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churipu · 3 months

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( OO2 ) ★ dude (romantically) , gojo satoru

featuring. gojo satoru x reader

warnings. cursing, 2006 highschool era, one sided enemies to lovers (alias u hate him bcs of "reasons", and u think he hates him too), gojo being such a fucking tease i love hate him so much, a lot of cringe and weird pet names from gojo bcs he's kind of a little shit, you being mean to him and you make him sad (but you'll make up dwdw, i don't need angst rn), um...kissing (yhyh u guys kissed, so what >:() // wc: 4.0k

ENTRY ( OO2 ) OF THE "INTO THE IPINVERSE" MILESTONE

"i hate you." "say that again?"

tags: @sad-darksoul, @sweeneyblue1, @idkuluka, @colorful-happy-shit

there are a lot of moments that you hate in life, but with all due respect, meeting gojo satoru has got to be at the top of your fucking list.

white hair, blue eyes deeper than the ocean. god, why does he have to be so pretty? why couldn't he be born with no hair and no eyes at all? because that, that would make it easier to hate him completely — yes, you're implying that he's physically attractive.

"hey, apple pie," gojo sings out, slinging an arm over your shoulder, "i missed you."

you pushed him away harshly, "don't call me that, gojo. and i don't fucking miss you," a strained whine escaped his throat as he feel the distance in between you both widen at your push.

"come on, sugar bear."

"jesus christ, stop calling me those fucking nicknames." you seethe out at him, standing up to walk away — escaping this hell, escaping gojo satoru and whatever tricks he had up in his sleeve.

"i know you like them," gojo sings out, skipping to catch up with you. shoving both of his hands inside his pockets, "come on, annoyed acrylic nail."

you stopped for a bit, amazed at the nickname. so amazed that you almost actually pulled out a laugh card at him — god, he's insufferable, "what the fuck was that nickname?"

"you kiss your mother with that mouth?" gojo asks, leaning down a bit to put his ugly face up close to yours. frankly, it's frustrating because he's an absolute beauty, what a prick.

"my mother's dead."

gojo widened his eyes a tad bit, "my god — pumpkin, it was just a saying." he sighs, scratching his nape awkwardly, "sorry for your loss."

you rolled your eyes, continuing your aimless walk. the sole point of this walk was to avoid the male, yet here he was, walking alongside you. silently. as you turned corners after corners, he trailed behind you, turning the same corners after corners.

"can you," i look at him, "leave me alone? why the hell are you following me?"

gojo shrugs, "no reason. can't i do that now?" you shook your head, "and why not?"

"this is — stalking. an act of following me around, i feel intimidated. do you want me to file a report, huh? huh?" gojo chuckles at your ramble, finding you quite adorable; in his eyes, you were like this small creature, trying to be intimidating.

"definitely not." he chuckled, "come on, chatterbox. you should let me take you out sometimes, what d'ya' think? sounds good?"

"no. just — don't talk to me, don't look at me, don't even breathe the same air as i am," you muttered out, flipping your middle finger at the male out of annoyance making him guffaw.

his slender fingers grabbed your hand, pushing it down gently, "are you implying that i should die?" his voice came out cheeky and teasing.

"yes."

he rolled his eyes, "you're gonna miss me when i do actually die, bet you'll cry and say y'miss me." the male laid his hand on top of your head — patting it lightly, "come on, bonbon. let me take you out, for food, for smoothies, for desserts. anything you want, i'll give it to you."

you heaved out a sigh, "gojo, no — just, no. and leave me alone."

the male eyes you, "you hang out just fine with suguru. all sunshine and rainbows, why d' you not give me the same treatment, huh?" he questions, almost offended at the thought of both you and suguru laughing and joking in front of him.

"'cause you're not him, obviously."

gojo furrowed his brows, expression filled with frustration, "what does that even mean? what's so different about suguru and i? he's a good guy, but 'm a good guy too. right?" he asks, voice low and meek.

"just — shut up, alright? leave me alone."

this time, the male complied; refusing to trail your figure as you disappeared around the corner. his eyes following you until you were gone, chewing on his lip in annoyance.

he didn't understand you, in his eyes you were like a lost cause. and it perturbed him, his peace, his life. the male is dying to know whatever the hell he'd done wrong to make you hate him so much, whether it being his constant nickname for you or was it because of the fact that he's always there to make fun of you?

gojo wouldn't be this bothered if you were like this to everyone. however — the fact is that you're only like this to him. and why? he didn't know.

and he hates it.

very helpful google.

the teen boy threw his head back, sighing out loudly — a few hours since that conversation with you and he still hasn't been able to get you out of his mind.

"what'cha doing?" a shadow peered over him, the white haired male fluttered his eyes open slowly; the afternoon sun gracing his face as he tries to make out who the person above him was.

"nothing," he muffled out, looking to the side — geto chuckled, jumping over the male's head before taking a seat next to him, "did you just jump over my head?"

"mhm," geto hums, "so? is it about y/n?"

gojo looks at his friend, "was it that obvious?" geto chuckled, nodding his head mutely, "try to think about it — as far as we've known each other, what the hell have i ever done wrong to them? i'm so lost."

"who knows? maybe they like you."

gojo rolled his eyes, "who in their right mind, would act like that to the person they like? that's just stupid." geto chuckled.

"people like y/n obviously."

the white haired male huffs out in defeat, "is it because of the weird nicknames? in my opinion, they're really cute. i mean — pumpkin, sugar bear, apple pie? you'd like to call your partner that too, right?" he babbles out, still in trance, wondering what he ever did wrong to you.

geto spared a glance at his friend, "no, that's stupid. it's pretty cringe," he honestly informed.

gojo's jaw tightened in response as he stared at his friend in betrayal, his lips parted as he wanted to deliver something — but the blue eyed male slowly shuts his mouth, pondering for a bit before delivering his comment, "okay, you're partly right. but i enjoy calling them that. they're cute, and my nicknames are cute." he pouted, his glasses slipping down a bit.

"annoyed acrylic nail? really? you can do better than that, satoru."

gojo's head snapped towards geto, "how'd you know about that one?" he narrowed his eyes.

"y/n, who else?"

"traitor. and mind you, i got that from a quiz i was playing on the internet."

geto tittered out in pure amusement, "they were just telling me about what happened," he explained, "and boy, was it interesting to say the least."

"what'd they say about me?" gojo asks, his voice soft. almost scared to question his friend, scared to hear about how you'd describe him — despite being this, "calm", "coolheaded" man he portrays, when it comes to you, it felt like judgement day.

"oh, nothing much," geto uttered out calmly, "how they can't stand you sometimes and how you maunder out the oddest nicknames on earth — oh, and how they find you physically attractive." geto finds himself whispering the last part.

geto was one to say the truth about these kind of things. except, he's now being a little cupid, alias . . . you never told geto that gojo is physically attractive. but the first two comments were the absolute truth.

"they did?" how cute.

geto nods his head mutely, "maybe you should go meet them, they were pretty intent on describing you as quote unquote, the most attractive boy they have ever met," the lie rolled over his tongue smoothly that gojo couldn't help but to grin widely.

"tell me about it, suguru. please, please?"

geto was most delighted to do so. the male enjoying this banter more than anything — if he wanted one result, it was to get you and gojo together. frankly, he finds it quite the mediocrity that you and gojo aren't in an established relationship as of now.

"they were saying how you have these pretty blue eyes that they'd love to look at every hour," geto started, "and how they actually don't mind some of your nicknames — like, sugar bear. they find it endearing."

little bastard. gojo was smiling like a fool right now, his long legs crossed happily as he sighed out in content, "i fucking knew it."

"well, what're you waiting for?"

gojo hops up, peering down at geto who was still seated, "i owe you one, suguru," geto chuckled, shaking his head.

oh, he owed me more than one. geto thinks to himself, waving his friend goodbye.

"hey, sugar bear." gojo confidently approached you, crossing his arms with a knowing smirk on his face, "i missed you."

groaning out in response, you covered your ears with the palm of your hands; not wanting to engage in the conversation right as it started. gojo chuckles softly, circling his fingers around your wrists, pulling them away from your ears, "come on, why're you always so mean to me?"

"you get on my fucking nerves. asswipe." you muttered out, pulling your wrists away, "and don't touch me."

gojo winced, "ouch. so, heard from someone that you called me attractive, huh?" his eyebrows danced up and down in delight, as if he was mocking you.

you arched your brow in confusion, because for all you know. one, you never said that to anyone. two, even if you did find him attractive, you didn't remember ever telling that to just anyone — hell, you don't remember telling anyone about it either.

"excuse you?" gojo gave you a lop-sided grin.

"so? why're you keeping up with the attitude?" he whispers out, shaking his head.

"gojo, what the fuck? who did you hear that from?" you interrogated the male, one of your hand resting on your hips, "whoever the fuck gave you that information is making shit up — no, i don't find you attractive."

the male rolled his eyes at your stubborn demeanor. well, you weren't particularly stubborn; you were partly framed at this point since you don't remember ever saying that to anyone.

"come on, why'd you have to lie to me? it's not like 'm gonna be angry or anything," you sent a sharp glare at him, because he is wrong for saying that — you made it clear you never expressed that forbidden thought to anyone. so why was he saying this to you?

"gojo—"

"why do you call suguru by his first name but me by my surname?" gojo cuts you off.

"gojo, listen—"

before you could say anything else, the male confidently hushes you down, yet again cutting your words off. and if there's anything else you hated more than gojo satoru, it's being interrupted while you were talking.

"gojo, respectfully, shut the fuck up." you scowled at him, and that indeed managed to shut him up almost immediately — the glare you had in your eyes signifying that you were actually serious. gojo can't help but to swallow the non-existent lump in his throat at the sight.

"i never said anything about you being attractive, and whoever the fuck said that to you is a pathological liar. this is getting tiring," you slowly, and calmly tell him. way too calmly for his liking, "you're bothering me. so with all due respect, can you like . . . maybe, leave me the fuck alone and never talk to me unless it's mission related. it's fucking annoying."

gojo was silent. he was clueless of how to react, a part of him wanted to get angry, he has so much questions to ask you. but another part of him just wanted to lay down low and walk away. and gojo went after the latter.

his stomach churned as he processed your words silently, his smile dropping, and his gaze softened. the male inhaled sharply before nodding his head, "okay, sorry."

and he turned his heels, slowly walking away out of your sight — you stared at his back, watching him walk further and further.

letting a string of curses escape your lips, you felt the urge to reach out to the male. call out to his name. say you were sorry and how you didn't mean that — god, sometimes you think it was you that should respectfully shut the fuck up.

" . . . goj—" you shook your head, deciding to just stay silent for now. for now.

this wasn't the first time you've told him off; and he always comes back the next day, so gojo would probably be the same old him tomorrow, right?

wrong.

gojo was dead set on what he was doing, avoiding you. and damn, he was pretty good at it — that it pisses you off. because why isn't he calling you those weird nicknames? why isn't he trailing after you anymore? why isn't he talking to you? why isn't he batting an eyelash at you? one week and still going strong.

"heartbreak problems?" geto appears beside you, taking a seat next to you, whistling out loudly, "over satoru? that's a first."

you wanted to retort back to the male, but honestly, there isn't any point to it. so you actually bobbed your head, "guess so," you muttered out lowly, balling your fists.

"what happened?"

his question made you side eye him, you were pretty sure gojo would've told him by now — after all, they're quite the pair at school. so this was an honest surprise, "shit happened. i said things that i obviously didn't mean, and now i'm suffering the consequences of my own actions, fairly enough, it fucking sucks."

"so, you're openly admitting to me that you do like him?" geto questioned softly, his eyes traveling to the ceiling of the classroom, "satoru? the one you shit-talk about every single day?"

you grunted, "jus' because i shit-talk him. doesn't mean i hate him," geto blinked feverishly before laughing out, "the hell are you laughing at, asswipe?"

"i told him you found him attractive. but i guess things didn't go as i expected," geto spouts out the truth, his laugh dying down slowly into a small smile, "what did'ya say to him?"

"thought you'd know by now, and that was you? fuck." you murmur out, "i told him to leave me alone and never talk to me unless it's mission related. i said it was annoying— that he was annoying."

geto hums out, "why're you always so angry towards him anyways?"

good question. why?

"that's . . . none of your concern, suguru." you ended up shutting down his question, chewing your lips in pure annoyance.

the male raises his hands up, "right. it's not mine — but it is satoru's, you should talk to him," he advices, "he's been miserable, trust me."

"he looks like he's doing fine, and doesn't he like . . . hate me?" geto raises a brow in disbelief, wondering if you were just plain dumb or too oblivious — or both. the male shakes his head, "oh. i thought he would by now."

"y'think he would do all that thing to you when he hates you?"

"well, it's him so it wouldn't be surprising. really." you chuckled out hoarsely, "and are you really giving me advice right now? because i can't fucking believe i'm actually getting an advice from you out of all people."

"that offended me." he smiled.

"well, sorry. i've never taken you for the advice giver type of person, so? is it really my fault?" you questioned, making the male roll his eyes in response.

"you have a man to chase, why are you still talking to me?"

right. you did, "bye suguru, i owe you one."

geto sighs out, remembering the same words that gojo had said to him a week before — and how the tables have turned. he was thoroughly enjoying this all.

"gojo."

the male stopped when heard your voice. your sweet, loving voice. oh how he missed it — your voice, your glare, you. finally sparing his first glance at you after a week.

it was hard. he's miserable. he wanted to approach you, he wanted to call you the nicknames he'd searched on google before morning comes, he wanted to talk to you even if it ended up on you scolding him with very nice words, he wanted to see you. gojo just wanted to see you.

the white haired male has never felt so miserable in his life. this was the farthest he has ever been from you, and it was honestly killing him inside.

"what?" he asks, wondering if he had done yet again, something to make you approach him first like such. because one thing he was confident in is that, you, y/n l/n, would never approach him for anything besides missions or . . . anger, "what did i do wrong this time? i didn't talk to you like you told me to. so?"

"you're fucking unbearable." you muttered out, fists balling tightly — very much angry at him, and at yourself.

gojo raises a brow, "i'm unbearable? what makes you think you can come up to me and tell me that?" he asks you, his voice soft, and a ghast of his blue eyes reflecting behind the dark lenses of his glasses.

"god, i hate you so much."

no, no, no. it wasn't supposed to go this way, you weren't supposed to say that you hated him — and the way gojo furrowed his brows at your statement made your heart drop. why couldn't you just mutter out the word "sorry" and everything would be back to normal.

when people tell you that, "sorry", "thank you", and "please" are the hardest words to say. you didn't take it literally — but now that you were in a position to say one of them, you could finally agree on it. why was it so hard to mutter out a five letter word?

"okay, you made it clear last week. what else do y'want me to say?" he muffled out lightly.

"i hate you." you repeated, "so fucking much."

gojo shakes his head, prompting to ignore you. he turned his heels and began to step away from you. he didn't need anymore hurtful words from you; from someone he deeply has feelings for, "don't fucking walk away," he heard you speak.

"don't . . . walk away." your voice dropped down a tone, "please."

the male hesitated, but he stopped walking in the end. gojo had only stepped away a few times and he couldn't fucking stand it, the way you called out to him — lord, if this hasn't been so serious. he swore he would be running to you right now, how he wanted to have you in his arms right now, even if it ended up with you pushing him away. he would take the chance.

it was better than having to ignore you like this.

"what?" he breathes out again, this time a little curious to what you had to say.

you blinked, parting your lips to say something, but nothing would come out. a few seconds passed, and your lips are still parted. and you were starting to grow desperate, desperate to say something — anything at this point. anything to make the male stay, to stop him from walking away.

"y/n . . . i don't have time for this." he mutters out, trying to keep his act up, even if he was fighting back the urge to just drop everything and run to you.

"no, wait. gojo— satoru." it took one specific word to roll over your tongue, and his heart was racing rapidly. his cerulean eyes intently looking at you from behind the dark lenses, "please, i . . . i'm sorry. i'm so sorry, so please don't walk away from me. don't do that again."

gojo felt his heart began to pound. the male stood there, his breathing growing rapid, "i didn't mean what i said to you — it was my fault. i'm fucking miserable, satoru. i don't know what to do," you tell him, voice lacing in desperateness, "i fucking hate you for this. i swear to god, it's disgusting . . . the feelings. i've never felt like this before and i hate it. i think about you all damn time, i hate you because why the fuck am i feeling like this? i can't stop, satoru."

the male parted his lips to respond, but you cut him off, continuing your words. groggily fiddling with your uniform, brows furrowed, eyes glassy, you continued, "so don't fucking walk away from me. don't fucking ignore me, please."

it took gojo no time to stride over to you, "fuck. do you know how fucking miserable i was for one. whole. week? do you think i wanted to ignore you? to not look at you?" his large hands cupped both side of your face, "i was fucking miserable, y/n. i just wanted you to know how much i fucking missed you. one day," he raises up a finger, "one day felt like a whole year, i can't stand it much longer. so, please — don't push me away anymore."

you look up at him, lips slightly parted, "i hate you."

gojo tilted your face up to him, "say that again?"

his fingers traveled down, brushing the skin of your neck vividly. even with his glasses on, you could see his eyes perfectly — and how they gleamed brightly. gojo smiles lightly, using his other hand to grab your right hand, placing your palm on top of his chest. where his heart was. the constant rapid thuds that you could feel against his chest made your heart flutter.

"god, i fucking love you," he breathes out, drawing your face towards his, his lips inclining towards yours — and your mouths fell together, a few seconds passed and gojo pulled back slightly, his lips parted, "i fucking love you, y/n," he whispers softly, capturing your lips into another kiss.

the hand you had on his chest lightly crumpled against his uniform, holding the male in place as you yearned more of the taste of his lips. it was vague, but you could taste strawberries — and . . . cream cheese. pulling away, you stared at him, "dude."

gojo arches a brow, etching your fingers off of his uniform. lacing them together with his — like a perfect puzzle piece, it was like his hand was meant for yours, and yours for his, "what did you say?"

clearing your throat, you said, "dude, but romantically."

the male chuckles, "you ruined our kiss and our moment, for that?" he pressed a kiss onto the tip of your nose, maintaining eye contact, "d'you know how long i've been wanting to do that? to kiss you?"

you shook your head, "no, but did you eat something with strawberries? and cream cheese? i could taste it."

gojo blinks, "oh, yeah. i had some daifuku," he replies, scratching his nape sheepishly, "why did you have to bring that up now, couldn't it wait until later?"

"dude." he looks at you in disbelief.

"but romantically, again." you added, and gojo smiles, "i can't help it — i don't know what to say."

"i do," he pressed a kiss into the hollow of your forehead, "date me. i promise i'll treat you well. i won't call you those nicknames anymore, just — i just need you to be close to me."

"what if i said no?"

"after that kiss?" he pulls away from you.

"kidding, dude."

the male whines, "stop calling me dude," he said, "can't you call me something else? baby? honey? darling? cutie? handsome? none of that?" he asks out.

"dude is pretty romantic." you rolled your eyes, "do you ever hear me calling anyone else with dude?"

he shook his head, "you never call anyone with a nickname anyways." gojo grumbled under his breath, looking away, "fine, what do you prefer? i don't do well with — nicknames."

"i like the sound of baby, or handsome. i am handsome, right? right?" you rolled your eyes, but gave out a subtle nod, "i knew it, you did find me attractive after all."

