#ITS THERE BUT CAN EASILY GO UNNOTICED AT THE SAME TIME | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

konigbabe · 9 months

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LUCKY PICK

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader Word count: 3.1k Tags/warnings: no y/n; gambling; smut; public sex; pure filth; getting caught; p-in-v; unprotected sex; Toji's a little bit of a meanie; blowjob; pussy slapping (like once) Summary: Toji's frequent presence at the boat races doesn’t go unnoticed by your observant gaze. Every time you see him, however, luck seems to elude him, leaving him on the losing end; until you offer the man assistance in selecting a boat–lucky you, he wins. So he finds a way to thank you properly.

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Amidst the kaleidoscope of social strata, one thing that sticks out for you: his shoes.

While some attendees adorn themselves in lavish, bespoke suits, busy with their own affairs while the events before them serve as a mere backdrop, others, those less fortunate, come in more casual in hopes to earn some quick money.

He, on the other hand, is rather glaring with his choice of clothing. Too casual. Insouciant. Black tracksuit, something more fitting for a morning jog or a workout at the gym. The fabric seems slightly worn, a faint stain on the sleeve. His shoes, however, are the most intriguing part of his ensemble. They stand out. Like a flash of lightning on a stormy night.

In a sea of polished leather and high-end dress shoes, he wears a pair of scuffed, worn flip-flops. It's not just the stark contrast between his flip-flops and the elegant footwear of others that piques your interest. Rather the aura of confidence and a nonchalant demeanor that could easily be mistaken for arrogance.

Even for the outfit, he’s rather handsome. Raven hair tumbling down just to his ears, framing the chiseled planes of his face. The faint scar on the corner of his right lip only adds to the air of mystery surrounding him.

In contrast to the meticulously groomed individuals around him, his appearance carries an air of authenticity. As if he doesn't conform to societal norms but carves his own path instead.

He’s here often. Twice a week. A clockwork of unwavering routine. A regular fixture. Each time, he places his bet on the same number. It’s always three. No regard for any other possibilities. He’s staying the whole day, watches all the races and loses his money. Each and every time.

You stand on the stairs leading to the ticket vending machines, overlooking the racers warm up around the buoy. People passing by until he’s here again. In the same outfit, with the same aura of disregard, detachment.

He passes you as well. A solid wall, going straight, no disregard whether you move out of the way or not. Makes you take a step aside. You know he’s here to lose again. Letting out a grunt, an annoyed huff of air, your voice carries through the loud environment when his bicep brushes your shoulder.

"Here to lose again?"

It makes him stop. Look you dead in the eyes. You can feel the steel behind his eyes as he studies you. Tries to understand why someone like him – a man who’d been losing every race for months – is being confronted by someone like you, someone with nothing more than a passing interest in the track and its races.

For a moment, time seems to slow down as his gaze locks with yours. His eyes, like storm-touched steel, easily likened to polished basalt, peer out from under strong, dark eyebrows. Hooded. Locked onto yours. A thunderous downpour.

He stays silent for solid few seconds. Possibly aiming to intimidate you into leaving him alone. Yet, he fails as you stand tall next to him; not backing down or wilting away under his scrutiny.

"Who says I’m here to lose," he retorts, a touch of defiance in his voice. The hint of a smirk plays on his lips as he studies you, perhaps trying to gauge your intentions.

As you arch an eyebrow, you remark, "I haven’t seen you win yet. You've been betting on the same number, sir, every time I've seen you here. And from what I've observed, you haven't had much luck."

His brows furrow momentarily before he responds with a knowing smirk, matching your aura with his own brand of dry wit.

"Luck has nothing to do with it. Besides, one day, that number will hit."

His confidence is almost infectious, and despite the peculiar choice of his attire and betting strategy, there's an air of genuineness in his words.

"Then why don’t you bet for other numbers," your body pivots to face him, arms crossed over your chest, "try it," you hold your chin high, " buy a place-show, numbers four and six."

To your suggestion of trying other numbers, the man chuckles softly, seemingly amused by the idea, "and why would I do that?"

"You have better odds with the place-show ticket rather than the win ticket," you explain with a shrug, "and if you lose, you’ll have someone else to aim your anger at."

He smirks, nodding thoughtfully as if considering your proposition. "Ah, you're one of those logical types, ain’t ya? Always calculating the odds an’ playing it safe."

You chuckle at the characterization, appreciating his keen observation. "I haven’t lost in a long time. Plus," you blatantly look him up and down, "I have a feeling you could use some luck, and maybe a touch of charm wouldn't hurt either."

He raises an eyebrow, the faint scar on his lip accentuating the mischievous glint in his eye. "Charm, huh? What's in it for you?"

Flashing a grin at his question (it's a valid one, after all), you meet the playful spark in his laden eyes.

"Oh, nothing much," you reply, feigning nonchalance, a familiar mask that you wear to try to stifle the faint tremor of fear, "let’s just say if you win, you’ll owe me a favor."

One moment, you were sitting a few seats next to the man, a winning ticket grasped between your fingers; both watching the race unfold before your eyes.

Next, a subtle, self-assured grin spreads over his face as the winning numbers are announced.

("Would ya’ look a’that.."

"Who would’ve thought…")

And then, flicker in time. You find yourself in an alleyway, still at the stadium and next to a dumpster. Away from the fanfare of the racetrack. A putrid stench of decaying food still in the air overpowered by the potent, heady musk of Toji’s body as the concrete scrapes against your naked knees. Uncomfortable and rough.

Pants lowered down only enough for his cock to spring free; the tip glistening with pearls, a byproduct of his pleasure. Lifting your head slightly, you dip down to kiss the dew away as your hand, wet with precum and spit, moves over his length, pads tracing every curve and ridge.

Lips swollen. Jaw hurting from the tight fit, Toji’s fingers grip the top of your head; urging you to take him in deeper, feel him heave in your mouth. Careless to the fact you should need air. But at this moment, looking up and seeing his eyes already boring into yours, oxygen’s the last thing on your mind.

"That’s it," his husky froan reverberates in your ears as his thumb traces the arch of your eyebrow before his hand cups your cheek, cradles your face, "atta girl."

His words cause heat flooding into your core. A warmth to blossom from deep within. Feeling your heart thudding between your legs, you press your thighs together more. Fingers moving along the exposed, wet slit before pushing one in—

It’s barely a stretch. Disappointing.

—then two.

Letting his cock from your mouth, the sweetness lingering on your tongue as you move the top of your tongue along the underside of his head. Glistening, painfully swollen and painfully red. Hand gliding over the length, thumb pressing onto the sensitive slit, causing a stream of Fuck, Goddamn and your name stream from his bruised lips.

Spit-covered lips trace the underside of his cock, leaving a glossy trail behind. With a trembling breath, he taps your temple.

"Up."

You don’t even register his command before a hand encloses your arm, effortlessly lifting you on your feet.

"Wait," you squeal, a mixture of surprise and trepidation when he crunches down. Putting a hand instinctively on his shoulder to steady yourself, you feel the taut muscle, finely sculpted and responsive to his movements. Fingers gripping your ankle with determined strength; in one deft motion, he liberates your leg from the confines of the pant leg (and carelessly leaves the other be).

For a moment, you feel like a child again – pushed around, a small puppet, being dressed and undressed by another's hands.

It’s all happening too fast yet not swiftly enough.

His lips brush over your dripping core. Gives it a lick. A taste of your sweetness, humming in appreciation when your juices coat his tongue, lips, chin. And when you push your hips into his face, shamelessly chasing the feeling of his tongue – he stands back up. Palm making a benign impact with your swollen core, leaving you gasping from the sudden jolt of pain.

"Maybe ‘nother time," he speaks up. Hand grasping your ankle, resting it against his shoulder, heel digging into his collarbone, foot beside his face. Teeth grace your ankle, the wet tip of his tongue darting to lick a stripe over the fibula. All while his fingers spread the wetness leaking out of you, fingertips tracing your opening, teasing the entrance with his pads.

"Someone’s a lil’ eager."

You feel the blunt press. Too thick for his fingers.

The head of his cock spreads you open. You fight the urge to close your eyes, lean onto the brick wall barely touching your back. Instead, you force your gaze to remain on Toji’s face; his eyes hooded, barely open but piercing through you as he pushes forward. Slowly.

His hips push forward, fighting the resistance as you welcome the feeling. Heart racing, a groan leaves your lips when Toji grips your waist and pulls you onto him. Cock grazing your sensitive walls, you watch his eyes close in a blissful moment momentarily.

A feeling of triumph washes over you – you managed to capture the beast itself in its most vulnerable state.

Then he snaps. Gets impatient. And if it wasn’t for the hand on your waist, you’d certainly lose balance with the raw, almost inhuman strength with which he thrusts into you.

"Ugh—fuck, oh God," eyes closed, you succumb to the feeling; shallow, deep thrusts slowly speeding up, turning into something more resembling a pounding. Savage.

His lips brush the shell of your ear, fingers digging into the fat of your hips before moving upwards, cupping your clothed breast, thumb flicking your erect nipple, "told ya it’s Toji."

It goes like this. You try to steady yourself on one foot, clinging onto Toji’s arms as if he’s your beacon. Mouth agape, you rest your forehead on his collarbone. The hamstring in your leg feels close to ripping apart when his hand slides onto your thigh, providing a reassurance that makes the ache between your legs flare up with ardent fervor.

Toji pulls and pushes — forcing your body to twist, spinning you around to the point where your hands can rest on the wall. One leg’s still on the ground while the other is held against his broad chest. All while his thrusts remain merciless.

He fills you up, the fat head of his cock pressing against your depths, stretching you wider and deeper than before. Shameless squelching filling your ears whenever he bottoms out. Pulls out only halfway, his cock glistening with your juices and his precum when it almost slips free. Coaxing moan after moan from you.

"Damn," he stops, cock buried to the hilt and you feel the pads of his fingers swipe over your clit. Moving down, to the place you two are connected, "feel that?"

Wetness; his fingers dip between your folds, trace your core.

"Look at that."

And you look — wishing that maybe you didn’t. He scissors his fingers before your face, showing off the sticky substance connecting his fingers, glistening in the daylight. Heat shoots up your whole body when his smug face watches your reaction, a sly grin spreading on his lips when a moan comes out of you.

His thrusts come back without warning. Deep. He pulls you back into his cock.

It’s blissful. Euphoric. But painful.

"Can’t," you breath out, feeling close to cramping, "m’not that flexible."

"Oh really," he remarks. Yet, his grasp loosens on your body.

It feels like hours have passed with the way Toji ruts into you. Truly living up to the expectations one would’ve expected from a man his build and reputation.

Bend over, palms flat against the rough surface of the brick wall, Toji relentlessly pounds into you. The spongy head of his cock feels as if it’s breaching the opening of your cervix, mingling pain and pleasure in a confusing mix.

"Hey," a high-pitched voice startles you, Toji’s pelvis kissing the flesh of your ass as he buries himself to the brim, "What you doin’ there?!"

His hand moves from the arch of your back, fingers burning as they trace onto your hip. Squeezing, locking you against him.

"Takin’ a piss," Toji remains unfazed. Voice laced with a subtle hint of boredom while his cock pulsates inside you.

Taking a hand off the wall, you slap it across your mouth. Gentle fear of even your breaths being heard (and it doesn’t matter that you are good ten meters from the passerby).

"The toilets are right over there," the man shouts, making you question whether he’ll take a step toward you.

You’re aware that for a passerby, your figure is hidden behind the dumpster and unless Toji thrusts into you, it would look as if the man is simply relieving himself in the alley. Still fully clothed, only the front of his pants down enough for his cock to be free, one might think he’s telling the truth.

Silence falls onto you, forcing your head to turn to the side. Neck straining, you look over your shoulder – Toji’s unphased, nonchalant demeanor combined with the overly muscular physique visible even with loose clothes on radiates authority. Brutality. His demeanor serene; a tranquil lake at dawn. It would frighten you as well if you weren’t impaled on his cock.

His head lurches to the left, eyes locking onto the poor man's soul with an intense and penetrating gaze. It might be enough to scare the man away. To leave you alone.

That’s when he pulls back. Only an inch, mere centimeters but still enough to thrust back with rough intent. Body jolting forward, a surprised yelp gets muffled by your hand. Heat ripples through you.

He’s shameful, you realize. Salacious with his indecency.

The corners of his lips turn upward. Not enough for the passersby to see but from your point of view, it only fuels the sadistic image of the man behind you. The man whose cock keeps massaging your walls with shallow, almost non-existent thrusts.

How dare he.

"Whatever."

Loud footsteps echo through the alley before Toji’s fingers curl around your nape and he yanks. Hand pushing against the lower of your back, the other moving to the side of your neck as he twists your body into his own, pliant toy. Into a position he desires.

"Damn–," he breaths against the hairs on the back of your neck, chill breath washing over the shivering area, "does that turn ya’ on? Being watched?"

He pulls back at a leisurely pace. Unhurried. In and out.

"Fucked dumb on my dick–"

In and out.

"–while some loser watches your drippin’ cunt soak me."

Hitting that sweet, sensitive but delicate spot deep inside you; that even your fingers cannot reach. The one that makes you see stars, feel the heat in your core spread.

"Shut up," you basically snarl, pushing your ass into his crotch with fervor, forcing him deeper, causing his breath to hitch with his lips brushing over your burning skin, "shut up."

He chuckles at that. Licks a stripe over your shoulder. Moves to the side of your neck before his teeth sink into the earlobe, tugging.

"Could feel you squeezin’ me back then," the hand on the side of your neck inches forward; now resting firmly against the front of your neck, a silent reminder of the power it wields. The pressure is gentle but firm, a subtle yet unmistakable display of control. All while Toji matches your rhythm, thrusting at a pace that gets you closer to the sweet abyss.

Your hand moves from the wall, slides over the curve of your belly and find its place between your legs.

"Close ‘em," Toji’s thrusts grow in intensity. Forcing your body forward – to prevent falling, his hand on your back moves to rest against the wall, trapping your delicate hand underneath the roughness of his palm, the other holding you close by the neck.

"Ugh–wh–what," you barely breathe out, legs straining to keep the pace as the heat spreads.

"Your legs. Close ‘em."

And you do. Pushing your thighs together, a whole new sensation surges through your body as his cock fills you up. And it seems Toji feels the same by the way your name leaves his lips in a heavy groan, forehead resting against the crown of your head.

"Fuck yeah," he sighs, palm kneading the flesh of your ass. He’s pushing his hips against yours. Pulls you back into him with fingers itching to your aching nub. Finger flicking over it, making you shudder and moans to grow louder.

The coil in your abdomen grows tighter with each flick of his finger, kiss of his cock. Breath catching in your throat, you push back against Toji when the searing bliss washes over you.

He fucks you through it all.

"Gonna cum," you feel him thicken, pulse inside you. Hips stuttering, speeding and growing in intensity as he chases his own high.

"Not inside," you don’t struggle. Let him absolutely destroy you.

And he listens. Gives you few more fucks before he pulls out. Fists his cock, eyes watching your dripping, swollen pussy before you feel the sticky globes land on your core, slide down your clenching thighs.

He groans behind you. Hand resting on top of your ass, thumb caressing the skin there as you try to catch your breath. All while the man seems only slightly fazed by all the fucking. Makes you feel weak, pathetic — looking like you’d done a full workout while he’s standing behind you.

You stand back up. Wipe the cum off with a tissue you dig from your bag before pulling your pants back up, breath still slightly labored.

"Was this what I owed you?"

He fixes his pants, adjusting the waistband to hug the defined muscles of his lower abdomen, fleshing you his happy trail.

You shake your head to which his eyes narrow softly, "I want to hire you, Mr Fushiguro," hands fixing the mess on top of your head, you turn your back to The Sorcerer Killer, "take the win as your upfront payment."

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imagine--if · 2 months

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A/N: I've missed writing for Eddie 🥹 hope you enjoy reading! And happy 2nd anniversary to The Batman movie!! Can't believe I fell in love with the film and its characters two solid years ago, and super hyped for the sequel 🖤 A Bruce Wayne/Battinson imagine will be coming soon, so stay tuned!!

Wordcount: 1.3k

Time period: Riddler Year One, Issue 6 (beginning of The Batman)

He hated it when you were gone this long.

It was okay if he knew where you were, if you were working or out with a couple of friends, someplace he could track you through your phone. Through windows. Through anything. As long as the sun was still out and he knew exactly where you were, could reach you whenever he wanted, he could keep his grip on his mentality, and at least half-focus on his plans and preparations.

But he couldn't do any of that right now. Which led to the inevitable.

Pacing his shabby little apartment that you somehow managed to make a little brighter, tidier, something close to home, closer than he'd ever got before. But now, it was cold and dark and empty, painfully quiet, apart from his uneven, staggering breaths that Edward tried in vain to swallow down.

'Breathe.'

It was a simple job. Too simple. Sneak into the Penguin's rooms at the Iceberg Lounge, plant the bug, slip out again, unnoticed. And you would either be very much unnoticed, blending in perfectly with. there's of the deceptively beautiful girls and boys who danced and flirted and drank at the bars and around round tables and tall, glossy silver poles stretching up into the high ceilings of the club. Or you would be pulled aside by some pervert that thought you were as pretty as Edward himself did, maybe by the Penguin, or that pig Falcone.

He shouldn't have set you. Too risky. Send a follower? No, too complicated; not enough of them yet, everything still growing and finalising, piecing together in a lovely puzzle crafted by his mind. You might well go unnoticed, but if he dared go himself, it would be a horror show.

