you squint, Fem reader. Halfway proofread…😒

‘Patient and Gentle’

Izuku had been so sweet to you all day, so caring and soft and understanding- he always had been, so it’s just to say he’s being himself as per usual. But, you. You.

Just so snide today, snappy little thing.

What did he do? He doesn’t know- he doesn’t care to know, he won’t listen to you if you try to explain, well- he will; just won’t let it linger. He’s past that.

You’re past that.

He sighed as he walked into the room, the door shutting softly behind him despite the off energy he had around him.

He doesn’t move from his spot, his hand still resting against the door as his head peers behind him. To you. He just gazes for a while, only a while before- clip! Another snappy remark, it was just ‘clip, clip, clip’ with you today, that’s all he could portray it as.

Something like a… like a-

“oh, that’s weird.”

Or a short ‘clip!’ Of a

“whatever.” In a certain tone a- cadence, if you will.

Why were you speaking this specific way to him. And why was it pissing him off so.. damn.. much…?

He still looking at you, yet at some point he’s turned around a tuned out whatever snide remark you’re sure to have made by now. His eyes keep traversing from one point to another, each point having something to do with you.

A short question of; ‘is there a problem?’

Is there?

“I don’t know.” A shrug from you. And a back fucking turned.

It makes his blood simmer to an 8 on a stove.

His footsteps are light yet foreboding as they advanced toward you, to you standing so.. he can’t even find the words, how does one stand in indifference? That must be it.

He’s in your personal space now, he’s smiling so sweetly at you; the way he always had, so patient and gentle. Yet his words are cracked with the tone, clashing with the way they dance out of his lips.

“Is there a problem..?” Is there? He needs to know, he had asked you a question, he wanted an answer. He didn’t ask for an ‘I don’t know.’ He asked for an explanation. Did you not understand that?- or, were you being a dumb whore on purpose?

You shook your head, not meeting his eyes. There was no problem. so, what the hell is your deal today?

“Speak up, baby..”

“No..”

you shook you head again. It was mumbled out, maybe due to his body smothering yours, but at least it was in words.

“Then what’s wrong, baby? Yr’ you acting like that.. hm?”

He whispered to you, talking you down as if you were a kid experiencing anger for the first time. His faux sad expression was beginning to make you feel silly. Good. That’s was good.

You look away- or you try to, yet his face follows yours, not letting you escape his eyes.

“Don’t- no, you don’t do that. You look at me. ‘K..? I don’t like that.”

He really didn’t. And you knew that. He looked a little disappointed too, shame. What a shame, yet you were shameless.

He sighed, a click of his teeth as he let silence permeate the room.

A cold solid-? A chilly.. rope.. it slid around your neck, slowly and purposefully. It’s grip tightening with no intent to let go. There was a tug on it, forcing you the look up at him.

Black whip. He activated it and was using it as a leash, he thought it was fitting. Act like a bitch, get treated like one. ‘S only fair.

“Izu’s a little mad okay..? And he’s sorry… but- he needs to teach his girl… m’kay..?”

You stood in place, slightly defiant, yet not outright. So he tugged. Hard. And you stumbled out of place.

“C’mon.. T’ the bed.. s’right there..” a slow step forward, then the rest followed suit, she was hoping for a smooth walk over to the bed, but she was pushed so meanly by him.

He didn’t say anything as he bullied her with such a sweet face. Always so patient and gentle. Even when he’s not.

He rolled the black whip in his hands, his quirk tightening around him as he tugged your neck back, getting on top of you. He had pushed you onto your tummy. He even got down low next to your ear to taunt you like a bully.

“Izu has to do this okay..? Keep his girl good. ‘Zuku doesn’t like disobeying whores. He doesn’t like mean girls.”

Being so mean to him all day. Whore. How dare you. But don’t worry, he loves you so much, he’s willing to teach you himself- just how he likes his girls.

He reached around under your hips and undid your button. And a ‘ziiiip!’ Oh, it was foreboding. Your body was heating up, it was like an oven with no limit.

Your pants were being pushed down, and you keened. A whine at being exposed to casually as he shushed you.

“Shhh.. shh, lemme take it off.. all of it.”

Your pants couldn’t hit the floor before his hands were always working off your shirt, as he let black whip go for a while to get it off.

Yet his hands were right back on it. Harsher, no bra. truly a whore.

He filled his palm with your breast, the soft supple flesh making him groan, a grind of his hips into your ass. He was going to fucking ruin you for this.

His breathing was hot and heavy against your neck, making goosebumps rise and quicker across your skin.

His hands began snaking again, from your breast, to your tummy, your hips, the inside of your panties. Your pussy. So, so.. wet already.

And then he was dragging them down your laps and kicking them away. His finger just playing with your pussy for a while, two finger sliding down the crevices, a palm cupping it whole and rubbing, and a single finger on your clit. Slowly rubbing and pinching, tapping.

His lips kissing your neck so sweetly. So patient and gentle.. a suck across your skin. And moan and a whine, it only made him harder.

He stops his playing- his rubbing and you whine again, disappointed, and it makes him smile a little more sweetly, or cruelly, he can’t tell himself at this point, he just knows he loves watching that sweet face of yours contort.

Black while fluctuates and another tendril seeps out and bind your arms, forcing them to your back. Your pussy drips at the strain in your shoulders.

He hadn’t taken anything off yet, and he didn’t plan too! He didn’t need to. He undid his belt, slowly. Letting the ‘clink!’ And the ‘dink!’ Of the metal fill your ears. Letting you anticipate.

His bulge is almost painful, the strain of it is almost good, yet it still annoys him- having it be let free was heavenly.. his green was deep yet still so sweet, a whine in his voice that never quite went away even as it deepened with age..

His cock bobbed up and as it fell back down, heavy under its own weight, the tip tapped your ass, leaving it to ripple. The sight made him keen yet it dipped into a moan as his own hand wrapped around his aching dick. It drooled precum.

Black whip flickered as his mind was muddled with pleasure, yet his control of it was impressive despite the situation. He wasn’t number one for nothing.

“He’s gonna teach you.. ‘kay..? Fuck… look so good baby… if you weren’t such a mean slut today-.. I’d be a little gentle..”

the way he spoke was as if he ran a marathon, and his voice always had the undertones of a whine.

He pushed his hand to his shirt, as if the action took everything in him- and began to unbutton it in a hurry, he felt stuffy in the article of clothing and he needed it off- or atleast open.

He tightened black whip, wrapping his hand in it further to force you into an arch, stroking his cock and lining it up with your pussy, cunt dripping with arousal.

The tip tapped against the entrance, then it pushed in, and in, and stretched, each inch was fucking delicious. Your eyes rolled and you bit your lip, and he heard it- he didn’t like it, if that angry tug of black whip was anything to go by.

He couldn’t help but slam the rest of it in, making you yelp. His grunts are uncontrollable and he doesn’t care. he whines behind you as his tip just leaks and leaks inside of you, yet he hadn’t cum yet.

Just made it more slippery and the sounds -god, the sounds- the sloppy and wet sounds of his cock driving into you cunt wasn’t drowned out by your combined moans.

He kept it tugged in your little leash as he keeps thrusting, his voice raw with pleasure and still a bit of irritation.

You still had upset him earlier, he had every right to take it out on you. You’re his girl.

He hips sped up, this thrusts got harder and your legs would have given out if his hips weren’t keeping you in place. Fucking his anger into you, and yours out of you.

He pulled your leash up and forced you to your feet, your back flush against his chest as she kept fucking you, going and going and fucking going, you couldn’t barley think- let alone stand. Fucking you like a rag doll was all he planned on doing.

His hand went to your front, and began to play with your clit, rolling it under his finger, making you dizzy, you moans increasing and you felt yourself tremble. You were about to cum, he knew it.

You always came first, that wouldn’t change, even if you were mean, and he was angry, he was going to take care of his girl, let her cum all she wants.

And you did, you came around him and squeezed his cock like it was a lifeline. Her pussy fluttering around him.

But he wouldn’t stop until he was finished too. Your body was pushed back onto the bed, the black whip disintegrating as he took his own hands and used them to restrain you instead. He pushed his hips deep into yours in slow yet aggressive thrusts. He was going to cum, fill you, he was going to teach you just what your place was and to never forget it.

“Fuck..! Fuck!”

And two deep thrusts was all he had left before he burst with thick ropes of cum into your pussy. Your tummy being filled with warmth and your eyes tilting into your head as they closed in exhaustion.

He stilled and let him empty itself before smiling so sweetly at you.

“Does my baby feel better..?”

He asked, just as sweetly as he always has. Maybe you’d learn something this time around.

“M..hm.”

He mumbled into your ear as he settled his chest against your back;

“Good.. don’t forget what ‘Zuku taught you today.. ‘Kay..?”

So patient and gentle.

(Don’t copy my stuff pookie, bitches with juicy pussy DONT copy works.. but you can still reblog… daddy appreciates those.)

#smut #mha smut #my hero academia smut #izuku midoryia smut #deku x reader smut #izuku midoria x reader #izuku midoriya #izuku smut #deku smut #mha x reader #mha x reader smut #asks #answered asks

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moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

Hi! I am absolutely in love with your writing! The way you portray our boys is just *chefs kiss*

Anywho, I was wondering if I could request poly!marauders x plus size reader? Maybe she is very confident until somebody picks on her and she starts becoming obsessed with dieting and stuff. (I'm struggling a lot with that rn) just a bunch of worry and comfort from our boys.

If you don't feel comfortable writing this or just the prompt I gave it's okay. Ily!♡

Hi, thanks for requesting my love! I'm really sorry you're struggling right now, I know how hard it can be and hope you're doing your best to take good care of yourself. You're beautiful just as you are <33

cw: size insecurity, behavior that hints at disordered eating

poly!marauders x plus size!reader ♡ 1.2k words

The worst part is, you know they weren’t even really trying to insult you.

You smiled as best you could, said your thanks politely, and moved on. Moved on outwardly, that is. Inside, the words play over and over in your head, like a song on the radio that gets worse each time you listen to it. It wasn’t that they were vicious, or particularly clever, or even wrong. It’s just, you’re not used to people commenting on your body like that.

You know you’re not skinny. So does everyone else. Neither of you typically feel the need to confer about it. Every now and again, some cruel busybody will say something, but that’s fairly easy to brush off. They’re insecure about their own looks, they have nothing better to do than fixate on strangers’ appearances, they’ve probably been on diet pills since they were twelve. You wish them well and mostly forget about it. But what’s worse is when someone comes to you with good intentions. The idea of being perceived as pitiful or wrong—really, having your physical form perceived at all—by someone who seems to want the best for you is what really hurts. That’s what makes you want to hide, to shrink yourself down until they can’t see you anymore. To become the invisible status quo.

It’s why, over the last few days, anything skintight or remotely showy has been relegated to the back of your closet in favor of things that hide your figure. Why you’ve stopped drawing attention to yourself with colorful makeup and instead started focusing on your health. Well, your health as it presents itself externally.

“Anyone else fancy a dessert?” Sirius muses as you sit reading on the couch, Remus reading the next book in the series beside you.

“Um, no,” James says, holding up a hand of cards from the game he and Sirius have been playing, “you only want to go so you don’t have to stick around and lose.”

“Whatever my other, subconscious motives may be,” Sirius says guilelessly, “I really feel like something chocolate. Don’t you, Moons?”

That’s always a safe bet. Remus looks up from his book, intrigued. “I could go for some chocolate.”

Sirius grins. “What about you, gorgeous?”

That’s usually a safe bet too. But you shouldn’t. “Thanks, but I’m still full from dinner.”

Sirius looks cheated, and Remus cocks his head at you. “Really? Didn’t seem like you ate much.” He’s not wrong. Remus had made the most incredible feta pasta, it was borderline heartbreaking to leave any on your plate. But you’re trying to practice restraint, and thankfully, James had happily taken care of your leftovers for you. “Did you have a late lunch or something?”

“Mhm.”

James looks up, eyebrows furrow bemusedly behind his glasses. “No you didn’t, angel. You said you didn’t feel like lunch after we had breakfast together, remember?”

“Oh.” You nod. So what? You’d had a late breakfast, and a decently sized dinner, and why do you really need more than two meals anyway? Who made that rule? You’re a bit hungry, but your body just needs time to adjust to your new routine. It’s used to overindulging. And nothing about today means you deserve dessert. “Right.”

Sirius wraps his fingers delicately around your ankle, smoothing a path up your shin with his palm. “Darling,” he says, and he looks distracted as he runs his fingers over the old scars on your knee, but you know him well enough to recognize when he’s keyed in, “did you eat anything today, other than breakfast and that little bit of dinner? Any snacks or anything?”

You can’t help the little rush of pride that goes through you. “No.”

Sirius doesn’t look proud. In fact, he’s frowning, as are Remus and James. You change tactics. “I’m not really hungry, though.”

“No?” Sirius' voice is unsettlingly gentle. “Why don’t you want to have dessert tonight, pretty girl?”