"shut up or i'm sticking with dude."

"no," he brushes his lips against your cheek, "i'm baby now. and you — you're sugar bear, pumpkin, apple pie, annoyed acrylic nail, and more to come."

"didn't you say you won't call me those nicknames anymore?" you questioned him with a light smile.

"uh . . . no, you heard wrong."

"okay, dude." you chuckled.

"y/n!" he whines.

#𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #fluff #jjk #jjk fluff #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #satoru #1K MILESTONE #1K MILESTONE EVENT #gojo #i love him so much im gonna cry #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #satoru x reader

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getyourdirtyhandsoffme · 3 months

Text

D-RIDING?! PART TWO (18+)

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

GENDER: FTM READER (M!READER FRIENDLY)

SUMMARY: You, a famous YouTuber, got noticed by idol crush, Bang Chan, from an "accidental" drunk tweet you made when he was in BuzzFeed. Now you are waiting in your house to make that tweet into a reality.

GENRE(S): Smut (mercy on me yall), Explicit, Fluff, comedy (cringe because I need one mentally)

SEPARATE WARNING(S):

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ READER:

Role(s): Submissive Bottom. You are a versatile bottom because I said so.

Genitals: I made it separate since there are people out there who do have a bottom surgery.

T-dick section: So one will have you having a t-dick (mentions of squirting).

Dick Section: While a separate one in the same post will have you having a Penis.

(I don't want y'all feeling uncomfortable/Gender Dysphoria as a TransMan myself)

Names: Pretty boy, Baby boy, Handsome, Cutie, Sweetheart

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ CHAN:

Role(s): Dominate Top. Made him Versatile too.

Genitals: He has a big dick because of the big nose theory.

Names: Chan, Chris, love, pretty boy

OTHER WARNING(S): You both are virgins, Oral (Reader receiving), Mentions of Vagina/T-Dick(Mentions of squirting) for the reader along with a separate one of you having a Dick. Nipple play (Reader receiving), Reader getting Manhandled kinda, Choking? Not breathplay. Cum licking, Mentions of your chest scars (or just chest) Fingering. Anal sex. Beggingish?. Praising. Different words for Dick and Vagina. Crying (reader)

OTHER(S): y'all, please have mercy on me! I never wrote smut before so this might make me leap over a bridge!

Please like, reblog and/or comment for my dignity.

Tags: @braveangel777 @1s3v3n1 @kodasstar @webwanderer @coralblook @ironhyacinth @bitchyzombienacho

IM BEING SO FR, I CANT WRITE SMUT- I CANT WRITE SMUT! HAVE MERCY ON ME AHHHH!

(I DIDNT PROOF READ OR HAD GRAMMAR CHECK, YALL GOT IT!)

It was refreshing.

You lay yourself down on your bed wearing your pajamas, silk pajamas, covering your naked body. The silk only stops at your thighs.

You waited for Chan to message you as you scroll through your fans' comments; requesting collabs, games, or other content to record.

You keep on scrolling, almost forgetting about the whole sexual situation going on until you hear a knock from your front door.

You walk out from your bedroom, holding your phone out and texting him if he was the one behind the door of your front entrance.

CB97: Why don't you find out, Cutie?

You sighed, as you slowly unlocked the door then slowly opened the door to check it was actually him.

A white hand pushes the door fully, revealing the man himself, smirking at you. He was wearing a black shirt, compressing his muscles with baggy sweatpants.

He was checking you out, blushing a bit from the silk pajamas going nice with your figure and skin color.

"Don't you look lovely, pretty boy?" Chris comments, his eyes still lingering in your body.

You felt yourself getting flustered, shy even just from him staring at you. He steps closer to you while closing the door behind him.

"Can I touch you?"

You nodded and just by that Chris leans into you, kissing your soft lips while his hands roam around your waist, while one hand grips your butt.

You moaned softly around his mouth.

Your arms around his neck as your hands slowly reach to his shirt, gripping it as you push your face away from Chris.

He looks at you confused, giving you almost puppy eyes.

You thought it was cute. Yousmirked as you took him to your room.

He looks around, admiring your room until you smash your face into his lips again, catching him off guard but quickly kissed you back.

You both feel impatient, as you take off Chan's black shirt as he pushes you down on the bed, prying off the silk pajamas.

"You are already naked underneath, you were really expecting me, huh?" His accent, his voice raspy, making you want him more and more.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎WARNING: T-DICK SECTION

For the people with no bottom surgery/testosterone:

He had you trapped, both of his hands holding your waist as he leans into your chest, giving a few kisses on your chest scar (or chest)

"So handsome..." He mutters as he continues on kissing you as you feel his hands reaching up to your chest, caressing your nipples as the other hand reaches between your thighs.

You moaned, feeling his fingers playing around your folds.

"You are so wet for me, baby boy. Do I really get you this wet? I'm so flattered..." He whispers into your ear.

All you can do is moan, nodding your head as you feel your thighs parting from each other.

You look down to see Chan giving a few kisses on your left thigh then giving a few more kisses, almost getting closer to your wet folds.

"I want to taste you so bad, would you let me taste you, sweetheart?" He looks up at you, waiting for your response.

"Please, Chris! I need you.."

He smiles, leaning his head towards your t-dick, immediately licking and sucking your folds. Even getting closer to your small dick, giving a few licks.

You moaned, as you moved your bottom area getting more pleasure, almost riding his face. You even felt his nose touching your dick, sending more pleasure into your body.

Chan lets you as he continues on licking and sucking, moaning a bit, sending vibrations through your body.

You continue on moving your body, feeling yourself getting close. Your body is twitching, as Chris raises his fingers closer to your t-dick, rubbing quickly as you moan even louder.

"Chris—a~ah, I'm cumming! F-fuck!"

He sucks harder and even rubs even faster until you finally cum, squirting.

Chan licks one more time as he moves his face away slowly as he stands up, admiring your sweaty figure.

You sit up as your legs twitch a bit.

"Damn, I squirted. This kinda embarrassing..."

Chan just laughed as he leans closer to your face giving a few kisses to your forehead and cheek.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎WARNING: DICK SECTION

For the people with bottom surgery/has a dick:

He had you trapped, both of his hands holding your waist as he leans into your chest, giving a few kisses on your chest scar. (Or chest)

"So handsome..." He mutters as he continues on kissing you as you feel his hands reaching up to your chest, caressing your nipples as the other hand reaches between your thighs.

You moaned, feeling his fingers playing the tip of your dick.

"You are so hard for me, baby boy. Do I really get you this hard? I'm so flattered..." He whispers into your ear.

All you can do is moan, nodding your head as you feel your thighs parting from each other.

You look down to see Chan giving a few kisses on your left thigh then giving a few more kisses, almost getting closer to your hard cock.

"I want to taste you so bad, would you let me taste you, sweetheart?" He looks up at you, waiting for your response.

"Please, Chris! I need you.."

He smiles, leaning his head towards your dick, immediately licking and sucking the tip. Pushing his head down, giving you a good suck.

You moaned, as you moved your bottom area getting more pleasure, almost riding his face. Chan lets you as he continues on licking and sucking, moaning a bit, sending vibrations through your body.

You continue on moving your body, feeling yourself getting close. Your body is twitching, as Chris raises his hands closer to your balls, fumbling around as you moan even louder.

"Chris—a~ah, I'm cumming! F-fuck!"

He sucked harder and faster until you finally cum, some hitting his face.

Chan licks one more time as he moves his face away slowly as he stands up, admiring your sweaty figure.

You sit up as your legs twitch a bit.

"Damn, that felt weird...."

Chan just laughed as he leans closer to your face giving a few kisses to your forehead and cheek.

"But, you enjoyed it didn't you?" He questions, as he continues on kissing your face.

"I did, but let's get into the main event, shall we?" Chris chuckles as you stand back up, holding between his baggy pants, pushing it down and throwing it to the side.

He looks down at you while chuckling again, smirking from how impatient you were.

His dick flings up, standing a bit straight and even dripping with pre-cum.

You licked your lips, your mouth just watering from the sight of his dick, however, you felt yourself getting kinda scared since it looks big.

"Chan, how big is your dick? I mean I knew it was big because of the nose theory..."

"Huh, what nose theory?"

"Focus on the question and not the nose theory—I'll tell you that later."

You look up at him as he thinks, then shrug.

"I don't know, I never measured my dick before..."

"Fuck you mean you never measured your dick? You know what, wait right here. You grab the lube and the condom from the cabinet next to my bed."

Chan did exactly what you said while still looking perplexed that his dick size really bothered you that much.

You came back, holding a measuring tape.

You sat back down on the bed as you told Chris to come clover to your face. You felt his dick touching your cheek.

You licked your lips as you raised the measuring tape. Chan just chuckled on how focused you were.

"Is it really that serious...?"

You just nodded until you reached the top of the tip.

"Damn, 8 inches? I guess OT8 is for life, huh?"

Chan groans, as he smacks on top of your head softly. "Don't ever say that again..." He jokingly said, shaking his head, smiling.

"Anyways, let's continue."

"Gladly." He says as he pushes you down, putting you into a mating press.

You hear a bottle cap opened making you shivered in anticipation.

He squirts a generous amount into his fingers.

You felt his fingers circling around your rim as his other hand gripped your neck, holding you down.

You whimpered, shaking your butt for him to just insert in already.

"P-please Chris~ Fuck, hurry up!" You whined.

"Sorry baby boy, let me give you what you want~" He teases you as you feel one of his fingers inserting in.

You hiss in pain, not used to the feeling at all. Chan shushes you as he tries to calm you down, giving you a few kisses in your back.

"It will feel good, I promise..."

You calm yourself down, moving your waist side to side.

He gently plays with your rim as he slowly inserts another one. You hissed a bit but you could slowly feel the pleasure going through your body.

He continues on fucking you until he hits a certain area making you moaned along with your toes curling.

"Found it..." He whispers, hitting your prostate while inserting the third finger in.

You moaned, sending Chris's dick even harder; throbbing and aching in pain. He was getting hot and bothered—impatient—but he didn't want you to feel uncomfortable so he continued on. He adds a fourth one just in case after finding out his dick was 8 inches.

"Chan, love, just put it in already!" You whined.

You didn't need to tell him twice.

He quickly rips the plastic out with his teeth then taking the condom out and putting it on his dick.

He quickly takes his fingers off as he lines his dick up your hole, tapping it a few times until he slowly inserts the tip in.

You hissed again. Even though his fingers were thick, nothing could beat his thick cock (corny).

He apologized softly, while he hissed too from the clench.

"Fuck, so tight. I'm going to push in more, okay sweetheart?"

All you can do was whine while he slowly pushes in more. You both hissed again as you felt tears coming out of your eyes.

Chris hands both made it to your waist, going in circles.

He inserts more until finally he fills you whole.

He waits as he groans, your hole tightening around him as he tries not to cum just from it. He bites his lip as he caresses you again.

You felt warmth in your chest, loving the care from Chris and the fact he even was waiting for you to get used to his size.

You smiled softly as you shook your butt, making him grip your waist.

"You can move, love~"

Just like that, he pulls his dick out and slams back into you making you moan. He was already going rough, almost like a crazy animal.

He keeps on going, angeling himself a bit as he slams again and again, hitting your prostate.

You moaned even louder, gripping the sheets.

"F-FUCK~♡ CHRIS A~AH!" You cried out in pleasure as he continued on abusing your prostate. You felt overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure he was giving you.

You both moaned out of pleasure feeling yourself getting closer. He was getting closer as well, you feel his dick twitch inside of you.

He leans in, his chest on top of your back, whispering sweet words to your ears making you shiver.

"P-pretty boy~ I'm about to cum...Are you about to cum as well? Hmm?" He whispers.

You repeated the word 'Yes' as he continued slamming until finally you both released. Chan's cum filling the condom whole.

He steps out, taking the condom out and tying it then throwing it away into the garbage bin.

You turn your body around, laying flat, your back facing the bedsheets as you calm yourself down.

Chan walks up to you then lies down next to you. "I never did this before so I wanna know (Knaur) if I did good?"

You smiled, feeling horny all of sudden from his sweet voice. His duality from being all dominant to almost submissive—You kinda wanna ride him until he breaks.

"it's my first time as well, Chan and you did so well for me, love..." You said to him, kissing him all over his face.

He chuckles, smiling widely from your praises until he yawns, clearly drained.

"I'm tired, my body is tired. Maybe we should've had sexs not around the performance. Haha!" He laughs, not noticing your eyes staring into him like you were going to devour him.

"Yeah, but, I'm quite disappointed..." You sadly said—well pretending to be sad—using your fingers to trace around his neck.

"h-huh? Why? You said I did good?" He sits up, looking at you like a sad puppy. (There is no pet play)

"of course! You did so well, but my tweet. You remember it don't you?" You said calmly as you continued on looking at him.

He thinks for a second until his face turns red.

"O-oh."

Oh indeed.

"B-but, aren't you tired, I'm quite tired myself..." He rambles until you shut him up by placing your hands around his mouth.

"But you promise you want to make that tweet into reality, right? I want to ride your dick until you cry. Calling my name. Plus, I'm doing all the work. You can just lay down and look pretty, my pretty boy~"

His face turns even more red, all of sudden turning shy and weak. His cock going hard again, throbbing in anticipation.

"Even your dick seems to agree with me~"

You can't wait to actually make that tweet into reality.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Ending (myself) in part three.

YALL IMMA KMS, I CANT WRITE SMUT WTF AHHHH

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hier--soir · 5 months

Text

a lover's pinch | six

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: joel and rachel have dinner. a confession is made. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, JOEL POV, sexting/nudes, joel has bad restaurant etiquette lmao, descriptions of arousal, references to past smut, the guilt and shame that sometimes go so neatly hand in hand with wanting, miller daughter cameo, mild angst, discussion of a car accident. word count: 4.8k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: just a reminder that this is set within ALP5, when joel goes to have dinner w rachel. just a short little peek into my beloved professor’s mind, and some context between j & r. hope you like it x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part six of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five.

Sunday.

“Nina thinks it’ll rain tomorrow. Overcast too, probably.”

There’s a faint hum through the phone as she speaks. A vague buzz that crackles and pops in almost every beat of silence. Not for the first time, Joel wishes she would let him buy her a new phone.

A gust of wind whips against his face and he cringes, turning his back against the draft.

“Okay,” he replies. “That’s okay, right?”

“It’s fine,” she grumbles. “Wanted to take you to this bar, though. They do these tacos we love. Nina says it’s the best Mexican place in New York.”

“Now how many times do I have to tell you there’s no good Mexican food in New York?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Joel can practically hear her rolling her eyes. He chuckles.

“What time are you coming ‘round?” Ellie asks. “I’ll be in the studio for most of the day, but we normally get home around five. Could do dinner around eight?”

Joel hesitates, and then raises his voice to be heard over the rushing wind. “I was actually thinkin’ I’d come see your studio.”

A moment of humming, crackling silence.

“I’d love to see some of your work,” he continues, peering in through the window of the restaurant. He thinks he can see Rachel through the frosted glass – her mess of dark curls vaguely visible, tucked away somewhere in the corner of the space. He hears Ellie breathing through the phone as he looks. “And s’been too long since you showed your old man any of your paintings.”

“Joel,” she huffs, and it’s that smartass, pained tone that has him grinning wider than anything she’s said up until this point.

It’s few and far between lately – hearing that name coming from her mouth. Joel. Something that’s been intermittent for almost a decade, and has been steadily decreasing since she moved to New York five years ago.

Joel, Dad, Joel, Dad, Joel, Dad.

Joel for years, and then one day—Dad.

It was Summer; Ellie was eighteen and he was thirty-nine, and this word that he’d grown so accustomed to hearing suddenly felt like a fist squeezing around his heart. It became something new, something different. Because Joel knew that, for her, family had always meant mistrust. Had always meant loneliness. Knew that sometimes her childhood felt like a knife stuck in her throat, and on those days, she had to decide whether to leave it in and stem the blood flow, or pluck out the blade and watch everything turn red.

And then one day, years on, it seemed that she’d drawn that dagger enough times. The blood stopped, the mistrust fell away, and—Dad.

Dad to Sarah and now, finally, Dad to Ellie.

“Ellie,” he imitates her tone, well-versed in mirroring her attitude after so many years of practice.

A voice rears up directly behind him and Joel stiffens, glancing over his shoulder to watch a couple exit the restaurant. Coat collars dragged up to protect their necks, arms linked as they smile and start down the street. He imagines Rachel sitting inside, alone, and his smile falters. He knows he should go back in soon, but can’t quite bring himself to cut this short.

“Yeah, okay,” Ellie answers finally, and he can feel the weight that rests in those words.

The admission, but also everything that goes unsaid alongside it. A silent acknowledgement of years spent reading between the lines, trying to know each other; years of her locking her bedroom door, hiding her journals, her artbooks, her pencils. Anything to keep someone else from seeing the way she expresses herself – from understanding that she feels anything. And this yeah, okay – well, it’s as close to I love you as the two of them ever get.

Joel says, “I’ve been missin’ you, kiddo.”

And she says, “I know.”

More silence. More contemplation of how to respond, how to keep emotions level when he is not Joel in this moment, but Dad.

Plucking out the blade.

“Ten tomorrow morning. I’ll send you the address,” Ellie says after a while. “Don’t be late or I’m not showing you shit, old man.”

Heat blasts his face when he steps back inside the restaurant. He tugs his jacket off as he wanders his way toward their little corner table inside San Vecchio—old saint. A small Italian place that Rachel likes to visit whenever she’s the city, and has slowly but surely grown on him.

When he gets close enough to see the table his stomach drops, face twisting into something apologetic as he lowers himself into his chair.

“Shit,” Joel mutters, staring at their food. Brought out while he was on the phone, sitting untouched; she didn’t even pick up her fork in his absence. A shameful heat rises in his face. “I’m sorry, Rach.”

“Hon,” she just laughs him off. “It’s okay, it only just came out.”

He nods, grateful, and lets her pour him a generous glass of wine. Red. A bottle of the Carignan, please, he remembers her telling the waiter. Although, when he takes a sip, he can’t tell the difference between this and the twenty-dollar cabernet he buys once a fortnight from the grocer.

They press the lips of their glasses together and murmur soft calls of cheers and another conference done, the words all but swallowed up by the raucous sounds around them.

“How is she then?” she prompts, never able to tame her curiosity.

“Ellie?” Joel’s eyebrows jut up, and he sets his wine glass down. “Good, yeah, good. It was nice to hear her voice, I, uh, I’ve missed too many of that kid’s calls over the past few months.”

Rachel nods, and when she smiles his chest feels a little lighter, because it’s the type of smile that says it’s okay, everything is okay, you’re a good dad, you took the call. And she has always had that kind of soothing effect on him, since the day he met her all those years ago. There’s this compassion to her character; a warmth akin to that of a sister. Smarter than hell and kinder than she’s ever been given credit for.

“Are you seeing her while you’re in town?”

“Mhm, tomorrow.”

“Well, that will be lovely,” she beams and takes a sip of her wine. Carignan stains her mouth. “Is she still with Nina?”

“She is.”

“God, that must be, what, four years they’ve been together now? That’s great, Joel.”

“I’m happy for her,” he smiles, gripping his fork. “They’re renting out this art studio together at the moment – Nina’s an artist too, did I—?”