This was a baadddd idea.

The smooth click and glide of the lock twisting and opening up the heavy front door made him flinch out of his thoughts, murky green eyes jumping to the short hallway with hope and fear in his gaze. The same hope a puppy gets when its owner comes back home, the same fear a madman harbours in a dizzying craze, living off the what-ifs and obsessions their mind feeds them in the darkness.

When he speaks, it's in a rush, words tripping over each other and his voice catching, stumbling forwards to grip onto your shoulders with his soft but firm, trembling grip.

"You were gone too long," Edward insists, his fingers digging into the fabric of your sweater, searching for your warmth and reassurance, his eyes trying to take in every part of your face at once. "Too long... and I was worrying, and I felt sick, and I- you can't do it again, please, please, because-"

"It's alright, Eddie," you cut him short gently in amusement and sympathy, your arms fitting snugly around his neck as you embrace him. You easily fill him shiver at the contact, starving, aching, as he hugs you back with enough force to make you breathless, digging his face in your neck needily with a soft whining sound.

It's almost funny, how desperate and childlike he can be, all big green eyes sparkling with joy and awe at how readily you give your affections to him, his skin bare of any sweet touch from another being in Gotham other than yours. But he doesn't want anyone else's now, anyway. The rest of Gotham can sink into its corruption, and his hope incarnate can dance above the waves.

He gazes up at you in a slight daze, speechless, and you smile at him the way you do, the way that makes him smile back in giddy wonder, his thoughts spinning around and around like a carousel, all bright, pure lights and ethereal tunes.

"I miss you," Edward mumbles, half to himself, his stare wandering to study your eyes, your nose, your lips. "Always."

"I missed you too," you reply earnestly, "but it was worth it. I did what you said."

He blinks at your words, his attention circling back as he looks up into your eyes in curiosity and a sweet, almost innocent light, one that doesn't at all match the moment.

"I bugged his office," you clarify, nodding, "in and out. No one saw my face, and if they did, they won't remember it."

Edward lets out a slow breath, his expression loosening from intrigue and thought to the depths bubbling to the surface, his eyes spiked with venom and his words hushed with a small smirk.

"Oh," he mumbles, before giggling slightly, blinking up at you in pride and unhinged malice. "I love you."

You beam at his words, your fingers stroking down the plump curve. of his cheek, an action that makes him shudder and his breath catch in his throat, his eyes round and adoring.

"I love you too, Ed."

"I- I'll give you everything," he promises, his words rolling into lovestruck rambles between repeating your name, "everything I have. Every... everything."

There's that strange but familiar feral hunger in his eyes, not violent, but full of untethered passion and obsession, of love and lust, of everything he's never experienced before. And now that he is, he wants it all, wants it now, to feel everything at once and lose himself in endless spirals of pleasure and ecstasy that rakes up his spine and makes his voice crack and break-

"I'll never," Edward continues in a whisper, tugging you deeper into his arms, walking back and down onto his couch and pulling you with him, "never let you go. Everything will happen as it should, and I'll be there to get you... again, and again, and again, and again, and-"

You let him keep rambling on, his cheek rubbing against yours and ducking into the hot curve of your neck like a cat, his damp lips skimming your skin mindlessly, hanging onto you with his surprisingly strong grip, even though there's nowhere else to go. Tonight, there's nothing but the Riddler, his arms trapping you inside all that he is.

Black and green screens of computers running code down their displays absently fills the night with an eerie but almost comforting glow, polaroid pictures of his targets, red ink scribbled harshly in question marks and accusations over the glossy print. For you, there's a separate case of shots, most taken with you knowing, across the room in his apartment, with Edward grinning and giggling when you glare at him weakly in amusement and protest at the constant flashes and printing of pictures and mugshots.

No escape. None at all. You're with him for life, because you let him in, and like a virus, he ran through everything that makes you, you, drinking it in and fantasizing up until this very moment. A moment where Edward forgot about the blood he shed and the streams up for his cult following, the big board pinned with pictures and news clippings and rage in the form of black and white. He just clung to you fiercely, inhaled you, to do it all again the next morning, still trembling with the warmth and tremors of raw desire and love.

I am there, but cannot be seen," he whispers in your ear, nuzzling impossibly closer to you, his fingers lacing with yours, "to have me costs you nothing. To be without me costs you everything. What am I?"

You've heard this one before. It was in one of the little notes he left you during your first few meetings with him, and every one of his riddles seemed to have something to do with you, with how he saw you, absolutely angelic with no flaws, no blemishes, gorgeously unharmed by the wicked world of Gotham.

"Hope?" you guess correctly, glancing up at him expectantly, and he giggles again, his fingers tracing over your lips boldly, caught up in the moment and his own wonderful world of puzzles and clues.

"Or," Edward smiles brightly at you, resting his forehead against yours... and answering with your name.

✧༺ 𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ༻∞ (message me know if you want to be removed. ghost blogs/dead accs have been removed.)

@misadventures0fdes @junebugp @simestandswithtaylorswift-blog @carley-carley-carley @lostbunn @dragovegogrimborn @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @edwardspumpkinpie @murderbimbo00 @sweetums0kitty @beel-mcburger @cml-san @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @bimboanime @phoenixgurl030 @dangerouslittlefairy @yoyoanaria @yaeyuuki @vinxlsketches @beenz-beenz @ghoulsgraveyard @birds-have-teeth @repostingmyfavs @r3ptiliaaa @for3v3rda1sy @glitterycheesecakegladiator @moonwritesblog @lilyevans1 @httpsunflowersleep @hxney-lemcn @callsigncrash @bokksieu @skateb0red @philiasoul@felicityofbakerstreet @deadlights-darling @ireadandream @tinyryder @kpopgirlbtssvt @truecobblepot @jessicainhell

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buccini555 · 6 months

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𝐓𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

·˚ ༘ ┊͙Them finding out that you were already in a relationship with one of their friends after he flirted with you ! ˊˎ

⤌H e a d c a n o n s !⤛

. . ⇢ 𝑭𝒕. Mitsuya Takashi, Chifuyu Matsuno, Manjiro Sano, Rindou Haitani and Ran Haitani ˎˊ˗

𝐌𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢

Mitsuya's calmness is almost envy-inducing, despite this, the boy is easily irritated, not being the type of guy who lets situations go unnoticed before his eyes.

Mitsuya would be totally jealous to see anyone flirting with you, but the jealousy definitely affected him when he discovered your past relationship with that friend of his, making him even more uncomfortable with those flirtations, despite this fact and all this feeling, Mitsuya knew the past remained in the past, making him ignore everything in a way when he calmed down.

"You have questionable tastes when choosing who you have a relationship with, I'm sorry to tell you that." He would say trying to pretend custom, Mitsuya would make sure his friend never flirted with you again.

𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐲𝐮 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐨

Chifuyu is sweet, he avoids showing any negative feelings, but when something bothers him, Matsuno doesn't mind being a little rude sometimes.

"I think the time for you to flirt with her is over, don't you think?" He would say to his friend in front of him in a calm and at the same time threatening tone, Chifuyu became even more jealous when he found out about the relationship left in the past, making a point of making the fact that he had lost you very clear.

He wouldn't be disappointed in you or anything like that, Chifuyu knew how to leave the past in its place, besides, it wasn't a friendship he took so seriously, ending up giving preference to you and ignoring the whole situation to avoid totally unnecessary discussions.

𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐨

As much as it may not seem like it, Manjiro can be somewhat possessive and jealous when it suits him, seeing someone flirting with you made him deeply irritated, even more so when it was someone he was close to.

After discovering through an affair that you and that friend of his had already had a relationship in the past, Manjiro immediately became jealous.

"Um? You and him? Ewww!" He would say, dissatisfied with the situation, Manjiro didn't seem to be serious, but he was somewhat angry about this past.

"Good thing you're mine now, aren't you? Say, you're just mine." Manjiro would make you say what he wanted until he was satisfied with your speech.

𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢

"Have you already been with him? You have a bit of questionable personal taste, don't you? I believe I'm the only exception." Rindou would say ironically about such a discovery, he would be jealous, however, he would just pretend to be accustomed, certainly using this fact to bother you from time to time with unfunny jokes.

He would be uncomfortable seeing you together after finding out about your past and he would also be impatient when he heard anyone flirting with you.

Rindou wouldn't mind to a certain extent, as he always made a point of showing everyone who you belong to, despite being the type who doesn't give a shit, the younger Haitani doesn't mind treating certain matters seriously, for that reason , he would not allow any more advances from his friend.

𝐑𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢

Ran is certainly not the type of guy who hides his jealousy when something really bothers him, despite not seeming to care about what happens around him, Haitani pays attention to every behavior and actions of the people who are by his side.

He would be uncomfortable seeing his friend flirting with you and would become even more jealous when he found out that you had been in a relationship in the past.

"First of all, ew! What did you see in this guy? I know he's my "friend" but I'm sure I'm much better." Ran would say mockingly, somewhat disbelieving the fact that you had already had a relationship with that person.

Ran would no longer allow flirting or anything like that, now, you belonged only to him and he made a point of making that very clear, he didn't care that much about his friendships, for that reason, in a way, Ran would give you priority.

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mxigo · 1 year

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soul sick | part 1

SERIES SYNOPSIS: It’s hard enough watching the male that holds your heart pine for another woman, one that is the definition of beauty and grace, but to watch him fall for another yet again after you feel the mating bond snap into place is its own hell. A hell that makes you dangerously ill.

CHAPTER SYNOPSIS: you get ready to go out with Azriel after his check in with the Illyrian camps, but things don’t go as planned.

WARNINGS: 18+, angst, swearing. a relatively tame first chapter

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

MINORS & AGE-LESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. YOUR AGE MUST BE SOMEWHERE IN YOUR BIO OR YOUR BYF.

NEXT CHAPTER

a.n. if i get anything wrong i’m blaming it on my shit memory and the fact that i haven’t finished acowar and haven’t read acofas and acosf. really just going off what i remember and what i’ve read in other fics. enjoy!

It has been three months since Feyre’s sisters were Made and subsequently brought to the Night Court. You’ve done what you could in aiding their transition to fae life, even getting as far as calling Nesta a friend, cold façade and all. But while you have gained a friend, you’re beginning to lose your best friend, and the male that you love, all at the same time.

It first started with him checking in for a second after the two of you had come back from being out and about in Velaris, then it turned to him apologetically explaining that he already had plans with Elain for the evening, and now, you hardly see him at all anymore.

It’s become more often than not that he spends his time with Elain, leaving you on the back burner, as a second thought to his plans now. You have other friends, yes, but you don’t remember a day where you haven’t at least sent notes back and forth to each other since you became close. It’s like you’re missing a part of you, something that is supposed to be there but isn’t anymore, and your body knows it. Why did it have to be him? She has a mate waiting for her for crying out loud, one who you can tell just genuinely wants to know her, and Azriel is entertaining her, knowing full well what her position is.

Guilt eats at you for these jealous feelings, knowing that the girl has been through so much when her entire life was ripped away and was literally turned into something that she was taught her entire life to fear. You want to be accepting and carefree about the situation, but it is literally impossible when you catch him looking at her with the intense adoration that you have yearned for decades for, and she has simply swooped in and stole him from you.

But tonight, you and Azriel have plans to go out into Velaris for the night for dinner. It’s your tradition that you’ve had for years to catch up after his return from his visits to the Illyrian camps, something to help him unwind. You just hope that for a single night that you can forget about it.

The new dress you bought just yesterday is a beautiful deep burgundy color, the hem falling just above your mid-thigh, long-sleeved, and the neckline plunges lower than what you are used to wearing. You were able to find a pair of nude heels that fit you perfectly in a corner shop. You were even successful in keeping your hair styled for the occasion. It was safe to say that you looked stunning, and there was a glimmer of hope that it wouldn’t be left unnoticed by him.

The heels’ click echoes off the paneled hallway as you scramble to finish getting ready, knowing that you need to leave. You stride into your bedroom, beelining for the jewelry tree on your vanity. Considering the colors that you’re wearing, you think a gold set would be the best, and you know exactly which to wear. Gently, you pick up the teardrop Alexandrite earrings and necklace that Azriel had bought you after one of his trips to the Summer Court. The gem’s color shifts between purple and green depending on the light source, easily making them your favorite pieces.

It hurts a bit when you try to put the earrings in, meeting a bit of resistance as it’s been a while since you’ve last worn any, but you’re able to get them through without too much trouble. The necklace thankfully clasps easily around your neck, the pendant falling in the middle of your chest. The delicate gold glitters in the candlelight, making you smile at the memory of Azriel giving it to you. With a shack of your head, you snap out of the memory’s haze, misting yourself with perfume as a last thought before leaving your bedroom.

The click of your heels echoes off the buildings lining the road as you make your way to Rhys’ townhouse to meet Azriel for drinks before dinner. The night’s cool breeze causes your flesh to break out in goose bumps, but it feels nice over all.

The door unlocks as you turn the knob, and the house becomes alight as you enter. The candles flicker to life to bring the house into a cozy atmosphere, and even the fireplace roars to life to stave off the last of the early spring chill.

The grandfather clock in the foyer chimes, signaling the turn of the hour at seven o’clock. Your heart flutters, excitement filling you knowing that he’ll be here any minute. You make your way into the kitchen, pulling out Azriel’s favorite whiskey and your favorite liqueur, grabbing two tumblers out of the cabinet to set it all out on the table.

Minutes tick by as you wait for him to winnow into the kitchen like he always does, a soft smile on his face as he holds out his elbow like the gentleman he is to winnow you wherever you want to go. You settle into a cushioned seat in the adjoining living room, picking up a book that has been left out and flipping open to the page that you had left on.

Those couple of minutes turn into five, then into fifteen, and then by thirty minutes, you’re constantly glancing between the clock and the kitchen, anxiety eating away at you. Azriel has never been late like this before, and if he’s ever late, it’s only by no more than five. Your stomach rumbles as hunger makes itself known, and you set down the book on the table to stand up. Maybe something happened that’s causing him to be late, but there’s a little voice that’s whispering to you, saying that he’s forgotten about you, that he’s preoccupied by a certain sister.

You shake your head, setting the book back into its spot to stand up and head back into the kitchen. You pour a drink and watch as the dark amber liquid swirls into the cup before settling around the ice. More minutes pass as you finish the drink only to pour another, still waiting, hoping that he will pop into the room, spewing apologies as he tries to explain why he was so late.

But it doesn’t happen. Instead, it is Rhys that winnows into the kitchen, startling you so bad you nearly fall off the stool.

“Mother, Rhys, give a girl a warning before you snap in like that,” you joke, righting yourself up. Your eyes meet his, and you’re confused because he’s confused, staring at you like you are crazy.

“What are you doing here? Are you meeting someone?” he asks, his head tilted slightly as he stares still.

There is a sinking feeling in your stomach, but you want so badly to be wrong about what’s happening.

“I’m meeting Az here. We’re supposed to be going out tonight like we always do when he comes back from the camps, but he’s late. Have you seen him by chance?” A look passes over Rhys’ face, and you recognize that look immediately, your face dropping, heart hammering as you wait for those few words.

“Oh, sweetheart, he left the House with Elain,” he whispered, like you would shatter at just those words, and you suppose you do.

Your breathing stutters, and it’s like the world goes fuzzy, the sounds muted as your breaks cracks. Never in all the years have you been friends with Azriel has he ever forgotten about your nights out when he comes back, let alone either forgetting or just flat out choosing to spend it with another female and not tell you. And of course, it’s with Elain.

Your lungs shake as you take your next breath, reality coming back into focus as you realize that Rhys is still in front of you, worry etched across his face as he too realizes what has happened. You knock back the rest of your drink, and your hands shake as you pick up the glasses to take care of them and to put the bottles away. In an effort to try to get Rhys to go away, to be alone, you put on a fake smile, looking at him.

“Oh, well, I guess I shouldn’t have expected that we’d be going out tonight without checking in with him to see if he was free. That’s my mistake, but thank you for telling me, Rhys. I’ll clean up here and I’ll get going,” you try, but he just shakes his head.

“Nonsense. Leave it, I’ll take care of it later. Let me take you home.”

“Honestly, Rhys, I’m ok. It’s just a misunderstanding on my part. And my home isn’t far from here at all, and the night is nice. You don’t need to winnow me,” you insisted, already done with rinsing out the glasses and putting them away. But your voice is shaking ever so slightly, sick to your stomach, and you know that Rhys notices.

He grimaces, debating with himself on what to do.

“If you’re sure,” he asks, raising an eyebrow, and you nod. “I’ll talk to him when he gets back.”

“No! No, you don’t have to do that. Seriously, Rhys, it’s not a big deal,” you beg, and finally, he relents.

He nods once before stuffing his hands back into his pockets.

“You’ll let me know if you change your mind, right,” he asks.

“Of course,” you promise, and he pops back out of the house, leaving you to truly process the situation.

He took Elain out instead. He left you, that same voice whispers, louder this time. Tears sting your eyes, and a half-sob rips out of your lungs, a hand flying up to your mouth to prevent any more from leaving. But you’re fruitless in your efforts to contain your emotions as tears start spilling over, splattering onto the table.

You leave the townhouse in a flurry, harshly wiping at the tears. The house goes dark behind you and the lock snicks shut, leaving you in the night’s chill. Then all at once, your face crumbles as your emotions make themselves known. You try to reason with yourself that there’s no reason to be upset because it was true when you told Rhys that you never did confirm with Azriel if he didn’t already have plans, you just assumed.

But you never have to check in, he has always been there.

