#for their own separate reasons they just prefer to not Talk About it

[bloodblanks]

the cadence within [il dottore x reader] — chapter i.

As the daughter of a moderately wealthy businessman, you lived a comfortable but solitary life. You never thought to leave your peaceful refuge, not until one of your father’s associates—who was also your only friend—made an unexpectedly tempting offer.

co-written with noodsies, however, they’re shy and wish to stay anonymous! ♡

author's note: this fanfiction will contain mature content, including explicit sexual acts, violence, dottore himself, and similar themes.

please read at your own discretion.

<- previous chapter

Power presents itself in many different forms. Most often, those with power are thought to possess strength, intelligence, wealth, or status. However, you were not exceptionally talented in any of the above. Instead, you found yourself gifted with something much less conventional—charisma.

—

“Pantalone!” You opened the door, beaming at the raven haired man who stood before you. “Lovely seeing you here today.” You stepped back and held the door for him.

“Y/N,” Pantalone returned the smile, thick eyelashes fluttering as his eyes crinkled with joy. “The pleasure is all mine.”

He walked inside before pausing, waiting for you to push the dense mahogany door into place, making sure it locked shut. Your home was in a rather secluded location where few people passed by—much less dare intrude. Secrecy was invaluable to all of your father’s guests.

“Unfortunately,” you began, “my father is running late today, which I apologize for. But please do come in and make yourself comfortable in the meantime.”

Your father was a busy man with a full schedule, one he went out of his way to readjust for the impromptu meeting request. It would have been unreasonable to expect perfect punctuality, and the apology wasn’t necessary.

Still, you had one job, and it was to be nice.

“Nothing to apologize for,” Pantalone replied. “Your generous hospitality more than compensates for it.”

While being cordial was more of a chore with the often unpleasant and impatient businessmen your father associated with, you found Pantalone’s company an effortless task.

You weren’t sure of the exact reasons behind it, but your home was often used as a place for meetings and negotiations relating to your father’s work. You weren’t present for the discussions themselves, but you did greet and welcome every guest—something your dad was not fond of doing himself.

For someone who worked a job where conversation was important, talking was not one of your father’s strengths. Though he managed just fine when it came to business, small talk and pleasantries were burdensome activities for him, which is why you handled them instead.

It wasn’t like you particularly enjoyed talking about the weather which never deviated from cold, or listening to middle aged men complain about joint pain, but you disliked it significantly less than your dad did. If anything, you had a tendency to avoid matters of actual significance, preferring your meaningless exchanges over accountability.

Pantalone was just another one of your father’s many associates, but he visibly stood out from the rest. You didn’t know much about them, but you were confident that everyone you’ve greeted was in some way or another, a powerful dignitary.

But they were no Harbinger.

That fact alone was enough to separate Pantalone from every other person you’ve ever interacted with throughout your approximately two decades of lifespan. You didn’t know for sure, but you knew well enough that his wealth and power surpassed that of all your father’s clientele combined.

But that wasn’t what truly made him different.

Pantalone was a striking contrast to your father’s other associate; not just because he was a Harbinger, but rather he was the sole person you could consider a friend.

You hadn’t bothered making new friends after moving to Snezhnaya. There wasn’t any particular reason for it. Although confidentiality could qualify, you found yourself either occupied with your own hobbies or keeping your father company when he was actually home and not busy with work. Anything you desired was delivered directly to your residence, so you had no need to venture into the city and make small talk with the shopkeepers.

This meant your interactions were limited to your father and his associates, all of whom were as pruned and grey as him. The only exception was Pantalone, and though you didn’t know exactly how old he was—it would be rude to ask—he didn’t seem significantly older than you, both in appearance and mannerisms. At the very least, he didn’t possess the wrinkles and bitterness the others did.

At some point, you began looking forward to your interactions, which both preceded and succeeded Pantalone’s business meetings with your dad. While you still maintained an air of professionalism with you, your amity went beyond mere pleasantries.

As you led him down the wide hallways and cavernous rooms, you couldn’t help but ask the question that had been nagging at you since yesterday.

“Pantalone,” you broke the silence, “may I ask a question?”

“Of course, dear,” he replied.

“Today’s a Monday,” you stated, “and you were just here last Tuesday.” For as long as you remembered, Pantalone had a very specific schedule. Once every other week, every Tuesday, he’d visit. As far as you knew, never had he strayed from that schedule—not until now.

“Ah, as observant as ever, Y/N,” Pantalone remarked.

“And on such short notice too...” you continued, letting your words trail off before asking him directly, “Is something the matter?”

You stopped in front of your father’s study, turning the doorknob and allowing Pantalone in, before you let the door leisurely shut on its own behind you both.

“Oh, no, not at all. It’s just that business can be unpredictable at times—I’m sure you understand.” His tone was as carefree and relaxed as ever, but you were certain this was no trivial matter. However, it wasn’t your business, so you set aside your curiosity and didn’t push any further.