“Yeah, you told me.”

“Yeah, they’ve been using the space to work on some new stuff. Ellie was tellin’ me ‘bout this gallery downtown, how they’ve offered her some exhibit space. Gonna have a show down there in March.”

“Wow, that sounds amazing,” Rachel’s eyebrows raise, top lip quirking into a soft smirk as she twirls her fork through a mess of red pasta. “Do you think they’ll get married? Follow in Sarah and Tim’s footsteps?”

Joel can’t help but laugh at the idea. He tries to imagine Ellie and Nina in a chapel, or on a beach, or anywhere, professing their love for one another with friends and family watching on. Tries to imagine Ellie, all tattoos, messy hair, and gangly arms, tucked into a suit or a dress. The image doesn’t come easily.

“I don’t really think they’re the type,” he admits, and Rachel laughs too then.

“No,” she agrees. “I guess not.”

She asks more questions about the girls, the way she always does. Asks about Sarah’s job at the primary school, if teaching is all she thought it would be.

And something like halfway through their meal, around a mouthful of food, Rachel says, “You know I’m glad we’re here, because I need to ask you something.”

Joel’s hands still, face going slack as he meets her eye. There’s something conniving in them. Something sly in the way she smiles, baring her teeth at him. It makes his stomach twist into a tight, burning knot. What does she know?

“Okay,” he says slowly, lowering his knife.

“So,” she hums. “At the conference yesterday…”

“Yeah?” he rasps, blunt nails digging into his thigh beneath the table.

“I couldn’t ask you about it because I didn’t want anyone to overhear us, but… did you see what Professor Neilson was wearing? That blazer?”

“Jesus,” he deflates.

“Oh, come on,” she sputters, and there’s lipstick stained on her front teeth and he finds himself smiling too, relaxing.

“You’re a filthy gossip, you know that?” he raises an eyebrow.

She grins back at him. Winks and says, “Don’t act like you don’t love it, Miller.”

So, for an hour they eat, and talk, and drink. Don’t stop until their cheeks are sore from smiling and their ribs are tight and aching from laughter.

With full bellies and rosy cheeks, they scrape their plates clean. Lips purse and pucker around final sips of wine, and then… and then Rachel reaches across the table and places her hand atop his.

And Joel has never noticed that she has sunspots across her knuckles. Never noticed that she wears a ring on her pinkie finger, one with a dark emerald stone in the middle. Never noticed the thin white scar beside the nail on her index. She squeezes his hand, the pad of a finger skimming his wrist, and he remembers how he held someone else’s wrist only hours before this. Felt her skin beneath his fingers – the frailty of the tendons and veins beneath it, swimming with life as his thumb pressed down.

Joel feels his eye twitch. Works to keep his face relaxed, calm. And when she leaves her hand there, he laughs a little. A choked, wary sound. Turns his hand over so his knuckles are against the table and his palm is against her palm and squeezes once in return. Rachel isn’t smiling anymore.

“You okay, Rach?”

“Do you…” she pauses, mouth twisting into a shy smile as she clears her throat. Joel feels something heavy settle in his stomach. A type of dread that curdles and burns like red sky at morning. “Do you remember when Sarah was in that car accident a few years back?”

Joel swallows. Her hand feels too warm against his, her palm tacky with sweat.

“We were… we were at work, and… and Tim called you and told you she was in the hospital—”

He almost cringes at the memory. Her husband’s name flashing across his phone screen during a lecture. Stomach churning and why is Tim calling me, heart racingand Tim never calls. Remembers hearing those panicky breaths down the line and thinking Texas and Maine had never felt further apart than in that moment.

“You drove me to the airport,” he nods. His knuckles feel tight – he wants to pull his hand back and crack them. Wants to feel the joints pop beneath his skin, let the tension slip away like a sigh.

“You were so distraught,” Rachel sighs. “I’d never seen you like that. So uncomposed, so… chaotic.”

Joel huffs out an awkward laugh and tries to pull his hand back, but she squeezes harder. Keeps it in place beneath her own.

“What’s this all about?” his eyebrows furrow, face pinching into a sort of scowl. He can feel it, he can always feel it when his face does this. So unpleasant, so unwelcoming, and he knows it. Just never figured out how to stop it from happening.

“We were in the car,” she continues, and her eyes are so earnest now. So wide, the whites shining, her lashes darkened and fanned out around them in a way he’s never seen before. She’s wearing makeup. “And you didn’t even have a bag packed, you just wanted to get to your girl. Needed to see her with your own eyes, make sure she was okay.”

His jaw feels tight inside his head; teeth clenched painfully, digging into the gums around his molars as the memory plays in his mind.

Tim’s voice wavering, crying, she was unconscious when they pulled her out.

His hand is numb beneath Rachel’s. She’s fine, he reminds himself. Sarah’s fine, that was years ago.

“I think I knew then,” she says quietly.

“Knew what?” Joel tries to keep his voice level. Ignoring the odd feeling that twists in his chest and has his heart racing faster, so much faster than normal, faster than it has ever raced for Rachel.

“That I loved you.”

It’s almost dreamlike, the way everything seems to blur and fade around them after she says it. Or perhaps nightmarish is the right word. A sharp pain sparks between his ribs and he feels his body stiffen and then loosen all at once. Face, shoulders, hand beneath hers – everything softens. Fuck. His mouth tastes like sandpaper, tongue resting fat and gravelly against the roof of it as she stares at him.

When he doesn’t say a word, she says, “I’d always known you were so kind, so generous to the people around you. But to see the way you love? It’s… shit, Joel, I just knew.”

He’s convinced his throat is tightening.

“And I held it in all of these years, and I’m sorry for that. I was just never sure of how you felt, and you never tried anything with me, never hinted at any feelings. But after the conference yesterday...”

“The conference?” he whispers. He pictures that bench outside NYU. Remembers the nasty wind, an empty champagne flute on the ground, the side of his body going hot where it pressed against hers.

“Walking around that hall together,” Rachel smiles. “You kept holding your arm out for me to hold, and I thought, god, maybe this is it. Maybe you actually feel the same.”

Joel imagines that this must be what people describe as critical velocity. Everything that once was smooth turns turbulent. Every second, every minute, that he’s allowed himself to careen forward, wanton and reckless, on the deliciously destructive course he’s set for himself – all of it just for someone close to him to step directly into his line of fire.

And his silence is so painfully telling. He knows immediately when it’s been too long, too much quiet, too many seconds of nothing said, of no reassurances offered. The muscle in her jaw ticks, and a vertical line appears between pinched eyebrows. Confusion, surprise, hurt. Her hand pulls back, and he tucks his in his lap quickly.

“Oh,” she whispers. “Oh, shit.”

Joel is suddenly certain that he’s going to be sick. His hands shake beneath the table, a violent tap tap tap where they’re clasped against the inside of his thigh.

“Rachel—”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Please, don’t apol—”

“I shouldn’t have said—”

“Rachel,” Joel’s voice raises, just a little, just enough to make her pause, enough for conversation at the table beside them to halt for a second. “If anythin’, I should be the one apologisin’.”

She laughs; a sad, quiet thing. Shakes her head at him.

“I guess I… somewhere in my head, I thought you knew,” Rachel says quietly. “Thought you….” The unspoken words hang in the air between them. Thought you felt the same.

And it hurts. His skin prickles at the sound of her voice; laced with pain, with rejection. Your fault, he thinks. That pain is your fault.

“Is there someone else?” she asks then, and her voice is so feeble. So small, so un-Rachel that it makes his chest feel tight. Your fault.

Joel sighs, cringes, fumbles for the right words. The words to explain something that he himself doesn’t even fully understand. Words that will make her feel better, that will put her at ease. Put him at ease.

“It’s not….” he trails off, half-prepared to lie. But then he meets her gaze. Sees the tears that have settled on her waterline and knows he can’t. Wants to hate her for asking, wants to beg her to take back the question. But in the end he just admits quietly, “I suppose there is.”

She sniffles, and when she speaks again, it almost sounds like a question.

“You never mentioned anyone.”

“I know,” Joel nods. “I’m sorry, I think I just… it’s complicated, and it… it’s new.”

“New,” she repeats softly. “And you never… you never thought of me that way.” This time it isn’t posed like a question. There is nothing open ended about it. Instead it’s resigned; final.

The corners of her mouth are downturned, and her lower lip wobbles, a movement so miniscule that he could have missed it if his eyes weren’t trained on her face. Trying painfully to understand this situation that feels as if it has crept up on him in his sleep.

“I’m sorry,” Joel finds himself saying again, and he thinks his eyes must be wide, unblinking, because they’re dry, and he feels panicked.

In his mind all he can think of is every cup of coffee in her office, every borrowed book, every sly joke in the corridor at work. Comforting smiles offered at conferences, snarky notes passed back and forth during faculty meetings. His friend. One of the truest, longest, most persevering ones in his life. One so dear to his heart. The idea of all of that being no more seems almost too painful to contemplate in the middle of a restaurant, with your fault thundering in his chest.

Rachel waves a hand. Feigns nonchalance and offers a watery smile.

“I’m happy for you, Joel,” she says. He doesn’t miss the waver in her voice, nor the harsh splash of crimson humiliation that stains the skin of her face. “I am. Really.”

Except he doesn’t know how to respond to that, doesn’t know what there is to be happy for. Can only watch her face. Can only sit, and stare like a fool at the way the skin beneath her eyes tightens as she draws back tears.

“I’m—” Rachel swallows. Sucks in a huge breath and flattens her palms against the table. Her napkin, stained with soft blots of red and brown, is pressed beneath the fingers of her left hand. The one with the sunspots and the ring and the scar. “Sorry, if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’m going to use the restroom—”

“Rach,” he tries, hand reaching across the table for—for what? Joel isn’t sure. What is there to do? To say? “What can I do?”

“It’s okay,” she stands, holds a hand out to silence him. Steps out from the behind table and squeezes past him. Her fingers brush against his arm as she goes. “It’s fine, I’m fine, I just need a second to freshen up.”

Joel watches her weave through the restaurant, shifting around tables, until her back disappears through a door at the far end of the room.

There’s a minute of painful quiet. A sort of buzzing in his ears that won’t go away. For a moment all he’s aware of is the look of disdain coming from the woman on the table to his left, and the sharp pain in his chest, and then the sounds of the restaurant come rushing back in. Cutlery scraping against plates, conversation, laughter, the sound of a bell ringing. And something buzzing, really truly buzzing this time. Something against his leg.

Joel pulls his phone out of his pocket and tries not to wince when he sees her name on the screen.

Are you enjoying your dinner?

The glance he spares over his shoulder is short, searching, looking to see if she’s coming back yet. Don’t make this worse than it already is.

Yeah, the restaurant is nice.

What are you doing?

Well my bags are packed, and I just tucked myself into bed

Something tightens in his stomach, and he knows what she’s doing, knows this game so well. The way she always manages to creep beneath his skin. Knows exactly what to say, to do, to have him hanging on her every word.

His fingers hover over the screen, contemplating a response.

Is that right? he types out, and then grimaces, backspacing quickly.

Want some company? he types next.

“Christ,” Joel mutters under his breath, erasing that too.

Embarrassment itches across his body. And then guilt, like a tidal wave chaser rushing to cool his inflamed skin, as he notices Rachel walking back toward him. You fucking asshole.

He straightens in his seat, tucking his phone out of sight as she hovers beside the table, eyes darting between him and her empty chair. She doesn’t sit down again.

“I think,” she takes a deep breath. “I think I should probably go. Early flight to catch, you know? I need to get some rest.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

He can feel his mouth hanging open, dumbfounded, ridiculous, as his brain scavenges for something to say. Never the right words, never when he needs them. Not for her, and not for Rachel.

Rachel reaches for her purse, and he holds out a hand. “Hey, let me… I’ll cover this.”

She pauses, nods. “Thanks.”

“Course,” he says gruffly. She pulls her coat from the back of her chair, wraps it around herself and does the buttons up slowly. Her mascara is smudged. “Hey, Rach, can we… should we talk about this some more? I don’t want to—”

“Not tonight,” she interrupts sharply. “Please, Joel, I’m sorry, just…. not tonight.”

—lose you.

“Sure, okay.” His throat is tight, your fault lodged heavy against his Adam’s apple. “You need help to get a taxi?”

“I’m fine,” she places a hand lightly on his shoulder, and presses her thumb against the skin beneath his collarbone. “Get home safe, okay? We can talk in Maine.”

“In Maine,” he repeats, and the words split and sour inside his mouth. “Okay.”

He doesn’t watch her leave. Doesn’t want to have to see her retreating from him. Doesn’t want to think about if this will be the last time they get to do this.

The waiter returns and he pays the bill, hastily jotting down a generous tip, and offers the women at the table on his left a tight-lipped smile before standing up.

When he finally makes his way outside, he finds a tax idling by the curb, lights on. The driver notices Joel staring; rolls down the window and raises his eyebrows. Where to?

Joel only shakes his head a little, leans his back against the dank, cold brick wall behind him. He takes a deep, shuddering breath before opening his phone, and sends two words.

Show me.

And then, when she doesn’t respond for a moment, he sends another message. Insistent now. Desperate, and even more desperate not to let it show.

I know you want to show me, sweetheart.

And when she does show him, it takes all of his might not to let this guilt consume him. Takes everything not to ruminate on how quickly he can shift from I’m sorry to Show me.

Because her skin.

So much skin.

Soft, smooth; shrouded in a robe that covers more than he’d like, and he knows how it tastes. Knows how it feels. Could press his fingers, his lips, his nose, to every part of it that he’s touched, in the exact same places, from memory alone.

It’s cold outside – windy, the beginnings of tomorrow’s storm twisting through the air. He feels it snake across his neck, curl beneath the lip of his collar, as he takes in the curve of her breast, the stiff point of her nipple, peeking out from behind white fabric. His cock stiffens in his pants.

He gazes at the softest part of her stomach, the thatch of curls that cover her mound, and wants to press his palms against the plush of her thighs. Wants to lay himself atop her, feel that skin against his again, hear her whimper and moan beneath the broad weight of him as he slips inside her. Wants to snatch her finger from her mouth and glide it inside his own. With her slick and her skin against his tongue, he’d sink his teeth in and inhale that warmth, that beating, pulsating force that he’s found himself so intoxicated by.

And to think, only hours ago, he was doing just that. Lowering himself to the ground in a public bathroom and drinking her down. Feeling the muscles in her thighs pull tight and then loose against the sides of his head. Anything to satisfy the craving that only she seems to inspire in him.

Resolute, persistent – a probing, prodding thing that nips at his heels and thrusts him forward at a double time pace.

A hunger that follows him down the nights and down the days.

A hunger that can only ever be sated like the taking of a sacrament – on his knees, devotion in his eyes.

Jesus.

Are you wet?

You know I am.

Are you touching yourself?

Joel’s jaw tightens. He holds his breath and waits. Can’t quite tell what would be worse; knowing that she’s touching herself, alone, thinking about him, or that she isn’t, that she’s waiting for him. He can feel his cock leaking against his thigh.

No.

He exhales heavily, and the faintest hint of a groan slips out with it. Fuck, pull yourself together.

Joel’s fingers float over the keyboard, and for a moment he thinks of Rachel.

Thinks that if he could only bring himself to look up, to look away from her, he might be able to see Rachel still. The back of her coat, the dark scrawl of her hair, disappearing into the night. Joel thinks of the tears in her eyes, taunting him, threatening to spill spill spill, to streak down rosy cheeks and wet the hollow of her throat. Feels something throb and crack in his chest – a painful, resounding ache that hurts so much like fear, like loss.

Your fault, your fault, your fault.

And wouldn’t that be so much easier? If he were to look away, to chase his friend down the street and tell her that he was wrong, that he wants her, that it makes sense for them to be together. Wouldn’t it be easier if that were true?

But he doesn’t stop looking at her. He thinks of Pothos, of Himeros, and stares at the soft curve of her stomach, the indent of her belly button. Looks at the way her lower lip rests below her finger and pictures it swollen, slick with a medley of her spit and his. Even notices a small mark, nestled in the crevice between her hip and the top of her thigh. A fading remnant of where his teeth had once pinched – like a tangible little footprint, whispering that he was there.

Longing and desire flame between the cracks of his ribs; a bright white heat that curls itself around your fault until he manages to shake the thought.

What was it that Kaminsky said? There was no mythology: Odysseus hanged himself. Homer drank to death and stank of mud.

And perhaps he was right; for there is no witness to this. No being over his shoulder, God or mortal, to lay their eyes upon this moment and understand that all he has ever known of love is deprivation. That fondest, blindest, weakest part of his being that has always yearned for, or perhaps grieved over, this love that once seemed so intangible and now, at last, maybe he has been deemed worthy of.

Alone so long, living in a body grown accustomed to such quiet. Familiar with no touch other than that of his own rough palms. And now… the intensity of it shakes within him. The urge to sink his teeth in like a bad dog and hold, hold, hold, to consume and be consumed, and never yield to anyone who wants to take this away from him.

No, there is no looking away from that, from her. Joel feels the noose tighten around his neck the longer he stares – a dog on the leash of its own longing, that need only sharpening with every second that dares to pass.

And Joel knows that nothing has ever been easy. Considers the idea that maybe that’s how it was supposed to be for him. And perhaps he doesn’t want easy, doesn’t want simple. No – Joel was always drawn to the flame.

Good.

Dinner finished early. Where are you?

And that flame welcomes him now in kind. The arms of a lover spread open for embrace; the address of her hotel sent directly to his phone.

Joel looks up and makes eye contact with the taxi driver again. Light still on.

Where to?