“Fuck,” you whisper, walking down the cobbled road back to your townhouse, furiously wiping away the stray tears.

The walk back is quiet for the most part, and you’re thankful that you don’t run into anyone. You would never let yourself live it down if someone saw you in the state that you’re in. You almost make it back, but as you look up, your heart drops and your veins fill with ice as you recognize two figures walking your way. They are so enraptured with each other that they haven’t noticed you yet, so you quickly move over to the edge of the road, hopefully giving yourself enough space that they don’t see you.

You continue walking, arms crossed, and hair falling around you to shield your face, and you’ve just passed them when you spare a glance, making eye contact with him.

Fuck. You walk faster, eyes trained on the ground.

“Y/N?” he calls out, but you keep walking, quickening your pace.

“Y/N! Hey, wait,” he shouts, and this time catches up with you.

A calloused hand closes itself around your arm, effectively stopping you. You whip your head around to face him, and he looks at you in confusion. His form towers over you, and you’re so close you can smell the cologne wafting off of him. You watch as his face crumbles while he looks you over, and it almost seems like he’s panicking.

“Please, just allow me a moment to explain,” he begs, but you shake your head, eyes screwing shut to prevent him seeing the frustrated tears.

“It’s fine, Az, really. I just wish you would have told me instead of having Rhys be the one to tell me where you were,” you whisper, your eyes now trained on his chest, still avoiding his eyes.

If there’s one thing you hate, it’s confrontation. Even if all you want is for someone to feel what you’re feeling, and to confront them about what they’ve done, you can never bring yourself to do it, to hurt them like they had hurt you. So right now, you just want him to let you go so you can let yourself fall apart and piece yourself back together in the comfort of your home.

He is helpless as he sees you put up your walls, trying to keep your emotions in check by shutting them off entirely. It’s something that he’s never been on the receiving end of, and it crushes him to know that he’s who caused this.

A cold whisper ghosts over your wrist, and you look down to find a shadow caressing you anxiously, but it only makes you even more upset, the corners of your lips forcefully tugging down and eyes burning. Blood thunders in your ears, and you can feel your hands shaking, and no doubt Azriel can feel it too, which just makes you panic harder.

“Please, let me go I just want to go home.”

“Y/N,”

“No, Az. Just—”

“Azriel? Is everything ok?” A soft, ethereal voice breaks the moment, your eyes snapping over to the culprit.

You’re horrified as she walks over, the object of your ire making herself known. She looks absolutely breath taking dressed up, and you can’t help but understand for a moment why he would choose her over yourself. She’s absolutely perfect, and you’re… not.

She stops just behind him, placing a delicate pale hand on his back, looking up at him with worried eyes. His gaze snaps from you to her, and it makes you sick as you watch his face soften for her. You take the moment of weakness to rip your wrist away, giving yourself a step to breathe.

Azriel looks between the two of you, confliction painting his face as he tries to decide what to do, but you don’t give him the chance.

“I used to believe that you wouldn’t go as far as this, but I can’t say I’m surprised.”

He reels back like he was physically slapped, looking back at you in astonishment.

“What is that supposed to mean,” he begs, his eyes wide as his grip grows tighter around your wrist, but if you say what you want to say, you’re going to irreparably damage your relationship with him. Despite how you feel, that’s the last thing that you want.

You sigh, closing your eyes and shaking your head, just wanting the conversation to end. “It doesn’t matter. Enjoy your night, Azriel.”

You spin around and high tail it away from him. Although you just want to be left alone, it still makes your heart break even more when he doesn’t try to come after you.

The guilt eats at you again knowing that you ruined his and Elain’s night, but that selfish part of you is glad that you did and made him feel like shit.

Thankfully, you make it back home before you lose it, sobs racking your body as it all comes out. The pain of being pushed aside for someone else yet again comes to a head from tonight’s events. In a fury, you rip off the dress and heels, slinging them somewhere to be found later. You all but drop your jewelry onto the vanity, letting it clatter against the dark wood top. Tears still pour out of your eyes as you rifle through your liquor cabinet, pushing to the back to grab a bottle of dark and strong whiskey, but you slam the door shut as the thought of whiskey being Azriel’s favorite pushes itself to the forefront of your mind.

So instead, you crawl into bed for the night, staining your white sheets with your black-tinted tears.

Heavy thudding at your door drags you from sleep, making you groan as you have to peel open your eyes. The sun is blocked out by the thick curtains, confusing you even further as you try to figure out what time it could be. A headache makes itself known, pulsing behind your eyes causing you to groan as you sit up. The thudding continues, and you can’t help but snap.

“Give me a Mother-damned second! Fuck!” You slip from the sheets, stumbling across the room to get to your dresser. You pull a pair of pants and a t-shirt from a drawer, throwing on them on as you make your way to the door. You pray it’s not Azriel, but it’s more than likely it is. He’s the last one you want to see right now. Hopefully, he’s smart enough to stay away for a little while so you can cool off, allowing the whole situation to blow over.

You yank the door open, squinting at the bright sunlight, but they snap awake when you see Mor and Cassian in front of you instead, the latter standing against the door frame with his arms crossed.

“Uh…” You’re at a loss for words, guilty for the way that you had screamed at them.

“Get ready, we’re going to lunch, and you’re going to tell us why Azriel came home like his fucking puppy died,” Mor says, inviting herself in and grabbing you to lead you to your room. You look back at Cassian, eyes begging for help, but he just shrugs. Bastard.

The blonde immediately starts riffling through your wardrobe, picking through dresses and outfits, but you’re not sure what she has in mind. You allow yourself to flop back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling. Cassian’s footsteps announce his entrance as he takes a seat on your love seat.

“What’s this?”

You pick your head up to see Mor holding your dress that you left in a ball on the floor. Your face flickers for a moment before you reign it back it, allowing the emotionless mask to take place.

“Nothing,” you whisper, letting your head fall back onto the bed.

It’s silent for a moment as Mor and Cassian look between themselves then back to you. It’s obvious something happened between you two last night, and the story won’t come easy from either of you.

The bed dips as both of your friends sit on the edge, one on either side as the flop down next to you. They remain quiet, but the tension and everything that you’ve been feeling makes your chin tremble, and you bite your lip to try and conceal it. But the tears sting at your eyes anyways, making the ceiling go blurry.

You sit up, digging your elbows into your knees, heaving a great sob. A small hand rests itself on your back, rubbing in circles as you allow yourself to finally fall apart.

“He fucking stood me up,” you choke out. “We always go out when he comes back from the camps. I got dressed up and everything, waited at the townhouse for a half hour just for Rhys to show up and tell me he wasn’t coming. Then I ran into him with Elain on the street on my walk home.”

They’re silent as they let you recount what happened last night, Mor’s face twisting as she watches one of her closest friends fall apart in front of her.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Cassian whispers, but you just shake your head.

“It’s fine—”

“No, it’s not fucking fine. He’s either blind or just outright stupid to not see what he’s doing to you.” Cassian’s face is set in a scowl as he thinks about his friend’s behavior after Elain came into the picture.

He knows that his brother has a history of fawning over unavailable women, but for him to entertain one who already has a mate, one that lives with them and wants to engage with her nonetheless, makes him question if Azriel is really that ignorant to the entire situation. It’s not exactly a secret that you harbor feelings for the shadowsinger, but he has been oblivious to the way that you look at him, and Cassian can only imagine how you are with him when no one else is watching.

Mor’s heart breaks while she is helpless watching your face crumble and tears drip off your chin. There’s been a lot that has brought you down, but nothing like this. You keep a strong face around your friends, always trying to be a happy and fun person to be around, letting yourself be the shoulder to lean on when they need it.

Although Mor was the first obstacle between you and Azriel, she was always a good friend to you since you first joined the Inner Circle decades ago. Her warm and confident nature brought you out of your shell when she introduced you to everyone on that fateful night at Rita’s, which in turn brought you to Azriel.

You let your feelings ruin it all, the voice whispers, if you had just kept your feelings in check then you wouldn’t be in this position.

Then, with a deep breath, the mask comes back.

You wipe your face of the tear tracks, sniffling to try and clear your sinuses before looking at Mor and Cassian with a watery smile.

“So, what were you guys saying about lunch?”

A look passes between your friends before looking back at you.

“Well, we thought today would be a good day to try that new place on the Sidra for lunch,” Cassian answers, a slight smile on his face.

“I would love to. Will you two help me pick something to wear?”

“What else would we be here for, angel,” Mor giggles, standing up and taking you with her.

I’m so lucky to have them as friends.

#azriel x reader #azriel #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #angst #azriel angst #mxigo.acotar #mxigo.azriel #mxigo.soulsick #mxigo.masterlist.soulsick #mxigo.masterlist #mxigo.masterlist.acotar

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kpopsmutty69 · 13 days

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#2: Doctor

One Last Time

Synopsis: You always go to Mr. Jung when you need any help but Mr. Jung told you to stop all this or does he.....

Pair: Doctor!Jung Hoseok X Patient!Fem Reader

TW: Porn Without Plot, Oral (m. recieving), reader is a cock whore, cum eating, boobjob, little love at the end....

Series Masterlist: 100 BTS Smut Challenge

"Hi, Mr. Jung" you said with a pure smile on your face. It may look pure but hoseok knows the reason why you are here isn't really pure.

"Ms. Park we have to stop this" he said with his eyes closed since he might give in after looking at your eyes.

"What are you talking about hoseok? I'm here for my checkup" you said with your head tilting with a pout on your face, which hoseok found it really cute but he's never gonna say that to you

"We have to stop whatever we are doing cuz if we keep doing it. One day someone would find it and I would be jobless so I don't want it to happen Ms. Park. I have to be professional" he said with a straight face and harsh tone

"Then you should've stopped in the first time but you didn't and its not like i was forcing you to do anything. You always enjoy when we have sex" you said with a bratty tone and hearing all those words coming out of your mouth felt like sin to him.

He just sat there in his chair silently and let out a loud sigh not knowing what to say that. You were right, he was never forced to do anything, its always both of you enjoying...

"Ok then, since you really want me to stop. I will not come to the hospital from tomorrow" you said and looked at him to watch his reaction. Relief. That's the word that can describe hoseok's look

"But, Let's do it for the last time yeah?" Not even letting him answer to that, you quickly stood up and walked towards him to get on your knees infront of his chair that he's sitting on

"W-What?" Hoseok just sat there baffled and lets you remove his belt and pants. Of course you are not gonna let him go that easily.

"You are so big Mr. Jung. I will miss your Dick so much" you said rubbing his cock with his boxers still on

"Look at how hard your cock is becoming for me but do you think your cock would react the same way for any other people hmm?" you asked eyeing his cock and removing it out of his boxers.

"I will suck your cock for the last time and you better come in my mouth so that I can also taste it for the last time" you said and quickly put it in your mouth and suck him off with so much passion with your eyes closed or more like devouring it since its the last time

the view that hoseok is getting is just so sinful and dirty and he loves it "Gosh yes.." he let out after the pleasure getting into his head

"You like it Mr. Jung?" you asked looking up at him. "Yes yes, fuck yes" he said with eyes closed and head falling back. You put his hands on your head that was laying on the armrest so that he could make your hair a mess.

"Mmmm....Ms. Park I'm about t-to" he said pushing your head more onto his cock and thrusting lightly into your mouth. Tears coming out of your eyes and tapping his thighs to tell him to come in your mouth

"Ohhh..... yeah" hoseok lets out and releases all his cum into your mouth "Oh my god.. yes yes" he keeps saying it and finally looked at your form.

Your mouth filled with his cum and some of them leaking out of your mouth since there's a lot of cum in your mouth and mainly you swallowing it and looking up at him "wow.. you taste as good as you always do mr. Jung" you said with a smile

"Which body part of me do you like the most Mr. Jung?" You asked with a pure smile. "Everything..." he said but the glance he took at your breasts didn't go unnoticed by you.

"You like my boobs? of course I like my boobs too" you said while guiding him to the hospital bed near his chair while holding his hands.

"Sit there, I'll pleasure you with my boobs. And I promise this is the last time" you said and quickly removed your crop top and bra and threw it somewhere in the bed

You took his cock and positioned it in between your boobs. You moved your boobs up and down to pleasure him and once you realised his cock being dry would not pleasure him you spat on his cock a little and spread it everyone on his cock with your nipples

"You like it Mr. Jung?" You asked while still rubbing his cock with your nipples.

You finally positioned his cock again in between your boobs and move it up and down and looked at him. He's definitely being pleasured as pleasure is written all over his face

"You love my boobs so much don't you?" You asked playfully and let out a giggle. "Y-yes" he answered and hisses

"I love your cock so much you know. Whenever I have it in my mouth, boobs or even my pussy. I keep loving it more and more Mr. Jung. No one could ever pleasure me the way you do. Your cock is the best I would ever have" you said and all these words alone would make hoseok cum and that is exactly what happened

"I-I'm Sorry" he aplologized as he just came all over your boobs and he was also amused that he came this fast. That never ever happened to him

"It's ok Mr. Jung" he closed his eyes and just thought of all the things that happened today and looked at you and he caught you licking the cum off of your boobs by picking it up with your fingers and then licking it afterwards

"You don't have to do that" he says trying to stop you. "It's ok Mr. Jung I like having your cum in my mouth"

After cleaning yourself and wearing your clothes you looked at him gave him a smile, one that he would never forget. "Mr. Jung I have to tell you something" You came closer to him and looked into his eyes as if searching for something in his eyes

"I've always liked you but never got the courage to tell you but now that this is our last time seeing each other I telling you" you gave him a sad smile and glanced at his lips and kissed him

This kiss was different from the ones you gave him before. You always kissed him desperately with lust but this time what he felt was love.

You removed yourself from his lips and and gave him a quick hug. "From now on, I wouldn't annoy you anymore this would be the last time we will ever meet and even if I see you in public I will runaway" you pulled away and said "Goodbye Mr. Jung I will miss you" you left and never looked back

After you left, the whole evening hoseok was thinking about you and spaced out most of the time. He regrets being harsh at you, he really does. He doesn't even have your number to contact you.

Wait... Your number. Your number could be in the computer. He could just contact you with that number and start again from the beginning.

"Seokjin, Seokjin" he was literally running towards his co-worker's room. "Hey man, what you want?" Seokjin asked as he saw how hoseok was running to him

"You know Ms. Park. The girl that comes to my office a lot" he said taking heavy breaths. "Yeah that annoying horny girl you always talk about. What happened to her?" He asked hoseok

"Nothing happened to her. I just need her number." he said looking at seokjin to which he raised his eyebrow. "Why? and why are you asking 𝑚𝑒 that?" seokjin asked curiously

"Dumbo, Check the computer and give me her number" hoseok said. "Aaah right?" seokjin realised and gave hoseok your number

"But why do you need it tho?" He asked hoseok curiously. "I'll tell you afterwards, now bye and thank you" he witnessed how was hoseok running back to his room with joy

Back to Hoseok, He looked at the number and thought 'I'll definetly give her a call'

#bts smut #hoseok x reader #bts hoseok #hoseok smut #j hope bts #jhope x reader #fem reader #bts x reader

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anneangel · 7 months

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Ok, every time I watch 'The Great Mouse Detective' my mind clings to this.

Okay, there's nostalgia in this, my childhood and such. But that's not all, there's something 'magnetic' about the character Basil (Sherlock), which I can see why Dawson (Watson) is so impressed on Basil's presence. Basil is so energetic that he should come with a warning on his forehead: "danger 440 Volts".

This little mousie called Basil is incredible and unbearable at the same time, he is so full of energy that watching him act and talk makes me lose weight just by looking at him. Lmao. The fact is, Basil is very agitated and hyperactive.

And he's smart in a way that seems mad, especially when he gets an idea in his head and no one is going to stop him from following through. Basil can be harsh and full of himself at times, but he also redeems himself, as he can regret his bad actions seconds later when he realizes he hurt someone's feelings.

He wants interesting and vibrant cases like himself, like his mind is, that's what he likes. But he also hides too well that he knows how to care about people, when he should. Some empathy is in him, although he acts like a hyperactive machine of reasoning and action most of the time, who cannot remember client names or have no time for sentimentality. Lmao.

He is focused and proactive when his mind is working and everything is going as he wants. And at the same time Basil is a complete Drama Queen when things don't go as he plans. Changing mood so abruptly, from extreme vigor and energy to depression and anguish, that he is insanely exaggerated in 'Holmes' mode. Is fun to me.

Basil of Baker Street completely steals all the show, being a brilliant and charismatic protagonist

There is almost no space for Dawson (Watson), whose personality can go unnoticed and those who casually watch it may think that he is just the "fool and comic relief", the movie and fans are so focused on Basil, that we almost don't see how Dawson has so much empathy inside him, and a giant gentle, sympathetic and kind heart.

Dawson is balanced and calm and brings a good counterpoint to Basil's personality. Dawson is so naive, he seems silly in comparison to Basil. But don't be so easily fooled, Dawson can also be direct and angry and put Basil in the right direction, be it with questions, or by grumbling and bothering about how stupid the detective is being, or act sadness about something harsh, said by Basil, and its making the detective regret and be more 'condescending' instantly.

Dawson has the patience of a saint, an (half) limitless peace in relation to Basil, possibly Dawson is the only mouse who can be in the presence of the mouse detective without being overwhelmed by all of Basil's striking personality. Dawson colludes with Basil, without really being swallowed by him, knowing how to impose himself when he must.