“Because,” you say, beginning to feel defensive (though you’re not sure of what), “I don’t need it.”

“It’s not about need, though,” James says, and why is it beginning to feel like you’re in an argument? “It’s about what you want. Do you want a little something sweet?”

“I…” Yes. The answer is yes, but do you want it more than you want to feel good about yourself? “I think what I want more is to prove to myself that I can go without it.”

Remus’ scars shift as his face scrunches in concern. “Dove,” he says, and you can’t decide if his tone is more reprimand or pity. You don’t like either option. “Where is this coming from?”

“I’m just…I’m trying something new,” you decide. “I want to lose a little weight, okay? Nothing crazy.”

“But why?” James sets down his cards, looking completely befuddled. “Angel, you’re gorgeous. You can do whatever you want, but we love you just like you are.”

“And,” Sirius adds before you can reply, “we love you most when you’re happy. I sort of thought,” he says, lowering his voice like he’s telling you a secret, “that our late-night treat runs made you happy. No?”

“They do.” You pull your legs up onto the couch, away from Sirius’ touch. “I just…I think it would make me happy to be a more normal size, too.”

Remus looks gutted. “Honey, you…it’s your body, and you should do whatever feels right for you to be healthy, but…we love you like this,” he insists, ardent. “You’re beautiful, I mean it, and I hate the idea that you might want to change for…well, for anyone other than yourself.”

You hesitate. You’re not actually sure who you’re doing this for. When had you become one of the people who want for you to be smaller so desperately? “You seriously don’t think I would look better if I were thinner?” You’ve never been one to put much stock into what any men think of your appearance, so you feel silly for asking, but you’re in a vulnerable state. And really, don’t all guys want a girl that looks like the love interests in the movies you all grew up with?

James looks you in the eye, letting you see the earnestness in his as he says, “You’re absolutely lovely, right here, right now. We wouldn’t change a thing.”

Your answering smile is oddly watery. Remus makes an awfully lovely cooing sound, leaning over to wrap an arm around your waist and paying no mind to the chub there as he pulls you into his side. “Don’t be upset, darling. You know what I bet will cheer you up?” He smiles as you look up at him questioningly, kissing between your brows. “Some chocolate. How would you feel about that?”

You let out a quiet little laugh. “Pretty good.”

“Yes!” Sirius pumps his fist in the air, already abandoning his cards and standing up. “I knew you’d come through, gorgeous. Now I think the more pressing question is, do we want chocolate pastries or chocolate ice cream?”

“Ice cream, obviously,” James says. “Before it gets so cold out we don’t feel like it.”

“Not all of us suffer from weather constraints,” Sirius argues. “I vote pastry.”

“Why would you bring ice cream up if you didn’t want it? Think long and hard, Pads. Are you going to feel like a frozen dessert when you need three layers to go outside in a few weeks?”

Remus rolls his eyes at you as you follow them out the door, letting your boys continue their bickering all the way to the store.

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egophiliac · 6 months

Note

I was wanting to try doing an art piece in the style of the signature spell poster art pieces you create. But I’m not really the best at coming up with a composition for such a thing.

Do you have a process for how you come up with the compositions for them?

oh, awesome! it is an INCREDIBLY enjoyable style to work in; I hope you have fun with it! :D

I'm not great at putting my thought/art process into words, so my apologies if this doesn't make a lot of sense, but I'll try! my first step is always to do a LOT of thumbnails to figure out both the idea and how I want to show it; not trying to do a real sketch or anything, just little doodles to figure out what exactly I'm trying to portray. (I also call these "garbage passes" because they're not meant to be any good, they're just there to throw things out. aha. ha. ...anyway.) I think it's important during that first stage to really focus on the idea and the layout and not to get too bogged down in the actual drawing yet!

I tend to save my final thumbnails, so I'll use 'em as examples (I posted the ones up through episode 5 here if you're interested!) (and, uhhh, spoilers through episode 5 also in this post, hopefully that won't be an issue!)

the main thing I try to think about in composition is balance -- not necessarily in terms of symmetry, but in where each element is placed and how much space it's taking up. remember, empty space is still space! it's also really important to think about the parts that don't have anything in them, as much as the parts that do!

personally, I like to divide things up roughly by both halves and by thirds -- there's a lot more in-depth info out there on why the "rule of thirds" in particular works well visually, but in short, our brains tend to focus on things that are placed closer to imaginary division lines, instead of in the exact center of an image. so even when I'm doing something that is very centered and symmetrical, I try to keep that in mind and generally aim around those for landmarks like faces/eyes (or...where they would be, anyway) and other focal points.

it's not a formula of "the character's face should be in this division of this grid" or anything, more like "our minds like to focus on these areas, let's think about how to use that", if that makes sense! and of course rules are made to be broken, art is lawless anarchy, and so on. but it can be a good starting place for deciding where you want to put things!

(blue - thirds, red - half)

and against the finished versions, because they do usually end up changing a lot (including the empty space of the border):

(...these actually lined up a lot better than I thought they would. :') it makes me look like I do things way more intentionally than I do.)

other stuff I just try to keep in mind is that our eyes like following arcs and paths, which can be a good way to guide the eye:

and frame and control the focus:

honestly, composition is one of those things I feel like I struggle with a lot, so I'm not sure how much of this is helpful or actually makes sense outside of my head. but hopefully it helps a little! it's all just stuff to think about while drawing and not anything hard-and-fast, so don't, like, stress out about making sure things are lining up exactly on the thirds or anything. again, it's more "our brains think these are the dopest parts of the rectangle" than anything else! take advantage of the cool parts of the rectangle!

NOW GO HAVE FUN DRAWING seriously though, it is always super cool that other people like this idea and style enough to want to do it themselves and for other/their own characters! thank you! ❤️❤️❤️

#art #sketch #twisted wonderland #...technically i guess? it's not about twst but there is twst art present anyway #i did have a few more examples but then i wasn't sure if you were cool with episode 7 spoilers. whoops. 🫠#many other people have explained the rule of thirds and directional flow way better than me and i apologize #it is so hard to put things into words i am so sorry #me: the...you know...the lines...they sort of converge? like a triangle?#the internet: mm-hmm. yes. go on.#me: (sweating) the...the triangle points here...because it...it has a point.#the internet: it's doing better than you are then #genuinely shocked at how well some of these line up though #uh. i mean. actually it was all totally intentional and i put actual thought into it! NOT an accident at all!#my eyes darting back and forth shiftily are just ✨following the paths✨

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diorsbrando · 1 month

Text

I’D DIE FOR YOU (AND I HAVE). ( s.a. )

sousuke aizen & black!fem!reader.

cw ━━ ! minors, blank and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT. reader is portrayed as a black woman but you do not have to imagine her that way. using this map of the seireitei as a reference (i searched high and low for a consistent accurate one but it was hard). the first half is set pre-ryoka invasion / pre-soul society arc. the second half is aizen-centric (from his pov told from the 3rd person) and set post-tybw arc, years after he was sealed away in mugen, also including mention of events from vol. 1 of can't fear your own world (a light novel that's post-tybw & can be considered canonical); so all this being said: SPOILERS i guess???? of course you're welcome to read if you don't care about spoilers! somewhat based on 'die for you' by the weeknd & even more loosely based on 'dark red' by steve lacy. contains themes of heavy-ish angst, existential crises (?) & inner emotional turmoil within reader + aizen (separately). descriptions of character death, blood and violence. descriptions of manipulation/mind games. aizen is an unkind man. proofread (i did my best).

word count ━━ 11k

notes ━━ ! the way this fic was supposed to finished a month ago...but life once more gets in my way. and the way that it's this long....i anticipated the max being 10k but i greatly underestimated how long it would take to flesh out my idea. anywho i'm somewhat reentering my bleach era again. i’m not sure what it is but character analyses in the form of fanfiction is my jam rn like i really enjoyed writing this (i got tired of the length by like... 7k words lmao) but i like how this turned out. i've watched & read quite a bit of content that provide explanations as to why aizen is the way he is so i wanted to try my own portrayal of that in the context of canonical events. how i characterized him here is partially inspired by a fic i read about him last year so shout out to them for their support :D i hope i've depicted and humanized aizen well ♡. reblogs + commentary are heavily appreciated!!!!!

THE PAD OF YOUR THUMB SLOWLY glided against your bottom lip, the lingering aftertaste of jasmine tea still on its surface and on your breath. The absentminded motion of your thumb caressing your mouth, as if in deep contemplation, continued as you stared at the clock hanging on the wall above you.

It was past eleven, and the midnight hour only continued to draw near as time sustained its temporal march. And there you sat at your desk, floating in the limbo of your mind that was filled with hesitancy and admittedly, budding anticipation.

Your gaze lowered to the now empty porcelain cup, nothing remaining of its contents except the shriveled remnants of herbs and a few wayward drops of the brew.

Your senior comrade, captain Sōsuke Aizen, was correct in his prediction that you'd take a liking to its floral and delicate taste when he gifted you a jar full of the jasmine tea leaves as well as other ingredients.

The captain of Squad 5 seemed to be correct about a lot of things.

His intelligence and foresight, along with his kind and politely witty disposition, were qualities that you found somewhat charming, and gradually drew you closer to him.

Being the current third seat of the 9th company, your barracks and those of squad 5's were relatively close to each other's, so often you'd catch glimpses of and run into Captain Aizen on a pretty normal basis. Over the years, the conversations that bounced between the two of you expanded past the realm of formalities between a higher and lower ranking officer, and instead ranged in territories from literature, to art, to food & drink, and even to the politics of the government for which they were soldiers for.

Sometimes, you found it hard to believe that you managed to befriend a man like him. A man who seems to have mastered the balance between being a gentle soul, helpful to others, but also possessed enough refined power and skills to be named a captain within the Gotei 13.

Especially a man who wasn’t even of your own squad.

Despite the increasingly friendly relations and generally pleasant conversation, there were few moments where Aizen's words didn't feel quite. . . . real━ he didn't feel real. He spoke eloquently, often relying on figurative language to further illustrate his point and to breathe meaning into seemingly plain and meaningless words. But at times those words, his tone felt stained; stained with some substance or color you couldn't quite place. An enigmatic façade was painted over his speech, and it took too much mental capacity to try and find your own meaning in it.

So you'd often brush it off. Your over-reliance on your own reasoning that 'you weren’t able to come to a conclusion because there is no problem a conclusion could be generated from' successfully quieted your mind’s voice. You'd also frequently blame exhaustion, or your newfound hobby of watching human psychological crime shows during your off days for these subconscious ideas you had.

But you feared that the request Aizen made of you yesterday, the source of your current predicament, couldn't be blamed on any of those things. You looked at the clock again before returning to stare at your empty tea cup. For what reason could Sōsuke Aizen wish to meet you outside of the 1st division barracks? Specifically at this hour? You immediately thought of his question as uncharacteristic of him but prevented yourself from jumping to any further conclusions.

Aizen was a reasonable man, and you were sure there was a reasonable explanation.

With a final sigh of acquiescence, you stood up from your sitting position to retie your yukata before slipping a thicker, dark colored haori on top. You were unsure how cold it was this late at night or how long you'd be out, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

You paused for a moment, glancing longingly at your vanity mirror a few times, clearly torn between a decision, before giving in with a soft groan. Grabbing your favorite perfume, you quickly spritzed the spray onto both your inner wrists, either sides of your neck, and stray areas on your clothes. You’d proceed to make sure your hair was in order and your lips were as moisturized and glossy as a pair of tear-filled eyes before making your way to the door and slipping on your sandals.

Meeting with a captain— with Aizen of all people— in the dead of night resembled too closely to forbidden lovers rendezvousing under a fruit tree to fulfill their desires of embracing one another, with no one but the moon as their witness. The comparison alone caused the apples of your cheeks to burst aflame with embarrassment, and you lightly chastised yourself for even indulging in such an inappropriate train of thought. Such a scenario seemed far too deluded to even be considered ‘wishful thinking’.

But those delusions still seemed to make more sense than whatever other conclusion you have yet to reach.

Making your way out of your personal quarters, you activated your shunpo technique, stealthily hopping from one rooftop to the other in an effort to make it to Squad 1 barracks quicker.

After several minutes, your mind mostly engulfed with the 'what if's', the soles of your sandals finally touched ground, and you stood a few feet away from the massive walls and bridges that connected to and from the barracks. Even at night you were able to make out the bold-printed kanji for the number 1 that was painted on the building.

When you arrived, even from a nearby rooftop, you didn't see anyone around. Feelings of confusion and worry began to creep up and flicker to life in your mind.

But, as if your thoughts were as audible, you felt a light breeze of wind behind you, a familiar sound that indicated someone had made their presence known.

Startled, you reflexively reached for your zanpakuto, when you remembered that you hadn't even brought it with you. It still laid against the wall near your bed, just where you placed it earlier when you were relieved of your duties for the day.