“You’re right,” you agreed. “I was just a bit worried that something was up. I’m glad to hear that everything’s fine.”

‘Worried’ was an exaggeration. While you did care about Pantalone, you had no reason to fret over his well being. It was unlikely that anyone or anything could pose a serious threat to him, ever—he was a Harbinger. Perhaps it was disingenuous for you to feign concern, but you thought it was a polite sentiment regardless.

All of your dad’s meetings, with all of his associates, were held in this room. It was furnished with this intent in mind; a well-lit room with a coffee table flanked by two sofas near the centre, encircled by a desk, a few china cabinets, and most importantly, a kitchenette.

“I didn’t know you cared so much, Y/N.” A teasing remark, as you should have expected. You watched as Pantalone sat down on the sofa with a smirk.

“Do I seem that heartless to you?” you prodded back.

“Quite the opposite. If anything, you have too much heart.” Your eyes widened ever so slightly, Pantalone’s reply catching you off guard—you didn’t expect him to answer so sincerely.

Despite your familiarity with conversation and flattery, you were usually the one to give compliments, not receive them.

“You’re flattering me. I’m not doing anything special,” you brushed it off awkwardly. You quickly turned towards the kitchenette to escape the topic. “Earl grey tea with cream and two sugar cubes?”

“Why, I’m flattered that you remember how I take my tea,” Pantalone said. You filled the kettle, waiting for the water to boil as you took out a teacup and saucer from the cabinet above you, along with tea leaves and an infuser. You opened the refrigerator beside you, retrieving a glass bottle of cream.

You weren’t sure how or when exactly it started, but you always had a fondness for tea. The shrubs themselves, the processing of the leaves, the plethora of varieties and tastes, the simple act of brewing tea—you adored it all. When you still lived in Fontaine, where the weather was warmer and vegetation was abundant, you would often tend to your imported Chenyu shrubs and curate the leaves yourself; something Snezhnaya’s harsh, frigid climate didn’t allow for.

Though you missed the extensiveness of your tea hobby in Fontaine, you found other ways to keep yourself occupied. The time you would have otherwise spent on picking leaves was now dedicated to baking. It was something your mother taught you from an early age, a craft you now spent time perfecting. After all, freshly baked goods were a perfect accompaniment to tea, and your father’s clients appreciated the assortment of delicacies.

It was an excuse to bake batches of pastries that you otherwise wouldn’t be able to finish if anything, but it was something everyone was happy with. The guests enjoyed your confectioneries, your father evaded vapid chit chat, and you baked to your heart’s content.

“I’ve made you tea every other week, ever since we’ve moved here,” you pointed out. “So about two and a half years. It’d be awfully rude if I didn’t remember your preferences by now.”

You earned a soft chuckle from Pantalone.

“Well, now I’m curious. What else do you remember about me?” he asked, the question making you gulp.

You did not have a good memory, and you were especially uncomfortable with being put on the spot, your brain oftentimes turning blank, forcing you to blurt out any nonsense to try and salvage whatever situation you were being put in. You tried to think of something to say so it wouldn’t be obvious that you couldn’t recall; that would be rude.

“Only your darkest secrets.” You fumbled with placing the dried leaves in the infuser.

“So you know her name then?” he interrogated, and of course you didn’t.

“Of course,” you declared with utmost confidence. “Full name, date of birth, medical records, everything.” You knew you were just digging yourself a deeper pit, but you had just poured the water and the tea wasn’t done steeping yet.

“And what about her death certificate?” he continued. You stirred the tea rapidly, pouring in just the right amount of cream alongside two sugar cubes, before picking it up and serving it with the plate of madeleines you had baked earlier.

“That’s included in the medical records.” You placed the tea down on the coffee table a bit too hard. You made sure to place the plate down more gently, as if to absolve yourself of embarrassment. “Here’s your tea. And of course, some madeleines I baked this morning.”

You sat down on the sofa across from him, awaiting his expression as he brought the teacup to his lips, sipping the beverage with elegance.

“It appears you really are as observant as ever,” he smiled with visible satisfaction.

“I’m observant when people are interesting,” you noted, relieved that the conversation had finally shifted.

“Is that so?” Pantalone put down the teacup. “Y/N, what about me do you find interesting?”

There were a plethora of things you found interesting about him, and you wondered if some of them would be too intrusive or direct to point out given his status, but promptly discarded the consideration.

“Well, for starters,” you said, “you’re a Harbinger.”

“Oh my,” Pantalone spoke with feigned surprise. “I nearly forgot!” He reached towards the plate, picking up one of your madeleines and taking a bite. You watched his face hungrily for validation, awaiting his judgement of your madeleines. Even though your confectioneries were never worse than satisfactory, you often liked to try new variations or entirely different recipes, taking note of any feedback from guests to further improve your skills.