Dawson makes a perfect pair for Basil, and yet it's barely noticeable, because he's there humbly adjusting Basil to good, but ignores his own participation, giving all the credit to Basil, adoring the 'amazing' Basil. When in fact Dawson also had a lot to do with the case and its good outcome. But Dawson doesn't care and is fine with making Basil proud as the star of the Show and giving him all the credit, and Dawson really thinks Basil deserves it all.

Basil and Dawson definitely manage to convey the Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson 'vibe' very well, so much so that for me this movie is a good adaptation of the Sherlock Holmes and John Watson universe.

Extra:

1) the 'case', although it is a Disney children's plot, is charming enough and brings good drama, from the beginning with the kidnapping scene to the end with the Big Ben scenes, the case has charismatic characters with whom we import (Olivia and Flaversham) and the film is full of references to the Canonical Sherlock Holmes books and others adaptations, to everyone's delight.

2) Ratigan (Moriarty), madness and dangerous he can be, beneath all the fancy pomp and satin. He kills a drunken accomplice for calling him 'Rat' (in other words, the truth). He tortures his most loyal henchman, Fidget, with his pet torture device (the cat). And he's so falsely polite when he's both blatantly cruel and mad. He is a villain with a lot of charisma, as well as scary

3) The movie soundtrack is so good. I love it from the 'main title', to the 'end title-credits' (Goodbye So Soon).

#the great mouse detective #basil of baker street #disney #sherlock holmes #john h watson #moriaty #sherlock holmes adaptations

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chanshoesunite · 1 year

Text

IMAGINE: Domestic Chan getting turned on by his girlfriend undressing

Content: Chan sees YN's bruises and thinks about the time her knees were roughed up by him fucking her doggy style. So he does it again.

Warnings: dirty talk, safe sex

"What happened to your knees?"

You glance down, stopping your process of undressing momentarily. You are just about to hop into the bathtub for a rare but thorough soak to ease your soreness after last night's challenging dance class; Chan is already lounging on your shared bed with his laptop, but currently sneaking a glance at you undressing, dirty boy that he is. Your knees, you see now, are bruised, likely from the floor work you did in said pole dancing class. "Oh, it's just from dancing," you say, brushing his concern off, continuing to pull one of Chan's hoodies that you like to borrow off of you.

Chan, wearing only sweatpants like the human radiator that he is, leans forward on the bed, though, as if he wants to see the marks more clearly. How sweet, you think, what a caring boyfriend I have!

"It reminds me of that time we moved in and I fucked you doggy-style on the hardwood floors. Your knees were pretty fucked up, then, too."

Oh. Yeah. Caring boyfriend your ass. More like horndog boyfriend.

You swallow. You remember that time well. How you spent the first two days in your first shared flat basically fucking on every available surface.

You make a non-committal sound as you try to ignore the way your nipples harden at the thought of the delicious burn of having fucked one too many times but not being able to stop. Knowing that from now on, you can do this every day, in your shared space, felt so sweet, and it still does today.

From the way Chan throws his laptop to the side and leaps off the bed you know he's not buying your nonchalance. As you're standing there in your underwear, Chan pulls you against him, hands on your hips, your panty-clad ass against his erection - honestly, how quickly does that man get hard?!

"I wanna do it again," he rasps into your ears as one of his hands comes up to cup your breast and tease it through the fabric. "Not on the floor, because I don't want you to be in pain. But I want to get on the bed and take you from behind. Right now."

You nod, because what else is there to do? This sounds heavenly. Chan makes to unclasp your bra before he kicks off his sweatpants. Your panty is discarded into a distant corner of the room, unnoticed, because now his lips are on yours and it's magnetic, this pull between you, how he cannot be close enough, how you need him everywhere - on you, above you, inside you. The kiss is messy, lips and tongues and teeth and it's desperate, rushed, utterly perfect. You tumble onto the bed, and his hand is between your legs, and the groan he releases when he feels you is almost guttural in its quality. "Fuck," he curses, "how are you so wet already?"

"It's you," you gasp, thrashing below him as you feel his fingers sliding into you again and again. "It's always you, Channie. The things you do to me-" You cut off as his palm grinds against your clit deliciously. "I needed you inside me, like, yesterday," you pant, pushing him off so you can turn around. You don't have a pillow beneath you, but the bunched up blankets will do. You can hear your boyfriend grabbing a condom and putting it on while you wait, the seconds feeling entirely too long (but safety first!).

Chan lies on top of you, covering his body with yours, his hard cock sliding into you easily thanks to all the wetness. You sigh - the stretch is delicious, the angle perfect, and the extensive skin contact makes it feel comfortable and intimate at the same time. He interlaces his fingers with yours. "Okay?" he whispers into your ear.

"Go ahead."

He withdraws before pushing into you forcefully, burrying his face in your neck as he groans in pleasure. His weight is partly on you, and so you're held in place as he pushes into you again and again, whispering sweet little nothings into your ear, how good you feel, how tight you are, how beautiful you are, how much he loves you, how you still take his breath away every single day. It's hot, but not as intense as the aforementioned fuck that gave you bruises, this is much more cuddly and loving and maybe that's what makes it so perfect. You lie there, taking everything he gives you, enjoying the feeling, the closeness - oh, and getting fucking railed by a big cock.

"I'm gonna come soon, sorry" he pants, his thrusts becoming faster, "but if you think I'm gonna let you go into the bathtub without sitting on my face first, you're sorely mistaken."

You chuckle. "And here I thought this was a quickie."

Chan bites your neck. "It's going to be a long night," he rasps before coming with another hard thrust. As you hold him while he catches his breath and then feel him moving to part your lower lips with his tongue, you feel like the term "kiss it better" has just gotten a whole new meaning for you... Maybe you should thank your pole dance instructor next time.

#tortoise is currently singing hares praises but wants you to know she loved the little play on “kissing it better” the best #author hare #bang chan smut #bang chan smutty scenario #bang chan imagine #bang chan x reader #skz smut #bang chan smutty imagine #bang chan smutty fanfic #bang chan fanfic

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igotanidea · 1 year

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Walls: Dick Grason x f!reader

Summary: Dick is not really an open one himself, but what if his girlfriend takes being closed up to the extreme? Will he break that emotional wall?

„Hey”

„Hi” I muttered that single word without looking up from my computer screen, buried with work, doing my best to keep myself busy.

“What are you working on?” he took a step closer trying to sneak a peek at the document I was currently editing.

“Just some reports. You know my boss, he loves all the spreadsheets and summaries.”

“Yeah. I know.” perching down on my desk he scratched his neck in poorly hidden frustration

For a second there was complete silence between us.

“So….”

“No. Please don’t.”

“I didn’t even…..”

“But I know exactly what you are going to say. And I ask you to not do this.”

“How can I not?” he scoffed “you have been acting so strange lately. I’m worried about you!”

“Why?” I tilted my head, eyeing him carefully, trying to keep my cool. Don’t let it show, just don’t…..

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m completely serious. There’s nothing to worry about, really. Just because I’ve been busy doesn’t mean there’s something wrong.” I shrugged casually “but, if there’s anything you are struggling with…..”

“You!”

“What?”

“I’m struggling with you!”

“Oh, so I am the problem now?” I raised an eyebrow and he sighed in exasperation.

“Why are you constantly turning everything on its head? Talking about anything with you has been a torture lately. “ I opened my mouth but he cut me off before I could say a word “Anything not-work related.”

“Well then maybe you should stop trying.” I hissed turning the gaze away. As much as I wanted to pretend those words did nothing to me they did hurt.

“Y/N.”

“Maybe you should just leave me be, hm?”

“You are my girlfriend for fuck’s sake. I love you. I care about you, so why can’t you just open up?” his voice broke a little “Don’t you trust me? Do I make you feel unloved?”

I stayed silent for too long to not take it for an answer.

“Oh, fuck, I do.” His eyes went wide in mix of fear, hurt and sudden realisation.

“Look” I sighed deeply and looked at him “it’s not about you, ok? It’s me. There’s something broken inside me and maybe I am no good for anyone, all right? Maybe you should just move on and forget that we ever were together. You don’t deserve the chaos and emptiness I bring.”

“You are not serious.”

“Please.”

“Is that what you want? Do you want us to break up? Fuck!”

“I’m sorry. Can you just leave me alone, at least for a while?”

“I am not giving up on you. You are not getting rid of me so easily.” He stormed out of the room and I knew well enough he was going to training room to get some steam off.

“I know...... Oh, I know.... “ I muttered to myself getting back to work with all my dark thoughts creeping in my mind.

***

“What happened there Y/N?” talk about the perks of living with a couple of people in one house. Pretty much nothing can go unnoticed. The second I left my room I got attacked with that hated question. At first I wanted to lash out at the person who dared to do so, but quickly realized it was Gar. My best, best, best friend. The most caring person on this planet and the last one who would want to push any of my boundaries, so how could I? So instead of getting my frustrations out I just flopped on the sofa next to him shaking my head not able to say a word.

“Hey, talk to me.” Gar turned towards me and grabbed my hand.

“I can’t.” I whispered inaudibly.

“Why not Y/N/N?”

I shook my head even harder and to my terror a few tears that I was holding for too long flew down. Gar knew me well enough to pretend like they weren’t there.

“You know you’re like my big sister, don’t you? And as a younger and more rebellious brother I take it upon myself to cheer you up.” He stated.

“Rebellious?” I let out a laugh and a sob at the same time and it made me hiccup “who are you comparing yourself to? Tim?”

“Maybe. Not much of a benchmark, though.” He laughed and I couldn’t help but lift the corners of my mouth just the tiniest bit. “Oh, there is that signature smile. So much better.”

“I don’t know if it’s better.” I muttered “but I like your sense of humor.”

“Oh, I know” he grinned “so..... you had a fight with Dick?”

“GAR!”

“What?! Like I said, younger brother!”

“You said rebellious, not nosy!”

“Well, let’s call it protectiveness. You know I wouldn’t hesitate to kick his ass if he ever hurt you.”

“I would love to see you two fight each other” I snorted “that would be a view….”

“Will it make you happier?” he suddenly became more aware of my every word “if so…..”

“No, no! Stand down, Gar. You have enhanced your skills for sure, but not that much to go against Nightwing. Besides, I feel like I hurt him more by pushing away.”

“Seems like you gave him a taste of his own medicine.”

“Perhaps, but he’s not really the patient one and may break every second now. He…. cares in his own, very special way.”

“Go talk to him. You know it’s the right thing to do. “

“Right”

“And remember you can still beat him with your superhero skills.”

“GAR!”

*** As suspected Dick was working out. Completely focused on his moves and perfect technique, brows furrowed, forehead sweated. I hate objectification, but the way his muscles were flexing always got me hipnotised and this time it was no different. He wasn’t Dick Grayson at the moment. He was Nightwing with all the fury and anger of a bird of prey. Silent, deadly, predatory, ready to strike. He might have been detached from reality but still heard me coming inside as he turned abruptly, prepared for an attack and without thinking grabbed my wrist in an iron-clad hold. “Au.” I mocked since even despite his strength it did not hurt this much. I was pretty resilient to physical pain. Titans' school teach you that.

“Sorry.” he muttered and let go taking a step back to look me up and down. This was my turn to speak.

“No. I am sorry Dick. You were right. I am not okay.”

“But you don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s not really what I’ve been taught. “

“You and me both.”

“Right. I just…. I don’t know where to start.” I mumbled looking at the floor.

“Let me help you.” he took a step closer and gently grabbed my chin forcing me to look at him. When my eyes met his I had to hold back the lump that started to form in my throat. He was…. vulnerable. Because of me. Hurt. Desperate. But there was something more to this loving gaze he was giving me and I could not quite decipher what. It became clear a second later when his eyes glinted and he wrenched my arm taking me by surprise.

“What the fuck Dick!?” I yelled and acting out of instinct attacked him back “that’s the help!?”

"It is. You'll see."

He came right at me forcing me to twist, turn, flip and slide to avoid getting beaten up to pulp. I mean, I knew he wouldn’t hurt me for real, but still all the years of training just kicked in. I was blocking his sticks and throws, jumping when he tried to trip me up and ducking when he attacked from above. Fuck! It was hard going against him and if I was panting and struggling with controlling my heartbeat Gar didn’t stand a chance against Dick if they ever were to fight for real.

A heartbeat of hesitation got me losing and I found myself in a tight embrace of my boyfriend who was now holding me against his chest.

“Talk.” He ordered and the words just started flowing. Apparenly this was the help, his plan from the begging - letting the adrenaline work for our benefit.

“I don’t understand you. I don’t understand why you love me. I am probably the most emotionally estranged person on the Earth. You saw that, you experienced that. I push people away when I need them the most. “

“And yet, when they, when we, when I need you are always there.”

“Because that’s what I do. “

“Why?” he held me closer and I felt his heart beating as fast as mine if not faster. “It’s ok. You’re safe with me, just tell me.” His hands started caressing my back in a soothing manner making me calm down and relax into his touch.

“Because that’s how I show I care. I help. I support. I am here.” I closed my eyes feeling all the mental pain coming out in waves.

“But you don’t let others do the same for you.”

“I hate being vulnerable. I hate being weak. I hate showing it.”

“Babe, you are anything but weak. Believe me.” He looked me straight into the eyes but I winced and avoided his gaze. He let me, knowing this was the only way to keep me talking. “What else?” he insisted as I his my face in his chest muttering incoherently against his skin. “I didn’t quite get that.” he laughed and I pulled away.

“I… I was hurt too many times, you know. Every time I let any insecurity out, later on it was used against me. I still remember how painful it was. Much worse than any phisical injury. It just won’t go away and makes me keep my walls up so high…… I’m sorry, Dickie. You just don’t deserve it. Neither you nor the team. I am a terrible person.....“

“Hey, no, stop it, stop spinning." he cupped my cheek in the most gentle way "You don’t have to put the weight of the world on your shoulder, YN.”

“The pot calling the kettle, you hypocrite!” I smirked

“You are insufferable, Y/N.” He kissed my forehead and I frowned. His action and his words didn’t quite match.

“Dick….?” I wriggled in his embrace, a bit confused.

“I love you so fucking much. “ he held me closer “And am I Nightwing, remember? I can climb any wall, no matter how high.”

“Even if it grows?”

“I’m not going to let it happen.”

“How?“

“Oh I’ll find a way. Look I know it’s hard to trust, ok? Been there, done that. But it’s not healthy, going into a shell. I mean look at Bruce” he scoffed “And you know I care about you. You do, right? Look at me.”

“I do.” I nodded

“Good. So are you willing to work with me? I’m not asking you to become an open book at once but just…. don’t hide, ok? Show how you feel at least from time to time. It’s. All. Right. No one is going to judge you. And no one, really sweetheart, no one, will consider you weak if that’s what you are worried about.”

“But Kori….”

“Oh, god, will you stop it?” he brought his face closer to mine, his lips inches away.

“And what if I don’t bird boy?” I teased.

“Well, I will have to make you….” And without any hesitation he closed the gaps between us making me forget about the whole world, all my worries and struggles. Sneaky bastard. My sneaky bastard that made me feel safe and seen and taken care of. There were sure a lot of things to work on but he definitely knew how to make the effort worth the effect.

“I love you.” He muttered pulling away and resting his forehead on mine. “Let me take care of you, be there for you the same way you always are for me, ok? Don't run. Promise me?”

“Ok” I whispered closing my eyes. It felt so good having him so close and I pulled myself closer just to get more of his warmth “just…. don’t get impatient if it goes slow…..”

“I won’t.” he swore. “I won’t“ he repeated pulling me in and we just stood there, in the middle of the training room gently swaying left and right being vulnerable together. We surely were a very complicated and very in-love with each other couple.

@somest1 @pinksirensong

#dc #dc imagine #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #nightwing x reader #nightwing x oc #dick grayson x you #nightwing x you #dick grayson #nightwing #batfamily x reader #dc titans #dc titans x reader #gar logan #garfield logan #beast boy

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froggibus · 1 year

Text

Daddy Issues - Soldier 76

Pairing: Soldier 76 x reader

Genre: fluff but its a lil suggestive

Word Count: too many for this prompt 1.5k

Summary: in which your little crush on the Commander doesn't go unnoticed, and he wants to see just how far he can push you

CW: young! Soldier, Overwatch days, reader is shy + gets flustered easily, fainting, teasing, Soldier is a bastard

reader is described GN but is described to be blushing/having red cheeks a lot! i know this description may not fit everyone so i am putting this here to not waste time/ruin the immersion!

ok anyway im too lazy to write today so you guys can have my drafts lmao anyway enjoy <3 i am very down bad for this man anyway

————

John Francis “Jack” Morrison: super soldier, Overwatch commander, the best of the best, and unfortunately for you, a total DILF.

The man was gorgeous. Despite working closely with him and Overwatch for years, you still couldn’t even look at him without getting flustered. Stuttered words and red cheeks had become a staple of your conversations with Jack, and all you could do was pray he didn’t notice.

Unbeknownst to you, it was common knowledge among the other agents of your little crush on the Commander. Jack himself had always found it somewhat cute regardless of the teasing he received from Ana and Reyes, and found himself wondering how much it would take to push you past the breaking point.

“L/n,” Jack’s voice boomed, “can I talk to you for a second?”

You squeaked, the tips of your ears burning, and approached him. You were painfully aware of the looks the two of you were receiving along the way.

“W-what’s up?”

“I was just wondering if you’d be open to taking on a mission next weekend.”

“Oh,” you looked everywhere but his eyes, trying to hide the desperate flush on your face. “I-I can for sure. Who’s all going?”

“It would just be you and I.”