**the Kaminsky mentioned in this is Ilya Kaminsky, and the quote is from Dancing in Odessa.

thank you for reading! x

#my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #professor!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction

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jar-of-something-else · 1 year

Text

sleeping w/ the mercs [IT IS LIKE THAT]

these are so badddddd bro literally ignore this i just need practice and the mercs are my victims pinky promise i'll get better

yeah the title is the exact same as the tf2 headcanons from my main SO WHAT

if ur under 16 please don't interact 👍🏻

afab reader i’m sorry guys :( gender is totally neutral though

obviously this is under a cut

warnings/includes: MENTIONS OF SYRINGES/NEEDLES, SCALPELS, AND MEDICAL STUFF IN MEDIC'S SECTION!!!!!! AND KNIVES AND BLOOD IN SNIPER'S!!!! these are so bad, pyro is insane, medic is also insane, sniper is depraved, actually everybody's depraved, i'm depraved and also so so sorry

mostly what they're into/how they behave, nothing super reader specific in these ones

Scout:

-he’s got enough experience but he isn’t as good as he says he is, he’s got the spirit though and that’s what matters

-really good with his fingers but he can't find the clit half the time so help him out a bit

-absolutely an ass man but isn’t into anal

-scout usually likes positions where he can easily see/touch your ass (doggy, reverse cowgirl, etc)

-definitely says cringe shit in the bedroom, 100% refers to himself as daddy (which is canon i think?? i remember him having a voice line where he does that, could be wrong tho)

-has tried (and failed) to call you kitten on the regular but reverted back to the usual (still cringy) nicknames he calls you after demo made fun of him

-he never shuts up so the dirty talk is CRAZYYYY

-calls you stuff like doll, baby, babe, and uses pretty girl/boy/baby and babygirl/boy/doll when he's close

-even though he’s a little clumsy with it, he really does like giving oral, just give him a little direction; BUT likes receiving oral even more, sorry abt ur knees babe 💔

-definitely into semi-public sex, he won’t do anything in front of people but you bet your ass he’s finding some alleyway or storage closet to get freaky in

-does get jealous pretty easy and even though he’s usually not too rough with you he is not above manhandling when he sees fit

-the dog tags stay on, do with that what you will

Soldier:

-good GAWD

-literally so mean but mean in a hot way so that makes it okay

-absolutely nickname crazy; most of them aren't very cute or sexy (i.e. cadet, maggot, etc) but cupcake always makes an appearance

-very much into verbal degradation because of course he is, is also very into manhandling and just kinda tossing you around but he doesn't wanna hurt you too bad

-rarely ever fucks on an actual bed, usually it's the nearest wall/table/chair/couch, any surface you could lay/sit on really

-no the helmet is not coming off but that adds to it

-the honey IS going on though, maybe not his full body but it will make an appearance (he’s def into foodplay)

-tiny bit of a size kink, i think soldier is one of the taller, bulkier mercs so there's a very good chance he's much bigger than you in one way or another

-would absolutely be interested in a threesome with demo let's get real here

-very attracted to body hair bc i say so

-likes positions where he's very obviously the one in control/with the power; very into restraint either with some device (handcuffs, rope, etc) or with his own hands

-VERY loud, so good luck with that lmao

Pyro:

-man,,,,

-obviously into temperature and wax play

-the mask and suit do not come off, but pyro has a plethora of toys to use on you instead 😊

-gets off on the idea that he's some faceless person you can't really understand that has complete control over you and your body

-does occasionally lift the mask up just above his nostrils to kiss you, though, scarred lips be damned

-does babble a lot, even though it's all muffled; the nicknames he uses are surprisingly cute, he'll call you stuff like sugarplum, marshmallow, firefly, sugar cube, and other sickly-sweet names

-doesn't like showing you his bare skin/body because of their burn scars, but pyro does enjoy grinding if you wanna help him out that bad

-derives most of his pleasure from making you feel good, though, so he isn't really looking for any type of physical release on his end

-pyro's are kinda short i just can't think of any more rn i apologize 💔

Demo:

-WHAT A MAN 😍😍😍

-#1 lover out of all the mercs get fucked spy

-i think his build is very similar to soldiers, maybe an inch or two taller, so he definitely has the same lowkey size kink

-is also open to a threesome with soldier

-absolutely a service dom but he teases so much

-FAKE SYMPATHY!!!! FAKE SYMPATHY!!!!!!!

-likes when you call him by his name more than any of the cheesy titles dudes usually want their significant other to call them but he is always referring to you by any nickname he can think of; the most popular ones are lamb, sweetheart, lass/lad, my girl/boy/baby and "poor, sweet thing"

-loves talking to you and making you talk back to him even when you're literally on a different planet; makes you tell him what you want him to do even though he knows exactly what you're gonna say

-also slightly into dumbification (not to the extent medic or engineer are, though, he just thinks it's hot)

-very much into face and thigh riding

-foreplay alone could last as long as an hour if he's feeling "mean" at that particular time

-THIGH MAN!!!!!! LET'S GO!!!!!!!!!!

-makes you hold eye contact with him, sometimes the eyepatch comes off 🥴

-likes giving a whole lot more than receiving but he isn't about to turn down a blowjob if you offer

-waking you up with oral, it's his version of breakfast in bed

Heavy:

-and you thought demo was a service dom 🙄

-literally will do whatever you ask him to he does not care, as long as you feel good he's content

-very obvious size kink and it's very easy to exploit, but heavy doesn't take too kindly to teasing (he isn't about to stop you, though)

-speaks mostly in russian so unless you're fluent you can't really understand him but you get the gist of what he's saying by the tone in his voice

-outside of whatever russian bullshit he's spouting out, he calls you his "leetle bunny"

-tries to be gentle with you because of how big he is, but if he's provoked he can and will get wild

-as stated above, he can and will get wild, which includes his dirty talk; russian praise will turn into demeaning english muttered in your ear

-BREEDING KINK !!!!!!!!!!

-doesn't tease you on purpose, but he goes slow enough to where you think he's fucking with you (no pun intended)

-begging is never necessary but it is a guilty pleasure of his

-doesn't ask to receive oral often but watching you struggle with it does kinda turn him on even more

-face sitting extraordinaire, yes he does make the stupid eating sounds like in the game and yes he does it on purpose to try to make you laugh

-LET HEAVY FUCK NASTY GOD DAMN IT!!!

Engineer:

-WHAT A MIGHTY GOOD MAN 😍😍😍

-much stronger than you'd think he is and he does use that to his advantage

-slight temperature play when the gunslinger is involved, it's just a little colder than room temperature but it's a very stark contrast

-loves conflicting his speech with his actions; he'll sweet talk and praise you while he's railing you into next week

-speaking of, he'll call you anything but your name. honeybee, honey, darlin', sweet girl/boy/baby, baby girl/boy/doll, any nickname that sounds hot in a southern accent he's callin you

-he absolutely has a daddy kink but won't tell you unless you have one too and approach him first, chances are you're younger than he is and he doesn't wanna make you think he's a weirdo

-all in all, the dirty talk is INSANEEEEEEEE

-absolutely into dumbification, he knows he's smart and he gets off on the power imbalance when you're babbling about nothing and he's still perfectly present

-also slightly into dacryphilia? it's not attractive when you're crying from pain, sadness, frustration, etc but he likes making you feel so good you're overwhelmed and all you can do is cry for him

-might forget to take the helmet and goggles off, but if you want him to keep them on then by all means he will

-would absolutely abide by the cowboy hat rule (if you don't know what that is, basically if a cowboy puts his hat on your head y'all are fuckin' later on)

-very much into bigger people, the extra chub around the thighs, chest, cheek, and stomach areas are a weakness of his

MEDIC!

-the moment we've all been waiting for

-kinda like soldier in the fact that he's mean in a hot way, but it's less bully-mean and more absolutely deranged mean

-of course he's into degradation and medical play, definitely dacryphilia and dumbification (for similar reasons engineer is), another merc with a slight size kink cause medic is big as hell

-likes to get you on the operation table and trace a syringe or scalpel (or both if he's feeling patient [haha get it]) along your body purely for the fear it evokes from you

-wants to get you scared/vulnerable and that's how he starts his foreplay; totally into the whole predator/prey thing but not in the same way sniper is, medic is more into metaphorical or psychological hunting rather than the actual thing

-FAKE SYMPATHY!!!!!! FAKE SYMPATHY!!!!! FAKE SYMPATHY!!!

-teases, edges, and overstimulates you to the point of tears and gets this stupid smug look on his face while cooing at you

-calls you demeaning names, like pet, but he's got some cute ones he uses too; täubchen, maus, schatz, and liebling (dove, mouse, sweetheart, and darling) are very prevalent in and outside of the bedroom

-if you're okay with it, medic does like to use you as a bit of stress relief when everybody else is getting on his nerves

-is 100% down for a doctor/nurse or doctor/patient roleplay let's get real here

-also into semi-public sex, sometimes he'll leave the medbay door unlocked and slightly ajar purpose just to mess with you

-though he is very rough with you most of the time, he likes to save his more tender moments for when the two of you are in an actual bedroom and not his workspace

Sniper:

-wild. like genuinely doesn't know what to do with himself when he's horny he just goes fucking crazy.

-even though he gets crazy insane, he doesn’t really know what all to do and it frustrates him; he doesn't have much experience when it comes to sexual acts with another person involved so please give him some pointers

-absolutely into knife play come on

-if you have a period, he'd also be down for period sex he does not care about blood in the slightest

-isn't all that nickname-heavy like some of the other mercs here, but he does sprinkle them into his dirty talk. it's usually the same things he calls you outside of the bedroom, like 'roo, darl', and love

-into body worship, giving or receiving. he likes making you feel beautiful and he likes feeling good about himself too

-would definitely want you to suck him off while he does target practice and i know this is such a popular headcanon but come on guys

-another popular headcanon is sniper being into predator/prey dynamics which like,,,come on. it's literally perfect. you're telling me this nutcase dude wouldn't be into scaring the shit out of you by physically hunting you down. it's basically canon idc

-likes biting and leaving marks on your neck/shoulders in very visible areas because he's kind of a possessive guy ngl

-as much as he likes people seeing the aftermath of what he does to you, sniper is a very private person so he really wouldn't be all that into sneaky sex. the closest you'll get is his sniper nest while he does target practice on cease-fire days

Spy:

-despite being an asshole on the regular, he's a very attentive lover

-into body worship but only giving, he already knows he's fine and he wants to make sure you're never insecure about yourself

-bilingual babe 😍 speaks in french so much you can't really understand what he's talking about but he's more than happy to give you a translation

-also has a daddy kink let's get real here

-KNIFE PLAY!!!!!!!!!!

-heavily into power play as well, similar to pyro because he'll keep his clothes (including the mask and gloves) on while you're completely bare to him

-likes buying you lingerie

-likes getting and giving head the same amount, he has no real preference cause it's gonna end in sex every time anyway 🤷‍♀️

-french nicknames ONLY!!!! mon cher (my dear), ma chérie/mon chéri (my darling), amour/mon amour (love/my love), gentille fille/garçon/bébé (sweet girl/boy/baby), mon ange (my angel) [currently using my basic understanding of the french language for evil]

-semi-public and public sex spy does not give a fuck he has a cloaking device for a reason 🙄🙄

-if you don't already have one he will give you an accent kink

#i'm so SORRYYYYY #tf2 fans please don't beat me over the head #i just need practice </3 #yeah i included some salt n peppa references too i couldn't help myself #tf2 headcanons #tf2 x reader #tf2 smut #scout x reader #soldier x reader #pyro x reader #demoman x reader #heavy x reader #engineer x reader #medic x reader #sniper x reader #spy x reader #smut headcanons #god i am so sorry

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keyotos · 9 months

Text

the only exception

summary ⎯ where blade thinks there is no more hope for love, but you may be the only exception.

tags ⎯ soft blade. mentions of blade's past. reader uses his real name (yingxing) like once on accident. emotional rollercoaster. blade goes through the 5 stages of grief except its not grief it's love. blade is bad at feelings.

tana's thoughts ⎯ gave into the voices and i starting writing this.

the xianzhou is not like it used to be, yet it has not changed that much either. at least, that's what blade noticed as he stood by one of the railings at starskiff haven. he watched the starskiffs come and go as he stood there, motionless.

he had a cup of tea from the tea parlor nearby. some customers wanted him to engage in tea discourse with them because he was an "outworlder," but with one glare from him, they knew better than to press on. so now, he was alone in the dark with sunglasses on.

starskiffs seemed to improve throughout the years. his favorite snack stand was gone, one he used to visit with you. blade tried to ignore the burning sensation in the middle of his chest at the thought. but the stupid mungbean soda vending machines were still there. damn them, he thought.

blade took off his sunglasses momentarily as he rubbed his eyes. sunglasses were obviously meant to be worn in the sun, not in the dark: they were causing him eye strain. he tried to be as subtle as possible, not trying to attract any cloud knights or realm-keeping employees. his face was still on a wanted poster, after all.

"ahem."

blade turned back to find a cloud knight with a mung bean soda in their hand. his mind instantly turned to you, given that you were also a cloud knight who loved mung bean soda (unless that changed as well), but he snapped back to the current situation. he was about to be arrested. the cloud knight cornered him, spear in hand as they slightly lifted up their helmet to take a sip out of their drink.

have cloud knights gotten sloppier? why are they drinking soda when they were about to arrest someone? blade furrowed his eyebrows, but still got into a defensive position.

he was about to swing at the cloud knight until they held their hands up in surrender, "woah, dude," they slowly said, raising their hands up, "i'm not gonna arrest you," they placed their mung bean soda on the railing, and removed their hat.

and it was you. he was just thinking about you, and you appeared. the sight felt surreal. you, who he had been so close with all those years ago. you, who became his first friend on the luofu. you, who still lingered in his mind after all these years, who he thought about even when the mara was affecting him.

you've changed. though you haven't exactly aged, you look older. you look exhausted; your face didn't glow as it used to. blade thinks he is partial to blame for that. your posture is profoundly straight and no longer slouched⎯something you used to struggle with.

the wind blows through your hair, scattering some leaves around with it. your expression is neutral as you throw all your armor on the ground and dust yourself off. there is no smile adorning your face. everything feels so identical, but so different.

his stance softened, but he didn't let up. when you saw that, you only sighed in response. after kicking some stray pieces of armor to the side, you lean your back on the rail as you sipped your soda. the sound of the armor colliding together on the floor made blade cringe.

"i don't actually wear armor, by the way," you swung the drink in his vicinity, offering him a sip using a hand gesture. when he didn't respond, you took another swig. "i have my own uniform. pretty cool, isn't it?" you tilt your head down towards your outfit.

blade doesn't understand. why were you speaking to him as if you two were still friends? could you recognize him under the glasses? it has been so long, he'd be surprised if you recognized him at all.

blade tries to maintain his cover. he is silent while you raise an eyebrow inquisitively, wondering why this stranger wasn't responding to you. you're waiting for him to speak, blade notices. he doesn't say anything. you tilt your head to the side, and blade tilts his head the other way.

you sigh, "you know, not many people are out here so late," you sip out of your soda can, looking at blade while he looks at the starskiffs. you continue, "an old friend of mine used to do this. we'd go out every night and create elaborate stories about strangers, and then stare at starskiffs."

you're telling blade about himself. or, his past self anyway. there's a present ache in his heart, hearing how you speak about him. blade feels like an imposter, standing here with sunglasses on while you talk about him. you sound melancholic, like you miss him. a stupid thing for you, blade thought.

"he's gone now," you turned and leaned forward, now watching the starskiffs with blade. he gets a sense of deja vu, and the feeling sends chills all over his body. you rest your head on your arms on the rail, "i miss him though. he was a little awkward, but he was kind."

"and sometimes," you turn your head towards blade, "he was a little annoying. like he would keep hating on my soda," you hold your soda up to blade, but all he could think about was how you just called him annoying, "or he'd force me to go to bed early. coddle me. nag at me to do my laundry⎯that was very annoying. like, hello? i'm an adult, i could totally do my own laundry," you ranted as you watched the starskiffs.

"maybe you should've done your laundry earlier," he mumbled to himself. he made sure it was low enough that only he would be able to hear it. if you noticed, you didn't say anything; you were still focused on the starskiffs passing by.

blade takes the time to look at you. to study you. it felt like everything about you was so different, but you were still the same. you still chatted about anything to strangers (something he always chided you about). you still drank mung bean soda. you didn't have that growth spurt you dreamed about.

but you were quieter. ironic, because you just jabbered about the annoyances blade had caused you years ago. but you didn't give out too many details. you didn't mouth off about what tea parlor was best, or recent gossip from earlier. you kept things to yourself. blade doesn't know if he should be happy or not.

something was off. there was a wall between you now. and it felt so wrong. blade knows he isn't entitled to anything⎯not anymore, at least. but the feeling of disconnect between two people who were once rooted together physically pained him. even with everything that has happened, he did not want to see you like this.

"i hope he visits soon," you look at him with eyes that glitter among the stars. you're still hopeful; that has not changed. you speak like the sun is shining in your body, and your words are laced with warmth that eases enough for blade to let his guard down. that's when he realized that you're still glowing, and you never stopped.

but your words also bring a stabbing pain into his heart. why are you still longing for him? you should have moved on. you should have found someone better for you. someone who will not harm you at any given moment. but here you are, missing him. hoping he comes back.

"seriously? i just told you that i missed you and hoped you came back, and you say nothing??" you grimaced, looking exasperated. there's a slight crack in the wall now, but blade doesn't notice.

he had other things to concentrate on. like what you just said.

blade did not find this very amusing. his eyes widened underneath his sunglasses and he took a few steps back. after all these years, you could still find him in a crowd full of people. it was love he did not deserve, yet still begrudgingly craved.

"how did you know it was me?" was all blade could utter. he was too alarmed to ask any other questions, or press on your story. or to ask more about you.

you glower and huff, "so he does speak," you cross your arms over the railing as you turn to make eye contact with your past ally.

"how did you know?" blade snarled. he didn't intend for his words to come out as harsh as they did, and the moment they left his mouth, he wanted to shove the words back in and eat them. he had forgotten how you made him feel like an idiot sometimes just by doing absolutely nothing.

your eyes widen and your eyebrows slightly jump up; blade wishes he could erase that expression from his head permanently. however, instead of reacting to it, your composure remains calm. it unsettles blade; he has never seen you so calm before. when you two were young, you got into arguments with those who barely picked a fight with you. you were straightforward and aggressive: blade shouldn't have admired that about you, but nevertheless, he did.

you're less temperamental, and blade doesn't know if he likes it or not. he was worried. after a lifetime of emptiness and recklessness, blade worries. he worries about you: your life, your job, your wellbeing. he worries if you got promoted or not, or if you're living happily.

do you have a partner? blade tries to ignore the flames surrounding his heart as he thinks about your love life.

"oh please. after all the years we've spent together, you'd think i wouldn't be able to spot you in a crowd?" you let out a dry and curt laugh, "just because your hair got darker and you changed your outfit, does not mean you are unrecognizable."

"not to me, anyway," you quietly add, turning your gaze away from him and back to the starskiffs. there's an overwhelming feeling that was welling up in blade's body. it wasn't mara, because it felt more peaceful. but the urge was still strong. he wanted to grab your chin and turn you back towards him; he wanted you to look at him again and explain. to tell him about everything. he doesn't care about the topic, but he will listen no matter what.

blade feels foolish. how could one conversation (if you could even call this a conversation) make him feel so lovestruck? every single feeling for you⎯that he thought he had discarded a long time ago⎯reappeared out of thin air. it all came rushing back at him: your personality, your terrible jokes, and every single thing he grew to love about you. blade tried so hard to dismiss those feelings in the past century, and in the midst of a few minutes, all his past work crumbled.

when blade doesn't say anything, you take a sip out of your drink. the silence is tense; it is opposed to the once comfortable silences you two shared while watching starskiffs. blade thinks that, in another life, nothing would have changed: he would not have become mara-struck, and you two would watch starskiffs fly for hours on end.

but everything has changed now. and there's no going back to fix it. blade will shove down every morsel of affection he feels for you again. and this time, they won't come back up. starting tonight.

you give him a small smile, "so, wanna tell me what you've been up to?"

he will shove down every morsel of affection. starting tomorrow night. another crack in the wall between the both of you.

the feeling of wanting to capture someone's smile is maddening. you drive him crazy, and you make him more insane than mara ever could. all of this because of one smile? blade pictures your small smile once again. it's incomparable to your true smile, though. one where you're showing all your teeth and your eyes crinkle with such bemusement it drives him amuck.

once he pictures your toothy smile, he sinks deeper into the talons of endearment.

"aren't you supposed to arrest me?" he deflects, trying to stem away from his previous lovesick thoughts. maybe, if you arrest him now, he could flee from the luofu forever. maybe then, he'd have a reason to avoid you for life.

you make a 'pfft' noise with your mouth, and the sound is familiar and stupid. it has no reason to make his heart flutter the way it just did.