You didn't think you needed it necessarily if you were just going to meet with Aizen, hence why taking it with you slipped your mind.

The flickers of concern were swiftly extinguished as your brain caught up with your body upon realizing who just appeared. A relieved sigh left your lips, a breath of air that seemed to release all the tension that had a grip on your heart and wound tight within your muscles. "Ah! Good evening Captain Aizen. You caught me off guard for a moment there."

"My apologies, that was not at all my intention." The Fifth Division Captain sported a dark colored scarf, his long captain's coat and the standard shihakushō all Gotei officers were supposed to wear. In the sash around his waist resided his own sheathed zanpakuto. His tawny hair maintained its usual part but looked slightly tousled, yet still remaining so in a meticulous fashion that made it look intentional.

The state of his hair alone, and his current facial expression made Aizen look more . . . approachable if that’s how you were to describe it. There was a glint in his eyes that you had seldom seen before.

"Thank you, for making your way down here to accommodate my rather. . . . atypical request. I again extend my apologies if I have inconvenienced you in any way."

You shook your head in reply, "It's alright, I wasn't doing anything too important anyway. Just having a cup of tea and delighting myself in a book before bed."

You glanced downwards at the foot or so of space that was wedged in between the two of you. You forced away the murmurs of your lingering thoughts that took note of how the moonlight and shadows danced across the surface of Aizen's face just right, and emphasized his decidedly handsome features.

"But having a complete and good night's rest is important to be fully functional in all areas of one's performance. Wouldn't you agree?"

You couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Yes, I do agree with that sentiment."

Aizen all but hummed in acknowledgement, letting a moment of silence fill the air before speaking again.

"Shall we be on our way?"

You nodded in agreement, following him as the both of you walked about the First Division grounds. From what you could tell based on your position, your aimless nightly stroll drew you closer to where Sokyoku Hill was located. The area became increasingly more grassy and contained less buildings.

Although Squad 1 grounds weren't terribly far from either of your barracks, you still weren't sure as to why Captain Aizen wished to meet out here. Initially you thought that perhaps he was just fond of this particular scenery, but really it could have been anything.

But still, you believed Aizen always had a purpose for everything he did.

After several moments, his warm voice replaced the evening silence, vocalizing your current thoughts. “I assume you are contemplating why it is I have asked you here, and I’m afraid the reason is quite benign. Truthfully, I just wished for your company. I often go on night walks to clear my head after a long day and thought I might invite you to join me this time, and have a conversation with each other."

Your brows shifted upwards, for that was not quite the answer you were expecting. It seemed too . . . simple. “Really? You just . . . wanted to talk with me? Plainly?”

The Squad 5 captain let out a short, soft laugh at the disbelief that was painted on your face. There was an expression of fondness present in his eyes and in the light smile he offered you. “Yes, exactly. I quite enjoy our discussions actually, they’re intellectually stimulating and relatively pleasant. You crossed my mind, and before yesterday, it has been quite some time since we’ve had the opportunity to unwind and talk.”

You hummed an mhmm in agreement, tearing your eyes away from Aizen’s side profile in favor of the hem of his captain’s haori, watching how it danced in the soft breeze. It seemed to be less distracting than the way Aizen peered down at you from time to time.

"I see. I am. . . . truly flattered by your words, Captain Aizen; you're too kind. Forgive me for asking but," you took longer strides so that you could fall into step next to him━ as if to speak to him more directly, "Why at this time? To talk with me, I mean. It couldn't wait until more . . . . . conventional hours?"

He chuckled again, and answered as smoothly as if he were awaiting you to ask him that. "Unfortunately, today's tasks ran a little long today, so I had to stay at my office later than usual." The spectacled man paused for a moment, before setting his soft gaze on you, "And besides, that completely defeats the purpose of inviting you on a night stroll, doesn't it?"

You ignored the heat flaring up in your cheeks again. Your mind refused to move past the fact that you had crossed Sōsuke Aizen's mind enough times━ or the times that he thought about you were significant enough━ and highly enough to invite you into his realm and indulge in these moments with him, when he very much could have done that alone.

A tender smile appeared on your lips, more towards yourself than the man next to you. "I. . . suppose it does."

The ashen-white moon only rose higher in the sky, providing an ambiance of tranquility as the both of you talked about whatever crossed the surface of your minds. Other times, the stillness of the night did the talking, and you'd listen to the leaves, and the wind, and the crickets sing together in harmony. Gradually as you walked and the beaten path grew more narrow, your figures drew closer together, until you could feel the long sleeves of his haori brush against your own.

You hadn't noticed that the two of you eventually stopped walking and paused under a tree until Aizen struck up conversation once more. When he called out your name in that gentle, velvety voice, you swore your heart was going to lurch out of your chest. The sound of your name rolled of his tongue so smoothly, the desire to hear it again grew within you.

"Uh━ yes, Captain Aizen?"

"Are you satisfied with way things are at the moment?"

You stood next to him, perplexed at his inquiry due to its vague nature. "Um, what. . . . things? I'm afraid I don't understand what you're asking."

The wind brushed Aizen's dark ochre tresses across his face as he took a step towards you, like the breeze itself was pushing him towards you. "Hm, perhaps I should be more clear then. Are you content with being a soul reaper? Are you satisfied with being a soldier for the Soul Society?"

With your brows slightly furrowed in thought, you remained silent for several seconds and overanalyzed his every word, trying to predict where he might be steering the conversation now. The longer you thought it over, the stronger that nagging feeling from within your soul became. The one that often told you what he was asking wasn't exactly . . . it didn't quite feel . . . . .

"This feels like a prelude to another insightful discussion on Shinigami━ and by extension━ Seiretei politics." Your words cut off your own thoughts, as if your mind was trying to sweep something under the proverbial rug.

Aizen huffed in amusement, before lightly shrugging, leaving your statement definitively unanswered.

You sighed as you seriously considered his question this time. "I mean sure, I guess. I'm somewhat satisfied with my job and all of . . . this," gesturing your hands in the air around you to emphasize your point. The 5th Division Captain made another humming noise, indicating that you still had his full attention. He inched a little closer into your personal space.

The mere action caused your next words to die in your throat and a quiet chuckle resounded from his, before your thoughts revived themselves again.

"Of course things could always be better but. . . . y'know. This is just how it is." You weren't quite sure if you should voice negative opinions about the Soul Society so plainly to a senior officer, even if he was the one who asked you in the first place, so you treaded lightly.

The same plainly relaxed smile from earlier remained painted across his lips, held in his chestnut irises was an emotion akin to affection. He seemed somewhat pleased that you were expressing your thoughts with him.

“And you? Are you satisfied, Captain Aizen?” You were unable to keep the teasing endearment out of your tone as you returned his gaze, casting aside the notions of Gotei officer seating and ranks for the moment. The air seemed like it shifted━ towards what, you weren't sure of━ but it kind of made you feel like you were adrift, floating in isolation from everything else around you.

It was still hard to process that you were alone with Captain Aizen right now. . . . at night.

A low hum reverberated within his chest, contemplative in nature as he replied, “Perhaps.”

The wind whistled lowly again, erecting goosebumps on whatever part of your skin happened to catch the midnight breeze. You fought the instinctual urge to twitch towards the nearest source of heat, which happened to be Aizen. Now that would be even more wholly inappropriate than the 'lovers meeting at midnight' scenario.

The silence between the both of you was brief, but comfortable nonetheless. Once more his mellifluous voice cut through the quiet, leveled and calm, like still ocean waters.

“Come. I want to show you something,” Aizen reached his arm out towards you, your spine as straight as if someone stuck a metal rod dipped in ice water down your robes.

The captain's movements seemed steady and slow━ it had felt like time itself had hesitated for several moments. You thought he was going to . . . . well you weren't sure what he was going to do, and that's what you made you nervous.

Was he going to touch you? Cradle your cheek? Remove a stray leaf that happened to land on your head? You were left somewhat dangling in anticipation, not daring to flinch backwards because you felt it would be disrespectful or offensive. You hadn't even blinked, subconsciously fearing that this was only a very vivid daydream.

But alas, when his arm drew near it extended past your head, slightly above you, and held a small branch in his palm it like a delicate flower. You released a breath you didn't know you were holding, but that breath drew short again when your gaze was eye level with his lower neck and chin.

He seemed . . . . closer.

“I think that regarding the condition of the Soul Society," Aizen began in a quiet voice, referencing his own reply to his earlier question, "and therefore my thoughts about it, is akin to this set of leaves on this branch."

Snapping out of whatever stupor you seemed to have slipped in, you exhaled softly before stepping back a bit to look at what he was talking about. In his palm he cradled a wayward branch that grew from one of the other sturdier branches of the tree. The green foliage of its arms had started to weaken and dull in color. The cold air due to the seasonal transition to autumn caused the leaves become brittle, nearing closer to the edge of death.

The sound of just how brittle they were resounded in the air when Aizen thumbed the leaves in between his fingertips, observing their texture with pity laced in his small movements.

"These leaves will fall off as it gets colder. And soon, the rest of this tree will be bare as well. When the time comes, when the right circumstances fall into place, the old die to make way and usher in the new; it's simply the way things are. I think of the Soul Society government is structured in a similar manner."

You hung onto his every word, like he were imparting crucial wisdom to you. Even though you were a bit confused on the last part, and on the connection between dying leaves and Soul Society, you still listened intently, waiting for him bridge the gap between the two.

"The Soul Society as it is now can be thought of as a season. And this particular season, this climate has remained so for several centuries. How can nature continue━ how can we continue to progress when the old have yet to be washed away by the currents of time? It defies that of nature, yes?" He directed this question at you specifically, in search of your agreement.

You nodded your head, tearing your gaze away from the branch and directed it at the grass beneath your feet. Your brows furrowed a little as you mused over Aizen's words. He gave a rather ambiguous answer before but now, his words sounded like vague displeasure and muted criticism. Everyone was entitled to their opinion, and on some fronts, you'd sometimes agreed with the 5th Division Captain. The Soul Society was far from perfect, too much emphasis on nobility and status, the government resembled too closely to an oligarchy . . . But you didn't━ wouldn't voice these thoughts, though.

Instead you hummed quietly under your breath. There was that tugging sensation again. This time it told you that there was something deeper to this conversation than meets the eye. But what could there be? Was there anything at all or were you just overthinking it?

The voice-like sensation in your soul was calling out to you, but you couldn't hear it that well or quite make out what it was saying. It's as if someone was calling out to you in a crowded room that had music playing on the speakers: you felt like if you listened hard enough you could make it out but ultimately, the result would fruitless.

"And when that happens," Aizen continued, "sometimes nature has to be gently nudged back on track to keep things moving smoothly. That may require . . . shaking the tree. Pulling a few harmful weeds from one's garden, so to speak."

"Weeds?" You echoed. You felt like you understood this analogy and therefore what he was trying to say, but at the same time you didn't. Or was it . . . . you didn't want to understand what he was implying?

Because if you were interpreting his words correctly, if he were inconspicuously comparing the higher-ups and the government itself to dying leaves and harmful plants that needed to be removed, then . . . .

"You, dear child, are a mere weed in this scenario."

Wait, what did he just━

Your thoughts were cut short when a gush of air that smelt strongly of Aizen━ warm oak, vanilla, and a kind of musk that you weren't sure how to describe but was still pleasant all the same━ brushed against your face and took you by surprise.

But there was another aroma that arose, steadily becoming more apparent alongside the increasingly painful throbbing feeling you felt in your abdomen.

It smelt metallic. And it was something that you've smelt all too many times before.

It was blood.

Your gaze that was initially narrowed in confusion lowered as it followed the source of this pain. Your eyes slowly widened in as you struggled to comprehend the blade that was currently ran through your torso.

Aizen's blade.

"Actually, instead of weeds, a more accurate and befitting analogy perhaps would be blades of grass. You unfortunately have to step on them in order to reach the weeds you want to remove."

You couldn't really focus on what the captain was saying, because your brain was still struggling to process what the hell just happened. Your hands slowly rose from their sides and shakily grazed the zanpakuto, wanting to believe that if you touched it, it would pass right through your fingers like mist. But no, the sensation of cold steel was as real as the robes you wore on your back. You only just now are processing the muffled squelching sound of his sword impaling your flesh.

You wanted to scream, to cry in pain, to vomit, to push him off━ something. But all you could do was stand there, stunned, words completely failing you. "Wh. . . . what? Why did . . . . you . . . . "

A cough replaced your attempt at a comprehensive sentence, and you tasted iron in your mouth.

Fuck....was this really happening?

"Please don't push yourself trying to talk," His voice was like an index finger to one's lips, similar to a parent's gentle caress to quiet and sooth their child, "You'll only hasten your death. And I'm sure you wish to know the reason for my killing you, yes? You'd have to be alive for that."

'Killing me?' 'My death?' The certainty that rang in his words chilled the blood in your veins, and they confirmed the one conclusion you hoped wouldn’t come true: that you were going to die.