If your face was burning before, it was an inferno now. A mission, all alone with Commander Morrison?

“I-I…”

“Come on, y/n,” he rested a hand on your shoulder.

His touch on your shoulder and the way he was looking at you sent butterflies to your stomach. You stuttered out a bunch of words that essentially meant ‘yes’, and that was good enough for the Commander. You walked away quickly, covering the lower half of your face with your hand.

Ana Amari laughed, “come on, Jack. Give y/n a break.”

“Mind your business,” the Commander said, but even he knew he was pushing you a little hard.

—

It was the dead of night, and you were yet to sleep. It had been too hot and then too cold, and then your mind could not stop racing. Thoughts of Jack and the mission filled your head.

As soon as the clock ticked to 2:22am, you found yourself rolling out of bed and slipping your feet into your slippers. You tiptoed your way down the hall, being careful not to wake any of the other agents. You knew how skittish they could be, especially in the dead of night.

You made it to the kitchen and turned on the kettle, sitting at the counter and waiting for it to boil. Soft footsteps behind you made you whip your head around, your eyes settling on Jack.

You immediately flushed at what he was wearing. A pair of grey sweatpants, no shirt and bunny slippers. You couldn’t help but look at his bare chest. He was all shredded muscles and perfectly carved abs. Duh, he’s a super soldier, you thought.

“What are you still doing awake?” He asked, your eyes flicking up to meet his.

“I-I could ask you the same thing.”

He shot a glance at the steaming kettle, “couldn’t sleep, I guess.”

“Same here,” you nodded, your gaze once again slipping to his bare stomach.

He smirked, knowing full well where your gaze was. The words tumbled out before he could stop them, “like what you see?”

You instantly hid your face in your hands, trying to avoid looking at him. Jack cursed himself—he was normally so composed, so in control of himself. Yet, he couldn’t stop himself.

“Jack!” You squealed, voice going up an octave.

He laughed slightly, “hey, I’m just teasing.”

He wanted to say that he also liked what he saw, but he thought that was a little too far given your current state. Still, he thought you looked gorgeous. In your pyjamas, hair a complete mess, looking all sleepy and cute.

“S-still,” you mumbled, finally peeling your hands away from your face. You grabbed a mug from the cupboard and set a teabag in it, “I’m too tired for this.”

Jack backed off for now, deciding to give you a reprieve you from his teasing. The image of you all flustered and trying to hide your face was burned into his mind, and it would suffice for tonight.

—

Combat training was your favorite part of the week, making every Monday somewhat bearable. Usually, you would pair off with Ana or Angela, given they were around the same skill level as you.

Today, though, Morrison had claimed you before you could even say anything. As soon as he announced the two of you would be partners, your face was pink tinted and all thoughts left your brain.

“So, what do you want to work on first?” Jack stretched his shoulders. He was wearing a pair of track pants and a tight blue Overwatch shirt that clung to his abs.

Memories of the other night in the kitchen filled your brain, setting a fire inside you. “I could use s-self defense practice,” you admitted.

“Okay, I have a few ideas then.”

Before you knew it, he was positioned behind you, grabbing your hips tightly. He tugged you towards him slightly, your hips slamming against his. You let out a soft whine, instantly pressing a hand over your mouth.

Jack mumbled in your ear, “too much for you?”

You shook your head quickly, grateful that he couldn’t see how hot and sweaty your face was. “I-I can keep g-going,” your voice was an octave higher.

You tried to focus on anything but the pressure of his hips against yours, his hard chest on your back, his warm hands on your hips.

“Okay,” he said and moved an arm up to around your shoulders, and stretched the other around your waist. “So if I were to do this, what would you do?”

He gripped you tight enough to pick you up off of the ground. His touch was so intense it was hard to concentrate, taking you a minute before you could remember the steps.

You twisted in his grip, ducking under the arm on your shoulder and using it as leverage to turn him around. You held it tightly behind his back.

“Good, really good,” his praise made you flush, “but you have to be faster than that in the field.”

In an instant, he broke free of your grip and threw you over his shoulder. He tossed you into the ground, cradling the back of your head and the small of your back as he did to break your fall. You landed with a soft groan, Jack on top of you.

His face was only a few inches from yours, a smirk plastered on his face. Your heart raced in your chest, hammering against your rib cage. The blood rushed to your face. There was no way he didn’t notice how flustered you were.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he noted.

Blood roared in your ears. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to move your hands to cover your face, but he was holding them down.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tsked. “Why are you trying to hide from me?”

You shook your head, eyes still closed. “I-I’m not.”

“Then why can’t you look at me?”

“Cause you’re so close to me!”

He laughed, letting go of your hands, “I thought you’d like this position.”

That was your breaking point. Your heart raced faster, so fast it was almost painful, and your breath caught in your throat. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t breathe. Your skin was unbearably hot, as if it would melt off your bones any second.

“Y/n?” Jack backed off, “are you okay?”

He blinked at you, waiting for you to respond. When you didn’t, he completely got off of you. You managed to take in one, gasping breath before everything went dark.

—

You woke up in the infirmary, a blanket wrapped around you. Your head spun, and when you opened your eyes, there were four Jack’s sitting on the end of your bed. You blinked a few times, and all but one of them disappeared.

Jack was staring at you with a mix of caution and excitement. “How are you feeling?”

“G-good, I think.”

“Good,” he sighs in relief. “Ana would have killed me if you weren’t.”

“What even happened?”

“You fainted,” he said. “I’ve never seen anyone get so flustered from sparring before.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “you’re a jerk. I know what you’ve been doing—and it’s mean!”

“It’s not my fault you look so cute when you’re embarrassed!”

Your face flushed again, and Jack looked at you cautiously. “You’re not going to faint again, are you?” He asked.

“I-I don’t think so, why?”

“Because I can’t kiss you if you pass out.”

Your face burned, but your heart still beat normally. “Y-you really want to kiss me?”

He answered by cupping your cheek and closing the distance between the two of you. His lips smashed against yours, sending electric shocks down your spine. You moved against him and tangled a hand in his hair.

“You’re sure you’re not going to pass out?”

You tugged on his shirt, “shut up,” and kissed him again.

#overwatch 2 #overwatch #ow2 #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you #overwatch fic #ow #xreader #overwatch headcanons #soldier 76 #soldier 76 x reader #soldier 76 x you #jack morrison #jack morrison x you #jack Morrison x reader

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end0rchans · 1 year

Text

just some of my thoughts on chans kinks

oral fixation fr. like after a long week, maybe even just a day, chan is exhausted and circles around his eyes have never been darker. if not for you bringing him food and checking in on him in the studio, he wouldn’t have eaten or taken a break. when you notice that he’s more tired than usual, you can only think of one thing to relax him for the time being and after your very kind offer to “get his mind off work,” you’re on the ground, his boxers and sweats discarded, and the only sounds that fill the studio are his low pitched groans from his tired voice.

lets be real, this bitch a pleasure dom, and fingering would be this mans type beat fs. he just likes the way you can so easily fall apart on his fingers and the way he curls them inside you. or when you’re at a dinner with the members and he so innocently slides his hand farther and farther up your thigh until its under your dress and playing with your clit. he’s so into pleasing you yet so into humiliating you at the same time.

which brings me to exhibition. when your in the dorm living room and a movie night turns into you riding him. none of the members are home, but that doesn’t mean that they couldn’t walk in any second. but chan doesn’t care, he likes the risk, and deep down he knows he’d like it if his members walked in on you being so good for him.

size kink!! does chan wish his muscles were bigger? yes, but does be need to worry about that when your frame looks so small next to his? not at all!! chan can’t help the fact that you looks so small under his large frame of broad shoulders and toned arms, nor can he help that he likes it oh so much. not to mention the difference in hand sizes that does not go unnoticed when he encases both of your wrists in one of his hands, making it look so easy. ———————————————————————

i’ve really never written before or posted any writing pieces so sorry if this like sucks

#stray kids #skz #bangchan #banghan smut #bangchan drabbles #bangchan x you #bangchan x reader

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personasintro · 2 years

Text

Love Lockdown | 06

𝐯𝐢. 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; your lonely journey continues in a pair of twos

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: yoongi x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: zombie apocalypse au, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, horror au (?), slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, violence, nudity

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.1k+

banner by: @dee-ehn

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢

You've barely slept. Both of you have.

Just the needed amount your bodies were asking for, so you could function the next day.

Backpack tucked under your head, it could be easily taken as the most uncomfortable pillow there is to exist. If it was possible, the can of something in your pink backpack gifted from Taehyung would be imprinted in the side of your head. You can feel the object as if it was still pressed against your head even hours of being awake, sitting up.

You miss him. Taehyung. And Zoya. They brought you hope and didn't make you feel unwanted which can't be said about someone else.

There's a low chance Yoongi would sneak out in the middle of the night, leaving you in this abandoned patisserie – still your fears let the best of you and you'd wake up from your slumber every few minutes to check if he's still there. The faint shadow of his figure, similarly sleeping in the same position as you, was just enough to calm down your nerves a little.

The sounds of undeads have reduced, giving you the faintest hope of the possibility to actually make it out of here alive.

Yoongi is the first one to move though, disappearing at the back and if it weren't for his abandoned backpack on the floor, you would have thought he ran for the hills. Though, he hasn't spoken to you, not even when your eyes met the first thing in the morning, a little bit of sunshine peeking through the dusty windows.

“Stand up.” he mutters, not even glancing at you as he picks up his backpack. You're quick to scutter to your feet, your head still pounding and spinning at the quick motion. You balance yourself though, catching Yoongi's furrow brows before he starts walking away.

You follow him, staying close once you catch up to him.

He pulls out the knife, leaning his ear closer to the metal back door with a prominent frown adoring his face. There's not much to hear, it's a risk opening that door because this could either run smoothly or end up with one of you bitten. Which reminds him that your inability to protect yourself makes things ten times worse. He wants to groan from frustration at that thought, having to take a deep breath not to come at you once again.

“Listen,” he says, turning around to find you standing right behind him obediently with big eyes once you realize he's not only talking to you but looking at you as well. “If I open the door, there's possibility there are bunch of undeads and we stand no chance against them,”

You automatically gulp at that thought, not going unnoticed by Yoongi as he fights back the typical roll of his eyes.

“Maybe the door will make a big enough sound for them to notice us,” he tells you, staring back into your eyes as he makes sure you're listening to every single word he has to say.

“I need you to at least try and fight if it comes down to it.” he sighs, your bottom lip tucked between your lips while you stare at him with big and understandably fearful eyes.

“Okay.” you whisper, pulling out your own knife from the pocket of your jacket that feels heavy on the side, surely has poked a tiny hole from its sharp tip.

“Look at me dove,” he ushers with a firm tone as your head snaps up at him at the pet name again. “Just one stab to the brain.” he reminds you, a penetrating gaze prowled over his face while you bite your lips to keep them from shivering.

It sounds so easy coming from his mouth.

Though, Yoongi doesn't wait for anything and unlocks the metal door, opening it with no hesitation whatsoever while you're trying to catch a glimpse across his shoulder. The door makes a creaking sound, not a big one to be extremely loud, yet you cringe at it. He's focused on checking the outside, not bothering to look back to see whether you're following him or not, but then – what else would you do?

The sun shines brightly, causing your eyes to scrunch at the brightness while it warms your dirty face. It's too hot to be wearing your thin jacket, but that's the least of your worries. There's not a body part that isn't sweating on your body and you blame the fear and adrenaline kicking in.

There are a few undeads, yet unaware of your presence and Yoongi notices them for sure, calculating what's the safest way to get out of here. The back of the patisserie leads to an alley, connected with another street and road. They are everywhere, but the amount of them is important at the moment. It's hard to tell what's the right way, but you leave that to Yoongi as you stand right behind him while looking frantically around you, scared there will be undead or multiple of them attacking you from the back.

“We need to check the street.” Yoongi mutters and you once again glance behind his figure, noticing there are two undeads lurking at the end of the alley.

You can't walk past them without them noticing you (obviously) and you have to get to the corner, so you can plan your next move. But all of this can't be done without killing them and you know it. The knife is heavy in your hand, your knuckles turning white from how tightly you're squeezing it. Trying not to focus on the fear, you follow Yoongi like a lost puppy because ironically enough, you do feel safe with him.

Reaching the corner, Yoongi peeks from around it to check the situation while his narrowed eyes scan your surroundings and the undeads. He doesn't count them one by one in his mind, just deducing there are not that many of them which gives you a fair chance to get past them and leave this shitty town. But all of it is slightly difficult, considering he has no idea if you have the balls to kill one of the undeads if it comes down to it. If Yoongi was alone, this would be easy and he would be able to make it out alive without maybe having to kill. But with you behind his back, reminding what a burden you are, Yoongi can't risk being surrounded by undeads and his plan could go all wrong.

Argh, he really wants to groan out of frustration. You're like a little kid that needs to be taken care of.

It's still worth a try. You can't stay here any longer, you're outside in a bright daylight, stuck in the middle of this town with zombies growling around every corner. You have to take the chance now because everything can go wrong in seconds. And he knows it from experience.

With a sigh, he turns around to inform you about the plan and maybe try to encourage you some more, much to his annoyance, but once he doesn't spot you right behind him where he swears you were just a minute ago, he looks around with narrowed eyes.

“Dove.” he hisses at you when he sees you standing a few meters away from him, turned with your back as you grip the knife tightly and keep your eyes locked on the approaching undead.

The truth is, when Yoongi was immersed in his thoughts, you heard a little shuffling at the end of the street just to see there's an undead sniffing the air before it decides to go in your direction. If it weren't for you not noticing it at the right time, you would have only a little time to stop it and considering your current position and situation, you would just attract more attention from the undeads.

For the first time ever while being a part of this group, you decided to take matters into your own hands. It's your time to prove yourself to Yoongi and maybe he will think about not wanting to kill you after you prove to him that you can be a help.

Gulping down the nerves, Yoongi's hiss behind you is fully recognized but you keep your eyes on the rotten creature making its way to you. With each slow and broken step it takes, it growls louder and you hope the adrenaline in your blood won't disappear. You already think about backing off which is not bad. So you shake those thoughts off, pushing them somewhere at the back of your mind.

Yoongi curses under his breath, looking around the corner to make sure there is not any undead coming from this direction. He's not sure what you're trying to do, well, he gets the idea but what if you fuck up? He can't deal with you getting bitten, possibly attracting their attention.

You move closer to it, your steps brave but still unsure as you let out a shaky breath. The undead looks like a woman, its height isn't that much taller than you and there's a chance for you to take it down.

“Just one stab to the brain.”

You remind yourself of Yoongi's words, muttering them under your breath before you point the knife at the undead. It's getting close, too close that if you would take three more steps, you would be standing right in front of it. So you move quickly, angling the tip of the sharp knife at its head while you're trying not to stare at its devastated face. The sight of them is one of the things that scare you the most. You can't bear to look at them. They scare you.

They're fucking disgusting.

You get a spurge of bravery and confidence, knowing deep down that there's no backing away because the undead is within the reach. So instead of waiting, you plunge the knife, aiming at its head. But the creature moves somehow and your knife ends up sticking into its cheek rather than where you were aiming. Its brain.

You're fucked.

You realize as soon as your knife ends up stuck in its cheek, the undead toppling over you which makes your legs unstable as you drop on the ground. You yelp, forgetting about being quiet and as inconspicuous as you can be when you start fighting for your own life.

You block everything out, even the set of rushed footsteps and the gravel crushed under heavy boots, until the sound of piercing flesh reaches your ears and the undead stops moving. Its growling dies down and it's kicked off your body as you meet Yoongi's not so pleased gaze.

“What were you thinking?” he asks simply, hoisting you up as he offers you his hand. You barely touch him before he quickly gets you on your feet, making you stumble a little.

You grow ashamed and embarrassed. What were you thinking indeed? That you could save you and him? That you could kill the undead? All of your confidence and bravery dies down just like the undead that's lying not far away from you.

Yoongi scoffs a little, walking toward it before he pulls out your knife.

“I-I wanted to kill it.” you murmur, taking the knife from him once he flicks it in your direction.

“I appreciate the bravery, but we're trying not to attract attention.” Yoongi remarks, though there's no hard tone hidden underneath it like you're used to.

He searches your face, noticing the embarrassment and frustration on your face. He steps closer to you, your eyes back on his figure as swipes his thumb over your cheekbone to wipe off the droplets of blood from there.

“You did well, dove.”

A rare chuckle makes it past his lips once he sees your shocked expression, dropping his hand.

Did he just compliment you?

“You still suck but at least you tried.”

Surprisingly, you get what he means. He has finally seen the little glimpse of bravery in you and even though you failed, you tried and that's what's important. You don't see inside his head but at least you hope this is what he's thinking about at this particular moment.

You got a praise out of him, something that soothed down the embarrassment and frustration. And even if you hate to admit it, it feels nice and does magic on you. In the end, he still had a little remark after his compliment but none of it matters and you brush it off.

“Now come on, let's get out of here.” He cocks his head to the corner where he was standing before, making his way there with no looking back.

You follow him because there's nothing else for you to do, you still depend on Yoongi and you fully realize if he didn't save you again, you would be bitten which means you would be dying by now.

You might've told him not to save you next time something like this happens, he still saved you. Knowing him, he is going to spit it in your face at the next opportunity he gets but you don't mind. You're all frustrated, blindly trying to ignore that the people of the group, Yoongi's friends, are missing and there's no telling if you'll ever see them again.