"if i wanted to arrest you, then you'd be in the hall of karma ages ago," you boast, "luckily for you though, i'm on a break."

"didn't know cloud knights slacked off now," blade rolls his eyes under his sunglasses. he thinks that if he's rude enough towards you, then you'd get the message that he's changed, and you would leave. he's not the same person he was before. if he didn't deserve you back then, he most definitely did not deserve you now.

"well, i'm not a cloud knight anymore," you step closer to him, "i'm a lieutenant."

so you got promoted. blade deeply tries to ignore how his breaths get more shallow after the mention of your promotion.

instead of congratulating you, blade instead replies with, "so you're the same rank as that kid that follows the general around?"

your face falls, and dread swarms throughout his body, spreading through every vein and artery and organ. every regret blade has does not compare with whatever he just said. blade finds that, whenever he thinks about regret, your face has always remained through his sea of remorse. you are the one thing he regrets in many different ways.

blade regrets meeting you. he regrets indulging in your offers for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. he regrets spending his nights with you. he regrets every time his heart leapt multiple beats whenever you were near. he regrets letting his guard down around you, because even now⎯whenever he is with you⎯he feels incredibly relaxed, despite not having to see you in centuries.

he regrets you. he regrets not being able to say goodbye to you. he regrets leaving you with so many qualms. he regrets not being able to see you change. he regrets the fact that he never got to confess to you. he regrets the fact that he still loves you, because why else would he be feeling this way?

the idiot keeps his mouth shut, even though he wants to apologize. "i didn't mean it," he wanted to say, "i'm sure you are very capable now. you stand up more straighter and you look more put together. not that you didn't look put together before. well, actually you didn't, but that's not the point."

it occured to blade that he was rambling about you in his mind. he was describing you in his mind. he was going crazy. nobody else notices these things about you. but blade physically could not tear his eyes away from you. the more he stared, the more he noticed more: such as the way your shoulders were more upright, your breathing was slow and even, and you surprisingly didn't look like you wanted to kill him. the you from centuries ago would have thrown him off the ledge.

you sigh, pressing your fingers to the bridge of your nose, "i see you've met yanqing."

blade says nothing, which simply prompts you to keep talking. a tiny slither of comfort enter's blade's body: it was refreshing to see that after years, some things will never change.

"he's jing yuan's retainer," blade internally (and bitterly) revels in the fact that you don't use any formalities with jing yuan anymore, "he can be a bit... much. but it makes sense. he's only a kid, you know? i like him," you move your soda can to the side to make room for your arms. you're leaning on the railing again, and you were not looking at blade anymore. it should not scatter uneasiness around his nerves.

he wants to share an anecdote of his own. blade yearns for connection with you for just once more. when he is around you, there's an ache in his heart. it was always there; past and present. he thought it would be subtle, like a symptom of a short-term illness. but soon he realized, the symptom he shrugged off was a manifestation of something bigger. and blade never truly recognized how long his sickness would last. because here he is right now, sick as a dog in your presence.

if wanting to fuel your everlasting fire was a sickness, blade decided that he would be diagnosed as terminal.

blade tsks at your statement. you are not impressed; your face looking slack and skeptical. there have been many times where he has been on the receiving end of that look, yet he feels the air swirl all around in his stomach every time you look at him that way. he also tries to slow his heart rate down: there should be no reason why he should be elated at the fact that you're looking at him.

"don't give me that," you cross your arms, "he reminds me of you," you pause, letting the silence overtake the both of you. there are so many unsaid things that the silence feels full, yet still too quiet. you know that the past is a sensitive topic for blade (and you as well, but you choose to dwell on that another night).

"back when we were kids, anyway," you quickly add on.

blade scoffs. scoffs. he does not see himself in yanqing, and he also does not know how you came up to that conclusion. it was ridiculous and strange. blade had to fight a scowl off his face: yanqing and him were nothing alike. if anything, the child was the spitting image of the general.

at least time hasn't changed your terrible analogies.

"terrible?" you point a finger at him, nearing his sunglasses. oh. he said that out loud. "i'll have you know, my analogies are great!"

"you compared me to yanqing, who resembles jing yuan the most," blade shifts his head to the side as he crosses his arms. your finger made his glasses shift down slightly. he could see you a lot better now without the dark obstructing his view, and he internally curses at the wanted posters for being the (indirect) reason he has to wear the glasses.

you let out a sound of disbelief, which resembled blade's scoff and your huff from earlier, "first of all, i was describing temperament. second, terrible?!?"

"if you were describing temperament, then that child would be your twin," he says, trying to fight off the feeling of his lips turning up. this feels familiar. it feels homely, almost. the world melts away when he is around you. every person, place, worry: disintegrated away by your warmth. did you know that? how do you do that? how do you make all the problems in the world disappear so easily?

you let out a breathy laugh, turning away from blade one more time. except, this time, you turn back, a grin evident on your face. it's dark in starskiff haven at the moment, but blade is sure that he just saw the sun in your smile. out of his peripheral vision, he looks to see if anyone else has noticed. have they noticed the light coming from you? how do they notice notice it?

the world continues to move, but with you, it seems that everything is perfectly still.

"i'll have you know, i worked on that whole temperament thing," you held up a hand to his face, "i'm chill now."

"oh really?" blade skeptically raises an eyebrow. you can see it through the crack in his facade left by the sunglasses. you can see his eyes a little bit more clearer.

"oh yeah," you drag out, taking a long sip of your soda. you turn on your back and spread your arms across the railings, mimicking a tired soldier, "i'm chill."

and this feels so normal, like if it was a typical night on the luofu. you and him spending time together once again. everything fell back into place so easily, as if the events of all those years ago never happened. why was it so easy?

various emotions coarse through his body, each feeling worse than the last. he can't stay. he can't live. he knows that the longer he stays here with you, the harder leaving you gets. but things have changed, even if you have not. you probably couldn't even love him the same either, logistically speaking. there were too many obstacles standing between the both of you: loving him was impossible.

he still does not understand why you still speak to him.

greeted by his silence, you choose to continue the conversation further, "this soda really helped," you slide the drink over to him again, "it's been a few years. you should try it again."

"a few years, huh?" blade eyes the drink. biggest understatement of the year.

"yeah," you eye him. your eyes are telling him to say something. blade, in all of his fearlessness, is scared. he has not been scared in a long time. the feelings of fear rushing back into him leave him stranded to his own devices, and he has no clue how to react. he used to turn to you for these things, but now, you are the reason for his fear.

you step closer to him. you are close enough that your shoulders are now touching. when you speak, blade tries to control the agitation growing in the pit of his stomach. destructive thoughts impede and pervase through his mind.

"they hate you."

"things will never be the same."

"whatever you had once, it has all gone down the drain now."

"please try the mung bean soda."

what?

blade snapped out of his head to see you holding up your drink right next to his face. he leaned his head backwards as he was met with your pleading eyes.

you took him out of his trance like it was nothing. you didn't have abilities like kafka did, yet you were able to take him out of his spiral using only six words. how was it that everything surrounding you became so easy?

"i'm not drinking that," blade says with a stern voice. he hopes that his glasses hide the panic that was once apparent in his eyes.

"c'mon," you begged, "just one sip⎯"

"why are you even doing this?" blade irritatedly snapped.

you raise an eyebrow and pretend to not know what he was talking about, "because i want you to try new things...?"

"you know what i mean."

you set down the soda can again and let out a long sigh. you run your hands through your hair, and blade thinks this is it. this is the moment where you snap back like you usually would. this is the part where you tell him that he should leave. he's too difficult, too hard to love.

"did you think i was lying back when i said i missed you?" your entire face softened. there was no light-heartened smirk or grin. you look sad. there are no other words to describe how else you look except sad. blade could not think of any other words. all he could focus on was you.

"i wasn't lying," you say, sounding more desperate than before, "i miss you so much, yin⎯blade." your tone turns sharp when you say his name now. this is it, blade tells himself, this is the part where you leave.

"you matter to me," you eunicate, "i still believe in you. i don't care about the past; i'm not letting it hold me back. which, i know is probably wrong on some level, but i don't care. because i miss you a lot."

"it's not even the fact that i miss us from before," you're rambling now. blade does not have the heart to stop you, "but i just miss you. blade or yingxing, i couldn't care less. i miss our late night talks, so when i saw you here tonight, i jumped at the opportunity to talk to you," you threw your hands up in the air, and then ran another hand through your hair, "and when we spoke⎯even with everything that happened⎯everything felt so easy while talking to you. and everything was okay. and i just wanted that so badly," your voice trailed off. blade swore he could hear it crack a little.

you had felt the same way he did. blade does not know if he was just consumed by an overwhelming sense of air flowing through his chest, or feeling something drop in his chest after you said what you said.

"sorry," you had nothing to apologize for, "i just word-dumped on you," you were using another one of your weird terms again, "i just wanted to let you know that i've always missed you. i've missed everything about you. and i don't want to let you go."

i still love you.

you don't say that. you finish your tangent with a long sigh and another swig of your soda can. it's almost empty. mentally, you feel like that soda can right now. you just dumped years worth of feelings on blade, and he responds with silence.

this is it, you think, this is where he leaves.

but he doesn't. he brings you closer. blade grabs your wrist before you can put the drink back down, and he brings the can to his lips. he faces the fact that he just put his lips where yours were. for a brief second, he imagines that he was pressing his lips onto yours⎯not the soda can.

blade takes back everything he said earlier. he does not regret you whatsoever. he yearns for you. he needs you to function. he wants you: all the time.

he does not regret meeting you. he is not a believer of gods, but he wants to praise whichever higher power that allowed your fate to intertwine with his. he does not regret spending every moment of his time with you; those have been some of the happiest memories in his life.

most of all, he does not regret loving you, because who would regret the warmth of an everlasting flame?

love has been something blade has lived without for many years. but it all comes back so effortlessly with you. and now he realizes why: he loves you like air fans flames. he will keep on giving into your love, so long as you are still there. it doesn't matter when or where: it just matters if you are there.

"i thought you didn't like mung bean soda," you look at his ear rather than his face, not ready for rejection.

"you wanted me to try something new, didn't you?" blade only looked at you, wrist still in hand. he ponders how he was ever scared of your love.

“i didn’t think you would try it so soon,” you pathetically laughed.

“sooner than you’d think,” he quietly mumbled, only so the two of you could hear it. his fingers were grasping the top of your hands as he still held onto your wrist.

“look,” you place the drink down, slinking your hand out of blade’s hold, “i know you’re probably going to be gone soon. that’s fine. couldn’t really expect you to stay because of your… you know. job,” you awkwardly explain, tucking your hands behind your back.

“but,” you sounded more optimistic, and it seemed as though the street lights all lit up, “you know that friend i was telling you about? the annoying one?” blade rolls his eyes, you only laugh at his reaction, “i hope that he visits more often.”

hope. you hope for him to come back. you hope for more. blade hopes for more too. he wants more, actually. craves it.

but he plays hard to get, “well, if you keep calling your friend ‘annoying’ i doubt he’ll visit as often as you’d like,” and he smirks. you have to bite your lip, hard, to restrain your giddy smile.

“well, i was just telling it as it is,” and it’s easy again. and you want this as much as blade does. and this is hope. this is hope that, even after everything, you’re still here and love is still alive. the wall is broken so easily.

“mhm, okay.”

“yup!”

“i’ll see if i can sort something out,” blade tells you, taking another drink of your soda. he’s emptied at this point. he’s only taking the “drink” so he could try to hide his (growing) blush from you.

“i thought you ‘weren’t going to visit’ as often,” you pouted, rolling your eyes.

“well, i never said that. i said your friend was going to do that. just giving you some advice, that’s all,” he teased. you felt your heart swell up: everything was going to be fine.

“your advice is shit.”

“you’re shit.”

yeah. everything will be okay.

if this looks familiar it’s bc this is an expanded ver of the xianzhou men hcs i did like a week ago. this was from blades part and i liked it sm i wrote more. wish i could have done the end a little bit more justice but i am TIREDDDD it was 4:30 in the morning.

but if u made it all the way down here i hope u enjoyed!! i put my tanussy in this and i wrote for like 5 hrs so pls enjoy LMAO

#tana writes (∗´ ᨔ `∗)#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #blade x reader #blade x you #blade x y/n #this was supposed to be longer but it’s 4:30 in the morning and i’m done #like my brain is fried and i cant do this anymore 😭#the ending was rushed asl but yk other than that i didn’t hate this

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moondirti · 6 days

Note

Hello! So not a request but a Dahlia thought: when getting to the boys place she's a little anxious but then she sees the perfectly set up spare room they just happen to coincidently have set up perfectly. And it's so comfortable and peaceful after a shit day and a equally shittier couple of months that reader just kind of releases the damn of tears. Which you know just inforcess that they are doing the right thing by taking her. It's for her own good.

PART 1 • PART 2 • PART 3 tags: simon x f!reader x johnny. alluded abuse (not by ghoap). kidnapping (but is it really kidnapping anymore?) pregnancy.

Their home is nice.

You don't know what you expected. Nothing bad, certainly – one look at their car and you guessed they were comfortable – but whatever approximation you rendered in your head didn’t come close to hitting the mark. Perhaps it was the remnants of your misgivings, then, that convinced you they lived in some squalid house off the side of the freeway. No one is kind enough to offer free room and board without there being some sort of catch.

But it's nice. Spacious. Secluded, though not to a concerning degree. You pass through a quaint town in order to get to it, and it's only another two miles out, tucked on the outskirts of a neighbouring forest. A two-story chalet, understated and painted dark to deliberately sink into its surroundings. If you had to guess, it was the pick of the one in the mask; the style suits him more than the other one, you think. Elevated inches off the ground. Weathered cedar exterior, softened by time, and a modest front porch with three Adirondack chairs positioned around a bonfire pit.

“Did someone else live here with you?” You ask, tucking your thumb into your bag strap as you follow them to the front door. The shorter of them throws a look over his shoulder, brows furrowed in an endearing way. “I just ask because– well, you mentioned a spare bedroom, and there are three seats out here. So…”

“Johnny’s mum stayed with us for a while after his father passed.” The masked one says, unlocking the entrance before pulling it open for you. Your heart twinges uncomfortably in your chest, and you give a sad smile to ‘Johnny’ on your way in.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

He appears astounded for a second, gaze flickering back and forth between you and his partner, before settling in place. “Ah, dinnae be. Wis a long time ago.”

You’re pleased to find that the interior is a lot brighter. Where the outside boasted a dark green paint job, the inside glows in a smattering of honeyed wood and sage tones. All open-plan; you can see the dining table and kitchen from where you step into the living room, brown leather couches serving as the only divisors of the space. You allow your eyes to rove over the walls, the plush carpets underfoot, up and over to where the lofted second-story overlooks the bottom floor. Large picture windows allow ample light to flood in, yet it seems to have the particularly concerning effect of illuminating how… empty it all is. Because apart from a strew of personal belongings – boots by the foyer, a half-filled water bottle on the breakfast bar, a coat thrown over the back of an armchair – there’s nothing to indicate that they actually live here.

For all you know, they could’ve rented the car and the house to lure you in.

A pit opens up in your stomach. You pat your pocket for your phone, then turn to where they await your reaction.

“I didn’t catch your names.” You ask, cringing internally at how straightforward you seem. You have to remind yourself that it’s better to be blunt, to scope this situation out before you’re in too deep. If it takes playing oblivious, then so be it. “I’m embarrassed I don’t know. You’re being so kind, after all.”

“Johnny. John Mactavish, if ye wanna be proper.” The Scotsman beams, stepping forward to take your bag off your hands, that which you tentatively. The other one merely stays still, peering out on you from above his fabric mask. You shift from foot to foot, waiting.

Eventually, he blinks. “Ghost.”

The pit deepens. You breathe through the nausea climbing up your chest. That’s not a name, you’re tempted to say. Tempted to take your bag back over your shoulder and call a cab. But it’s so early in the morning that you know you’ll have a hard time reaching one. And even if you manage, where would you go? Certainly not home.

The callous echo of your ex’s voice still bounces around in your skull. It’s just a matter of probability. Risk it here with these perfect strangers, who may or may not be ill-intentioned. Or risk it back home, with a man you know only means to do you harm.

So, you give them your name.

(Just the first. Though that isn’t without its precautions, either; later, when you finally tuck in, you’ll be sure to send your location and the name Mactavish off to a trusted friend.)

Johnny’s grin widens, something warm and molasses-thick radiating from the lines it carves into his cheeks. It’s so genuine, so welcoming and hospitable, that you have a hard time imagining him as a bad guy. And however Ghost unnerves you, he’s obviously decent enough to have bagged such a positive force of nature. Decent enough to have offered you a ride, and a place to stay when you were so desperately in need of one too.

It all tallies up in your head, sand on a scale that dips in favour of one side. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation, or the pregnancy hormones schooling your common sense into accepting the two, strong men who have demonstrated their willingness to provide – but you’re quickly softening up to the possibility that this is something good without exception. A reward for putting up with so much over the past few months. Some reality where life isn’t looking to beat you down.

If only for the night.

You blindly follow as Johnny gives you a brief tour. Their bedroom is just to the left of the living space, and he tells you to knock if you need anything at all.

“Ye'll be staying upstairs, hen. Unless th' stairs ur awfy much fur ye?”

“No.” You shake your head, stricken by the utter graciousness. “Please. I’m so thankful you’re helping at all. Upstairs is just fine.”

“Promise?” He demands, eyes wide like a quizzical pup. Ghost sidles up behind him, large hand clasping onto his shoulder, right where his shirt's collar ends to reveal the base of his neck. You stare at that touch, that point of skin-on-skin contact, for what must be too long before you can bring yourself to respond.

“I- Yeah. I promise.”

Your room isn't really a room at all, but a loft as large as half the first floor. Three walls and a missing fourth, polished wood railing and opaque curtains offering a degree of separation from the rest of the home. It's all you can do not to flop down on the bed immediately, stripping down to your panties and undershirt before relieving yourself in the attached bathroom.

Despite the modicum of hesitation still planted in your gut – which you doubt will go away until you’re absolutely sure you haven’t made yourself victim to a pair of crazy sexy serial killers – you unwind at record speed. Surprising how easy it is when you aren’t confronted with the burden of your real life. When everything is warm and provided for. When your bed is made with crisp clean sheets, a homemade quilt folded neatly on the edge, and the outside ambience isn’t singing drunks but quiet.

And of course, once your guard comes down, so too does your strength. A ball of devastation snowballs in your chest. Your sternum burns and your nose grows hot. You hardly remember to clasp a hand around your mouth before you burst into an ugly sob, fat tears slipping off your lash line. Only when a stressed hiccup seizes your frame do you become thankful for your sense; you’d really hate for them to hear you cry after having been so kind. You’re not ungrateful in the slightest, but already you prep yourself for the disappointment of returning home come night. A preemptive grief for the life you can never give yourself.

A chorus of morning birdsong and your own, miserable sniffles lull you to sleep.

if anyone's curious, here's the floorplan i used to imagine ghoap's chalet! (source)

#༄dee answers #ghost x reader x soap #ghostsoap #simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader x johnny 'soap' mactavish #simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader #johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x reader #ghoap x reader #simon riley #john mactavish #ghost #soap #x female reader #ghoap

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bellaxgiornata · 8 months

Text

Maybe This Time

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Summary: You often work through the night at the Sunny-Side Up Diner just off of I-80, but sometimes during your long shifts your favorite drifter stops in for a meal. Even if nothing has ever actually happened between you two, there's certainly been plenty of flirting. But one morning he stops in before your shift ends and you wonder if maybe this time things will be different.