The frigid embrace of fear and dread engulfed you from behind and you shivered, causing the blade snugly lodged in your organs to shift. The pain of that foreign object moving even a little bit shot through your entire body, causing a groan to emerge from your throat.

Desperate to conserve your energy and the oxygen that was becoming a little harder to take in, your breathing became uneven and a little wheezed. Even then, you couldn’t bring yourself to meet the gaze of Captain Aizen to confirm if this was really happening or just an extremely realistic and vivid nightmare. The sight you might be greeted with could be more frightening than the actual impaling of his sword.

As if his betrayal couldn’t actually or figuratively cut you any deeper, just then there was a noise that grew louder and louder within a matter of seconds until it was almost deafening. You’ve distinguished it to be the sound of glass crackling.

Your surroundings formed cracks everywhere on its surface, like it was just an oversized window. Even on the grass you stood on, or what you thought was grass, began to crumble away.

A dumbfounded but panicked look was plastered on your face when your world literally shattered around you, the only remnants of it being you and the Captain.

What was underneath the mirage━ or you should say, the fact that it was a mirage at all━ only disturbed you and increased your perplexity.

Slightly hunched over and breathing heavily, it took a minute to process where you were, but you noticed that now the two of you stood in a formal room that looked like it was used for important meetings. The lights in the room slowly started to brighten, most likely due to motion sensors. Even with Aizen's scent lingering in your nose, you could still pick out a rather stale aroma that hung in the air like dead fruit that hadn't fallen off the tree.

"Is . . . this Cen . . . tral━ "

"You are correct. Where we currently stand is the assembly hall for Central 46, the judicial power of the Soul Society. All judiciary as well as legislative trials and proceedings are held here."

All around the room were seats with partitions, the kanji for 1 through 46 printed on them. In the seat for the 19th member, your gaze caught onto something on the translucent barrier. It was a little farther up so you had to squint your already blurring vision to see it properly.

You saw, and your heart promptly sank as a result, eyes widening once more.

There were splatters of a dark colored substance on the partition━ undeniably blood. And the lithe, bony fingers of an older man laid lifeless, peeking out from the side of the screen like the appendages themselves were trying to escape from the body they were attached to.

That man . . . was dead. That stale aroma you smelt was the stench of death.

It was only after that unsettling epiphany did your eyes dart frantically around the room and realize that every member of Central 46 was dead.

The disturbed expression on your face only intensified as your stare was pulled back down to where Aizen's blade still resided in your body.

" Cap.....Aizen," you uttered, swift to correct yourself. All the moisture in your throat dried up like water underneath the unrelenting rays of the sun. You kept gulping your saliva in an attempt to assuage the sensation, but relief only last for a fleeting few seconds. "Did you ━ you killed them . . . didn't you?" Your question was laced with shaky hesitance and swelled with apprehension, fearing that you already knew his reply even before he answered.

There was a moment of silence and a hum before he replied. "Smart girl."

The muted mirthful tone in his voice sounded like sarcasm, and it was enough to finally draw your attention away from everything else and directly look at him. Almost instantly, you regretted it.

His umber tinted gaze was colder than you remembered. You couldn't find anything in his eyes that hinted that all of this was just a big misunderstanding, or a dream, or that Aizen had a secret sense dark and complex humor.

This was your first, and apparently your last time, that you have ever felt a fear such as this. Your mind was struggling to comprehend this was the same Aizen that spoke with you so gently, full of encouragement and wisdom. The same man that recommended you books to read and gifted you tea to drink and gazed upon you like . . .

Well, none of that mattered now. In this moment, Sōsuke Aizen wasn't the same man anymore. This Sōsuke Aizen was someone else, and it frightened you.

"When?" you croaked, your voice no longer sounding like your own. Nothing felt real anymore. "W-When did you . . . . . how? Why?"

Another noncommittal hum resounded from the spectacled man as he closed his eyes, feigning the action of thinking of an answer. When he reopened them, his narrow gaze returned to you.

"Everyone in the Thirteen Court Guard Squads was previously aware that the ability of my zanpakuto, Kyoka Suigetsu, allowed me to confuse the enemy using bodies of water, mist and even moisture in the air in order to attack. However, that is not my zanpakuto's actual power; there is more to it than just simple confusion. Kyoka Suigetsu's true power is Complete Hypnosis. Essentially, when someone looks at my blade, I am then able to take control of that person’s five senses, causing them to believe that something is real ━ or that something isn't real. In a way, once glancing at my unsheathed zanpakuto, that person forfeits their sense of existence to me. Kyoka Suigetsu is quite flawless in its deceptive abilities."

A heavy silence, aside from your uneven breaths, endured in the space between both of you. You didn't need him to spell out what he was trying to say.

It was all . . . . an illusion. A convoluted, premeditated illusion. And you walked right into it without even knowing or considering, that it was all fake.

The Fifth Division Captain inwardly smiled at the despair clearly written on your face as he watched you mentally put the pieces together. He took your lack of reply as a sign to continue. "The members of Central 46 have unfortunately been dead for quite some time now. And as for your question of why......"

The taller man stepped towards you which inadvertently (or purposely, you began to fear), drove his sword deeper into your abdomen without warning and slight force. You bit down on your bottom lip hard to stifle your exclamation of pain. In an attempt to somehow resist him, with the little strength you had left, your hands automatically took purchase in his oversized sleeves, but it did nothing. You found it ironic that you could feel how warm Aizen was underneath his robes, but his soul was anything but.

" . . . . I believe I already mentioned it earlier, yes? All flowers die eventually and the weeds......must be removed."

At that moment you remembered that tugging sensation that told you something felt off in some instances whenever you talked with Aizen. This must have been what it was. Damn it all. You still didn't understand exactly what bad things Central 46 and the Soul Society have done to cause his actions, but based on what you've been told and your current position, it must have been heinous. Again, you actively swallowed the urge to vomit.

"You . . . you lied. I can't believe━ how could it have all b-been a lie?" Another nasty cough rattled your body, followed by a shiver and a groan.

The brown-haired man slightly tilted his head, like he was truly confused. "Lied? Hmm, well. I suppose you could put it that way based on your limited knowledge of the circumstances, but I wouldn't put it that way. Besides, this isn't really about truth or lies. It is, and always has been, only about the reality of what is. And what is, is that you were unable to anticipate my deception. No one could, because it was outside the domain of your thoughts. What is, is that the current way the Soul Society operates is tainted, and I shall be the one to remedy it."

You drew another shuddering breath and looked down at the ground with a grim expression as your blood continued to pool at your feet. Briefly, you even considered unsheathing yourself from his blade and take the chance to make a run for it, but the chances of you making it to the outside world, let alone coming across someone before you bled out and died were slim. Besides, it was clear that you couldn't even trust your own senses anymore after Aizen demonstrated that he had complete control of your reality.

Which reminded you of something else.

" . . . when?" you asked the same question again, but much quieter than before, despair palpable in your voice. 'When and how did you subject me to your zanpakuto's Complete Hypnosis?', is what you were really asking. And being as intelligent as he was, the spectacled man understood.

Abruptly, with a large palm on the small of your back, Aizen used his gentle hold grip to pull you towards him in order to close the remaining distance, causing him to drive the remaining length of his zanpakuto all the way through until the tsuba of his blade rested against your stomach. You looked like a skewered piece of meat.

You didn't have the willpower to hold back the piercing shriek of agony and physical anguish as tears sprung forth from your eyes. You could no longer tell if your blurry vision was due to your tears obstructing your sight or if it was from being a step away from death's door.

"Do you remember . . . the first time we met?"

The hand that rested on your lower back slowly glided upwards until his fingers found your jaw. With a tenderness that reminded you of a time before his betrayal, he lifted your chin and guided your gaze to look at him directly. His thumb moved to graze your bottom lip just as you've done mere hours ago━ as if he knew that, as if he watched you do it. His thumb was dangerously close to slipping inside your mouth and that both excited and scared you. Your breasts against his, your breaths synchronized with his, your body and his were fully pressed against each other and it made focusing on his question more difficult.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The first time . . . we met? Sure, with a little bit of effort you could easily recall the first time you formally met Aizen. It was sometime in the spring, and you remembered him running through combat formations with his lieutenant and the rest of his squad. But why d━

A silent gasp left you. Another epiphany, another figurative blade piercing your heart.

Battle formations, and he . . . offered you to join them . . . his zanpakuto . . . . .

Confusion crumbled away, and was replaced with vacant horror and sadness. It seems you've already been defeated, for many, many years now.

Aizen seemed to murmur something under his breath, a pleased sound you couldn't quite decipher. His mouth brushed over yours, rendering you literally speechless, before he closed the distance and brought your lips together. You could barely process what was happening.

It was ironically tragic how soft and skillfully gentle his lips were against yours. The kiss felt longing, like a departure between two sweethearts and their last meeting together. It also felt heavy and final, making you want to cry.

And you did. Silent tears streamed from your eyes and rolled onto the fingers that still held your face so affectionately. The captain reacted by guiding your chin up a little further, dipping his head a little lower, so he could deepen the kiss. You weakly scorned yourself for thinking about how the two of you must really look like lovers now, sans the sword sticking out from your back.

Oh, how cruel this was; how cruel he was. It was cruel for him to kiss you like this, hand still splayed on your back like he needed to touch you stay sane. And how cruel it was that still managed to enjoy it, even as you stood there dying. Your lips moved together in tandem, slow and almost passionate, all while tears stained the apples of your cheeks, drying up the plush youth that once resided in them.

Aizen's tongue had slithered its way into your mouth, and you suddenly felt like crying harder. There was a tart, sweet flavor lingering on his tastebuds, and you absently wondered what is was. Perhaps hibiscus from tea, you surmised. And he too tasted the sweet jasmine and citrus that clung your tongue and lips. At this, he chuckled quietly into your mouth, humming before retracting from you by a few inches so he could speak.

"I knew you would like the tea. It's sweet and flavorful, isn't it?" You hated how low his voice was, how its timbre pleasurably vibrated and rumbled against your lips, and you hated that lidded stare he gave you. You again thought it unfair that you couldn't even revel in the rare sight of Aizen's lips slightly wet because your lips were intertwined with his.

"I have to thank you for humoring me and my recommendations. I really appreciated it. And I also," you winced loudly and cried out in affliction as Aizen finally began to withdraw the sword from your body, "must to bid you farewell now. It seems you don't have any more time left, and this has dragged on for longer than it needed. I'm not surprised you've held out for this long, as I already knew you possessed commendable strength. But alas it wasn't enough. I am sorry that you have to die; it's rather regrettable that you happened to be that blade of grass that ended up underneath my foot."

Another wail was yanked from your chest as he steadily removed his sword from your abdomen. The pain was becoming excruciating, you would have collapsed by now if the taller man weren't holding you.

You saw two things before the light in your eyes had all but faded away. The first were the colors of faux pity and apathy that swirled in Sōsuke Aizen's irises, spiraling like a storm that was certain to wreak havoc in its wake. His gaze was devoid of any regret or remorse; the final metaphorical nail on the coffin. The second was a small smile.

But this wasn't one of his smiles you were familiar with. No wait . . . . the one you knew was simply a veneer of what is.

This smile was slanted, the corners of his lips tilted upwards and was sharp. Sharp enough to cut open your already gaping wound further and completely tear you apart, spelling out your demise. It looked insidious as if it were hiding razor-edged fangs. This was what is; Aizen's real smile.

"I. . . I see. Aize. . . ." were the last words you were able to manage. You didn't have the strength to be upset or hurt any longer, so you gave in to the exhaustion.

Your body permanently relaxed, long lashes veiling your now empty eyes as your arms lifelessly dropped to your sides. The captain found a disturbing amount of pleasure in his name being the final word you attempted to speak before succumbing to the sleep of death.

And even after the fact, the facade of doomed, star-crossed lovers persisted as your body slumped backwards. Aizen's strong forearm wrapped tightly around your waist being the only reason you didn't fall to the ground in a puddle of your own blood.

That day was the last anyone saw of you, your zanpakuto still laid idly in your room, its spirit destined to forever wander in the afterlife between worlds alone, eventually fading from existence without ever feeling the presence of its master again.

They had declared you missing by the end of the next day. Lieutenant Hisagi was probably the most perturbed about your sudden disappearance. Days, weeks passed, and they never located you. The Gotei 13 was left unsettled by the lack of progress, but ultimately had to rule your case inconclusive. Some believed that you were simply killed by a stray hollow, or even ran away from your duties because of the stress.

The news of what happened spread like wildfire across all the squads, that a high-ranked officer just up and vanished without a trace. The spirits and morale of the thirteen companies dampened, sorrow and worry swelling like a festering boil.

And that boil burst when Ryoka infiltrated the Soul Society, and when it was revealed that all of it was carefully orchestrated by Sōsuke Aizen.