“Wonderful baking as always, Y/N.” Pantalone’s words seemed to align with the pleased expression on his face, and you couldn’t help but grin, feeling proud of yourself.

“You know,” Pantalone started, bringing your attention back to the conversation, “such status can be quite cumbersome. People behave rather differently around you. It becomes hard to tell when such pleasantries and favours are coming from a place of genuine kindness, or somewhere else.”

The atmosphere suddenly dropped to a more solemn tone, startling you.

“Be that as it may, I’ve always felt at ease in your company. Contrary to popular opinion... us Harbingers aren’t all that different from everyone else, and I feel refreshingly ordinary in your presence.”

You listened to him attentively, musing over his sentences in your head to carefully formulate a response.

“Refreshingly ordinary...” you muttered. “I didn’t expect to hear that. If anything, you’re quite special to me. Regardless, I’m happy to hear that I’ve been pleasant company for you. The feeling is mutual.”

You finished speaking, a wistful smile on your face as you glanced downwards, the focus slipping from your gaze. While you and Pantalone had many conversations over the years, they primarily consisted of playful banter and idle chatter. Rarely would you be as pensive as you were now, and while sentimentality usually made you uncomfortable, you found yourself not minding it right now. Perhaps you were more lonely than you had originally considered, but you realized your words held more truth than expected.

Pantalone was someone special to you. There used to be others, too. When you still lived in Fontaine, you had close friends; people you deeply valued and cared for. But distance does not make the heart grow fonder. Distance simply meant the space between, and the space from Snezhnaya to Fontaine would parallel the growing disconnect between you and the ones you used to hold dear.

Everything in Teyvat had a limit to its elasticity, tangible or not. Things can only be stretched so far before the tension eventually causes it to sever. Emotional connection was no exception to that. Despite your agreements to continue writing one another and keep in contact, eventually the letters became fewer and longer between. The last time you had received a letter was about seven months ago.

People separate. People move on. It was only natural, and you had come to accept it. You had no idea what your former friends were doing now, but you were probably nothing more than a passing thought in their heads every once in a blue moon.

You didn’t often reminisce about them, either. But when you did, you would naturally ponder the idea of making new friends. Even though it would be wise to make an effort, you didn’t want to. Meeting new people, getting to know them, becoming as close to them as you were with your former friends—it was exhausting just to think about. You didn’t want to bother yourself with something so tedious.

But since Pantalone had been routinely visiting for the past few years, your attachment to him inevitably grew without you even realizing it.

Your rumination was interrupted by the sound of heavy, pounding footsteps rapidly approaching.

“Oh,” you said, “it seems like my father’s—”

“—Oh, Lord Pantalone, please forgive the delay!” The door flung wide open, your father rushing into the room. “Such tardiness in the face of a Harbinger is unacceptable and—”

“—Please, it’s all right, F/N,” Pantalone tried to calm your very much frantic father. “I was enjoying a lovely conversation over tea with your daughter just now and—”

“—No, no, no! This will not do!” your father declared. “You must be impossibly busy with work! We should discuss business as soon as possible—Y/N, you may take your leave now while we discuss urgent matters!”

You were halfway through getting up when Pantalone spoke.

“Well, actually, F/N, the reason I requested this meeting was because I wanted to speak with you regarding your daughter.”

What?

Your head snapped towards Pantalone, the rest of your body still frozen in an awkward motion between standing and sitting, your eyes wide with shock and mild horror.

You weren’t sure if you had heard him right or not. But judging by the similarly surprised look on your dad’s face, you likely heard him correctly.

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t ever thought of Pantalone as attractive. His elegantly styled black hair was smooth and silky—or at least it appeared so, you never ran your fingers through it—and his skin was radiant, fair as porcelain, his amethyst irises embellished with full sets of ebony lashes, sitting behind intricate silver glasses that framed his gracefully poised face just right.

However, you had never thought of anything beyond that. Not only were you unsure about how old he was—he could be twice your age, for Archons’s sakes—he was also your dad’s business associate, and you weren’t sure how your dad would feel about that, though you supposed you’d find out soon.

“Uh,” your dad stumbled over his own words, “Lord Pantalone... are you sure you want to, uh, discuss such matters with Y/N present?”

“Why, of course, F/N,” Pantalone replied, completely nonchalant. Your eyes darted between him and your father, the two of them wearing completely opposite expressions.

“Uhh,” your dad gibbered awkwardly, “are you sure you want to discuss such matters with me present?” You could see that he, too, was looking back and forth at the both of you in a futile attempt to grasp the situation. He was presumably contemplating the prospect of anything having happened between the two of you. The thought alone was enough to fluster you, and you were just thinking of how to explain that no, you were not and had not been sleeping with his business partner, when Pantalone spoke again.