Warnings/Tags: 18+; smut and soft Frank, need I say more?

Word Count: 7.9k

a/n: This one is long and it got a bit away from me because I just had to add plot, but there's a lot of smut at the end! Normally I'd edit a lot more as well, but hopefully you enjoy my first Frank Castle smut (though certainly not my first time writing smut in the slightest if you know me). Feedback is always appreciated--especially since this is my first smutty Frank one-shot!

Tag List: @heimtathurs @linamarr @mattmurdocksstarlight @thepunisherfrankcastle

Hoisting the clean stack of plates up high, you set them on the shelf in the kitchen, standing on your toes just to reach it. Lowering back down to the flat of your feet, you grabbed a couple of clean glasses you’d just finished washing and drying from off of the countertop and stepped to your left just past the large sink. Rising up onto your toes once again, you neatly placed them on the shelf beside the one with the plates. As you turned to grab another couple of clean glasses to put away, you heard Jimmy calling your name from behind you. Hands hovering over the line of clean cups on the countertop, you looked back over your shoulder at him.

"What's up, Jimmy?" you asked.

"Can you take out the garbage?" he asked, flipping a pancake in the pan. “Before it starts overflowing from the morning crowd? I'd get it but–”

You rolled your eyes, grinning as he gestured his hand at the food he was making on the stovetop. Usually Jimmy tried to take the trash out before the morning rush came along; he knew it was often a bit of a struggle for you trying to toss the heavy bag up into the dumpster out back, but you knew he’d been a bit distracted tonight, too. Maria and him were in another fight and whenever that happened, Jimmy was only ever half-present at the diner.

"Yeah, yeah," you said, wiping your damp hands on your apron. "I got it."

"You sure?" he asked.

"Yeah, Jimmy, I can handle it," you assured him.

He focused back on the eggs in the frying pan as you headed over to the garbage bin. With a sigh you began to tie the bag into a knot, cringing when something wet touched the side of your hand. Once the bag was tied, you managed to pull it up and out of the bin, grunting at the effort. Struggling with the bag now in both of your hands, you shuffled your way over to the door just to Jimmy’s right. Pressing your shoulder against it, you pushed it open and stepped out into the early morning, both of your hands hefting the bag of garbage outside with you.

Blissful silence met your ears the moment the door shut with a click behind you. If you hadn’t been toting a very full bag of disgusting garbage to a dumpster right now, you’d have enjoyed the brief break from the noise of the diner. But as you awkwardly shuffled your way over to the dumpster, carrying the garbage in both of your hands, you felt the bag beginning to tear beneath your fingers.

“Come on,” you groaned. “Don’t break open on me. That’s the last thing I need right now.”

Huffing in irritation, you set the bag down, leaning it up against the dumpster. You took a moment to rearrange your grip along it, examining the hole that had torn open from your nails as you did. You didn’t want to hoist the bag up overhead only to be doused in garbage if the hole just tore wider open on you. That was also the last thing you needed.

Bending down, you got a better grip on the bag and were mentally preparing yourself to heft it up and toss it into the dumpster, but before you could even attempt to pick it back up again, you heard a voice call out your name. You froze at the sound, head spinning over your shoulder towards the direction it had come from as your pulse sped up in excitement and recognition.

“You need some help there, darlin’?”

A smile gradually broke wide across your face when your eyes landed on Frank standing there at the corner of the building, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his black jacket. He eyed you with a grin on his own face, the sight immediately turning your entire shitty third shift around.

Heart fluttering in your chest, you released your grip on the bag and turned towards him, straightening back up as you took in his appearance. There were no bruises or cuts on his face this time. It also looked like his beard had grown out just a bit more in the past almost week and a half since you'd last seen him. You secretly always liked when he showed up unshaven like this; there were many a night or early morning where your fingers itched just to feel the scratch of that darkened stubble beneath them. Though of course, you never had touched him like that.

But he looked good–not that he didn't always.

Frank was your favorite customer at the Sunny-Side Up Diner. He always came in sporadically at varying hours, but he always came in during your shifts which ran through the night until you finished at seven in the morning. Generally after a few days had passed since his last visit to the diner, you found yourself working through your shifts and always perking up when you heard the bell over the diner door ring. Every time it did, your head darted up at the noise, hoping you'd see Frank making his way towards a table with his eyes searching the diner just for you.

It had been almost six months now of Frank’s random visits to Sunny-Side Up. From the very first time you'd served him breakfast at almost one in the morning–pancakes and scrambled eggs with a side of bacon–Frank had flirted with you. Not quite so bold and openly at first; initially it had been the way his eyes had lingered on you along with the little smiles he sent you. The jokes he’d made just to make you laugh. It had actually been you who had begun to make the more brazen comments to him, enjoying the way his deep brown eyes had lit up each and every time. Soon he’d started calling you pet names–darling or sweetheart. You’d loved it every single time he said it in that deep, rumbling voice of his with the way the corner of his lips would always quirk up in a smile. For months now you’d been dying to know what it would sound like to hear him whisper one of those terms of endearment in your ear.

And that had quickly become the norm between the pair of you. Frank would come into the diner during your shift and you would seat him in the booth that you’d come to associate with him. He’d order one of the handful of things he usually ordered, and then for the duration of his time at the diner, the pair of you would openly flirt with each other until he inevitably finished his meal. He would always generously tip you before making his way across the parking lot towards his van, leaving you to watch it pull out towards the interstate again. And each time he left, you were left wondering if that time was the last time you'd ever see him again.

Admittedly Frank’s last visit to Sunny-Side Up had been a bit more eventful than usual, though. An older man had been dining in on that early morning and he had been frustrating and incredibly rude to you while you'd waited on him. A handful of times Frank had actually paused eating his meal, shooting the man a look that could’ve certainly killed as he repeatedly warned the man to be respectful. But the moment the man had slapped your ass as you'd turn to leave the table, Frank had risen to his feet and latched onto that man's arm so damn fast that you hadn’t even seen it coming. He nearly broke the man's wrist when he forced him to apologize to you.

You'd truly thought that time might have been the time that things would’ve been different. That maybe that time something more than just flirting might finally happen between you both. But no. Frank had lingered for a bit longer than usual after that man had left, making sure you were alright. But as usual, he'd inevitably gotten into his van and headed back on I-80 like every other time he'd stopped at the diner. After that, you had completely lost all hope that you'd ever do anything more than flirt with him.

"I'm good, Frank," you called back, waving a hand at him. "Why don't you grab a seat and I'll be right in to get your order?"

"And leave you out here struggling?" he asked back.

Shaking his head, he began to saunter his way towards you. There was always a sort of confidence to the way Frank walked, you’d noticed; his gait alone had turned you on many times before as you’d watched him make his way through the parking lot to the diner door. And right now was no different as your gaze openly surveyed him with each step.

"Tell you what, sweetheart,” Frank continued, an almost cocky grin on his face. “You let me take care of this for you, and then I'll grab a seat. Alright?"

"Well now I hardly think that's fair," you pointed out, watching as he quickly closed the distance between you both. "You shouldn’t be doing my work for me, Frank."

He came to a stop just in front of you, his deep brown eyes locked on yours. Loosing an amused chuckle, he bent down and grabbed the garbage bag with one hand. Effortlessly he lifted the bag up, tossing it into the dumpster beside the pair of you. His lips soon curled into a smirk, his eyes never having left yours.

"Hardly call that work," he teased. "Don't worry 'bout it. Just means I get more time having you grace me with your presence, darlin’."

You laughed lightly, the usual flood of elation you always had around Frank flooding you once again. Despite how much you’d tried to force yourself to believe nothing more would ever happen between you two, you always fell fast and hard back into your feelings whenever he was right there in front of you. It was impossible to ignore just how bad you wanted him and how much you’d grown to care for your favorite drifter when that handsome smile was on his face and directed at you.

"You know you almost missed me entirely this time," you teased back. "Cutting it real close with the end of my shift, Frank."

His head tilted to the side, his tongue darting out between his lips as he eyed you for a second. You fought the shudder that threatened to race down your spine under the weight of his stare.

"Is that right?" he murmured, the deep rumble of his voice raising goosebumps along your arms. "Glad I didn't get held up any longer then. Would have been a damn shame showin' up here without you brightenin' my day."

"Ever the smooth talker," you replied, nudging his solid arm with your elbow as you stepped past him and towards the kitchen door.

"Just being honest, sweetheart," he called after you.

Biting back the smile on your face, you pulled open the door and stepped back inside the diner. Kim stopped mid-sentence in her conversation with Jimmy the moment the door opened, her eyes shifting towards you. When she saw the look on your face, her own face lit up into something mischievous.

"Your man finally back in?" she asked, gesturing a hand to your face. "That why you're smiling so wide?"

"He's not my man," you corrected her, cheeks burning. "But yeah. He's here."

Making your way over to the sink, you turned on the faucet and began washing your hands. Kim made her way over, bumping her hip into yours as you lathered your hands with soap. Glancing over at her, you shot her a questioning brow.

“When are you going to actually do something about him always coming in here for you?” she asked.

“I don’t think he wants me to do anything about it,” you replied, rinsing your hands under the faucet. “It’s been how many months of constant flirting. He’s never done anything more than that. And he’s not here for me, he’s here for the food.”

“Nearly broke that asshole's arm the other week for you,” Jimmy called out from beside the stove.

“Okay,” you agreed, grabbing a nearby towel and drying your hands along it. “But that guy was an asshole and he had it coming. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“He only ever comes in during your shift,” Kim pointed out. “He’s never come in during mine. Only times I’ve seen him here is when you’re working. But,” she continued, that mischievous glint returning to her eyes, “I can always play matchmaker.”

Removing your hand from the towel you’d been drying it on, you pointed a firm finger at Kim. She cocked an eyebrow in a challenge at you in return.

“Don’t go making things weird,” you warned her. “I have no idea what the hell is or isn’t going on between us, but I don’t want you scaring him off before I ever have a chance to find out.”

You hung the towel back up on the hook on the wall before turning, heading towards the door that led out to the diner. From behind you, you heard Kim calling out after you.

“Better make a move before I do then!”

You flipped her off as you made your way out of the kitchen, the sound of her laughter following after you. Though the moment you spotted Frank sitting in his usual booth, you lowered your hand back to your side and hesitated. He’d turned towards you a bit in the seat the moment his eyes caught yours, his teeth biting at his bottom lip as that sexy smile of his pulled the corners of his mouth upwards. It took you a few seconds to manage to stop staring at him, blinking rapidly a few times as your feet finally carried you over towards his booth. Frank’s grin only seemed to spread wider, having noticed you staring at him. That had your face burning as you approached him.

“What can I get you this time, Frank?” you asked when you reached his table.

He leaned back in the booth, his thumbnail slipping between his teeth as he grinned back at you. Eyes dropping down to those lips of his, you felt something stirring within you. What would that mouth feel like on yours? Trailing kisses down your neck? Making their way towards the place that was currently aching for him as he sat there?

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you did your best to focus back on his eyes. You needed to stop thinking about that. At least until your shift finished and you could go home and deal with that growing heat between your thighs.

“Besides your company?” he asked, one dark brow rising up onto his forehead. “How ‘bout a stack of pancakes and a side of bacon.”

“Always with the pancakes,” you teased.

“What can I say?” he replied, shooting you a wink. “I like what I like.”

You couldn’t fight the grin that slipped across your lips at his words–and goddamn was he always good with them.

“I’ll go put in the order,” you told him. Gesturing your hand at his empty coffee mug you asked, “You want me to fill that?”

He nodded once, his eyes never leaving you. “Yes ma’am,” he answered. “Been a long night, I could certainly use some.”

“I’ll get right on that,” you told him, turning back towards the kitchen.

You managed to take one step before you heard Frank behind you. At the sound of one of those pet names of his for you coming out in that near purr of a voice of his, you nearly died on the spot.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

That voice of his did something to you every damn time he came in here.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Eyes focused on your feet, you headed over towards your car, entirely aware of Frank’s presence just at your side. He was admittedly impossible to ignore to begin with, but with the way he was walking so close to you, his hand kept occasionally brushing against yours. It had become an actual struggle for you to refrain from trying to just grab it each time it did.

“First time you’ve walked me to my car,” you said, breaking the silence.

“Well usually you’re still workin’ when I leave,” he pointed out. “Otherwise I would’ve. Gladly.”

His hand bumped up against yours again and your eyes briefly closed, that urge to just grab it washing over you again. Exhaling a breath, you opened your eyes and saw that you were just beside your car. Coming to a stop, Frank came to one with you.

“This is me,” you said lamely, gesturing a hand at the car.

He nodded back at you, his hands returning to the pockets of his coat. Another little silence fell between the pair of you and you awkwardly hugged your arms over your chest. Did you just say goodbye now? Except Frank hadn’t made an attempt to leave. Instead, his eyes narrowed at you as his brows pinched together in what looked like thought. Nerves began to shake loose in your stomach, causing it to knot together. Normally Frank wasn’t so quiet and pensive around you.

“Can I tell you somethin’?” he asked suddenly.

Your heart nearly skipped a beat in your chest at his question. “Yeah,” you answered, nodding. “Of course.”

Frank ducked his head, shuffling his boots along the pavement. He almost looked nervous right now which only made you more curious.

“I knew you were finishing your shift soon when I showed up,” he admitted. “Truth is, I came here hoping you’d…maybe want to grab a cup of coffee somewhere afterwards?”

Your mouth dropped open in surprise at his question. You had not been expecting it despite the months of flirting. Frank glanced back up at you, his head still partially ducked down as something almost timid and nervous overtook his expression. You’d never seen him quite like this.

And did he really just ask you out?

Before you even had a just to respond he pulled a face, shaking his head. A frown settled on your lips, your brows partially drawing together in confusion at the abrupt shift in his mood.

“You know what? Nevermind, I shouldn’t have asked,” he said quickly, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m sure you’re tired and don’t want to grab coffee with some–some strange guy that shows up every few days at your diner.”

“Or you could come have coffee at my place,” you blurted.

Frank stiffened in front of you, his eyes landing back on yours. He stood there staring at you for such a long time that you’d almost backpedaled the offer, thinking you’d gone too far. Should you not have offered that? Was that not what he wanted?

“Yeah?” he asked curiously, his brows briefly drawing together.

Nodding quickly, you hummed out an affirmative. “Yeah,” you answered. “You uh, you can just follow my car?” You gestured a hand down the road. “I’m in a duplex just a few streets over. It’s–it’s not far. If you want, I mean. You certainly don’t–”

“I’d like that,” he said, cutting you off.

“Okay,” you breathed out, nervous excitement coursing through you. Gesturing your thumb at your car you said, “I’ll just…lead the way?”

The grin slowly returned to Frank’s face as he nodded his head once. “Lead the way, darlin’,” he said.

Mouth suddenly feeling dry, you made your way over to the driver’s side of your car. As you began to get in, you could hear Frank opening the door to his van nearby. Another wash of nerves shot through you. You couldn’t believe this was finally happening. Frank was actually coming over to your place. And you were pretty certain he was coming over for the same reason you’d invited him, which only had you feeling even more nervous. It had been months of you wondering if this time would either be the last time you saw him, or the time something more happened.

Apparently today was the day something more happened.

Starting up your car, you waited for Frank to start up his van before you’d finally pulled out of the diner’s lot. The drive back to your place was short, just as you’d told him it would be. It had taken only a few minutes for the both of you to get there, and by the time you were trying to unlock your front door with Frank just at your back, your hands were already shaking.

Opening the door, you stepped inside and quickly surveyed the state of your place. The blanket was neatly folded on the back of your couch, your books mostly picked up and put away on the bookshelves. Thankfully your place wasn’t in disarray and you were grateful for having recently done the dishes so your sink wasn’t currently piled embarrassingly high.

“So this is your place, huh?” Frank asked, stepping inside.

Closing the front door after him, you glanced over to where he had stopped. He was standing in your living room, scanning the framed photos on the wall with a smile on his face. It was in that moment that the reality of the situation was beginning to really settle in on you with the sight of him standing here in your space. You’d only ever seen him in the diner before.

“Yeah,” you replied softly, slipping your shoes off your aching feet. “It’s nothing extravagant. Don’t really make that much being a waitress, after all.”

Frank’s attention shifted from the photos, his eyes scanning the living room and what he could see of the kitchen with an approving nod. “I like it,” he said, glancing back at you with a smile. “Suits you.”

“Thanks,” you muttered. Clearing your throat, you gestured a hand towards the kitchen. “Do you, uh, want me to get a pot of coffee brewing?”

“If you’d like,” he replied.

You nodded, your hands fidgeting together as you took a step towards the kitchen, but you stopped a second later, hesitating. Looking back over your shoulder at his curious face, you nervously chewed your lip.

“Sorry, I–I don’t usually do this,” you confessed.

“Neither do I,” Frank told you.

You laughed nervously, eyes dropping down to the worn and faded wood floor of your living room. Soon Frank’s black boots came into your line of sight, your eyes immediately drawn towards them. And then you felt Frank’s fingers lightly gripping your chin, tilting your face back up towards his. You nearly stopped breathing when your eyes met his.

“Can I tell you somethin’ else?” Frank asked.

“Mhmm,” you hummed back.

His eyes searched back and forth between yours for a moment, his fingers still gently gripping your chin. Your breath was starting to come in faster the longer he remained touching you, your own gaze dropping down towards his lips. They were currently pressed together as if he was struggling to just say what he wanted to.

"I only ever stop into that diner for you," Frank finally admitted. "Sometimes I–I even go outta my way just to stop in and see you."

A soft, surprised gasp fell out of you in response. You'd always assumed he came for the food and because he was often on the interstate nearby. You figured the flirting was just something he did because he was there and you returned it. You'd had no idea you were the only reason he kept showing up for months on end.

“Never thought you’d want something more,” Frank continued. “With me, I mean. Always figured you probably had someone.”

“I don’t,” you breathed out instantly, shaking your head.

The corner of his lip briefly twitched upwards. Readjusting his grip on your chin, you felt the calloused pad of his thumb brush your bottom lip. Almost immediately you took a step towards him, breath still coming in faster. The way he was just staring at you had you feeling lightheaded.

“You sure ‘bout this?” he asked, thumb sliding across your bottom lip. “We don’t have to.”

“I’ve barely thought about anything else for months,” you whispered.

The muscles jumped along his cheeks at your admission, his thumb pausing its movement across your bottom lip. Something like surprise glinted back at you in his eyes for just a brief second. But then his fingers released your chin, his large hand instead cupping your cheek and tilting your face further towards his as he stepped into you, closing the remaining space between your bodies. You could feel the heat of him warming up the front of you, the edge of his jacket brushing against your stomach.

Nervously your hands rose from your sides, landing on his firm chest just over that thick jacket of his. Your gaze held his, noticing the way the corners of his eyes twitched ever so slightly at your touch. A sharp exhale fell out of him next, his nostrils flaring, and your hands soon balled into fists against his chest. The anticipation of what happened next was killing you right now.