Yoongi is mysterious. You can't even pinpoint what he's thinking and he looks like the epitome of someone who hides his emotions and worries well. He looks strong this way. He doesn't look invulnerable. But is he really strong? Does he have his own demons?

You find yourself wondering about him, at least until you're forced to stop behind him all over again. Luckily this time, there's no undead approaching you as you get a perfect chance to sneak past them. You rush towards the next building, following Yoongi closely as he keeps checking they haven't noticed you yet.

You hate the weird mixture of fear and adrenaline inside you, wondering if you'll ever make it out of this town alive. You have a long way to go.

Yoongi's goal is to disappear in the woods again, making it easier to escape between the trees if there are any undeads lurking there.

You make it behind one of the buildings, your and Yoongi's back pressed against the brick wall. There are no words exchanged and you realize that at this point, you're just blindly following Yoongi and trusting him with your entire life. Your and his life are in his hands.

The distant growling coming from the undeads makes you think they're in a safe distance. Though, Yoongi doesn't move and you try to peek behind his body that's closer to the corner. But he stops you immediately as his outstretched arm pushes you harshly back to the wall. You bite your lip back to prevent yourself from moaning from the painful impact. However you completely stop breathing when one of the undeads walks past the building where you're hiding.

Breath catching in your throat, you watch it stopping and sniffling a little while it seems to be closer to the building on the opposite side. You tense, waiting for the moment the undead notices you and starts walking in your direction. You've no idea what possesses you, but you grab Yoongi's wrist and clutch in your hand rather harshly as his eyes drop to your hands. His eyes narrow but he doesn't dare to move before the undead continues in its walk. You sigh in relief, slowly letting go of Yoongi's wrist as he gives you an annoyed look.

You go like this from building to building, trying not to get caught before you safely make it into the woods. You both run, hiding among the tall trees until you're completely surrounded by it.

Yoongi barely stops, keeps walking right away as you're having a hard time keeping up. Though you stay silent and follow him like a lost puppy all over again.

After half an hour of constant walking and the lack of rest, you grow frustrated but still find yourself to be calm once you call out Yoongi's name. But he ignores you, branch cracking under his black boots as he yet manages to push one of the bushes out of his way, not bothering to hold it from you once again as it almost slaps and scratches you in the face. You huff, forcing yourself to quicken your tempo as you keep up with him.

“Where are we going?” you ask but get no response in return.

He just keeps going and going until you call out his name harsher.

“Yoongi!”

You don't expect him to turn around abruptly, causing you to almost bump right into his chest.

“What?!” he snaps, ignoring your taken aback stare as he narrows his sharp eyes at you.

“Where are we going?” you ask softly, his jaw clenching as he scoffs and brushes his fingers through his black long hair. It's getting long. You only realize it now after properly looking at him.

He looks away, still jaw tense and sharp as he leans against the tall tree. He takes off his backpack and pulls out a bottle of water. You watch him gulp it down in one go, his throat bopping before he tosses the empty bottle into nature. Who cares about marine pollution? The world is going into shits anyway, right?

“You wanna know where we're going?” he asks, scoffing as he straightens himself. “We're going to the fucking center.”

“What about the others?” you ask confusingly.

You swear he just cracked his jaw at your question as he glares in your direction.

You don't understand. You thought as soon as you would get out of the building and move to a safer zone, you would try to look for the others. They can't be far away and surely, it won't be easy to find them but you didn't peg Yoongi as the type to leave his people behind. So in this way, none of it makes sense.

“What about them, Y/N?” he asks harshly, your breath hitching as he uses your name with so much anger.

You find yourself gulping, still finding your voice as you ask; “Are we not going to try and look for them?”

He scoffs, “No.”

“Why?”

Yoongi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before he tosses the backpack over his shoulder and starts walking away. You scoff in disbelief, rushing to get to him as you mindlessly reach for him and tug his backpack. Harshly.

You're met with another deadly glare as you see so much frustration and anger in his face. It should scare you off, and in a way it does, but you stay your ground as you look him in the eyes bravely.

“Why are we not looking for them, Yoongi?” you ask sternly, “They must be close. We could try, what if they're–”

“You wanna know why? You wanna know why we're not fucking looking for them?” he spits and you shut your mouth, completely bewilderment at his outburst.

What's his problem?

“Because we made a promise. That's why we're not fucking looking for them.” he spits, and you think his anger is aimed at no else than you.

“A promise?” you ask confusingly.

“Yes, a fucking promise.” He rolls his eyes.

He's ready to let go of this topic, you see it on his face and that's why you cock your brow at him and shake your head slowly. He scoffs, mumbling something under his nose but you swear you hear a curse word.

“When we get into a situation like this, where we get separated and have no idea where the others are, we continue our way to the center. No matter what.” he explains harshly as you search his face for a few seconds.

“But what if–”

“This is the only way, don't fucking fight me on this. We know what we're doing. The goal is to get there and that's the highest chance we get to see each other again. We don't know what fucking happened with them, don't you get it? We don't know where they are. They could be on their way there as we are already speaking. They could be anywhere and we wouldn't know,” he presses, each word harsher and harsher as he makes his way closer to you.

He hovers over you like a dark cloud, forcing your body to be stopped by a tree as you press your back harshly into the tree truck.

“We have nothing. And the only fucking thing we can do, is to get to that fucking center and better hope they will be there.”

You stare into his dark eyes, having a trouble to recognize the emotion behind them but you know it has nothing to do with warmth and positivity. God, he makes you so frustrated. You swear you hate his guts. The way he treats you is not right.

“Why are you so mad about it?” you ask quietly while he's looking as if he's seconds from either punching you or the tree beside your head.

“Because I don't leave my people behind. They're out there, fighting for their lives while I'm stuck here with you.” he hisses and your body quivers.

Don't cry. Don't cry.

“It's not my fault.” you whisper and he finds your eyes again. He simply just stares and presses his lips tightly.

In a way, their decision to go to the center makes sense. Just like Yoongi pointed out, you don't know where they are. You don't know if they're even alive and even though Yoongi hasn't said those words out loud, you know the chance of that is possible. And he's very much aware of it. You don't know anything. Things can go south in a matter of seconds. Plus, there are undeads everywhere which complicates the entire thing. Whenever those creatures are involved, it only complicates everything and that everything becomes a ball of uncertainty because none of you can possibly know what's happening with the others after you got separated.

So yes. You do understand their decision.

Doesn't mean it's easy for Yoongi too. Though, you don't understand his anger aimed toward you. You're like his punching bag and you hate it. But you know he's your only chance to get there safely.

“You wanna know why I'm so mad?” he asks coldly, tilting his head at you and you wonder if you really want to know since he looks so angry. “Because I'm the one who came up with the fucking plan.”

Mouth agape, you stare at Yoongi as pulls away from you before he frustratedly rubs his face.

As a leader, you know he must be facing a lot of struggles. It's not easy to come up with plans while trying to keep everyone safe. Things get fucked up every minute and as much as Yoongi is skillful and smart, he's not a God. He faces all of those struggles alone, it's ruining him and if something happens to anyone, he's going to blame himself for it. Of course, all of this is just your assumptions. Yoongi is unpredictable, so it's harder with him.

But you can surely say that he is facing many struggles – ones that you're not even aware of.

It makes you emphasize with him, even though he could clearly care less about your empathy.

“And it's a good plan.” you speak up, softly and carefully as he scoffs, still turned with his back to you. “No, it is.”

“Shut up, please.”

You scoff. “You did what you had to do. You took a big responsibility on you and I know the others know it. Your decision makes sense.”

“Why did you look at me as if I was okay with leaving them behind?” he snaps and you close your mouth.

You looked at him like that? No. No, you're sure that's not it. You might've questioned his motives but now that he explained their plan, it makes perfect sense. He's sensitive at the moment, you realize.

He doesn't wear his heart on a sleeve, but it doesn't take rocket science to figure out that he truly cares for his people.

“You think all of this is easy? You can't even properly pick up a fucking knife–”

“Stop,” you snap, “Don't get mad at me for no reason. You keep venting your anger on me, but that's not fair.”

He stares, clenching his jaw as he shakes his head after a moment. He retrieves, clearing his throat. “Let's go.”

He turns around and starts walking away. With a sigh, you force your legs to move as you're facing his back all over again. He puts a safe distance between you, not even turning around to make sure you're still behind him.

Your conversation keeps replaying in your head. You're angry at him for treating you like garbage but that anger makes you want to cry. You're desperate, scared for your life in a middle of apocalypse, you're tired as fuck. You've been holding your emotions for quite some time again, but you force yourself not to care. Even if it's from anger.

He's like a ticking bomb. Whatever “relationship” you two have is one fucking ticking bomb and you know this is not the last of it. You're stuck with Yoongi.

And as you keep watching his back and figure, his steps harsh and fast, you realize you were wrong. His anger isn't aimed at you at all. It's aimed at himself for coming up with the plan of having to leave his people behind – even though he's not sure if they're still there.

But there's a possibility for anything and he's currently walking away.

He's walking away with the person he seems to despise and is no actual use to him.

You.

Legs aching and mouth dry, it seems like all you've been doing for god knows how long is walking. Maybe that's because it really is what you've been doing this whole time. After your last conversation, Yoongi hasn't spoken since then and to be honest, you haven't been in the mood to spark conversation either. What would you two talk about? How much do you hate each other?

You've been constantly on the move which doesn't make things unnecessarily awkward. The silence would be, but thanks to the never ending branches that keep cracking under your and Yoongi's weight, you're not completely swallowed in one.

Whatever Yoongi is thinking and planning, you're most likely not the person he wants to share that with. He seems to be focused on getting you to the center, hoping to see his friends safe and sound. But both of you know the only thing you've got is hope. And then there's reality too. You can't get wrapped in a nice illusion that everyone is safe and not dying. It's dangerous.

Because in the end you will always end up disappointed.

Today's world is raw and real. There is no place for delusional scenarios.

But it feels nice to dream.

If you closed your eyes, you would see yourself happy and surrounded by your family and friends. You would deal with adult shit that would make you want to pop open a bottle of wine and it would seem like the biggest worry in your life. Ever since this apocalypse happened and the world has turned into a dark shadow, you often find yourself thinking about what your life would look like.

“There's a lake. We can wash ourselves there.” Yoongi suddenly informs you, stepping on a big rock with his foot while you follow his gaze.

You find a big lake there, its color not looking that pleasant at all but you will take anything at the moment. The sweat has made your clothes cling to your skin and the urge to wash yourself is not bigger than ever. You can't even look at your hands, knowing there's somehow dirt behind your fingernails.

So you gladly accept Yoongi's plan, finally placing your backpack down on the ground. Finally. The water has never tasted better as it fills up your dry mouth and just like Yoongi before, you empty it all. From the corner of your eyes, you notice him placing his own stuff on the ground before he glances at you.

“You can go first.” he offers and for a split second, you're surprised by the thoughtfulness.

Though, you have to decline him because you're not sure if the water is safe too. You send a glance to the lake, knowing very well you will miss an opportunity to wash yourself if you don't get there, but you nibble on your lip in a silent doubt.

“Is it safe?” you ask Yoongi and he shrugs.

“Only one way to find out.”

“Oh, so you want me to go first when there's a big chance it's not safe to get there.” you accuse him, his eyes narrowing at you.

“Nothing is currently safe in this world, dove.” he points out and he has the audacity to smirk your way in amusement when he sees your frustrated expression.

So that's why he asked you to go first. To what – test if it's safe?

He must've noticed your suspicion and doubt because he snorts and shakes his head at you, already tossing his shirt over his head. You gulp at his bare upper body, forcing yourself to look away as you give him his privacy.

“I thought you would want to go first but fine. I'm going in,” he says and you hear his belt unbuckling as you turn around properly, staring at the tree crowns and sun peeking through them. “Make sure to call me if there are any undeads. You're on guard now.”

You send him a thumbs up over your shoulder, hearing a low chuckle in response before the water splashes. Shifting on your spot, you start looking around in case there is any presence with you. But there isn't. Everything around you is peaceful and the sound of water splashing here and there makes you relax.

From your peripheral vision, you see a pile of Yoongi's clothes tossed on the ground. Is he naked? Duh. Who would go into a lake with an intention to wash there with some clothes on?

You walk over there, finding his clothes slightly dirty which can be expected. After everything you've been through, there's no way any of your clothes would be clean. You grab them and start dusting them off one by one, placing them over a stone where Yoongi had his foot before.

You don't want to look. And you've no fucking idea what posses you when you steal a glance in his direction.

Just like Zoya told you before, nights get lonely and you're suddenly reminded of whatever relationship Yoongi has with Cherry. The indication says they were hooking up and you're not stupid. You wonder if Yoongi misses sex right now.

You know you do.

It's been a while since you had it. Even before the apocalypse and with people around you, the thought of masturbation never crosses your mind. It's not that easy for you to reach an orgasm while using your hands only.

You're also a human, a woman with hormones and it's not like you've thought about sex before. You were too busy trying to keep yourself alive, so the thought of it never came up.

And you hate yourself how a single sight of Yoongi's broad back and shoulders makes a weird twirl within your lower stomach. His skin is clean and pale, the sun shining on it as if it's asking for any attention. He's washing his face, his biceps bulging out as he keeps rubbing it. And fuck, his hair is all wet, seeming to be ever darker than it is in its natural dry state. You watch as he runs his fingers over his hair and then leans his head back while he slightly shakes it. The tiniest droplets fall down in several directions and you swear, it feels like a scene from a movie.

Feeling the lump in your throat, you quickly turn around with hot cheeks. Crossing your arms over your chest, you close your eyes and mentally scold yourself. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

You can't believe you've been checking him out while he's washing himself. Did you just invade his privacy? Oh god, you're so fucking embarassed. What the hell were you thinking?

For the rest of the time, you don't dare to turn an inch, not even when you hear him getting out of the lake because why would you? He is naked, Y/N! And then you start thinking about what he looks like from the front and you swear you want to slap yourself badly. Why have your hormones started acting up now? This is such an inappropriate moment.

“See? It's safe, you can go in there.” Yoongi says from behind you, in a good distance since his voice isn't as close.

You slowly turn around, wanting to scold him when he's not wearing any shirt as he buckles his belt into its place instead.

Giving him a stiff nod, you brush past him as you make it closer to the shore. There's no time to waste any more time than it's necessary, so you glance across your shoulder to check on Yoongi who's putting his shirt on. He has turned his back to you and you take that opportunity to shed all your clothes off.

As soon as you dip your toes in, the water is not as warm as you hoped for it to be and you bite back a whimper. Completely naked, your body shudders and goosebumps appear all over it. Nipples completely perked up, you decide to just go in there all at once. You toss your hair tie to the pile of your clothes before you get into the lake. Your teeth clatter at the temperature but soon enough, your body accommodates to it and you start washing yourself as soon as possible.

Curious, you glance back at the land where you find Yoongi turned with his back facing you, being on guard as he glances around. You sigh in relief, not even sure why. Does it matter if he sees you naked? The thought of it makes you embarrassed since your body is nowhere in its cleanest and neatest shape. The extra hair in your armpits itches from time to time and you would kill for a single razor.

Oh fuck. You miss your bathtub and all the products you had there. You miss living a normal life.

These thoughts occur in your mind a lot and it could be around the simplest things. It makes you realize how life used to be easy and free. Now it's anything but this.

You decide to wash your hair too, well, if dipping them into the water can be considered as washing. God knows how long it's going to be until you can wash yourselves again.

The water feels nice. Your muscles aching and warm bath would sound definitely better, but even the not-so-warm lake makes your body relax. You allow yourself that much until you hear a faint growling in the distance. But the problem is it's not going from Yoongi's direction but from the lake where you're currently in.

You freeze for a moment, waiting for another sound before you see tiny waves getting in your direction and that's when you spot it. The sun makes it harder but once you squint your eyes and place a hand above your eyes, you see the faintest sight of undead trying to get to you.

It can't swim but the lake isn't that deep at all and you realize it's getting closer and closer.

You move quickly, the splash of water resounding as the undead growls louder at the sound and your movement.

“Fuck.”

You start rushing to the shore but the slippery rocks under your feet makes it harder, causing you to slip as you dive under the water. You jump up, your feet barely reaching the bottom as the rocks are slippery and uncomfortable. As soon as your head is out of the water you gasp loudly and take a deep breath. You're sure you swallowed some of the water which would make you sick in other scenarios, considering there's an undead inside it, but making it to the shore and onto the land is not the main priority.

Yoongi notices the additional noise coming from the lake and he slowly turns around. What the hell are you doing there?

With a frown, he steps closer to get a better look as he sees you being extra active. In a second, he notices the undead behind you and the way you struggle. Your eyes meet and you scream at him, asking for help.

“Y/N, swim!” he yells at you, rushing to the shore as he already prepares his knife.

You do, getting onto your feet as soon as the water is too shallow. Yoongi keeps screaming at you, eyes locked on the creature as he offers you his hand. You quickly reach for it, your hand completely slippery but Yoongi has a great grip on you because he pulls you out with a strong tug. You stumble over the edge, falling down and taking him with you.

He takes the blow though, his back hitting the ground as he tries to save his head from the impact. You clutch to him, lying on top of him, both of you staring at the lake to check the undead. But it keeps growling and not moving. It seems like it got stuck, therefore it's not coming at you. Both of you sigh in relief, Yoongi's head hitting the ground as his hands leave your naked waist.

That's when you realize you're completely naked, lying on top of Yoongi who's fully clothed. His clothes are slightly dampened since when he got out of the lake, there were obviously no towels here, so he had to put clothes on top of his wet body. But now, you made him completely wet but no apology leaves your mouth as you quickly scurry to your feet.