“Oh, Archons, no, it’s nothing like that, please don’t misunderstand!” he exclaimed, his statement sending you into a brand new state of confusion. “I merely want your daughter to spy on Dottore.”

“I’m sorry, what?” you interjected, evident disbelief in your voice. You didn’t need to look at your dad to know he was even more disturbed than you, considering how he was at a loss for words.

“You see, it has recently come to my attention that Dottore is plotting something rather unfavourable to the Tsaritsa,” Pantalone elaborated, though you weren’t sure whether his explanation was helping or worsening the situation. “As a Harbinger, it is my duty to ensure her safety, and as Dottore’s closest associate, I’m in a most advantageous position to do so. Alas, I am but one man, so some assistance would be incredibly helpful.”

While the initial misconception was already difficult to process, the clarification was even more incomprehensible. You were stunned, unable to formulate any coherent thoughts until your dad managed to snap out of his stupor.

“You want my daughter to spy on Il Dottore? Forgive me, Lord Pantalone, but are you daft? How the hell is she supposed to do that? She is a child!” Despite its irrelevance to the situation, you couldn’t help a spark of irritation rising up at his words. You scowled, but put your annoyance aside for now, for there were more pressing matters at hand. Your father was becoming agitated, so you made an attempt to assuage the tension.

“...It’s fine,” you said, straightening up as you turned towards the Harbinger. “Pantalone, could you please elaborate?”

“Well, you see, I need someone whom I know and trust, that Dottore doesn’t know, but can come to trust,” he asserted. “I need someone new, unassuming, but not entirely unfamiliar. Someone who can keep a secret and find a secret. Who better than the daughter of the magnificent F/N?”

From an outside perspective, it was easy to make the assumption that you were knowingly assisting your father in keeping his clandestine activities concealed. Most people likely thought that, but it’d be incorrect.

Truthfully, your role in your father’s work was limited to greeting associates and serving them tea, along with any freshly baked goods you had made. Of course, you knew that your father wasn’t the most noble of men, considering his clientele—the Harbinger on your sofa being a perfect example—but that was the extent of your knowledge, and you preferred to keep it that way. You knew it made you apathetically recreant, but it was much easier to stay unaware and turn a blind eye to his questionable doings. You would keep yourself uninvolved in his business, hiding under your security blanket of willful ignorance.

The exact shelter that Pantalone was trying to coax you out of.

“Well, okay, sure, but—” your dad tried to protest.

“—And as a token of my gratitude,” Pantalone furthered,

“I would bring M/N back to life.”

next chapter soon... any interactions are appreciated (´･ω･`) thank you very much for supporting my work! ♡

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[celibibratty]

I know the idea of the game is to our main characters become an old master one day in a certain moment of their life, but one part of me kinda don't like that?, i like more the idea of after they kill the villans, they become some kinda of badass vigilants/justice gangsters, and continue be like this since they become old(no idea how they pay the bills living in that way?, but it doesn't matter is just a game), idk i just like our main characters more being some kinda of "lone wolf", i think it fits more their style

#about s1fu #sifu game #Nowadays i prefer more this lore #they must be so tired of all this so why continue? Let it die together with all this mess #It may sound like they being disrespectful to the father(maybe but i don't think its like that for me is vice-versa they let the things tha #Their father accomplished which is the school remain/die with him it was his legacy besides THE KNOW THE DRAMA.. #This School/talisman thing caused altho i think even if the main characters were a master/teacher i don't think they would talk/show the... #talisman to the students but still they would teach the pak mei and this yang manage to kill the old man How? because he knew the pak mei.. #The old man showed too much to him and he used that knowledge against him i just love to imagine our main characters thinking about that.. #and be like nope!😤I won't do this it won't repeat it again! to me is actually very cool and mature of their part) #;probably still training but on his own and for his own reasons; i'll totally embrace/adopt that✨so badass #So cool to imagine my w0man❤️being a badass still being a fighter but on her own #I like it cuz it make the family dynamic very funny😂the father was ancient so hes a master the older son becomed doctor/hippie of some sort #our main characters(the baby bro🥺) become some kinda of gangster😂no no i would call mystery hero/vigilant(they just do their own thing) #I would say what they do is the arenas(I don't care if the games says the arenas are separated from the game story for me is together😤) #They are not part of this drama they are just the consequence🔥❤️ #Well but that's it i like our main characters more not being a s1fu i don't think combines with them after everything they go thru #They're too cool for School✨👌 #Idk i just wake up like ;i kinda don't like the idea of them becoming a s1fu now🤔;

[ineffable-romantics]

Some thoughts on why and how I believe Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship would incorporate sex/why I do not read them as wholly asexual:

This is something I've seen the most discourse about in this fandom, and I've had a few thoughts of my own that I really wanted to expand upon in a full meta/character analysis post. I do understand that this can be a contentious topic, so first, let me clarify a few things:

First of all, this is going to be long. Tbh it probably won't be that organized either. I ramble and I'm not very good at editing, so just... you know. Be warned. (*Hi, it's me from 2 days after writing this; I'm really not kidding, it's LONG)

These are all my own thoughts. They might not be hot takes, because recently I've seen more than a few people come to the same conclusions on a lot of these points as I have. But I've also had these notes in my drafts for about a week and a half now, and have been continuously adding to it as things have occurred to me. This post is essentially just somewhere for me to collect the separate but related meta I've been kicking around in my head.