Almost as if in slow motion, you watched his focus gradually shift down towards your lips. Your heart was racing as if you’d run a marathon, pounding erratically in your chest as you silently begged him to just kiss you. Slowly, Frank finally leaned forward towards you and your eyes fluttered shut. The moment his lips touched yours, you melted into him.

The kiss was gentle and hesitant; you could feel the way Frank was holding back. And his lips–fuck, his lips–they were as soft and warm as you’d always imagined. He tasted sweet like the syrup and pancakes he’d just been eating at the diner. But he pulled away from you far too soon.

Eyes flying back open, you saw Frank’s face just inches from yours. His eyes were on you, searching your face as if he was looking for further permission. Knowing that he wanted this, too, that last bit of nerves quickly faded from you. Hands sliding their way up his chest, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him straight into you, pressing yourself to the front of him before you connected your mouths again. This time, Frank wasn’t so hesitant.

His tongue sensually slid along the length of your lower lip, warm and wet. You moaned at the feel of it, unable to fight the sound down. Taking the opportunity, he slipped his tongue inside your mouth, languidly lapping against yours. A burst of pleasure raced through you, your hands sliding up the back of his neck, fingers desperately trying to grasp at his short hair.

As he kissed you, his tongue still taking its time exploring your mouth, his hand made its way to cradle the back of your head as he held you more firmly to him. You were struggling to breathe with the assault he had on your mouth, your nails lightly scratching along his scalp as your thighs pressed together in search of friction. That warm, wet heat was building between them the longer he kissed you like this.

And you needed more.

Reluctantly breaking away from his mouth, you were nearly gasping for air. Frank’s chest heaved as he glanced down at you questioningly, his own breath coming in hard and fast. Wordlessly you unwrapped your arms from his neck, one of your hands undoing the zipper of his jacket. Then you reached up, pushing the coat from off of him as he stood there, watching you.

You threw his jacket across the room towards your couch, and when you glanced back up to meet his eyes again, that questioning look had vanished from them. Reaching down, your hand clasped onto one of his large ones before you turned, heading through your living room and down the hall towards your bedroom. Frank willingly and silently followed after you.

When you’d led him to your bedroom, you released his hand and took a few steps backwards from him. Frank stood there, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watched you slip out of your jacket before tossing it onto the floor. You grabbed the hem of your shirt afterwards, pulling it up and over your head before discarding it on the floor beside your jacket, your eyes still locked on Frank’s. Silently, his own hands grabbed the hem of his black long sleeve shirt, effortlessly pulling it up and removing it in one swift motion before he tossed it aside.

As he began to kick off his boots, each one landing with a gentle thud along your floor, your eyes traveled across the expanse of his muscled torso. He was thicker and more defined than your imagination had ever pictured him being. Undoing the button of your jeans, your tongue ran along the back of your teeth as you itched to touch all of his bare skin. Sliding your jeans down your legs, Frank began to unbuckle his belt, the clink of metal causing your jaw to tighten.

Undoing your bra next, you watched as Frank’s eyes dropped down to your breasts the moment they were no longer covered, his fingers unzipping his jeans before he pushed them down his own legs. Breath coming in shallow, you could feel that dampness in your underwear before you even reached down to remove them. The pair of you had barely done more than kiss, yet you were completely aroused. You wanted him. And judging by the large bulge in his dark boxers, he felt the same.

You couldn’t help but to stare when he’d slipped his boxers from off of himself, either. Bottom lip rolling between your teeth, a soft whine left you at the sight of him. He was so thick and long, your cunt throbbed in desperation at the sight. Taking a step forward, your eyes still focused on his erect cock, you had every intention of falling to your knees and taking him into your mouth, but Frank’s voice broke the silence.

“On the bed, sweetheart,” he ordered.

Eyes rising up to his face, you stopped mid-step. There was a grin on his lips as he gestured his head towards your bed.

“Go on,” he urged. “You been takin’ care of me all these months. ‘Bout time I repay the favor.”

Legs trembling slightly at the prospect of what he meant by that, you turned and made your way over to your bed. Climbing up onto it, you made your way towards the top of it before you turned back around. Frank was already kneeling just behind you on the mattress, watching as you laid down along it. His large hands landed on your thighs, sensually dragging their way up the length of them. Goosebumps rippled across your skin at the touch of his warm, rough hands on you, the heat of them lingering long after he’d touched you.

“Gonna take real good care of you, sweetheart,” Frank murmured.

A ripple of excitement shot through you at his words as he lowered down to the bed before you, his eyes locked on yours. One of his large hands slipped underneath your left knee, raising your leg from the bed just a bit. A second later Frank’s face turned and he began trailing open-mouthed kisses up the length of your inner thigh. It felt so damn good that you couldn’t resist the resulting moan that slipped out between your lips as you watched him. His other hand slid over your stomach, holding you to the bed when your hips began to buck the higher up his mouth went.

Lowering your leg back to the bed, he turned his attention to your other thigh. Your hips struggled beneath his strong arm that was holding you still as he began to trail those same delicious open-mouthed kisses up the length of that thigh next. Your hands gripped the bedsheets, curling them into your fists when he finally reached your cunt. The tip of his tongue just ever so lightly grazed the length of you and you lost it.

“Fuck, Frank,” you whined, voice so high and needy you didn’t even recognize it.

Frank chuckled, his hot breath washing over your aching cunt as he did. You squirmed along the bed at the feel of it, your eyes snapping shut as an overwhelming need for him took over you.

“We’re gettin’ to that, sweetheart,” he teased. “Just gimme a minute.”

You felt one of his fingers slip between your dampened folds, his hot breath still washing over you as he gradually ran his fingertip back and forth through your slick. Eyes opening, you focused on him between your thighs. He looked content positioned there, naked and relaxed as he began to tease your entrance with his finger. You sucked in a sharp breath the moment the tip of it dipped inside of you, the sound drawing his eyes up to your face. He smiled back at you, gradually plunging the entire digit into your cunt as he did. You groaned out, head dropping back onto the pillow behind you.

“That’s it,” he praised, his voice sending a shudder through you. “Just like that. Already so wet for me.”

“Fuck,” you whimpered.

He slowly fucked you with his middle finger, his eyes on you for a few moments as he watched you pant and gasp above him. But after a few pumps of his finger into you, he gradually lowered his mouth to your clit and began gently circling the tip of his tongue along the sensitive bud. A jolt of pleasure raced up your spine the second his tongue touched you and your back arched along the bed. His arm was still slung low over your stomach, keeping you firmly pressed to the bed and allowing him to continue the delicate ministrations of his tongue. Though the moment he slipped another of his thick fingers inside of you, picking up the pace of them as they continued to pump in and out over and over, you cried out. Everything he was doing felt so fucking good that you could already feel your climax nearing. Releasing your hold on the bedsheets, one of your hands flew to the longer dark hairs on the top of his head, gripping a handful of it in your fist.

“Thatta girl,” Frank murmured against you, his lips brushing your clit as he spoke. “I got you. Go on.”

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath. “So close, Frank.”

“That’s it, good girl,” he murmured.

Clamping your eyes shut tighter, you felt that crest of your climax about to wash over you. His fucking voice saying things like that in that husky tone of his, while his fingers were deliciously curling deep inside of you with each and every thrust, was about to send you straight over the edge. And when he’d returned his mouth to you, he’d begun to suck your clit into those plump lips of his so perfectly that your eyes rolled back behind your closed lids, the rough scratch of his stubble against your skin pushing you closer to your peak.

“Oh, fuck, Frank–yes,” you breathed out.

Hand fisting his dark hair tighter in your grip, your head rolled back along the pillow. You felt that knot in your gut about to loosen as your back steadily arched off of the bed, breath coming in harder. When he abruptly thrust those two thick fingers of his inside of you so sharply he hit that spot deep inside of you just right, you cried his name out through your bedroom. A warm wash of pleasure flooded your body as Frank continued to work you through your release, his fingers still pumping into you while his mouth continued to eagerly suck your fast-becoming overly sensitive clit.

It was a moment before his lips released you, your body feeling weightless as you sunk into the mattress. Frank gradually slipped his fingers out from inside of you with a soft, wet sound. Your eyes shot open a second later when you felt his tongue lapping up everything that had spilled out of you. A pleased hum vibrated in your throat as you watched him between your thighs, your hand loosening its grip on his hair as you carded your fingers through the short strands.

Eventually he pulled away from you, sitting back on the bed as his tongue ran along his lips. You could see them glistening from your slick in the morning light sneaking in through your closed blinds. Inevitably your eyes dropped down to his still erect cock as he sat between your damp thighs; the tip of it was wet with pre-cum. Your cunt clenched at the sight, desperate to feel him inside of you already.

Pushing yourself upright on the bed, unable to wait any longer, you rose up onto your knees. Frank chuckled when your hands landed on his shoulders and gently pushed him towards the mattress. You grinned at the warm sound but were pleased when he allowed you to push him down to the bed on his back.

“Someone’s eager,” Frank muttered.

“Mmm, someone made me wait almost six months for this,” you replied, throwing a leg over his hips as you straddled his waist. “And now I’m tired of waiting. Aren’t you?”

Frank’s teeth clamped down on his lip, both of his hands landing on your hips as he gave them a squeeze. His eyes were on yours, a warm glint in them that had your heart stuttering at the sight.

“S’pose it has been that long, huh?” he mused, his head playfully cocking to the side. “Want me to grab a condom first, though, sweetheart?”

You shook your head, eyes still on his. “Not unless you want to,” you answered. “I’m on the pill. Haven’t been with anyone in a bit, either,” you admitted.

“Neither have I,” Frank told you.

You gripped the hard length of him, your hand stroking up and down him once while reveling at the soft hiss of pleasure he emitted when you did. Humming out a pleased noise yourself, you lined him up with your entrance and very slowly sunk down onto him. But he was so thick that your eyes immediately snapped shut and both of your hands flew forward, landing on his chest with your nails biting into his skin. You’d just barely managed to get the head of him inside of you before you’d needed to pause, giving your cunt a moment to adjust to the pleasant stretch of him filling you. You weren’t sure if he was just that big or if it had just been that long since you’d last been with someone.

Frank’s hands slipped around to your back, both of his large, warm palms gliding up and down your bare skin. The hairs along your forearms rose at the sensation and the tenderness of his touch.

“Take your time,” he urged. “Feels so goddamn good already, sweetheart.”

Something like a moan vibrated in your throat at his praise, your eyelids fluttering open. Frank was gazing up at you from the bed, a warmth in his eyes again. His hands were still running soothingly along your back, steadily drawing more goosebumps along your skin with each pass.

Slowly, you sunk just a bit further down on his cock, your gaze holding his. A soft gasp fell out of you as you continued to lower onto him until the entirety of Frank was sheathed inside of you. Nails still biting into his chest, you couldn’t fight the pleased groan rolling up and out of your mouth at the feel of him so wholly filling you. You swore you could almost feel him up to your ribcage even though you knew that wasn’t logical.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he murmured, pulling you down towards him with the hands he had on your back. “That’s my girl.”

A faint whine slipped from your lips just before Frank connected his mouth to yours. Your mind quickly grew blank as your lips met his over and over. It wasn’t until your cunt tightened in need that you remembered he was still inside of you. Gradually rolling your hips back until only the tip of him was inside of you, you carefully thrust your hips forward again until he’d once again filled you. A pleasant sting shot its way up your spine and you broke away from his mouth, crying out at the unexpected jolt of pleasure when he hit just the right spot. Frank’s fingers roughly dug into your back, his blunt nails scratching along the expanse of it as he urged you on. Obliging his silent request, you began to move your hips.

At first your pace started slow as you adjusted to the position and the stretch of him inside of you. Though it wasn’t long before your pace began to speed up, Frank’s grunts beneath you reaching your ears and further encouraging your movements. Soon his own hips began to eagerly fuck up into you, matching your pace as you continued to sensually rock into him repeatedly.

Frank’s mouth was at your ear, his tongue swirling around your earlobe as your breasts pressed into his chest. Your fingers were digging into his broad, muscular shoulders as you tried to keep yourself steady while you continued to ride him on your bed, your breath becoming loud and sharp as it mingled with his in the bedroom. When Frank’s mouth lowered to the pulse point on your neck, sucking a patch of skin into his mouth and running his tongue along it, your cunt tightened around his cock as your hips jerked against his.

“Frank,” you moaned. “So good. Feels so good.”

One of his large hands made its slow descent all the way towards your ass, his fingertips dragging down the length of your spine as they went. He palmed your ass roughly when he reached it, a whimper slipping out of you. Soon after he was gipping it firmly and using it to guide your hips a bit faster as he continued to thrust himself up into you. With the way both of your hips were moving now, Frank’s cock continually hit that delicious spot inside of you that repeatedly sent a shockwave of pleasure racing up your spine every single time he bottomed out inside of you. You were so close to cumming again that your mouth lowered to his left pectoral and your teeth clamped down on it, not a single other thought in your mind but how close you were to your release.

“Yeah, there you go, sweetheart,” Frank breathed out beside your ear, his voice strained as he spoke. “Let go for me again. That’s it. Just like that.”

You whined at the sound of his soothing voice beside your ear, your cunt tightening around his cock. With his heavy grunts and panting breaths filling your bedroom, his hard body flush to the front of yours, and his cock continually barreling right on into you, you inevitably hit your peak once more. Teeth releasing the bit of muscle you’d bit along his chest, your head rolled back over your shoulders as a long moan loosed itself from inside of you.

The sound of it only caused Frank’s hand to grip your ass even more firmly, his other arm wrapping around your back like a vice as he held you to himself. And then he began roughly thrusting up into you, loud grunts further filling your bedroom as he chased after his own peak. Your eyes had rolled back yet again behind your closed eyelids, your hips struggling to match his pace until you’d finally felt his own stuttering beneath you. A moment later you felt his warm release inside of you, a deep, gravelly moan falling from between his lips and sending a shudder down your spine as Frank came inside of you. He thrust up into you a handful more times before his hips finally stilled beneath you.

As you both slowly came back to yourselves, you slipped his cock out from inside of you before collapsing on top of him, spent and flushed as your cheek rested on his chest. Frank’s hands began affectionately running along the naked expanse of your back, the feel of his fingertips dancing along your skin almost tickling you as they moved. For a few minutes both of you lay there, breathing hard and trying to catch your breath without a word.

“‘Bout damn time that happened,” you said, breaking the silence.

Beneath you, Frank laughed lightly, the sound drawing a smile to your lips. You rocked a little at the movement from your place along his chest, never having felt more content than you did in that moment.

“Not wrong there, sweetheart,” he agreed.

One of your hands began absently tracing patterns along his bare skin just beside your face. Bottom lip slipping between your teeth, you gathered the courage to ask him what was quickly becoming the focus on your mind.

“So…what’s this mean now?” you asked carefully. “Are you…going to just disappear on me again in a few minutes?”

“You want me to?” Frank asked.

Shifting your head on his chest, you turned until you could glance up at his face, your chin resting against him. “No,” you whispered. “I don’t.”

A smile tugged at his lips as he gazed down at you, his hands still roaming along your back.

“Then I won’t disappear on you in a few minutes,” he promised you.

“Do you–” you paused, eyes nervously dropping down to where your fingers were still tracing patterns on his chest, “–you maybe want to stay for a bit? Clean up and–and get some sleep? And maybe I could…make us some dinner later? Unless you can’t stay that long.”

“I can stay,” Frank stated, that smile still on his face.

“Yeah?” you asked hopefully, brows rising onto your forehead.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I’d like that.”

You grinned, lowering your head back to his chest. Turning just a bit, you pressed a lingering kiss to the skin beside your mouth. Frank hummed out a contented noise above you, the sound only growing your grin.

“You know,” you whispered coyly, “now that you know where I live, you don’t have to always stop by the diner just to see me.”

“That right?” he asked.

“Mhmm,” you hummed out. “Maybe you could actually stop by to see me here. On purpose.” Your tongue ran along your bottom lip, your eyes still focused on the absent movements of your fingers on his chest. “And maybe you could actually call me first because you have my number.”

Frank chuckled beneath you, his arms wrapping around you tightly. A moment later you felt his lips placing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Think I like the sound of that, sweetheart,” he told you, glancing back down at you.

“Is that right?” you said, shooting him a teasing grin.

A bark of laughter flew out of Frank, the sound causing you to join in with him. He looked more handsome with the way his face was lit up right now, the largest smile you’d ever seen on his face seemingly permanently residing on it right now. And in that moment, lying in your bed laughing with him, your eyes locked on each other’s, one thought ran through your mind.

All those months of waiting for this moment with him had been worth it.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle smut #frank castle #the punisher #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fluff

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hyukalyptus · 7 months

Text

focus on me — yeonjun x fem!reader | besties to lovers. NSFW/MDNI!

cw. reader has a vagina/clit, cunnilingus, hair pulling, pet names (love, babe, baby), nipple play, kinda emotional and sensual (not angsty), kinda cringe but whatever, yeonjun kinda guides reader lol notes. my first lil fic on my new blog! for those of you finding this in the tags, this is bibibinnie! i had to make a new blog, but it's me! it probably would've made more sense for my first post back to be kai related but oh well, i'll get em next time. anyway- this is supposed to be a really slow, sensual, romantic-ish smut. i hope y'all like it. smut under cut! wc. 1.2K

“I’m nervous…” you trail off, closing your legs, but his hand still caresses your hip.

“Love—” he says, his smile dropping at the sight of the awkward expression on your face. “Can I call you that?” You nod, ensuring to smile because, well, the nickname does warm your tummy. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I want to though.”

Your name falls out of his mouth in a whisper, “I’m not doing anything unless you’re one hundred percent sure.” It was a fair point. You’ve been best friends for forever and feelings, while they grew over time, all seemed to make themselves known so suddenly this evening during a typical friend date.

“Yeonjun,” you sit up straight, using your elbows for support. “I’m one thousand percent sure. It’s just—I’m nervous. You know I’m shy…and it’s a lot of pressure—”

“If you feel like I’m pressuring you, then I don’t—”

“Nonono, you’re not pressuring me at all,” you say, relief written all over his face. “It’s just a lot of pressure to…y’know…make you feel good too.”

“Oh,” he chuckles. “I will. Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, but—”

“I was going down on you, love. I just wanna taste you—actually, I wanna make you feel good. That’s all I care about.” Looking down at him, he has the cutest smile on his face and you can’t help but return the smile back. “Yeah?”

“Listen to me, okay?” You nod. “I want you to really feel me.” Ghosts of fingertips brush against the inside of your thighs. The most delicate of kisses placed right at the top of your thighs. “Close your eyes,” he says. Following his instructions, you let your lids fall closed, laying your head down on your pillow. “And just feel me, baby.”

The smallest prod at your wet center makes your heart race, waking your entire body up, your pussy clenching around his fingertip. He’s simply gathering your wetness to softly slide between your lips. Just barely missing your clit, your hips roll with his finger.

When he finally does rub against your clit, though, you gasp, reaching for his hair, but, “No,” he halts. “Don’t touch me. Feel me. Feel how I’m making you feel.”

“But—” your chest rises and falls with your breaths.

“No,” he shakes his head. “Arms at your sides.” Your body rolls again. “Feel it all in your body. Pay attention to your toes…your fingertips…your chest…everything.”

Woah. This is definitely something new for you—someone so focused on your pleasure and your pleasure alone. And it’s magical to say the least.