Like a blade of grass that somehow snuck into one's sandals or in between their toes, during his time in Hueco Mundo, images of you flashed in his head at unexpected times when his mind was quiet. He'd remove the grass, tossed you aside, and moved on with his day. There was no room for you in the grand scheme of things. Such reminisces were beneath someone like him.

And yet.

He'd always find another piece of grass from the greenery he stepped on whenever he advanced a step in his plans. There you were again.

It was common knowledge that if you kept repeating the same action over and over, it will eventually wear you down.

━━━━━━ 鏡 ━━━━━━━

It was dark, and there was nothing.

There had been nothing for quite a long time now. Utter darkness and the abyssal shade of black engulfed every inch of Aizen's body and surroundings.

He saw nothing, the seals over his eyes too opaque to let anything through. And even if they weren't obscuring his vision, he would barely be able to see three feet in front of him; there was seldom a few lanterns in his cell to begin with. He felt nothing but the bindings that kept him imprisoned in one of the deepest pits of the Seireitei. At times it felt like even his internal organs had stilled in their functions. He heard nothing but the unrelenting quiet of his cell within Mugen's maw. The only thing that served as proof that he hasn't spontaneously grown deaf yet was the occasional muffled noise that originated from outside of the entrance. And even then, he could hardly hear much of anything.

Such is an ironic fate for someone who, with a stray thought and a glint of his blade, could control someone's senses and take away their free will to experience those senses in their reality. And now, he was stripped away of all of his in nearly every capacity.

Sōsuke Aizen was rendered stationary and stagnant, qualities he detested and were the antithesis of his ambitions and plans, perhaps even his existence.

Aizen had always believed in being in control of your own destiny and making your own choices; if you had the opportunity and the power to change something━ especially if it was something that was wrong, unfair or immoral━ then one should be able to move towards that goal by making change, even if by force. The former captain had always been intentional about his actions and his desires right from the start.

And yet, here he ended up.

Spending years strapped to a chair in this dark, cloistered hole, Aizen had nothing but time to reflect the reason for his arrest: that orange haired Ryoka boy, Ichigo Kurosaki. He had nothing but time to admit to himself and settle on the conclusion that his last battle with the substitute Shinigami . . . did something to him.

Fighting the Ryoka boy ignited something inside him that he previously believed would forever lay dormant.

The thrill of a challenge.

Adrenaline was injected into his veins with each clash of their swords, spreading far and wide across every inch of his body. It no longer reacted in the measured, calculative manner he had programmed it to, but with unadulterated, pure instinct and raw power━ all in an effort to not only withstand such potent spirit energy from his opponent, but to come out on top and win.

It made him feel alive.

Aizen's desire to be the victor in battle and in his philosophy━ to prove himself right━ both fueled him and consumed him so thoroughly it led to his own downfall. That was a rather difficult fact to acknowledge; so much so his head started to pulsate intensely whenever it crossed his mind one time too often.

All of it unfolded right in front of his eyes and yet . . . he didn't really see it happen.

As time passed during his perpetual incarceration, with hooded eyes, the former captain spent an unfathomable amount of time tossing and turning every single event that led him to this underground prison, even pondering his temporary release by the Head Captain Kyōraku to fight in the war. Scenarios both minor and significant displayed itself in front of his mind's eye as if he were watching a film.

Every so often, a blurred visage of your image would make a brief appearance, like the flickering sparks of a match before they were able to come to light, fading away into the void and were overshadowed by his other thoughts. It was as if his own consciousness and intentionally muted any manifestations of your existence in his memories. As if he wasn't able to or allowed to see them━ to remember you for too long.

Mentally reliving moments from the last several months, years, decades, centuries━ trying to analyze each moment and decipher where it could have went wrong━ turned out to be quite an exhausting task. His mind and body would grow heavier with inertia, and eventually he would succumb to the alluring pull of slumber. After some time he would rouse from his sleep, and continued from where he left off.

These were his daily activities day in and day out (even though he had trouble distinguishing day and night in his chambers) for years. He saw a positive side to it though. He'd instead think of it has him getting stronger because he had spent so long . . . thinking. Ruminating. Contemplating every possibility in the past, present, and future. His mind would become as sharp as his zanpakuto.

Aizen had always been intentional about what he did, what he said, and how he conducted himself. He was sure in his abilities to orchestrate an image━ a belief for others to have faith in, and act on it in order to further his goals. He was always sure in that image, knowing who he was and what he stood for.

Or at least, that's what he thought.

Aizen wasn't consciously aware that his certainty in this crafted image had already begun to waver. He could not and was unable to anticipate how severe these small fractures had become until after a certain lieutenant paid him a visit outside his cell of confinement, right before he was scheduled to be thrown back into that dark hole of the Mugen.

Lieutenant Shuhei Hisagi was quite emotive when he burst through the doors. His expressions were contorted in volatile mixture of frustration, anger and sadness. His emotions were every which way, directed at everything that has happened so far, including himself. He was especially emotive at Aizen specifically for what he did to former captain Kaname Tosen and 'corrupting him with his twisted ideals.'

Aizen found amusement in that.

Before he was rolled away by the punishment force and therefore out of earshot, a particular set of Hisagi's words caused the small, content smile on his lips to uncurl ever so slightly. "Everything . . . and everyone that has ever gotten themselves involved with you has been trampled on by you and your ideals one way or another, and they all end up dead. If you think what you did to Captain Tosen was justified━ to call it mercy . . . . . then there is truly no justice in this world. You will . . . forever be the enemy in my eyes."

There was a trembling anger in his voice. Pain that wanted to cry out and be set free but, the thin lid of reason prevented it from doing so. And after a moment of silence, the corners of Aizen's lips curved upwards once more. A little bemused, a little more wolfish this time. He maliciously imagined Hisagi's reaction if he ever discovered the true reason for your disappearance.

But instead, all he said was. "What an interesting thing to say, Shuhei Hisagi. Your conviction is admirable." Any evidence of emotion that might have been reflected in his sepia irises was swallowed up and obscured by the darkness of the Mugen's jaw.

The cracks in Aizen's sense of self, in his beliefs, in the image he invented started to cave under the weight of Hisagi's words before he himself realized it was happening. They were like stains in the fabric of his mind that refused to come out.

What puzzled him more, was that with each attempt to figure out just why Hisagi's words echoed in his mind, they all lead back to you, the third seat of the 9th squad. Annoyingly so.

The tattooed lieutenant hadn’t said anything particularly profound ━ at least, Aizen didn't think so. Your name didn’t even fall from his lips. So why were memories of you and your likeness the only clear thoughts he could make of Hisagi's speech? Was it because he was aware of how close the two of you were? He doubted the reason were that trivial and insignificant.

His thoughts grew more discordant by the day, his soul a little more weighted than usual. Perhaps these new seals that Urahara had fashioned actually had an effect on him, Aizen thought. It made sense. His intellect, other than his own, were the only ones capable of creating such effective restraints.

After a while, he had a revelation. This was a different kind of weight.

This heaviness, the closest word he knew to describe it as . . . . was loneliness.

Time taunted him as it seemed to drag on━ Aizen grew even less sure of how much━ when he came to this realization. Hisagi's words were a clear mirror to the loneliness that echoed within him after what happened to you and to Tosen. It was so . . . potent, that it seemed to strike some chord in Aizen he had never heard before.

Such a chord, this sound of loneliness, it was strange and uncomfortable; he wasn't very fond of this sensation. He'd try to scrub it away, but it was all for naught.

His eyes had slid shut at some point, his ruminations leading to dead ends and wearing him down. And, almost as expected, there you were again, in all your translucent glory. The hem, the sleeves, and even the smell of your yukata slowly dragged across his dreams, haunting his thoughts like a lonely wraith.

And Aizen hardly dreamt of anything.

When he regained consciousness he was plagued with yet another epiphany. An additional reason behind this newfound depth.

Aizen's own loneliness. Guilt. Much to his own quiet horror.

How foreign and unusual a thing like guilt is. It was like looking into a mirror and not recognizing something you had never noticed before, but wondered if it had always been there.

But the thing Aizen did recognize, how lonely he actually felt, was something he had hoped would never resurface again. It was a notion he hadn't had the time or regard to consider━ 'loneliness'. Its only purpose, if any, was solely to serve as a motivator. At times though, it was more like a hindrance.

Something akin to nausea slowly started to bubble up in the pit of his stomach, but he suppressed the sensation before it became any more intense.

What of his previous actions did he need to feel guilty for? He hadn't felt it then, so why would he feel it now? Again he ruminated such a question endlessly into oblivion.

The former captain had no doubts that his plan to remove the Soul King, and therefore the Soul Society's sins, were necessary.

Nor did any hesitancy about removing the opposition or dead weight━ whether shinigami or arrancar━ existed.

He certainly had no reservations against killing Kaname Tosen, for he knew the man well enough to know that Tosen would have been so thoroughly appalled with what he had become, it would have drove him mad.

So what was it, then? Why were such useless emotions as guilt and loneliness being amplified n━

"Y....know, S....."

Even covered by the seals, Aizen's eyes widened and his brows were slightly furrowed in distress. Had his mind finally tipped the scales of sanity and madness, to the point where he was hearing things?

It was quiet for several moments longer, before his senses caught onto the sound of water dripping onto a hard surface.

One drop at a time.

Its cadence a little too rhythmic to be natural. And for a second time, he heard that soft, ominous sounding whisper. Its voice a little clearer this time.

"You...know.....Sōsuke."

In the second it took for his eyes to flutter shut behind its seals to blink, when he reopened them, he was no longer sealed to the walls and floors of the Mugen, nor was he surrounded by every shade of darkness imaginable. His limbs and senses were finally freed to breathe for the first time in what felt like ages.

That relief was short-lived when his senses absorbed the unending landscape of water underneath his feet, water lilies lifelessly floating on its surface, and the dim sky illuminated by a full pale moon.

Aizen was in his inner world, and now he was aware of how he got here, or rather who brought him here.

"You . . . already know the answer to that question, Sōsuke." The voice was even more clear, its sentences more comprehensible. And it sounded it eerily like you.

Why the voice was impersonating your likeness had caught him off guard for half a second, but he realized it was only the work of his zanpakuto, Kyoka Suigetsu.

An illusion it may be, there was an untouchable quality about your voice and how you spoke that even Kyoka Suigetsu couldn't replicate.

A few feet away from him, the water was disturbed by a being emerging from the depths. Ripples formed around a manifested version of his zanpakuto, who took the form of you, smiling ever so gently. The smile felt airy, and it didn't seem like the same one that haunted his dreams and every waking thought as of late. It felt....knowing.

Still, the former captain couldn't be bothered to maintain eye contact with his sword spirit, so he turned around and opted to keep his unreadable stare trained on the vast expanse of water and white lilies.

"It's been quite a while since I have stepped foot into this realm. There must be something you want . . . Kyoka."

The zanpakuto chuckled, it sounded like the way you would softly laugh at one of his clever quips. But this wasn't you.

He didn’t want to admit that something about that fact didn’t sit right with him.

"Judging from your tone, would I be correct in assuming you don't want to be here?"

Silence rang out within the soul scape, before Aizen interrupted it, his gentle voice colored a shade darker, and a little rigid. "And I fail to see the reason why you must take that form when you revealed yourself to me. Is your aim to get a reaction out of me? Or something along those lines?"

Your eyes━ the eyes of Kyoka Suigetsu━ narrowed at its master's back, as if they were trying to create concavities in his skull. But the expression was washed away the moment it appeared, the serene smile from before was back in place.

"You know . . . it's considered quite rude to not look at someone when you're addressing them. That, and when you deliberately ignore things they say. Your manners have been deteriorating, Sōsuke. Tsk, tsk."

Kyoka-dressed-as-you suddenly appeared before him, as if they had teleported. Even when they were in his peripheral vision, Aizen still maintained his stare off into the distant nothingness.

"Unless, you can't find it in yourself to look at me. . . that's correct, isn't it? It's because I look exactly like her, right?" The zanpakuto continued to provoke him, taking a step closer into his personal space.

With an exasperated sigh, his eyelids fell shut for a second, using that time to gather the strength he didn't know he needed, and directed his gaze to meet his spirit's. Aizen's face gave nothing away, but his heart lurched about his chest when his bronze eyes met with yours, or what was made to look like yours. The undesired affect it had on him was all the same.

"If you wish to chastise me about manners, I suggest you take your own advice. You didn't answer my first question, either: what is it you want? Why am I here?" Again the former captain chose to not address the other parts of Kyoka's statement. For the sake of his sanity and his thinning patience━ or was it to preserve his resolve?

Its smile widened a bit, moving another step closer to their master. God, Kyoka even smelled like you, mimicking your signature honeyed scent that Aizen didn't realize he found so intoxicating until this very moment.

"I called you here to save you from yourself."

Aizen remained silent, only narrowing his eyes in speculation. "Meaning?"

"Didn't I already say it earlier? I think you already know what I'm talking about, Sōsuke. You've always known."