I fully respect anyone who does see and prefer an asexual reading of this relationship. These are my own thoughts and interpretations as someone who is not asexual. I am in the LGBT+ community, so while I do know a few things about the asexuality spectrum, I am by no means an expert.

This is NOT something I expect, need, or even necessarily want the show (or, God forbid, Neil's tumblr ask box) to address. Tonally, it's just not that kind of show. Newt and Anathema's sex scene was very much played for laughs, and it worked for that reason. If the show found a way to address it in a way that was both appropriate for the tone of the show and ultimately satisfying, then great! But there is so much more to this relationship than sex, and I didn't need a kiss to confirm their love, so I certainly don't need a sex scene. As immortal beings (as I assume they'll stay) there is so much of the rest of their lives we'll never get to see. You can headcanon them as asexual and potentially be right. I can headcanon them as not and be equally potentially right. Again, these are just a collection of my own thoughts, because I think the question of sexuality (or lack thereof) is just as interesting a facet of these characters as any other.

Note: Tbh I've been second-guessing this whole post and debated deleting the whole thing several times for being silly or unnecessary, bc I don't want anyone to think that this is the only thing I care about when it comes to this story/characters. But if nothing else, it's inspired me to write in a way that nothing has in a very long time, so I've decided it's worth continuing, if for no other reason than that.

This is going to be a mixed bag of textual reading, subtextual reading, and a full-on reach or two. It's been a while since I've been in an English class, but if my teachers expected me to find a deeper meaning behind blue curtains, you can expect me to read too deeply into the symbolism of a loaded rifle or an ox rib. (This is probably not what my professors had in mind when grading my literary analysis papers but oh well) My point is, if it feels like a reach, I'm as aware of it as you are. I am in no way saying that all (or even any) of my points made were deliberate on the part of Neil or the actors or the writers or the directors. I am no longer the delulu Apple Tree Yard child of my youth, I promise.

If anything said here is in any way offensive or hurtful to anyone in the asexual community, please do not hesitate to message me or comment and let me know exactly what it was. I promise you it is not my intention to do so, and am happy to clarify or outright edit anything that reads that way.

With all that being said, let's talk about why I think Crowley and Aziraphale would absolutely fuck nasty incorporate sex into their relationship.

Note: I am out of practice with essay writing, so I think I'll just go down the bullet points of notes I have been making, and expand on each as best I can

Food

Where better to start than with Aziraphale's introduction to Pleasures Of The Flesh? (Just a heads up, this entire post may feel very Aziraphale-heavy, and with good reason).

This might be the least hot take here. We've all seen the Job minisode. We've all seen That Scene.

Whether this was intentional or not, the symbolism here is off the charts. Eve was tempted by an apple. So why not go a similar route and tempt Aziraphale with another fruit, or cheese, or bread, or literally anything else for his first experience with food? Instead, we go with a huge, glistening slab of fresh meat that he proceeds to absolutely go feral upon, moaning and gasping into his meal while Crowley watches with what definitely doesn't look to be disgust or even satisfaction with a good temptation. There's surprise at the ferocity of Aziraphale's appetite, certainly. But ultimately he looks to be intensely fascinated by it, while the thunder crashes, the music crescendos, and the earth literally shakes around them.

(It's also interesting to note how very little it takes for Crowley to tempt him with the ox rib. One murmured suggestion, a bit of unwavering eye contact, and vavoom Aziraphale immediately meets him in the middle.)

Cut to Aziraphale devouring the rest of the meat with Crowley splayed back on a makeshift bed, drinking wine and continuing to watch him indulge through half-lidded eyes. Outside a thunderstorm rages while they're learning secrets about each other in warm flickering firelight. It's cosy, it's intimate, and if they'd thrown in a bearskin throw blanket, it might as well be a post-coital scene straight out of Game of Thrones.

The next time (chronologically) we see them discuss food is when Aziraphale "tempts" Crowley with oysters in Rome. So Crowley first tempts Aziraphale with meat and then Aziraphale tempts Crowley with what is widely regarded to be an aphrodisiac. Interesting.

And then chronologically after that, the Arrangement begins to form, which has always reeked of a friends with benefits situation. Just to throw that in there.