Yoongi opens his eyes and lifts his head, finding you clutching your chest as you quickly turn around, completely embarrassed. Fuck!

“Nice ass.” he comments from behind you, your stomach tensing as your cheeks grow even hotter.

Closing your eyes in embarrassment, you hear shuffling behind you before he approaches you. He's standing right behind you, moving to the side a little so you notice him as he hands you your clothes. You take it rapidly, clutching your clothes to your front body but Yoongi remains unbothered.

“Get dressed, we need to keep moving.” he orders as if any of this didn't happen and as you mutter a silent “okay” you realize you're okay with that.

You're not sure if he's doing this to not make you uncomfortable or it's his usual uncaring self. But this time you don't care at all.

You get dressed up in silence while Yoongi scans your surroundings. Once you're done, he starts moving and once again, you follow him. But this time you're not tracing behind him but you walk beside him as the sun starts setting down.

Nighttime comes too soon.

These woods seem to be non-ending and eventually, you're forced to rest and settle with the fact that you're about to spend the night in open sky and dark woods. You can't even see the stars once you sit down next to Yoongi, too scared to get away in this darkness, as the tall trees cover the summer night sky.

He doesn't comment on your closeness, keeping his mouth shut as you both stay leaned against the tree trunk with your backs. Despite the discomfort under your ass and the harshness of the tree trunk on your back, you start dozing off as silence surrounds you. This is not a proper place to sleep at, but you don't have any choice and you're exhausted. Your legs throb and you wonder if Yoongi feels the same way.

He looks like the type that nothing bothers him. Surely, he must be exhausted too.

You pry your eyes open each time your head is about to fall back, cuddling more to your thin jacket. You both had to wear another layer since the night isn't too nice to you.

“You can sleep, you know.” Yoongi mumbles when you jerk yourself when sleep is about to overpower you.

“What about you?” you ask softly.

“I can be on the watch, I will wake you up after a few hours so we can switch.” he explains with a monotone tone as you hum in return.

No need to tell you that twice, you slowly drift off to sleep though your dreams are interrupted and so is your sleep. You keep drifting in and out, not even sure how long you've been like this. In the midst of it all, somehow your head falls onto Yoongi's closer and you naturally cuddle up to his warm and soft body.

Yoongi presses his lips into a tight line, glaring down at you in the darkness before he lets out a sigh. After an hour, at least he thinks an hour has already passed, he really wants to wake you up and tell you to move your big head off his shoulder because he's starting to stop feeling it. He might be an asshole but he feels bad to do that to a sleeping person, especially when you let out a soft and long sigh.

You smack your lips together, a single sound so annoying to Yoongi that he can't help but scrunch his nose at it. In the end, he snorts amusingly mostly at himself for being so annoyed by you. It seems like he's not getting sleep anytime soon. Does he trust you that you will be able to be on the watch? It's not that hard. You could easily wake him up if there is any danger lurking. But seeing you completely exhausted, he's not sure if you wouldn't accidentally fall asleep. That can easily happen and you wouldn't be able to control it. Exhaustion is a bitch.

He can't risk it though. What if you really fall asleep and then the next he knows one of you is being bitten?

Sighing at his thoughts, it seems like he can't rest even when he's physically doing nothing.

You lift your head up after a while, the uncomfortable position not allowing you to get the needed and good sleep as you look around. It's still dark, it looks like you didn't even sleep.

Stretching your arms and scooting a little away from Yoongi, purposely ignoring the fact you used his shoulder as a pillow, you let out a soft yawn. “I'm awake. I can be on the watch.” you inform him, voice tired and raspy from the little sleep you've managed to get.

“Go back to sleep. I got it.” Yoongi mutters, outstretching his legs in front of him as a small breeze starts to rustle the trees.

Frowning, you clear your throat. “You need to sleep too. You don't trust me?”

It feels like you know the answer to that.

His silence proves your assumption to be right and you scoff slightly. “You think I'd kill you in your sleep?”

Yoongi snorts, “Wouldn't put it past you.”

Now is your turn to snort, even though you feel slightly offended. “You think I'd be capable of killing a human when I can't kill any undead?”

“Touché,” Yoongi mutters, “You're tired. Just go back to sleep. You're safe.”

As much as you are touched by his surprising kindness (even though he says it in his usual Yoongi style), you frown. “You are tired too. You need sleep.”

“Why do you always have to argue on everything, woman,” Yoongi grunts in annoyance, “I told you fucking go back to sleep. We're gonna be walking the whole day tomorrow, so you better prepare for it.”

Now it's your turn to groan in annoyance. “Why do you always have to be so difficult?” you question him back.

“You know, you really get on my fucking nerves. If you're planning to stick around, at least listen to me and stop disobeying me like a brat.”

You gasp, “I'm trying to be nice!” you exclaim and Yoongi shushes you harshly.

“You're stupid, not nice.”

“I guess that's two of us.”

Yoongi growls and you glare at him in the darkness, feeling his own glare aimed your way. He opens his mouth, you're guessing ready to tell you something you wouldn't like when there's a nearby rustle that interrupts your bickering. Is that what it's called?

You both shut your mouth and Yoongi brings his index finger to his mouth, motioning for you to keep quiet. Does he really think you would start making noise at this moment? You still nod, your breath hitched in your throat as you both slowly stand up.

There's another sound, not audible enough for you to recognize it until you both realize it's someone talking. And there's also a flashlight that lights in your direction, a few trees to the right which makes you both crouch abruptly.

“Do you think they're dangerous?” you whisper, feeling yourself shiver at that thought.

Woods are not safe at all. No place is. And the undeads aren't the only thing that's dangerous.

“I don't know, but I'm not planning to risk it.” Yoongi mutters back and ushers you to hide behind the tree.

Breath quickening, you look from the side just to slam your back against the tree trunk again. “What?”

You look at Yoongi, his whispered questioning causing you to shake your head because the voices are coming closer. Their figures weren't too visible and you can't tell how many of them there are. But from the sound of it, it doesn't look like a big group. But still.

Trying to find the courage to fight – or to kill – undeads is one thing, but nobody said anything about humans. It doesn't matter if they're dangerous and would aim their knives or guns at you, you wouldn't be able to do anything and you both know it.

Clutching your backpack to your stomach, you stay glued to your spot while Yoongi checks the area from behind the tree, cursing under his breath. “Fuck, they're close.”

He barely finishes saying it before the footsteps and cracking resounds just a few meters away from you. You're screwed. You shut your eyes, praying to whoever is up there won't end your lives right now. Maybe you're dramatic and those people aren't dangerous, but you don't want to find out. You just wish they could pass by without noticing you.

“Get your knife.” Yoongi orders you through his clenched teeth, your stomach flipping in an uncomfortable way because this means one thing – he is prepared for everything and if you have to fight someone, you should be prepared for it.

Only you're not.

As soon as you hold the knife, your hand starts shaking and gets sweaty. Even the weather decides to break the moment as tiny droplets of rain start to shower down the sky. It's like a perfect reflection of what your situation is about to be. Dark and gloomy.

Yoongi keeps his cool – as always – and that's the only thing that keeps you rooted in your spot, convincing yourself everything is going to be fine. But all of that disappears in a split second when the light from the flashlight is centimeters from your boots before it's on your face.

Eyes squinted, not being able to see anything, you try to cover your face with your hand while Yoongi gets into action and stands up with the knife in his hand. You stand up, fighting back the urge to hide behind him as the rain intensifies.

And maybe you got it all wrong.

Maybe it's the fine breeze and rain that waters the dried nature that is a sign of hope. Because you thought you would never hear someone say a single name that would bring a sign of knowing and familiarity.

You don't see anything but at the moment it doesn't matter. Because a single word resounds among the trees, on the opposite side of you.

“Yoongi?”

#networkbangtan #btswritingcafe #ksmutclub #ficswithluv #bts smut #yoongi x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts au #yoongi fic #personasintro

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deapax · 5 months

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Hiiii Firstly, I love your fics some days we only need good smut.

I would love to request Agatha Harkness x fem! reader. Agatha fingering reader and then Agatha proposing the idea of use a magic strap for first time so she can feel herself inside reader. Agatha is gentle in the beginning and then she can’t stop herself

Take it easy

Characters: Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Summary: After a rough week, Agatha makes plans on how to relax both of you.

Warnings: 18+ smut, fingering (r receiving), magic strap (r receiving), praising, breeding (kinda)

A/N: There you go, enjoy :)

Originally posted by deapax

With a soft groan you dropped down on the couch, work had gotten the best out of you that week and you were more than desperately looking forward to finally relax on the weekend. You could tell you wife was feeling just the same by the way her coat hit the floor and she didn’t even bother to put it back at the hook. The witch settled next to you, wrapping her arms around you before sighing relieved. “I hope you know that all this here is the greatest love proof you could’ve ever gotten by me. Still gotta get used to this everydays life of an ordinary worker like i couldn’t just take over the entire town if i wanted to.” And jt was true, she’d moved to the little town just for you and settled which was quite unlike her. You certainly couldn’t ask for anything more from her. “I know, darling, and you know how much i appreciate the sacrifices you have made for me. For us. I’m Im sorry work isn’t going very smoothly lately, but im certain that there are better times coming.” You assured her before leaning in for a gentle kiss. You could feel her smiling against your lips, which made you melt in her strong arms almost immediately.

Yet it seemed like the witch had gotten a little more into it than you had expected because before you knew it you felt her lips on your neck, her hands on your waist laying you down while she marked you up as she always did. She was rather possessive when it came to you. “Gonna make you feel so much better and forget about work.” She whispered into your ear, planting a soft kiss behind it before her hands moved to unbutton your pants impatiently and pulling them down along with your panties to rest around your ankles. “Aggs you really don’t have to-“ But she simply shut you up with another deep and passionate kiss, her tongue claiming your mouth as you fought for dominance with your own, yet losing the fight not long after. Right, she didn’t have to, but she certainly wanted to. Her hand wrapped around your thigh, spreading your legs open as far as she could with your pants basically tying your feet while her other hand pulled your shirt up, revealing that you were wearing nothing underneath. You let out a soft moan as Agatha wrapped her mouth around it, sucking the sensitive bud, swirling her tongue around it before pulling gently with her teeth until it stood erected. The deep chuckle that left Agatha’s throat indicated that the way you got turned on by her so easily didn’t go unnoticed.

“Oh princess, you know you could’ve just told me you needed me to take care of you. God I barely touched you and I can already feel the heat radiating from your core.” She ran two fingers through your wet folds before bringing them up to your mouth, tapping them on your lips. Obediently you opened your mouth and took her fingers in, moaning at your own taste as you sucked and cleaned her fingers. Agatha’s breath hitched watching your tongue doing its best work before she withdrew her fingers and put them in her own mouth, her eyes closing at the taste. That sight alone made you clench your thighs together, that the older witch forcefully spread again to have better access to your throbbing cunt. She ran her fingers over your clit, circling and pinching it for what seemed like ages. By the way she was kissing your breasts you knew she could bare,y hold herself back but wanted to tease just until you broke, which you did eventually. You brought your hand down to Agatha’s, moving it to your gaping hole, practically begging for her to finally fuck you properly. As she didn’t give you much more than a single finger teasing your entry you finally gave in and started begging like your life was depending on it. “Ive been so good today, darling, please i deserve it! Gonna return the favour afterwards i swear but i need you so badly, you cant tease me for so long and leave me like that!” You whined, but it worked according to plan.

Three of the witch’s talented fingers were suddenly filling you up, her palm pressing against your clit as she moved them slowly, hitting you sweet spot with her nails which drew a loud deep moan from your lips. Your head fell back on the pillow, the sensation of your wife’s lips on your tits and her fingers picking up speed drove you insane. You brought your hand down to tangle in Agatha’s dark curly hair, gently pulling it whenever she hit your g spot, making you cry out softly. “God you should see yourself right now, might have to put a mirror over our bed at some point. You’re looking so fucking gorgeous with your smeared make up and open mouth, turning me on so much.” She husked, before another idea popped up in her mind. Just before you could cum she pulled out her fingers and licked them clean. “No no no Aggy, you said i was doing well so why would you stop right before I could even finish once? That’s so unfair, I- oh…”

You stopped complaining immediately when you saw purple mist covering Agatha’s lover half. Once it had faded away you had the perfect view on the purple magic strap standing proudly between her legs. She’d taken you several times with her strap yet something seemed different this time. The witch got rid of the pieces of clothing that was pooling around her ankles so she could settle between your legs and capture your lips in another fiery kiss. “You’re lucky I got turned on so badly otherwise I would’ve made you suck me off.” She husked before cupping your cheek, her thumb brushing over your skin as she added: “This will bring both of us pleasure, and you wanna make me happy, don’t you princess?” The idea alone let your mouth water as you nodded. That was one of the advantages of having a witch as your partner, she was always up for new surprises and ideas.

Agatha smiled when she saw you giving her consent before she lined up the strap with your hole and pushed past your entry, letting the tip in to get both of you used to the feeling before she slid the rest of the veiny toy inside you with a soft thrust. Hearing her panting as she slowly pulled back and started fucking you at a steady pace was something you didn’t know you needed until this very moment. You moaned into her mouth, your hands gripping your lover’s ass cheeks as the witch’s fake cock was pushing against your g spot, making your back arch. The way you melted underneath her and the way she felt inside you made Agatha’s head spin. “Fuck, Y/N. If i knew how amazing you feel I would’ve done that so much earlier. God you’re swallowing me just like that, you’re such a good girl for me aren’t you? Make me so proud. You can take some more, I know you can. Gonna make you feel so good, princess.”

You wondered what she was talking about until you were flipped onto your front, Agatha’s hand holding your as up as she knelt behind you, lining up the toy again before pushing right in again, making you cry out in surprise as she suddenly went with a much quicker pace and rough movements, her thighs hitting your ass with ever thrust. “‘M sorry, can’t hold myself back anymore, feel so good.” She moaned, gripping your hair and pulling it as she watched your wetness dripping down your thighs, encouraging her to fuck you even harder. You were sure that the tears that were running down your cheeks from the way Agatha took you were ruining the make up you’d spent hours on doing but you didn’t mind in that very moment, you could barely think straight. “Fuck, gonna cum inside you, princess. Gonna fill you up so well.” She moaned louder, her hand moving from your hair to groap your tits as she picked up the speed one more time, letting you know she was as close as you were, her thrusts becoming sloppier. “Be a good girl and cum for me, Y/N, wanna cum with you.” You’d never heard your wife being so desperate but who were you to deny her request, in fact you couldn’t hold back much longer anyway, the orgasm inside you building up rapidly before you gripped the couch pillow, crying out your wife’s name when you released your cum all over her strap. At the same time the older woman let out a long deep moan as she came inside you as well, pushing her load deep inside you before pulling out, watching the mixed liquids slowly dripping out of your destroyed cunt. With a snap of her finger she let the strap disappear and laid down on the couch, pulling you on top of her to cuddle you gently, her fingertips running over your back. “You did so well for me, princess. Im so proud of you, i knew you could take it. I love you, Y/N, thanks for letting me try it out. Cant say it was an unpleasant experience. Quite so opposite actually.” She chuckled softly, then added: “Couldn’t have started this weekend any better.”

#agatha: darkhold diaries #agatha x reader #agatha harkness #smut #marvel #x reader

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voidcat · 3 months

Text

— fool’s bloom

characters: spirit blossom thresh x gn!reader

a/n: idek what this is- months of silence and I decided to write a quick thresh thingy in favor of ignoring neurology uhuh owo (I swear I’m working on the gojo thing btw, even a certain zenin will have an appearance;P) anywyas enjoy slight undertones of a thresh growing jealous and possessive but turning a blind eye to/ignoring these emotions

For all the years he has roamed Runaterra, Thresh thinks he has figured people out pretty much by now.

Foolish little creatures, driven by their fears and impulses, desires and selfishness, it all becomes the same after a while for the grim wraith himself.

Takes one to know one, one of the souls once dared speak up, he hadn’t even noticed he was thinking out loud until then; with a not so gentle shake of his lantern, signaling what shall await them later that night, he shuts the damned soul up in no time.

Foolish little creatures, but not as dull as he has come to find them as of late, Thresh thinks as he spots the figure his eyes have grown familiar with.

Wraith or not, he is not one to succumb so easily to violence and the satisfaction born from others sufferings.

Thresh is a collector first and foremost; of people, souls, memories, their agonies and fading selves, all the emotions that make them people, brimming to the fullest yet unaware they’ll never reach the surface again.

The dark waves of the sea with its harsh waves, he keeps them underwater forever and ever.

He sees some souls unfit for his reaping, and some, he decides to wait. To let them mature, or for your case, allow them a glimpse at him, glowing mist of bad news and horns above his head, letting the seeds of fear spread into your chest, for the next time you will shake with terror like none other.

Except; you prove an exception to that.

He finds you odd, and a little off putting if he were still a mere human. Instead of running away, it almost feels as him you’re seeking him out, intentionally.

A fool, no matter the feeling underneath the actions.

Ah, but that lack of fear takes the fun out of him and by now you seem to know it too. Going as far as to call out to him and wave a hand, as if he can mistake your voice for anyone else in that deserted forest— “Hey mister warden! Fancy joining me for a cozy afternoon tea?”

A fool, he murmurs the words again and disappears before you can catch up to him. Yet it doesn’t go unnoticed by him how your shoulders drop once he is out of your sight. Surely you’re not as stupid enough to actually mean your offer now?