Fate's pairing of Kyoka Suigetsu with Aizen was a match crafted from the spindles of heaven, but also a maddening curse pulled from the depths of hell, for they complimented each other a little too well. The zanpakuto was too perfect a reflection of Aizen and his soul, looking at it started to hurt his eyes.

His sword spirit insisted that he already knew the reason for his coming here, and perhaps he did have an inkling the moment the light of epiphany was shone on his profound loneliness and guilt. But that couldn't have been what it was referring to . . . . could it?

"You cannot feign ignorance here, my dear Sōsuke, however I do find it rather humorous you bother trying. If you'd like, I don't mind humoring you by spelling it out for you. I'd be glad to unearth the truth that you have buried in the most neglected corner of your heart."

"When you were . . . . subjecting yourself to such mental torment, it had an affect on this world as well. The ripples, the waves in this scape become quite . . . tumultuous." The nuances in your voice were perfected by his zanpakuto, but the way it talked sounded like a fog that was gradually closing in from over the horizon. The uneasy feeling that resided in his chest traveled down to his stomach, but Aizen's face remained steely, even when Kyoka Suigetsu took that final step to close the gap in between them. "And the reason for that, the reason why Hisagi's words rattled you so is because you regret killing that woman."

The creased line in Aizen's brow grew more prominent as he stared down his sentient sword spirit. With its breast pressed against his, they placed a hand on his clothed chest in a tantalizing manner, but he felt nothing. There was no warmth from its palm, much unlike when your hand touched him. There wasn't even a cool sensation either. Even minutes before your death, your touch brought a soothing heat that permeated through his shihakusho and penetrated his skin.

Kyoka's face grew nearer, their smile━ although still tender looking━ grew cold at its edges, nearly resembling that of a predator eager to see despair reflected in the eyes of its prey. It didn't fit the graceful allure of your face at all, and seeing this expression deeply unsettled the former captain more than he would like to admit.

"You regret . . . killing me."

A chill tore through Aizen's body, the weight of Kyoka's words adding onto the heaviness that still hasn't been alleviated from his heart; he was hardly able to suppress the involuntary shiver.

Without warning, Kyoka's mouth suddenly became dangerously close to their master's, its lips brushing against his in a provocative manner. Aizen's expression darkened when he realized that it was reenacting his last encounter with you when you were alive. His mouth started to grow uncomfortably dry, despite his soul scape being full of moisture, and there was a taste on the back of his tongue that's been lingering there since he arrived.

The lilt in Kyoka's tone continued to taunt him. "That is the reason for your guilt: regret. You have been in denial. And in the spirit of unearthing truths, I suppose I can admit that perhaps . . . . I've been . . . . encouraging said delusions, adding drops of fuel into the flames of your emotions and ambitions. But after all that's happened, when it comes down to it there's no point in continuing this hallucination any longer. I've grown tired of this game, so it's time to for you wake up now, Sōsuke. I've brought you here to release you from your own illusion, to completely shatter it."

Aizen's back was as stiff as a board, not moving a millimeter when Kyoka's lips grazed his again. They were breathing softly onto his mouth, but he hardly felt any puffs of air.

The former captain was having a rather difficult time processing the fact that his zanpakuto had its own agenda and had been manipulating his emotions without him noticing. Specifically the emotions he felt towards you.

He never truly believed that such a thing was possible, one's own blade having such a deep-rooted influence━ no, control over their master. Or would it be more accurate to say that he never expected himself to be controlled to such a degree? He that prided himself on being freed from the marionette strings of fate that were tied to his limbs and mind, he that relished being able to do what he wanted, think what he wanted, feel what he wanted━ or what he didn't want━ it was hard to believe that none of that mattered in the end.

Kyoka Suigetsu's deceptive abilities were indeed undeniably perfect. No one, not even Aizen himself could have anticipated that Kyoka's most absolute and complete hypnosis would be enacted on himself.

"Do you know now, Sōsuke? Do you understand?" Kyoka's voice was as soft as a whisper, but it couldn't hide the edges of its tone that were still sharpened from finding amusement of seeing the truth flash across its master's face. "You had destroyed the solution to your existential question of loneliness, before you could fully understand the question itself."

Yes . . . . . Aizen understood now.

He didn't bother acknowledging what Kyoka had said. His grim facial expression━ still, tinged with dolor, and paired with an indescribable, distant look his eyes━ said all that it needed to. His silence was as much as an admission as any.

Kyoka-dressed-as-you leaned forward again to fully close the gap between their lips and Aizen's. Tenderly, like the intentions of a lover, it spoke against his nearly closed mouth. "Have you figured it out yet?"

Nothing but quiet could be heard between them, as Kyoka's mouth moved about their master's face and placed something like kisses upon its surface, but not quite.

Aizen's cocoa-shaded eyes slide down to stare at his sword spirit pressed up against him. His gaze was hard, and yet something swam underneath its surface that his zanpakuto had never seen before. Melancholy, it guessed? They weren't quite sure.

Kyoka pressed on when Aizen remained quiet. "The taste in the back of your mouth. Have you figured out what it was? You know it quite well....."

Aizen's tongue grazed the roof of his mouth, sensing the rather unpleasant taste that has coated the inside of it. And within a moment, because he was faced with the current circumstances, Aizen had finally placed a name associated this particular taste. How unfortunate this was.

Upon his realization, Aizen's head lowered, and his brown tresses hung freely over his lashes. Perhaps it was so Kyoka couldn't properly see whatever remorseful expression painted their master's face, but it mattered not. Even from here, the sword spirit could already sense exactly what it was he was feeling.

And they loved it.

"It's a sweet and flavorful taste, isn't it? Quite lovely." Kyoka Suigetsu mimicked the exact words he uttered against your lips all those years ago when he tasted jasmine tea on your tongue, and sealed your death with a kiss. "It's too bad you don't seem to enjoy it anymore."

Aizen's chest continued to rise and fall calmly, and the hands of his sword spirit that rested there glided upwards to cup his strong jaw, caressing his skin with its thumb. Its phantasmic touch did nothing to stir their master.

"Sōsuke, do you know what the jasmine flower from that tea symbolizes?"

Aizen's lips were slightly parted, but again he didn't say anything. Instead, its corners twitched and lifted upwards by an inch, and he huffed softly.

Kyoka Suigetsu grinned in reply. "Good."

The next time Aizen blinked, he was plunged in darkness yet again. The restrictive feeling that swallowed his being whole had returned, and was an indicator that his zanpakuto had released him from his inner world. He was consciously back in the Mugen, back in this abyss they called a prison cell.

Kyoka was indeed as much as a formidable force in its own right, as much as, if not greater than Aizen himself.

The conversation he had with his sword spirit would be cemented in his head for all eternity. When he grew senile and began to physically wither away, the one thing that would remain vital like a young heart, was this epiphany that he had. This realization that he actually . . . .

As the chains of despair bound him tighter to the bottom of the metaphorical pit, regret and his loneliness corroding his flesh and spirit like metal exposed to moisture, a stray memory of his time in Hueco Mundo flashed in his mind. He recalled having tea prepared for meetings with his Espadas and he could not pinpoint when, but at some point, Aizen developed an aversion for jasmine flavored tea. For one reason or another, he no longer found its taste appealing; whenever he drank it, it always tasted bitter.

Now that reason had become painstakingly clear.

The binding on his mouth muffled a rueful chuckle at the though, and it trapped the flavor of jasmine on his lips.

(#) @soaringmirror @stygianoir @ryukenzz @blkjupiters @chrissie2003 @nymphoheretic @dejwrld @triangularz @souyaszn @kuujo @honeybleed @valentineluvu . let me know if you’d like to be apart of my tag list ♡♡.

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forever-rogue · 1 year

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hey :) i recently discovered your blog and read your joel fics. let me just say that i love how you portray him, it feels so genuine. i haven’t seen any request guideline or anything but i thought i could still send one. feel free to turn it down or change it tho.

what about joel being in a relationship with a much younger reader and he’s a bit insecure. he knows he’s old, he has scars all over his body and rough hands, etc…and she’s pretty much the opposite. it results in him just avoiding her a bit (if he has to change a shirt, he’ll make sure she is nowhere near for example) but one time he gets hurt and she refuses to let him “handle it”. quickly, she realizes how he can’t look at her, how ashamed he seems to be when he has to undress for her to look at the wound. he ends up admitting how he feels (in a very joel way but still) and she just shakes her head and shows him how much she loves him (nothing sexual though but maybe she kisses his scars and tells him she adores all those little “flaws” he sees)

hope this is okay, thanks :)

AN | This turned out pretty soft, but I hope like it 🥺

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Injury [non-graphic, but mentions blood]

Word Count | 3.2k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You liked Joel. You really liked him. Even despite the differences between the two of you, which seemed so vast at times, and despite what people had said about your relationship in the beginning.

But there was always this sort of divide. You couldn't quite pinpoint it but it was always there. And you wished you could break it down, bit by bit just like you had done with so many other things. He didn't seem to want to let you in, no matter how much time you spent with him. In the end, you decided not to push it; if it happened it would happen. Otherwise you would just love him as best as you could, show him just how much he meant to you with everything you had.

You loved him, just as he was, and that was all that mattered.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a late night that found you in your bed in Jackson all by yourself. It was winter, and it was cold; normally you could rely on Joel to be your personal heater but he was gone. You weren’t quite desperate enough to get up and turn on the heating, so instead you bundled up in a horde of blankets. You hoped that Ellie was warm enough but you knew that she would speak up if she was cold.

You grabbed the pillow that Joel normally used, the one that always smelled like him, and hugged it to your chest. It almost made it seem like he was here…almost.

But before you could manage to fall asleep and dream of him, the real Joel stumbled his way into the bedroom. You sat up with a start, immediately turning on the like on the bedside table, rubbing the bleariness from your eyes, “Joel?”

He grunted in response, still half hidden by the darkness of the night. But you knew him well enough to know that something was off. You slid out of the bed and walked over to him, mind already reeling with the hundreds of possibilities of what could have been wrong. When you were finally able to take a look at him, your heart dropped into your stomach.

“Joel,” he looked at you, but you could tell he wasn’t quite there. The entire right side of his shirt was bloodied and you immediately knew that it was his blood; that idea made your stomach churn, “what happened?!”

“I’m fine,” he lied, waving his hand to try and brush you off. But you were having absolutely none of it, “just need a minute."

"You're not fine," you shook your head and reached for the hand on his uninjured side but he immediately flinched out of your reach, "Joel. Don't lie to me and say you're fine! You're hurt!"

"I can handle it," his answer came out in a hiss as he sat down at the edge of the bed, "I don't need you."

You recoiled for a moment, taken aback by his words and tone. But you quickly got over it when you realized it wasn't really him. He was injured and hurting…you really couldn't blame him.

"I don't want you to just handle it," you crouched in front of him, attempting in vain to try and get him to look at you. He refused; his dark gaze fell anywhere but on you, "you don't always have to do things alone, Joel. I'm here for you, I l-"

"Don't," he stiffened as you sighed softly. He hadn't let you say those words to him yet. He'd never said them to you either. It wasn't really a big deal to you; he showed you his love in so many other ways, through everything he did. But right now, you thought he might just need to hear it, "get out."

"What?" Your eyes widened in hurt and you felt tears start to well up and prickle at the back of your eyes. He'd never once been so harsh before.

"Please," he sighed as you stood up and studied him, "just get out for right now."

"Listen," your hands were on your hips in a position that mirrored the one he often pulled, "I know this is hard for you, letting someone else in. And I respect and am trying to understand your boundaries but you don't always have to push me away when things happen. I'm not going anywhere, I hope you would know that by now. You're my partner in every meaning of the word and I would never leave you. I want to be there for you, but I don't if you don't want me to be. So, I'll listen to you and I'll leave. But if you decide you need me, you know where I'll be."

He half expected you to go out and slam the door, but you didn't. Instead you walked slowly, shutting the door with as much grace as ever as he listened to you walk downstairs to the spare bedroom. Bereft of any logical thought, a heavy sigh escaped him. It would have been easier if you'd been mad and yelled, but instead you were kind as normal. He hated that - hated himself in that moment because it made him realize just how deeply he hurt you.

He got up and locked the door before hesitantly peeling off his shirt to try and tend to his wounds. He was almost glad they hurt…it was the least he deserved.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As soon as you stepped foot into the spare room, you let the tears you'd been holding in roll down your cheeks, trying to keep your cries quiet. You didn't want Ellie to hear and you certainly didn't need Joel to hear you either.

You crawled into bed but found no comfort in it, finding it too hard, too cold, too empty. You were half tempted to go back to Joel and make him accept your help, but that wouldn't do anything helpful.

Instead you grabbed the extra pillow and hugged it to your chest, saddened when you realized it didn't smell like him. After you'd cried yourself out, you fell into a dreamless sleep. It was decidedly better than the alternative.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You weren't sure how long you'd been sleeping before you heard the door creak open. Being a light sleeper was both a blessing and a curse. You thought that maybe it was Ellie needing something so you didn't think anything of it.