It's What Humans Do

In the very first episode, we're shown Gabriel's obvious disgust and bewilderment towards Aziraphale eating sushi, calling it "gross matter" and being proud of the fact that he does not sully his body with it. Aziraphale initially tries to defend his own enjoyment in it, before passing it off as something that humans do, as something he simply has to do in order to blend in (which we know very well is not the case).

He does this again in season 2, passing off Nina and Maggie being in love as "something humans do". But it isn't, is it? Angels are beings of love, and can sense it, and understand very well what it is... up to a point. Even romantic love is obviously within their wheelhouse, given what we now know happened between Gabriel and Beelzebub (we'll come back to them).

What the "humans do" that angels wouldn't understand is messy, physical forms of love.

But here's the thing: Aziraphale and Crowley love doing what the humans do. They love drinking, they (or at least Aziraphale) love eating. They love music. Crowley loves driving and sleeping and watching rom-coms and sitcoms. Aziraphale loves reading and doing magic and earning little licenses and certificates for achievement in his various hobbies. They love to playact at being human so much that they've stopped playacting and started building a genuinely human lifestyle for themselves and with each other.

Once together in an unambiguously romantic sense, why do we think they wouldn't also want to explore one of the most prominent, intimate, powerful human expressions of love and desire with each other?

Angels, Demons, & Asexuality

Here's where I really want to clarify that in no way do I mean that sex is necessary for a healthy, fulfilling, and loving romantic relationship, or that the lack of desire for sex makes you any less human. Asexuality is a sexuality as valid and human as any. What I would say is that it is definitely in the human minority compared to allosexuality.

Angels and demons, on the other hand, are predominately asexual. Sexless/genderless unless Making An Effort. (Which, btw, is a concept introduced as early as the original book; why even bring it up as a possibility? Why not keep angels/demons being sexless/asexual as a hard and fast rule, if not to open up the potential for later use? Chekhov's Effort, if you will. And isn't that something that Aziraphale in particular is shown to do time and time again? He makes an effort in French and driving and magic, doesn't he?)

And this is why I don't believe Aziraphale and Crowley necessarily need to be asexual, narratively. There is already a huge amount of ace rep within the angels and demons (and no, not just the horrible ones. Muriel also doesn't "drink the tea" and has no reason or desire thus far to Make An Effort, and there are certainly other angels and demons who aren't horrible like the archangels seem to be who likely wouldn't Make An Effort either).

The central conflict for Aziraphale and Crowley is that they are on their own side, the ones who went native, the ones who are so different in so many ways from their respective hives. It would make sense for them to also break away from traditional angel/demon asexuality.

I say "traditional angel/demon asexuality", because I would also like to note that I would absolutely not rule out demisexuality for either of them. This post is being written to as a response to people who specifically believe that they (like the rest of the angels/demons seem to be) would be sex-averse in a relationship, and that it wouldn't be a factor in their relationship. I could easily read them as demisexual, but I do think there would be no real way of verifying this, because they've never been able to form as close an emotional relationship with anyone else but each other. Certainly not in heaven, and I can't imagine they would be able to form that kind of attachment with any of the humans, who they love and emulate but ultimately regard as the separate species they are. So yes, they could either be allosexual or demisexual, in my opinion.

Then again, now that I think about it, Making An Effort itself could be a great metaphor for demisexuality, since they would be entirely sexless/asexual until they have enough of an emotional connection with someone to consciously manifest otherwise. Since the other angels and demons don't generally form those types of emotional connections with anyone, there hasn't been a precedent for it.

Except...

Brielzebub

We do have a precedent for it now, don't we? Gabriel and Beelzebub fell in love. They are a direct foil for Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship, speedrunning right through their courtship and finding their happily ever after on the other side of things.

For being such a 1 to 1 comparison, it feels deliberate that they did not kiss. They held hands, they were gooey with each other, but they did not kiss. That feels like such a deliberate thing to omit when you know what's to come at the end of the episode between Crowley and Aziraphale.

And going back to the food = sex metaphor for a moment, let's notice how even as they fell in love over the years, even when pints and crisps were there on the table in front of them, they never felt the desire to reach out for them. They didn't need to. It's a date (love story) even if you aren't eating dinner (sleeping together).

Yes, I know Jim liked hot chocolate. No, I am not counting it because I don't consider Jim and Gabriel to be the same person with the same proclivities, and Jim was highly suggestible at the time anyway.

Gabriel and Brielzebub's big happily ever after moment (as of now) was one between two asexual supernatural beings. They did not need to kiss to drive the point home. They showed what Crowley and Aziraphale could have, if they would only acknowledge it.

Crowley & Aziraphale's Dissatisfaction

But they do have that already, don't they? If you really think about it, what do Gabriel and Beelzebub do with each other that Crowley and Aziraphale don't already? They hold hands, they spend time together, they create little rituals, they give gifts, they're visibly and verbally affectionate with each other, etc. They are more or less already in a romantic asexual marriage relationship with each other, aren't they?