It’s not so bad per see, he decides. You make the most exceptional distraction for him to collect more souls, even if you notice or not. With the presence of someone else in the same place as them, people feel safe, let their guards down; not expecting his scythe to land, nor the glowing lantern to become their new homes.

Maybe he will allow you to roam a little longer, until you grow old, or witness him in action and begin to fear— another miscalculation on his part, he will soon find out, as he did with any matter relating to you.

Souls ripped apart from their once-hosts, sucked into the lantern like petite flowers in bloom, his scythe still warm and swaying in the air slightly, Thresh catches your eyes on him, watching from afar. He thinks, at last, the moment of fear has come, until he sees your mouth agape, pupils dilated, with fascination in your eyes; a fool or an oddity? He once more finds himself lacking to describe as to what you are.

Accepting that your increasing offers will not end any time soon, nor the time to reap your soul will come any sooner, he lets out a sigh and carries on like he always did, ignoring you majority of the time. At this point he is unsure himself whether he wants your soul to be with him for an eternity, he doubts even death can part you with that fascination in your eyes and admiration written all over your face— what is it about him that has you so impressed, he wonders from time to time.

Even though it is still a mystery as to why you’re so attached to him, in the process Thresh hasn’t realized his attachment to you in return.

Only with your sudden lack of presence one day he realizes, and wonders where you are. You were watching him with those doe eyes from the side just a moment ago; what is it that kept you from following him? He finds himself hurrying, reaping the soul at hand not so elegantly, as if he ever cared about such things, and halts when he hears your voice raised.

Your singsong melody has become such a constant for him that he has forgotten you don’t speak with anyone like this. You sound worried, he notices, until an unfamiliar voice hushes you, ordering you to keep quiet and few other things he fails to recognize as he hurries.

A quick sway and throw of his scythe and the man is stunned, then pulled towards him, right into the lantern as he raises it in the intruder’s direction.

A rash action on his part, he realizes, only after this sound of quick and rhythmic beating stops ringing in his ears and he feels the velocity of something warm thrown into his direction, not strong enough to cause a shake in his posture— his arms faltering, he looks down to be met with your body pressed into his, arms wrapped around him, tightly, that he realizes the shake is happening somewhere deep down, not on any levels physical but something entirely different.

A new unfamiliarity he would like to think, but he knows better, he has been aware of this unknown brewing inside him for a while, allowing it to bloom with each passing interaction.

Only when he feels the drop of a weight, Thresh realizes he has let go of his scythe, the now vacant hand finding its way to your back; at the contact, he feels you tighten your hold, burying your head further to his chest— clearing his mind of his arising thoughts, he leaves it for another time to wonder what this will bring for the two of you now; for now, he allows himself to feel your hold on him, your warmth soon blending into his; your calm, even breaths and fast beating heart the only things he hears.

#girl I don’t even know LMAO #league of legends #league of legends x reader #league of legends x you #lol x reader #this is for spirit blossom thresh specifically btw #thresh league of legends #thresh x reader #thresh x you #spirit blossom thresh #lol bs #league of legends drabble #gender neutral reader

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loominggaia · 15 days

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Do trolls have anything akin to cuisine and traditional dishes? Just because you can eat just about anything doesn't mean it has to be presented with no flair. :D I suppose same question for minotaurs. Are there any foods other races go out of their way to try from either of these groups (besides minotaur milk)?

They certainly do! Trolls are in a unique position where they can eat damn near anything without consequence, even foods that are totally raw, filthy, or rotten. But what's even more unique is the fact that they like the taste of nasty, rotten food!

A troll's sense of smell and taste oppose that of most peoples'. By that I mean, smells and tastes that other peoples find pleasant are usually unpleasant to trolls, and vice versa. Taste is subjective, but we can agree that 99% of humans would retch if they put a rotten egg in their mouth. Meanwhile, the average troll can--and will--happily devour it, and enjoy it much more than a fresh egg.

Because of this, trolls have developed many unique dishes that only their species can safely eat. I will warn you, some of the following text is really disgusting. So if you get grossed out easily, consider skipping the rest of the post.

With that said, let's take a look some of these troll-specific dishes from around the world!

Redge: A rotten egg slathered in bitter herbs.

Plopslop: The manure of a herbivorous animal, boiled down into a soup with half-composted vegetables added.

Grrsi: Fresh meat is inoculated with fly eggs, which hatch and partially digest the meat over time. The meat becomes infested with the fat grubs, which are the main attraction of the dish.

Urizluuk: The urine of a male goat, fermented for months in an alcoholic fruit broth. This is a popular drink dating back to ancient times.

Akwi: Raw fish heads, left to dry in the sun until they smell putrid. Sometimes akwi is made with clams or some other sealife instead.

Dukleka: Garlic is force-fed to rats over the course of many days, then rats are fed to a pig-hawk, which has its rear-end sewn shut. The garlicky rats ferment in its GI tract until the bird dies of bloat, then its stomach and intestines are removed and eaten as a delicacy.

Zlub: This is not a meal in itself, but a sauce made from boiled slug slime and rancid onions. It's added to other foods to give it a slimy, repulsive texture that trolls love.

Volzkriz: Animal blubber (traditionally from a walrus or whale) is boiled down into a liquid and then left to cool, forming a hard block of fat. This can be eaten fresh, but it said to taste better the more rancid it gets.

There are lots more, but I'm sure you get the idea...Even ogres, who can tolerate rancid corpses, will be sickened by some of the things on this list. This gives trolls a serious survival advantage over other species.

As for minotaurs, they are a lot less tolerant of rotten foods. However, they can tolerate tough fibers which are undigestible by most peoples. This includes things like raw grass, bark, and woody vegetation. Even trolls struggle to digest these fibers unless they compost them down to a softer form, but minotaurs can eat them fresh, no preparation needed. This is also quite a big survival advantage.

Minotaurs have quite an affinity for fresh grass, and some of them can get quite snobby about it. There are many debates about which type of grass is best for taste and health, and how best to prepare it. Cooked or raw? Some insist that cooking the grass is culinary heresy, and its subtle flavors should be enjoyed in their purest form as nature intended. There are common grasses which are considered "peasant food" and other, rarer species which are enjoyed by royalty.

Grass is a big meme in Etios Nation. Even the Etiosi make fun of themselves for their apparent cultural obsession with grass, and it certainly hasn't gone unnoticed by foreigners. "Go eat some grass" is a common insult hurled towards minotaurs worldwide.

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

Read the Series

#ask #askcuisine #asktroll #askminotaur

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stars-and-inkpots · 2 months

Text

One of my dnd characters, Iris (who I have made in BG3), happens to have a lot of parrallels with Gale, so I wanted to write something about them. Got this done during some spare time a bit ago and have decided to share it here.

Thanks for reading :3

Wild Magic

Word Count: 2,336

Ao3 Link: Wild Magic

Full moons are the nights where the veil between the Wilds and the mortal realm is at its thinnest. For those who pull their magic directly from the Feywild, full moons are when they're at their strongest, but for some, also when they're most volatile. Iris struggles to bear the pull of the Wilds. Gale is there to help.

Iris shifts uncomfortably and spares the rising moon in the clear night sky a nervous but steady glance. On nights like this, she can almost feel the marks moving on her skin, sprawling sporadically as they struggle to contain the magic while the veil between the Wilds and this world grows thin. Full moons are always like this, and Iris laughs to herself because she might as well be a werewolf at this point.

She can feel her companions’ eyes on her. She knows that they must see the slight glow the marks on her face, neck, and arms give off; they must note how even the pink iris of her left eye contains the same light.

She wonders if they are scared of her, her with her magic that is wild and unpredictable.

She wouldn’t blame them if they were.

Mercifully, they retire early tonight. Astarion insists he’s too tired to continue, but Iris knows that he’s lying for her sake. She’s too proud to admit when she’s struggling, but she also does a poor job at hiding it. Regardless, she throws a silent ‘thank you’ his way when they pass each other in the camp. She tries to ignore the obvious concern on his face. Concern is too close to pity, even though she knows that isn’t his intent.

Iris doesn’t join the others for supper. She’s too exhausted.

Her absence does not go unnoticed, of course. She can hear it in the slightly strained conversations they have around the campfire- never spoken of directly, but it sits in the air stagnant with a nervous tension bound to break eventually. All of them cast their eyes towards her tent, unsure of whether their presence would be welcome, and for some, wondering if it’s even safe to offer it.

Gale is the only one to walk over to Iris’s tent once supper is finished and cleaned up. He stands near the entrance, hesitant but determined.

“Iris? Would you care for some company?” His voice betrays no concern at being close to her, because he has none. Iris notes quickly that he’s been the only one who has not put a safe distance between them when she’s been particularly unstable.

“I’m afraid I’m not going to be great company if you’re looking for conversation.”

“So long as you don’t mind, I’m sure I can do enough talking for the both of us.”

Iris smiles.

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” she answers.

Gale makes his way inside and sits across from Iris on the floor of blankets and pillows. It’s dark, save for the faint, pink glow that Iris herself gives off. Her eyes are closed, breathing steady, but controlled and methodical. It’s taking her a lot of effort to remain still. The tent itself seems a reflection of that same, barely controlled chaos. The blankets and pillows are colourful, unmatched. There are books strewn about and organised in a way that Gale is sure must make sense to Iris, but is lost to him. A silver bowl of small trinkets that Iris found particularly pretty or interesting sits beside her bedroll. She’s very much like a magpie, Gale thinks fondly.

He turns his attention back to Iris, who has finally opened her eyes to look at him. Her left eye is brighter than earlier, the colour shifts from pink to purple and blue, then green, then back to pink. The marks- which he had thought were simply a collection of intricate tattoos when he first met her- are still moving. Her hair, usually brown and far darker, looks lighter. The pink strands (easily mistaken for grey hairs if one didn’t look close enough) have grown in number, and they too have taken on the same glow.

“You scared?” Iris asks suddenly, and even though her voice is teasing, Gale can hear the barely concealed and, admittedly familiar, self-loathing in it.

“Never,” Gale answers without hesitation. “Never with you.” And he means it.

Iris hums. “Then for a wizard, you aren’t very smart.” She sounds resigned, but grateful all the same.

“My confidence is not often misplaced. I’m sure I can handle myself, sorcerer.”

Both of them are smiling now. Gale watches as Iris takes another steadying breath and closes her eyes again. She seems controlled, but he can see the slight shake of her hands which are clenched tightly into fists where they rest on her knees.

“I was working on translating the book we found,” Gale begins speaking. It’s nothing of importance, just a simple journal they had found in an abandoned house. It was written in dwarvish, which was, of course, easy enough for Gale to work through quickly.

“Oh? Find anything interesting?” She knows that he’s only talking to distract her from the rush of the Wilds that threaten to overtake her. He’s keeping her grounded, and she’s more than thankful.

Gale continues to explain what he found in the pages of the tattered book. It truly was just a journal. It didn’t have any special knowledge to impart, only the gossip of the nearby town and the author’s thoughts on it. While it wasn’t anything important, it did provide quite the entertaining read. It was a dramatic novella in its own right. Gale notes that he wouldn’t be surprised if much of the stories inside were rife with dramatic embellishments, and Iris laughs when he suggests that perhaps they’ve merely stumbled upon someone’s (unjustly) rejected manuscript, given some of the notes in the margins.

“Thank you,” Iris says quietly when silence falls between them again. “It’s easier to bear with someone else around.”

“I am happy I could help then.” Gale studies the marks on her skin again. They have not slowed in their movements or dimmed, but Iris does seem to be calmed significantly. “Is it painful? If you don’t mind me asking, of course. I understand if you don’t wish to speak of it.”

Iris is silent again for a moment.

“It’s not painful, at least not exactly. It’s like… electricity beneath my skin. Like when your arm or your leg goes numb when you rest on it for too long. There’s a longing too, like I need to go back, or I need to bring it here. It kind of feels like treading water in the middle of high tide.”

Gale nods. Though he can’t exactly understand, the discomforts of the orb are enough for him to sympathise.

“And the marks?”

“I swear I can feel them. It’s a familiar feeling- like an old friend, if that makes sense. They don’t cause any discomfort themselves though, if that’s what you meant. They feel a little cold or a little too warm sometimes, but that’s it.” Iris puts a hand to her cheek instinctively, feeling the marks there while she talks about them.

Gale shifts closer to her and raises a hand slowly.

“May I?” His hand stills while waiting for Iris to answer.

“Go ahead,” she answers after some thought. No one has ever been this close when she’s like this, and the realisation of how willingly he’s here with her is dizzying in a pleasant way.

Gale runs his fingers along the pink patterns that swim across her cheek and down her jaw. They’re cold to the touch, just as Iris said they would be, and inhumanely so. It’s strange, the cold does not spread to the rest of her face, it is contained only in the marks themselves.

Iris can focus on nothing but the look on Gale’s face. There isn’t apprehension or fear, the expressions she’s grown accustomed to people regarding her with. It’s curious, yes, but also caring. He wants to know more about her because he cares. When Gale moves to hold a lock of her hair, examining the pink strands within it, she realises this is the closest anyone has been to her ever, even without the Wilds calling her.

“Have you always had them?” Gale asks. “I will admit, I’m at quite a loss when it comes to the nature of sorcerers’ magic.”

“Not always.” She doesn’t hold the same reservations she usually does when it comes to telling people how she fell into her powers, not with Gale. “I always had my magic though, at least to some extent. I think there’s a Fey branch somewhere in my mom’s family tree. The whole story is a little long.” Iris is ready to leave it there; not because she doesn’t want to, but because it’s not a conversation that normally interests people outside of giving them a reason they should tread just a little more carefully around her.

“Well, I think we have more than enough time. Though don’t let me force your hand.” Gale has returned his hands to his lap, and Iris finds herself missing his touch far more than she thinks she ought to.

“When I was a child, I managed to stumble into the Feywild. Of course, it was less of a stumble, and more that I was pulled into it, I’m sure. I spent a lot of my time there. Titania was quite fond of me, and she wasn’t keen on the idea of returning me home- though, neither was I at the time. I was just a kid, and the idea of playing all the time with no bedtime and getting whatever I wanted was incredibly appealing. I would say that she ‘taught’ me magic, but it was more of her giving it to me and then having to teach myself so I could actually manage it. I had to be good at it too if I wanted to remain in her favour. Fey blood or not, I’m still human, which meant my acceptance in the court was very much conditional. So long as I entertained her, I could stay.”

Gale looks genuinely interested. He believes her too, which is not something that Iris is used to. Most people think she’s a liar the moment she mentions the Seelie Queen. Gale only seems surprised that the two are on a first name basis.

“I was there for ten years- well… it felt like ten years to me. One day it was like I suddenly woke up, and I wanted to leave- she wasn’t happy with that idea. She tried to keep me there. I didn’t know what I was doing, I just knew I wanted out.” Iris pauses for a moment, trying to think. “Now, the best way I can explain Wild magic is that it bends to the will of the caster. Your desires shape it, and it takes the form that you will it to. I can only assume that it’s similar to working the Weave, in a sense, but it’s more… I don’t know. It’s less of an academic kind of thing, and more instinct. It’s a feeling.” Iris almost expects Gale to object to her explanation somehow, but instead he only nods in understanding. “You open yourself to the Wilds, and you have to shape the magic that comes out. That’s why there are the surges, because it’s hard to just start and stop the magic- and it’s more difficult when you’re upset. When I tried to leave, understandably, I was very upset. I was scared, I was angry, I was desperate. I knew it was going to take a lot to get me home. So I opened myself up to the deepest wells of magic that the Feywild has to offer. I knew it was the kind of magic that the Seelie Queen used, and I thought I could do it too. It worked, but it was too much for me, and it never really left.” Iris gestures to the marks on her face. She takes a few deep breaths before she continues. Gale is patient with her.

“My parents were happy to see me, relieved to finally have their daughter back… but they were old. Very old. It felt like ten years to me, but it was nearly forty here. I didn’t have very long with them once I was home.”

“I’m sorry.” Gale’s hand reaches out and Iris holds it, thankful for the regained contact.

“It’s alright. I got to see them again, at least.”

The buzzing beneath her skin has faded considerably. It’s easier to focus now, and every moment isn’t spent suppressing the urge to give in to the Wilds. The glow still remains, but it has dimmed a little. Gale must notice too, because he smiles slightly.

“Thank you for staying.” Iris pauses. “And for listening,” she adds.

“You’re very welcome. I would be happy to talk like this again, full moon or not.”

Then, Iris surprises both of them by moving forward and hugging him. Then Gale surprises her by returning the embrace. He holds her with just as much feeling, uncaring about how dangerous she has the potential to be. In the grand scheme of things, he could be dangerous too, maybe even in a similar way.

They fit together well. Two people who hold remnants of the very magic that threatens them inside themselves. One who went to every length to keep the approval of the one who gave him magic, and the other who gave up everything just so she could escape them. Both of them reached for magic incomprehensible to them. Both of them held it in the palm of their hands. Both of them were punished for it.

Iris is the first to pull back.

“You should go get some sleep. I’ll be fine now, it’s calmed down a lot,” she says. Gale looks like he’s about to object, but is cut off by a yawn that overtakes him instead.

“If you’re certain,” he says after. “I hope you are able to get some rest as well. Goodnight, Iris.”

“Goodnight, Gale,” Iris answers, smiling.

The pull of the Wilds is practically a whisper. It’s the first somewhat peaceful sleep Iris has gotten during a full moon that she can remember.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fic #gale dekarios #gale x tav #my tav - Iris #named tav

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