"Hey Ellie Bean, what's up?" you peeked an eye open as you blindly reached for the light switch. But when you turned it on and revealed your new guest, you made a soul sound of surprise, "Joel?"

"I'm sorry," he choked out, still standing in the doorway, unsure if he should stay or go, "I'm so sorry."

"Oh, my love," you threw the blankets back and slid out of bed, to walk to him. When you stood in front of him, his expression grew nervous, his eyes wide and worried. You reached up and touched his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek, "c'mere."

You took his hand and pulled him towards the bathroom, no hesitation whatsoever. Joel inhaled deeply but followed you; he would always follow you.

You flicked on the bright, blinding light and motioned for him to sit on the toilet. He silently did as you wished and waited to see what you'd do next. God, he really just wished you'd be mad at him. He deserved it - at least in his mind.

You kneeled in front of him and studied him. His eyes were glossy, his face pale save for the dark circles under his eyes. His shirt was stained with dried and fresh blood, knuckles on his right hand busted. You swallowed thickly, but tried to keep it together.

From under the sink, you grabbed the antiseptic and bandages and other supplies, setting them in front of you wordlessly. No words needed to be exchanged and he didn't flinch away when you reached for his hand. He momentarily marveled at how much smaller your hands looked in his.

Joel watched as you cleaned his wounds, gentle and tender in your actions. You were his saving grace without a doubt.

"There we are," you finished bandaging his hand before setting back on his thigh. Your eyes flicked to his side and you realized you weren't sure what to do. In the end, your worry for him outweighed anything else. You touched the hem of his shirt and met his eyes, "may I?"

He looked away for a moment, hesitating and torn. But ultimately he knew what he should - and really wanted to - do, "yes. I trust you."

"Okay," you choked up for a moment but that was a worry for later, "okay."

You took the hem of his shirt in your hands and slowly pulled it up, almost jumping when his fingers brushed against yours as he took over and tugged off his shirt, throwing into the tub so the blood wouldn't stain anything.

He was half waiting for you to say something or just to walk out, but you didn't. Of course you didn't. Deep down he knew that.

While he was having his existential crisis, you were assessing the damage. Luckily it didn't seem to be too bad, more superficial than anything but you still hated seeing him hurt. You tutted softly as you grabbed a clean rag and started to wipe away all the blood. Even despite your gentle touch, you could tell it was hurting him.

"Almost done," you promised, taking your time to get everything all cleaned up and covered, humming softly under your breath. It was a habit he'd noticed a while ago and for some reason it always made him feel safe. When you were finished, you looked over the rest of his torso. Joel could feel you looking at him, "all better. Well, you're patched up but it'll take a bit to heal. I'll keep an eye on it, okay?"

You stood up and stretched, your back stiff from kneeling on the tile floor. You still weren't sure where you stood with him so you decided to go back to the guest room.

"Good night, Joel," you didn't give him a chance to say anything else before walking out of the room. Whatever happened next would be up to him.

Fortunately you didn't have to wait long for an answer.

Once you got settled back into bed, it was only a few minutes until you heard him come back. You hadn't closed the door all the way so he could easily push it open. You didn't roll over to face him, instead you let him come to you, let him gingerly slide into the bed behind you.

He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his chest, curling around your body. You relaxed - your heart felt relaxed - as you allowed yourself to melt into him, putting your hand on top of his.

Neither of you spoke, but you felt him press a kiss to your shoulder.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you woke up again, hours later with the sunlight softly streaming in through the window, you found yourself tangled up with Joel. It felt good to have him next to you.

He had some more color to his face and you couldn't help but brush some of the rogue locks out of his face. You ghosted your fingers along his jaw before trailing them down his arm. You wanted him to rest so you got out quietly and padded to the kitchen to make some breakfast.

It wasn't long before you heard his familiar footsteps on the wooden floor. You turned to him and found that he was still shirtless. You hadn't seen him shirtless before you realized. Not like this.

"Good morning," you whispered softly, "you look better."

"Can we talk?" Oh. He wanted to head right into that.

"Y-yeah. Yes," you agreed, already nervous, heart beating rapidly, "of course."

He sat down and motioned for you to join him, which you did without hesitation.

"I'm sorry," he echoed his words from last night after a few beats of silence, "for what I said. How I said it."

"I didn't take it personally," you promised, "I know you were hurt. Hurting."

"It doesn't excuse it," he leaned back in his chair, scrubbing a tired hand over his face, "I often wonder why you're here. With me."

His words crashed around your ears and hit like a ton of bricks. The panic on your face was evident.

"I don't - I don't doubt you," he quickly shut off any of your negative thoughts, "me. Why me?"

"I don't…I don't understand, Joel."

"You're so young, so good, so fuckin' beautiful. Everything I'm not," you looked at him in surprise, wondering if this had been on his mind for some time, "you could have anyone you want. Why are you here? With me? An old man with too much shit and baggage that can't even communicate properly? Surely there's someone better for you here."

"Joel," you couldn't help the small laugh that escaped your lips, "you're so blind sometimes, you know? I don't want anyone or anything but you. It's you. Joel Miller, I know it's hard for you to accept certain things, but you have to know that I love you. That it's….always been you. Since we met."

"I haven't even been able to be shirtless around you," he sighed heavily, forcing himself to meet your eyes, "we can't even have sex unless it's dark. I - fuck…I know you've noticed, you're not dumb."

"I have, and you're right, I'm not dumb."

"You haven't said anything."

"Why should I have?" You asked in return, "its not…I love you, and that means accepting all of you, even the bits and pieces you hate yourself. I love all the things you hate about yourself," you were waving your arms around as you normally did when you got excited and that brought the smallest of smiles to his face, "I don't care about stuff like that…I knew that we'd cross that bridge when you were ready to. It's not my place to push or pull you. I'm willing to wait for you, and I'm always going to be here for you. All I want…all I want is for you to know that I love you and that you don't have to do anything on your own. You have me, always. I want to be your home and your safe space, just as you are mine."

"How could you…" he gestured to his body, speaking through gritted teeth and thinking of every mark and scar that littered his body, "how could love this? Is this really what you want to deal with?"

"First of all, I'm not 'dealing' with you," you reached across the table and put your hand on top of his, "you don't just deal with the people you love."

"But-"

"But nothing," you insisted, "you're perfect just the way you are. And excuse me for a moment for objectifying you but you're hot, Joel. You're fine as hell, and I can't believe you don't see that. On top of that you're a good man, even if you don't want to believe it. What else could I want?"

"Baby," he took your hand and held onto it, squeezing tenderly, "I'm giving you an out if you want it."

"Well I don't fucking want it," you squeezed back, "I'm not leaving. Not unless you can look me in the eye and tell me you don't want me. That you want me to leave."

His eyes met yours, "never."

"Good," you offered him a small smile, "that settles that. Joel, you're so important to me and I will always be here for you physically or mentally or however. I've got scars and marks and imperfections too. I've got baggage. The thing is when you love someone that doesn't matter."

"I know," he closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, "I'm s-"

"Don't," you cut him off softly, "don't say you're sorry. There's nothing to be sorry for. Just…it's okay for us to take things slow, as they come. And just know that we're here for each other."

"Okay," you saw his adam's apple bob as he choked up.

"Okay," you stood up and walked over to him, and effortlessly, as always, his hands found your hips and he pulled you onto his lap. You gently cradled his hands in your face, beaming at him, silently telling him that everything was going to be alright, "I love you, Joel."

"I…I love…" he paused, not unsure of his devotion but overwhelmed by everything, "I can't believe I've never even said it to you before."

"I don't care. You don't have to tell me anything you don't mean or don't want to," his hands were delicate on your skin as he studied you, "I know it's true regardless. I don't need to hear those specific words."

"I want to say them," he insisted softly, his hand finding your face, a juxtaposition of rough against soft, "I love you. Even if I don't always say it or act like it."

"I know, but you do. Act like it I mean," you preened into his touch and put your own hand on his chest, palm right above his heart, "you're not alone, you know. You have me, Ellie, Tommy, Maria, and so many others. It's hard to be so vulnerable, trust me I really do understand in my own way, but it's also okay. Even if it takes time, forever, or whatever. I am always going to be here."

"What did I do to deserve you?" At his silly question, you laughed, marveling still at how clueless he sometimes was.

"There's no rhyme or reason for loving who we do sometimes," you leaned and pressed your forehead to his, "but you know, the fact that you saved my life the day we met doesn't hurt."

And then he laughed, shoulders relaxing and a genuine smile growing on his face, "well, I think you've gotten me back a few times for that. Why are you still here, huh pretty girl?"

"Shut up," there was nothing but affection behind your words, "somewhere along the line I managed to fall in love with you. So. Here we are."

"Here we are," he repeated before kissing you softly and you practically melting into him, "baby."

"Hey, if you're going to do that can you at least do it in your bedroom?" neither of you had heard Ellie come downstairs but you exchanged a lot before laughing. Yeah, things were pretty good, "otherwise can we make some breakfast already? I'm starving!"

Before you could climb out of his lap, Joel held you back and kissed you softly, giving you a gentle look. You touched his cheek, silently nodding in response.

Not everything needed to be said out loud. You always heard him loud and clear.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us

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lightlycareless · 23 days

Note

How do you think make up sex with Naoya would be? 🫣🤭

Heya anon 😏

Well, I hope this will offer some insight.... (more at the end)

warnings: smut. MINORS DNI. breeding kink I believe. Naoya would give you everything in the whole universe just to make you happy.

Make up sex with Naoya normally occurs after he teased the living hell out of you, and you got really annoyed by it. And of course, the way for him to fix that is to proceed by teasing you even more…

But let’s make it a bit more serious, let’s say Naoya acted stupidly, said something he shouldn’t have and instead of apologizing, made it worse. Probably prodded at an insecurity of yours.

Or more specifically, didn’t defend you from his imprudent family.

“You know I don’t like it when your family says that!” you’d gasp once the two are alone, eyes silently telling him you wished to speak. “Why didn’t you do anything?”

“What was I supposed to do? You know how they are—it’s better to just stop wasting your energy and ignore them.”

“I don’t think ignoring them is doing any good anymore! By doing nothing it’s like we’re telling them there’s no consequences to their actions!” you snap back.

“I’m not going to spend my efforts on fighting a useless battle! There’s nothing I can say or do to make them change their mind! If you want to do that, go ahead!”

“So what? You’re just going to leave me alone, then?”

“Don’t say things I didn’t say.” He frowns. “You know damn well I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then you should at least try to do something… or am I not worthy of that either?”

“Where did that even come from?? Do you even know what you’re saying?!” Naoya scowls.

“… I don’t want to talk anymore.” You say, quickly turning around and retreating, faster than Naoya could attempt to hold you back.

Though honestly, he lets you go, for he too is bothered by the way this conversation went on, a seemingly silly issue that shouldn’t have gotten that much attention to begin with (before his eyes, at least) moving on to focus on his other duties instead, thinking that in time you’ll come around.

You have to, since you were well aware that his family had always been like that: with their annoying, unwanted commentary. It’s not like you ignored that, nor accepted it when marrying him!

But though you knew what you were getting into, he was greatly miscalculating your willingness to tolerate it, for everyone had limits, especially for someone who grew up in a completely different environment to him.

Just as it did today.

Yet, what Naoya believed to be the problem, it turned out to simply the tip of the iceberg when it came to your feelings, the issue being much bigger, deeper, always, than what was seen at a simple glance—and that much he’d understand when the day went on and you were nowhere to be found, besides your shared bedroom.

Naoya was elated to see you on the bed, fearing that he wouldn’t given your prolonged absence, yet, as much as he wished to convince himself everything was fine, it wasn’t.

He wasn’t to simply lay down next to you and act like nothing ever happened. Move past this issue without speaking about it, or without feeling wrong about it.

Guilty, in other words.

So, your husband does his best to close that gap between the two, let you know how sorry he was…

If not by his words, then by his actions.

“Y/N.” Naoya would murmur. You know it’s serious when he doesn’t call you by any of the millions of pet names he has for you, but still, as much as he wished to portray assertiveness, you do not acknowledge him immediately. “I’m sorry, you know that right?”

“No. I don’t.” you snap quickly, and Naoya, who now laid down on the bed, proceeds to embrace you—only for you to try and move away, failing in the process. “Naoya—”

“What? I’m just getting more comfortable.” He adds nonchalantly, resting his chin in the crook of your neck in the same manner. Hands just below your waist, he pulls your hips towards his, keeping you close and steady even when trying your best to fight against him. “This is my bed too, you know?”

You frown, letting out a small grunt in return before eventually accepting your unwanted fate.

After a few seconds of quiet and realizing you were not to do anything else, Naoya acts next by moving his hands further down your body, fingers taking in the softness of your nightgown (incomparable to your skin, he notes) before stopping just by your thighs, fingers quickly clinging to the edge of the fabric and lifting it up, just enough so his hand could gain access to your underwear, and soon enough, your mound.