And it doesn't seem to be enough for either of them.

At the beginning of the season, Crowley is immediately shown to be unsatisfied with the way things are. Obviously part of it comes from living in his car, but it seems to be more than that (especially since Aziraphale makes it clear that the bookshop is just as much Crowley's as his, implying that he could have been living there the whole time and is choosing not to, for some reason?). You could argue he's feeling unmoored without Hell telling him what to do, but isn't that what he wanted? Isn't that what he still wants, by the end of the season? All season long, he's never indicated the desire for a new job, or a new project. He stopped the apocalypse because he wanted the freedom to openly spend time with Aziraphale, to spend his time on Earth however he sees fit. Until Gabriel arrives, he has exactly that (minus a flat).

So where does the dissatisfaction come from? And if it represents anything to do with his relationship, what does he want out of it that he isn't getting already?

I think Crowley only really comes to the realisation of what he's missing when Nina names it for him, not only putting them in the category of romantic, but physical (outright asking if they are sleeping together). These two posts [1], [2] go into more detail about what I mean, but I think it really pushes him into acknowledging that their relationship is more human than either of them have stopped to consider, and what that might mean as far as everything a human relationship can entail.

After all, Nina and Maggie only advised that he should talk to Aziraphale, make clear his feelings. The decision to kiss him, to tip them over the edge from nonphysical to physical, that was all him. And no, kissing isn't sex, but I wonder how taboo even that might be in the kind of all-encompassing asexuality most angels seem to identify with. (If they're disgusted by food and drink, I can only imagine what they think of snogging, much less sex.)

Aziraphale doesn't have this moment of someone observing their relationship from the outside. He loves Crowley, and as of 1941 probably even knows he's in love with him in a way that Crowley doesn't understand yet. Which makes sense, since love is technically his job, he'd be more likely to recognise it for what it is.

However, Aziraphale's reference for romance and relationships is Jane Austen. It's chaste. It's dancing and dinner and doing sweet things for each other and roses and candles and handholding. He contextualises his love for Crowley in that soft fantasy sort of way, where it's there, it's obviously there, but it's neat and easy and unspoken. Not to quote Glee in this, the year of our lord 2023, but it's all very "the touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets".

Someone should tell that to Aziraphale's face, then.

I'm not going to pretend I know what Michael Sheen's script notes were, but there were definitely some Choices™ made. Because yes, there were plenty of moments in both seasons with Aziraphale looking at Crowley in a sweet, loving, smitten way. And then there were moments that were yearning.

But yearning for what, exactly? All of those sappy Jane Austen tropes already apply to the two of them. So why are there moments where Aziraphale is looking Crowley up and down like the last eclair in the window and licking his lips and visibly exhaling like he's trying to get in control of himself (see: Bastille scene + Crowley telling Muriel to ask him if they have any other questions about love)? Why is Aziraphale not only unconcerned when Crowley shoves him bodily up against a wall in s1, but staring at his lips and a beat too late in noticing Sister Mary's arrival? Why are some of his lines so suggestive? I'm sorry, but the car ride after the church explosion might as well have been the beginning of a Pizza Man porn with a really weird Blitz theme. If even my mother picked up on that vibe, I can't imagine it wasn't intentional on part of both the dialogue and the delivery.

(This section may feel like more of a reach/joke, but I'm really only 20% joking. These are writers and actors who are EXTREMELY good at their jobs; they know what they were doing here.)

More importantly, I don't think Aziraphale is even aware that there is more to what he wants. He lives in the Jane Austen fantasy and it never even occurs to him that he might be interested in anything further. It never even occurs to him that, as an angel, there is anything further to be interested in in the first place. Until Crowley forces it to occur to him. Just like I believe Nina forced Crowley to confront the idea that romantic love is what he's been feeling all along, I believe Crowley forced Aziraphale to confront the idea that physical intimacy is something he's been wanting, without even realising.

Aziraphale's Hedonism

Expanding on Aziraphale for a moment. We talked about his relationship with food, but we all know that Aziraphale is defined by his love of things that Feel Good.

It isn't just that he and Crowley love human things. Aziraphale loves the best of the best, or at least his version of it. He doesn't just love food, he loves going to fancy restaurants. He doesn't just love clothes, he loves soft, cosy, warm, plush clothes, or shiny, flashy, bougie fashion. He loves the warmth of tea and cocoa, loves getting drunk, and sitting in a comfy chair in the sunlight. He doesn't just experience, he indulges.

Given the emphasis put on things that Aziraphale loves just because they Feel Good, it feels narratively strange to assume that he wouldn't enjoy the feeling of being touched, or that he wouldn't be willing to try it, at least once, with someone he cared very deeply for. And just like the ox rib, I think that once he gets the first taste of things, he would absolutely tip over into complete and utter self-indulgence.