Something new finds its way to your clit—his tongue. He glides it devastatingly slow across you and you gasp again, earning a nice low groan from him. “Feel good?” You nod. He’s talking to you, tongue replaced by his thumb. “Control your body. Take deep breaths, focus on me, love.”

“Fuck, Yeonjun…” is really all you can make out, drawing a chuckle from him.

“Feel the difference between this…” he flicks his tongue over your clit delicately and slowly, sending shivers down your spine. “And this—” then he glides his wet lips over your sensitive bud, a completely new feeling to you, forcing you to buck your hips up into his mouth. “Breathe,” he whispers before gently sucking, releasing you with a wet pop.

This is just so…you don’t know what to think. He’s making you pay attention, making you feel everything, making you feel things you’ve never felt before. The way your muscles react to his movements, how heavy you’re breathing, the spinning in your head.

“I feel those goosebumps,” he chuckles, his tongue continuously flicking your clit while his hands graze your bare thighs. “Feel how the air feels on your skin.” You’re noticing more and more things—you can feel the hardness of your nipples without touching them, sweat dampening your back, his nails barely digging into your squishy thighs. “God, you’re delicious.”

Your pussy flutters with his words. And for a moment, his tactic changes—he’s just tasting for himself for a bit. It’s no longer slow and delicate, it’s deep and intense. But when your fingers find his hair, it wakes him back up and he slows back down. And it’s absolutely delicious.

Everything is heightened—you’re hyper aware of everything—how your toes barely wiggle, your pussy barely fluttering, how trapped your tits feel in your bra.

“Stop—” you blurt and he stops immediately, asking what’s wrong with a worried face. “Sorry, I just need to take my bra off,” you chuckle with an eye roll before quickly slipping it off from under your shirt, keeping them covered by your thin t-shirt. “Continue.” He’s hesitant, eying you up and down.

“Can I?” He asks, tilting his head toward your chest; you answer with a simple nod. He keeps his fingertips on your clit, continuing to rub gentle circles as he delicately lifts your shirt past your tits. And his reaction is everything. Eyebrows stitched together in relief, mouth dropping open at how gorgeous you are, a hungry look on his face. But he follows his own advice. He controls himself, taking deep breaths before placing soft kisses on the sensitive skin under your breast, finishing it off with some licks. “Keep your eyes closed, love.”

You nod, letting your head fall back again, taking deep breaths.

“Feel this?” The tip of his tongue finally glides over your hard nipple and you gasp again, rolling your body. He flicks and sucks your nipples so fucking well. And— “Can I bite them a little?” Nodding furiously, you can’t wait to feel that little sting of his teeth. And oh does it feel amazing. Two fingers inside of you, his thumb on your clit, tongue and teeth on your nipples.

“Yeonjun—” your breath is heavy. “I’m gonna cum.” He halts.

“Breathe,” he whispers, lips peppering kisses all over your tummy as he makes his way back down. “Hold it for a bit. Don’t focus on cumming,” he places another wet kiss to your inner thigh. “Focus on feeling me.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Babe, I want you to focus on feeling your orgasm,” he says, making you chuckle.

“Of course I’ll feel it.”

“Just pay closer attention to how it feels this time.” Switching positions of his tongue and thumb, he wanted to make sure you came in his mouth but your nipples weren’t ignored. And you can hardly bear it. Everything simply feels incredible and you’ve never been made so aware of your body before.

The wetness of his tongue flicking your clit. The length of his fingers pumping in and out of your cunt. The deliciousness of his thumb and finger playing with your nipple.

“Jjun, please—” He knows what you’re asking. And he’s finally nodding, letting you let yourself go, cumming hard against his mouth. Your clit pulsates against your tongue, your back arches with bliss and euphoria, and your moans are the prettiest he’s ever heard in his life.

And you listened to his instructions. You took the time to feel every last bit of your orgasm and you noticed things you’d never noticed before…wiggling toes, contracting muscles, breathy sighs.

It takes a bit for you to come to your senses after coming down from your high, but you’re greeted with the smuggest smile on his face.

“Fuck.”

“Damn, you’re so fucking hot when you cum.”

#hp's writing 🪲#yeonjun smut #yeonjun hard thoughts #yeonjun hard hours #yeonjun #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #yeonjun fic #yeonjun fanfic #yeonjun ff #txt fic #txt fanfic #txt ff #fem!reader #kpop fic #kpop ff #kpop fanfic

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chuuyasheaven · 8 months

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keep listening to the voices

“—Don’t act like you didn’t see this coming, ‘donna.”

“Today was really stressful for him, so he was happy to finally just find peace in you. But in those thigh highs you were wearing, he took it way too literally. .”

Tags: Dazai Osamu / afab! Reader, slight chubby! Reader, thicc thighs, feral! Dazai, rough sex, oral (afab! recieving), dacryphilia, fingering, praising kink, degrading kink, overstimulation, pet names, might contain grammar errors, kinda rushed, kinda cringe?, jus’ a drabble, etc.

Notes: Damn, y’all really are encouraging my voices, aren’t you? Filthy fucks. . .(enjoy anyway lmao)

There are rare days where Dazai actually does his work, which is usually a lot, in those days, he returns home annoyed and stressed. Another thing is, that he seeks your comfort. But this time, he changed his plans.

Why? You should know, seriously. Since you’re kinda chubby, you have thick thighs. The thighs that Dazai loves so much, especially when they’re in thigh highs. The reason’s pretty obvious, he loves how the slightly flow over them.

Whenever you’re in those, he either eats you out or fucks you really good. Bonus if you wear his shirt without anything but panties. But what if you combine those with a stressed Dazai? Well, you can find out yourself.

Right after he came through that door, looking for you, and saw you in his shirt and thigh highs? He absolutely lost control and became feral. So instead of just either eating you out or fuck you rough, he combined those too.

Ever since he came home, he already ate you out once, but didn’t stop after that. Dazai kept on going as if he starved himself. “. . Ah! D–dazai, please. .”, you whimpered for him to hear, he lifted his head to smirk at you. “Y’know, if you keep moaning my name like this I won’t stop anytime soon, ‘donna.”, Dazai teased you before returning to your wet folds. You threw your head back as his warm breath hit your cunt, you covered your mouth to refrain any further moan. He didn’t like that, to say the least.

As an solution, Dazai lifted himself slightly once more to level your thighs, looking at them as he gently kissed them. Those kisses turned into gentle bites, especially on places where he knew you were sensitive.

Still no sound coming from you, he just got back to your pussy, this time, he replaced his tongue with his talented fingers. With those fingers, he reached your sweet spot, the spot that always made you reach high notes. “. .F–fuck!”, you muttered under your breath, loud enough for him to hear.

“There we go,”, Dazai claimed proudly. You tried to muffle your moans again, but this, Dazai didn’t let you. As he started to finger you more aggressively, hitting your spot perfectly. That’s when your noises were being heard again, also when your second orgasm came.

While you tried to calm down from all this overstimulation, Dazai already has got to take you. Your eyes flew open as you felt him inside of your cunt, feeling the overstimulation again. He immediately started to pound into you, but not really gentle either.

You could really tell he had a shitty day, Dazai was grunting under his breaths, his grip on your hips hardened to probably leave some marks on it later on. “S–so good for me. . Such a good slut f’me, aren’t you, princess?”, Dazai slurred panting.

“O–osamu, please— ah!. .sensitive!”, you tried to tell him but he didn’t really listen to your whines. “Just b–be quiet. . ,”, left his grunting mouth, “. .Wrap your legs around me, now.”, he ordered you. When your legs wrapped around his waist, he hit deeper inside of you because of the new position.

With this new angle, you were moaning louder than before, which made Dazai even more aggressive with his pounding. “That’s right, let everyone know h–how good I fuck you— s–shit. .”, you felt your next high arriving, your cunt made that clear.

Before you even knew it, it already washed over you and you gushed over his cock. But Dazai didn’t stop, his thrusts got even rougher than before, his tip bullying your spot repeatedly, everything felt so intense at this moment.

Dazai didn’t show any signs of stopping right now, this would be your forth orgasm. At this intense overstimulation, you felt tears threatening to spill out, they eventually did fall after a few thrusts. This just made him chuckle. “Aw, I didn’t e–even cum once but you’re crying already? What a–a greedy whore. .”

“. .‘m s–sorry, ‘Samu. .”, you slurred, not really able to tell whole sentences. “It’s a–alright, princess. .just keep taking me s–so good,”, praised you after, honestly, he found it cute how you were sobbing because of his cock. Soon, Dazai could tell he was growing close, and your fourth orgasm would be approach too.

Then, he finally came, right inside of you. You came around his cock, some flowing out around it. “. .Hah, would you look at that?”, Dazai panted while looking down on the mess you both made on your sheets. Dazai first pulled out before pushing the load back into your hole with his fingers.

“—Hm, this isn’t enough for me. .how about round five, bella?”

This is an 50/50 for me. .

#dazai smut #bungo stray dogs smut #bsd smut #dazai x reader #bsd dazai #Rei’s drabbles !! 💗

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whoishotteranimepolls · 1 month

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Fandom observation nicknames and funny tags: Part One Piece

Okay, one piece fandom it's your turn and I'm going to highlight your creativity. Again this is not meant to shame or call anyone out. I am genuinely impressed with the creativity and you guys made me laugh. So again in my opinion these were too good just to be lost in the tags or in the anonymous messages, several you sent me. So expand post at your own risk. This one is unhinged

* updated as of April 6th with more tags and new characters

I have mentioned this before, but for some reason that is beyond me. One Piece fandom you guys refer to your characters as daddy and mommy (And it's in a kinky way) way more than any fandom. I think I should just start with the list of characters that have been labeled as such before I go into the creative names for individual characters. Because trust me who makes the list and who doesn't is actually funny.

One piece Daddy's: Shanks, Mihawk, Buggy, Sir Crocodile, Benn Beckman, Killer, Sanji, Rayleigh, Roger, Doflamingo, Rosinante/Corazon, Katakuri, Ivankov, Arlong, Yamato, Marco, Izou, Smoker, Garp, Sengoku, Zeff, Kuzan/Aokiji, Kizaru, Fujitora & Akainu

When it comes to the One piece Mommy's: Nico Robin, Boa Hancock, Charlotte Smoothie, Charlotte Galette, Charlotte Amande, Vice admiral doll, Ivankov & Crocodile

Now due to popular demand the new category the One Piece Babygirls: Ace, Buggy, Sanji, Luffy, Sabo, Zoro, Ussop, Marco, Crocodile, Doflamingo, Kid, Law, Bepo, Killer, Mihawk, Shanks, Perona, Yamato, Kuzan/Aokiji, Kizaru, Fujitora, Rosinante/Corazon, Katakuri, Smoker, Robin, Nami, Vivi, Jinbe, Hatchan, Roger, Zeff

Now when it comes to individual characters there have been some interesting standouts but I'm just going to do some highlights because you guys have so many characters

Ace: "Depressed sunshine orphan boy with daddy issues", "ace has that grungy line cook riz you know he lays legendary pipe", " he got goofy older brother swag", "Beautiful butch dyke wife", "Ace my greasy fire narcoleptic king", "The narcoleptic babygirl", the greasy crusty desert rat. "He would be worth the burn risk", "my favorite fire donut"

Arlong: "Y'all are too afraid to recognize the truth too afraid of his drip, his swagger, his saw nose, to admit that he's hot also live action arlong?!?!the only sexy fishmen," "arlong looks like a toxic florida frat bro," "I legitimately think there's something wrong with me sometimes due to how bad I want arlong the rancid personality enhances the appeal,"

Akainu: "The world's next top authoritarian," magma Daddy, "He makes donuts and I still love him"

Ben Beckman: Dilf, "retirement blorbo", "Benn Beckman is a religious experience", "to me? beckman is the character with the most sex appeal ever. raw sex appeal. I would [redacted] if I met this man. just sayin", "He can ruin my life any day of the week", "Also lest we forget pre TS Beck a++ quality right there I just want someone smart who will also hit a guy with a gun is that so much to ask for", "This p**** wants what she wants and its always going to be Benn “back breaker" Beckman", husband material, "men are like wine in order to get a good vintage you want the one that's aged", he had that sexy blind and reckless loyalty about him", "Beckman is a fine aged vintage of wine as men should be", "DEAR GOD the things I WOULD DO to that man LIKE [redacted] and [redacted] because [redacted] and [redacted]", "idk how to explain it but he's so wife"

Buggy: Assigned clown at birth, walking disaster, "my pathetic sniveling wet clown", my Beloved, "he has blue hair and pronouns", Failboy, "the skrunkly clown", "my clown wife", "he has that fail boy cringe", "buggy has the stronger levels of foolishness and fumbling his way to success", "the cringefail clown extraordinaire buggy", "he is silly and pathetic like a bisexual divorced dad",

Crocodile: desert daddy, Babygirl, "He's like if tony soprano was trans", crocodaddy, crocomommy, Big titty mob boss, He's 8ft tall and I would let he ruin me,"Mr. Sandman", "the human sandcastle," "literally has sand in his britches", "son of a beach", "World's Most Expensive Sand Sculpture", "he's got 99 problems and his hook is one of them", "casino blorbo", "I would subject myself to sandburn any day for THE SIR FUCKING CROCODILE Anakin Skywalker don't go here because I WOULD love sand if it was like 8 feet tall and had a voice like that absolutely rabid he could stick his sand in so many places and I'd thank him crocodile is one of those guys i wanted to hate so bad and then went actually no i want this guy carnally Crocodile has some weird rizz goin on and i need to climb that sandcastle", "I'm so sorry but I need to eat crocodile's pussy", "With Sir Crocodile you can have Sex on the Beach. Literally. Plus he owns a casino so you could probably sip on the cocktail version too...while getting some cocktail.", "mafia vibes and style", "crocodile's got style. class. you will be wined and dined in the most exquisite way you can imagine", "He's got DADDY vibes", " One handsome mafia boss",

Dragon: "the revolutionary scrungle dragon",

Doflamingo: "Dofy's got some wierd (potentially fun) energy but he would NOT treat you well he'd be awful", "The psychopathic pimp on a shoestring budget. Seriously dude, San Diego Zoo called and they want their flamingos back. That coat is so last season.", "fashion travesty", "Doflamingo dresses like an eye test and will probably steal your credit card by the end of the night not because he needs the money. because he finds it hilarious", "Mingo is just a spoiled frat fuckboy who's too full of himself to be interested in anyone/anything else", "a balding white man", "evil florida man my beloved they dont understand you",

Fujitora: "fujitora yes plz that like calm collected way he fights makes me KNOW hed take care of his partner real good", "have you seen how he slurps his noodles? I just know he could eat me out in ways I could never imagine"

Eustass Kid: Pirate punk, "He's a sopping wet loser", "a man wearing eyeliner and nailpolish is by definition hotter", "my scrungy little fuck", he would also probably give me an STD and it would still be worth it

Franky: " Three words light up nipples"

Jinbe: "I wanna suck on the webbing between his fingers", does anyone else contemplate how soft Jinbe's tits are to lie on or is that just me?

Killer: "big tiddy murder boyfriend",

Marco: Bird daddy "Mr. Dr. Emotionally-Stable Scrungles", "surfer hippy electric blue glasses wing flapper", "DR. MMMMM", Fineapple

Luffy: "l am in the minority here I need luffy's gomu gomu no [REDACTED]"

Mihawk: The Vampire Pirate, Goth Dad, the sword father, Pirate Dracula, the big titty goth husband, "I think mihawk would treat you right. i want mihawk to treat me right", "I love his gay wine uncle energy", "I appreciate that he dresses Like That everywhere extra ass bitch", "hot vampire cowboy pirate", Morticia Addams, "Mihawk oozes 'step on me' energy",

Robin: "she has irresistible weird girl rizz", "big tiddy archaeologist gf"

Rosinante: "my insane clumsy tall dilf", "wife material", "he has cringefail dad swag", "rosi is everything to me actually. I would climb that tall clumsy king like a tree", "the klutzy mime", "he has that pathetic depressed clown vibe thats irresistible", "He's the epiome of strong but silent, he's the asshole with a heart of gold, he has everything", rosinante is hot tho and his clumsiness somehow enhances it", "I've said it before and I'll say it again I WOULD climb that clumsy king like a tall tree want to kiss him until his silly jester makeup is all over me too", "I am loyal to the guy who actively sets himself on fire",

Sanji: fail wife, Cooking Daddy, "I NEED sanji to f*** me to tuesday and make me dinner before and breakfast after", "The man will feed you the best meal you've ever had and genuinely compliment something about you", "His fighting style is 'kick the problem until it goes away' and he chugs Love Women Juice", "he can cook and fight and he's damn fine while doing both"

Shanks: Margaritaville Himbo, "Dilflicious", "the deadbeat malewife wifi user", "I am a whole lesbian but if there were a butch girl version of these men I would let shanks ruin my life", "favorite guy in the local frat" He's probably a walking STD risk but he's hot and I'm a slut that has a thing for red heads, "the unwashed bitch", "LOOK AT THAT SCRUFF ON SHANKS the three scars on his face that smile", "my Scrungle drunk bastard",

Silvers Rayleigh: "Silver Fox Rayleigh", "he's old but he can get it", "Rayleigh has that 'your daughter calls me daddy too' energy", "he's a gilf who married a literal queen", "rayleigh has spent his entire life SERVING CUNT", "Raiyleigh has that gilf energy despite having no kids", I need him in so many different ways I cannot list", "he has my heart around his little finger", "Rayleigh makes me howl like a dog I swear", "I mean come on look at his HAIR his GLASSES that incredible STARE even his wrinkles are hot", "Rayleigh got the 50 year anniversary in the bag idk why you would go for anything else", "helloooo????? Rayleigh is the hottest old guy in one piece please", "I would let rayleigh ruin me and I would thank him", "Rayleigh to me is more like a really smooth mead"

Trafalgar Law: "DR. Slut", "He has them tattoos which makes me go fucking feral", "A stoner greasy boyfailure", "the edgy emo orphan boy with daddy issues", 'My tried stressed bitch"

Zoro: "The President of the strawhat's local big titty committee", "The king of boobs", "Beautiful butch dyke wife", I would probably get an STD but it would be worth it, "his stupidity and gay attire make him very appealing", canonically the biggest tits in one piece, He got them big naturals, "Big honkabadonkaroo hoinkybadinkirs massive man tiddies Zoro", "Zoro oozes 'I won't let anyone hurt you' energy"

Zeff: "He will wine and dine me before leaving me lovingly bedridden the day after. And he actually takes care of his kid", "Zeff is honorable and can cook and clean and bathes and almost dies for a kid that's not his and then adopts him" He's got line cook energy. If you know you know

I definitely know I'm going to have to add to this since there's so many more characters and you all are definitely going to get more creative after seeing the list.

And a few observations. Why did Sanji make the daddy list and not Zoro? Characters that I thought would be short cliff notes turned into some of the longest sections And characters I thought would have some of the longest sections turned into some of the shortest ones. And I still think this was worse theyn JJK I just forget how unhinged this fandom can be because your unhinged craziness is dispersed amongst so many characters. And I haven't decided which fandom's next.

I now have my answer on why Sanji made the list and not Zoro. Overall the fandom is just thirsty so very thirsty. Hence the many updates to this list

#poll analysis #fandom trends #fandom #fandom culture #not a poll #one piece #nicknames and funny tags

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