“Naoya!’ you cry, tensing when feeling the touch of his fingers hovering over your slit, before pushing past it and deep into your slick, warm walls. “Stop—”

“I’m just checking how she’s faring.” Naoya adds, rubbing his clothed member against the cleft of your ass, giving you a tease of what is yet to come. “He wants to know too, hm?”

You always hated the ridiculous way he had when referring that; it was childish, stupid, and above all embarrassing…

But most of all, you also hated how hot it got you, the lewd connotation making your walls tighten for the slightest of seconds, a gesture that did went by unnoticed from Naoya given how he chuckled, further sliding down your panties, enough so he’d be able to do the same with his pants and move his cock in between your thighs, right next to your slit—he smiles the fact that, even when upset, your body will never deny it’s true feelings for him.

“D—Don’t move…!” you whine when he starts to do so, the heat of his member rubbing against your slit, alongside the girth and the hardness itself makes you instinctively tighten your thighs, pressuring his cock in a way that makes his movements falter for a second before continuing, exactly the opposite of what you asked. “You shouldn’t—”

“But we’re the ones having problems, my mochi.” He murmurs against your ear, you could feel him smiling, clearly enjoying teasing you. “Our issues shouldn’t come in between them.”

“Stop saying that!” You gasp at the particularly harsh trust that gives you a jolt of pleasure, instinctively leaning back onto him as you struggle to reject his advances or succumb to them. “It’s—It’s weird!”

“Yet, the truth.” Naoya adds, his hands sliding their way up to your breasts and comfortably resting them there, occasionally kneading and pinching them in the way he knew you loved, though you’d always whine otherwise, further igniting your guilty pleasure. “They never like it when we get angry, princess… me neither; so why must we hurt them?”

“Naoya—I’m going to—you should—” you grith your teeth, trying your best to hold back the orgasm building up in your cunt. “I don’t want—to—"

“I know—I can feel it.” He smiles, pressing a kiss against your cheek before giving you another sharp trust and making you shriek. “See? They feel so good together, and when they’re apart they always miss each other so terribly… so why put them through that painful endeavor, when we can always be like this?”

At the feeling of his and your orgasm fast approaching, the heir quickens his pace, the air soon filled with the lewd noises of his body slamming against yours, followed by his breathy grunts and your whines that solely demonstrated how deep both were getting into their carnal enjoyment.

“Or feel like this every night? All day too, if you want.”

It wouldn’t take long after that, just a few more thrusts and squeezes before he finally cums, cock twitching as it spurts his seed into your soft, warm thighs, engulfed soon after by the slick of your cunt, a sensation that has you instinctively clamping even more around his member and Naoya moaning louder while resting his face deep into your neck.

He keeps you so until your release eventually dissipates, alongside your breath slowing down, and soon enough, silence.

Naoya hoped that by his gestures he was granted the opportunity of an apology, the reflection of his true feelings and the understanding of how much you truly meant to him—and perhaps on a deeper, selfish level, a repeat of this endeavor, hopefully from your desire as well.

But far from obtaining the simplest indication of the former, he gets a soft, almost undetectable sniffle instead, which to his anxious, attentive ears was nothing but loud, making him tense up and immediately rush to your aid.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Did you—did you not like it?” or worse. “Did I hurt you?”

Not necessarily, at least not at this moment.

Having spent the past few hours ruminating on your last discussion with him, you get back to your room tired, still battling through the turmoil of whether to continue being angry with him or simply move past this issue and accept that indeed, you knew what his family was like.

But sensitive from this battle, his actions would provide you the last piece needed to achieve an answer, reminded of how much you truly loved him, enjoyed spending time with him, day and night, anytime whenever possible—and how hurtful it would be to not be with him anymore.

Especially for issues caused by others, ones that perhaps maybe wasn’t even yours to struggle with, yet still affected this relationship.

Now you agree that this was a situation that shouldn’t have grown as much as it did; you shouldn’t have avoided him for the rest of the day, and Naoya shouldn’t have acted as dismissively as he did.

Both should’ve instead communicated, expressed the things that bothered the two from this problem and worked on a solution from there.

But if there was a silver lining to make out of this moment, is the realization that even when anger clouds their judgement, they still looked for one another, for love prevailed far more than any obstacles life might send their way.

“I never wanted to be angry at you!” you sob, now allowing your tears to freely fall down your cheeks, the same as your emotions. “And for something so stupid too! You were right, I know what your family is like, and yet, I still allow it to bother me and take it out on you too! Like you’re responsible for their actions! I’m so sorry for all I did—It’s all my fault—”

“No, Y/N, I’m the one that should be sorry.” Naoya murmurs, hugging you tighter against him. Your cries will always feel like a stab against his heart, no matter how many times he hears them. “I should’ve been more sensitive with my approach, especially with something I know only hurts you.”

“…Not all of your family hurts me.” You sniffle, reaching for his hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“But enough of it does.” He answers, squeezing your hand. “I promised to keep you safe and happy, and yet the place that is supposed to do that only brings you harm.”

“It was never issue for me to do so.” You confess. “I wanted to do this so you can continue your duties as heir, and eventually, leader. But sometimes… It’s just too much.”

“If that is the reason of your suffering, I can do that somewhere else. I can make it possible—I’d rather die than to see you like this.”

“Don’t say that.” You frown, he chuckles. “But… will you do that for me? Would you really do something that will anger your family… just for me?”

Wouldn’t be the first time, nor the last.

“The only thing I fear is that I might need time to arrange something different.” Naoya adds. “But for a long time, my family has only been you—it might take a while before I can get a house where it’ll only be us, but I’m determined nonetheless, if… you’re willing to wait for me.”

You slowly turn around to see him, a smile on your face as you gently hold his face. “I waited years to marry you, surely I can wait a bit more.”

Naoya’s heart tightens at your words, motivating him to turn you over completely so he could get a better look at you, before leaning down to take your lips into a soft kiss.

“Though I will not make you wait any longer to show how much I love you.” Naoya reassures, taking your lips into another kiss and marking the mere beginning of his promise to cherish you through thick and thin, which his heart always knew he was meant for since seeing you for the first time all those years ago.

“Naoya—don’t—don’t do it so quickly.” You gasp, tightly holding onto the blankets beneath you as he heatedly slams his hips against you from behind, pushing his cock as deep and deeper as possible, bruising your cervix each time and making you shriek in response. “It’s—It’s too much—!”

“It’s only my love for you, princess.” He groans, completely hypnotized by the way your ass jiggles whenever slamming into you; so tempting, Naoya naturally needs to raise his hand and strike it, leaving behind for you to always remember in the subsequent days who is the only one that can make you feel this way.

Whom you belong to.

“But if you don’t want it, I can simply—”

“No!” You gasp, leaning back onto him the moment he begins to slide out from you, a reacting that has him laughing, amused by your debauchery. “Don’t you dare leave!”

A reward is only expected with a wife so dutiful…

“Can you feel that? —Can you feel my cock deep inside you?”

You whine, agreeing with his words as you continue to move against him, the mere thought of being empty is enough to fill you with unparalleled eagerness, which you did not hesitate to show.

“Nnghh, Naoya—you’re so—you’re so big—!” you gasp, and your words alongside your lovely whines, make him grow even harder. “Ah, it’s—it’s getting bigger—how?!”

“Because you keep squeezing me like that.” He growls against your ear, taking your breasts into his hand and kneading them tightly, you cry. “That’s what you do to me, my wife—your lewd cunt is squeezing me so tightly, it’s like you don’t want to let go.”

“I don’t want to….!” You whine. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop—I’m going to die if you do!"

“Keep saying that, whore—keep telling me what you deserve.”

“My pussy—my pussy deserves your hard, hot cock!” you breathe.

“It's like falling in love with you all over again.” he murmurs.

“I love you, Naoya.” You gasp, mind hazy from the pleasure yet keeping you conscious enough to keep seeking him. “I love you so, so much… I never want to be away from you!”

“You won’t.” He darkly promises, having long made up his mind on how exactly he plans to do that. “I won’t let you—!”

Naoya’s hips begin to move faster and faster, each time his cock prodding onto your sensitive spot that he knows will have you undone in a matter of seconds, just around the same time he comes to the conclusion that will ultimately make his promise real.

“I’m going to get you pregnant.” He darkly declares, gritting his teeth as he pushes his cock deeper as he utters those words. “I’m going to fill you with my seed until you have a baby—and even then, I’ll keep filling you until all you could think is when you’ll get pregnant again.”

“Nao—Naoyaaa…!” you moan at his promise, his words washing over you with another layer of pleasure you never considered possible, although the thought has crossed your mind before, bothered you enough late at night, wondering about the arduous attempts the two would have to commit to make it happen…

“I can’t wait to see your breasts full of milk—I bet it’ll taste just as sweet as your cunt.”

“Don’t—Don’t say that!” you shriek, feeling impossibly lewder at his connotation and tightening even more your walls, making his breath hitch.

“But it’s true.” He groans, moving his hand down to your clit and beginning to rub it eagerly once feeling your orgasm just a few instances away, frantically desiring to be engulfed by the choking sensation his cock deserves after it’s diligent work. “All that comes from you is unbearably sweet…”

“I’m—I’m going to—I’m going to cum!”

“Do it. Do it now!” Your husband hisses. “Cum, Y/N!”

A few thrusts later, you do, followed by a quick gasp and a long groan, the knot in your stomach snapping undone and making your vision go white, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you moan, falling limp onto the bed while Naoya’s seed fills you to the brim, the burning promise to make you pregnant reiterated by his lips taking yours into a heated kiss…

“Can you—Can you feel that?” he murmurs, cock twitching as it spurts the last ropes of his cum. “It’s my love for you. And now, our baby…”

“Naoya…” you whine, squeezing your walls ever so slightly when feeling him twitch; he groans. “I want it—I want your babies…”

“Take it—take all of it—” he smiles, looking down to your cunt. “Looks like she also wants that—can you see how eager she is to milk me?”

You glance downwards, eyes hazy by pleasure but still capable enough to see what he meant, unwilling to deny his words… before gasping when realizing the gravity of what transpired next.

“Naoya! It’s spilling! Don’t let it spill!”

“If you think we’re done, you’re gravelly mistaken.” He smirks, fingers quickly cleaning up his seed and pushing deep into your cunt, where it belongs, before adjusting you into the next position. “I’ll give you as much as you want, my love, whatever is necessary to make you a mommy.”

You moan when he begins to move again, feeling impossibly fuller the deeper his cock went, an endeavor that would go on and on until you were unequivocally reassured of his feelings for you, his immeasurably desire…

As well as the first semblance of a future together, hopefully soon, as a family.

“I love you.” You breathe once he finally unsheathes himself from you, many hours later from the beginning, as you laid beside him and rested your head over his chest.

“I love you too.” Naoya responds, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and holding you tight, his head resting over yours while his hand made way to your full stomach. “And our baby.”

“It’s still too soon, love.” You say, gently reaching for his hand, smiling. “But hopefully it’ll take…”

“Guess we’ll have to do it a few more times, just to be sure.” He chuckles, you pout.

“I don’t think I can fit any more, I feel so full already…” His cock invertedly twitches at the thought of proving you wrong, which you don’t fail to catch immediately after. “Naoya? We’ve just—it’s 3 in the morning!”

“Then why did you say something like that?” he asks, already adjusting you into position yet again. “If you wanted to rest, then perhaps you should control your words.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” you gasp, cunt twitching when he rubs the head of his cock against your slit. “Naoya— I don’t think—I don’t think I can take anymore! What’s gotten into you? Aren’t you tired?!"

But for a man like Naoya, that was impossible.

To ask him to be tired of his beautiful wife, the same one that has endlessly doted on him, shown him a world of color where previously all he’s seen was darkness, as well as demonstrated the future the two could create, by simply setting their minds into it, was like asking him to stop breathing.

He just couldn’t, because doing so would kill him.

And all for one particular reason:

“I’m not, Y/N.”

“H—how?!”

“Because I simply love you too much.”

This could really go down like a:

Naoya: My wife is angry... what can I do? Oh, I know! *gets her pregnant*

I mean you do want to have a family with him!! but not like that hahaha.

Anyways, I've had this thought for a while but guess it finally came out with this small drabble: The Zen'in estate is not a good place to have a family lmao. I keep writing our favorite couple there but lets be real, Naoya wouldn't want her there.

Naomi is out of the question too! I literally just thought about how neither you or Naoya would allow her to have sleepovers at the estate because the Zen'in are just a bunch of pricks.

I like to think that he'll either have a whole area secluded for his family, or just live somewhere else. Maybe when he's leader tho he'll change a lot of things.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this small thing!! Naoya and his domineering ways will always come to bite you in the butt some way or another much to your dismay, but it'll also be the reason you remember why you love him so much 🥺

Take care, and hope to see you soon!!

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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