Dancing

I also think that dancing could be construed as a huge metaphor here. After all, we're told flat-out that angels don't Dance. Except one.

I would argue that Aziraphale, in fact, Made An Effort to learn how to Dance. He threw himself into the gavotte with delight (at a Victorian gay club; noted) and worked hard to be good at it. He's chomping at the bit to Dance with Crowley, working up the nerve to ask him with undeniably romantic intent and eagerness. So, angels don't Dance... unless they Make An Effort to do so.

We are told that demons, on the other hand, do Dance, but not well. Makes sense, since they're the ones who would want to encourage a deadly sin like lust, but have as little understanding of human love and physical intimacy as the angels. Crowley, however, is shown to be an excellent dancer at the ball, especially in his compatibility with Aziraphale.

(But Aziraphale WandaVisioned the ball so everyone knew how to dance! Yes, he did. However, the rest of the brainwashing doesn't seem to affect Crowley in any way, and they did actually live through the time period where this sort of dancing was a social norm; I'd be surprised if he never needed to learn. After all, the demons can't spell either, and Crowley is at least functionally literate, as far as we know.)

As of today, it's also been confirmed that when Aziraphale asked Crowley to dance, Crowley replied with "you don't dance." Not "WE don't dance". So going along with the metaphor, Crowley is just now discovering that Dancing is something Aziraphale is interested in at all, much less with him, and not denying that he himself is interested in Dancing. In his defense, I believe he was asleep for a few years while Aziraphale was learning the gavotte, so he wasn't exactly aware of Aziraphale's hot girl summer.

Love Languages

I want to expand on that; Crowley and Aziraphale's compatibility. Specifically in regards to their individual love languages.

We all know Crowley's love language is Acts of Service. I don't think there's any debate there. He loves it, Aziraphale loves it, they're both aware of it, we're all aware of it, God and Satan are aware of it, no surprise there.

You may disagree with me, but I believe Aziraphale's love language is Physical Touch, for a number of reasons. One of which being his aforementioned hedonism. Aziraphale likes things that Feel Good, remember? He likes soft clothes, and well-worn books. Neil himself has said that they like holding hands. And any time he is taken by surprise (Brielzebub getting together, the wave of love in Tadfield, etc.) what is the first thing he does? Reaches out for Crowley. He stops him with a hand to the chest in the pub. He leads him by the hand to the dance floor. He guides him by the waist in the graveyard. He reaches out during the entire Brielzebub scene, whether he can reach Crowley or not. Despite his own turmoil, he grasps at Crowley's back during the kiss.

The one time Crowley reaches out for him (not counting the kiss yet; we'll get there), he is aggressively pushed against a wall (by someone he loves and trusts) with a complete and utter lack of concern (and perhaps some interest, depending on how you read it).

And when he isn't reaching out for anyone, or there isn't anyone to reach out to? Well, he's wringing his own hands together, squeezing his own fingers, as if to find that physical comfort in himself.

So. With that theory in mind, we have Aziraphale (Physical Touch) + Crowley (Acts of Service). Throw in 6000+ years of deep love, cherished companionship, and forcibly repressed longing, and there is a very real potential of this combination resulting in fierce sexual compatibility. Where Aziraphale would want to touch and be touched, to indulge in physical pleasure with someone he adores, in the same the way he indulges in every other fine thing in his life. And where Crowley would want to indulge him in return, to give him everything he wants, and to take pleasure in Aziraphale's pleasure, in the same way he enjoys watching him take joy in food everything else.

So Aziraphale is an angel who is insecure about his own less-than-holy desires, who would want to treat Crowley like a luxury to be touched and cherished and adored. And Crowley is a demon who has, over the millennia, been unhappy about how they've been forced to deny even their friendship with each other, who would want Aziraphale to feel comfortable and safe and encouraged to indulge in earthly delights. That sounds like a stunning recipe for sexual compatibility to me.

"You said 'trust me'" / "And you did"

Just like the Job minisode, the Blitz is RIFE with symbolism (intentional or otherwise). This one will be quick, but I did want to touch on it because I thought it was interesting. Maybe I'm reaching at this point, but I'm assuming you read the tin.

First of all, Crowley not wanting to admit to never firing a gun before; comes off as someone who very much does not want to admit to their crush that they're a virgin ("You must have done this lots of times!" / "Umm.... yyyyyeah.")

(You could make the argument that Aziraphale having a firearms license and a Derringer in a hollowed-out book is symbolic of him not being a virgin while Crowley is. I disagree, for reasons I'll go into later, but it's a valid reading. However, I see it more like keeping a condom in your wallet; it's there in case you need it, but the opportunity has not yet risen no pun intended.)

More importantly, the theme of this entire minisode is trust. We already know they trust each other with their lives against the rest of Heaven, Hell, and the world. But specifically, this is about the importance of having complete trust in your partner in a charged, physically vulnerable, intimate moment, where the only danger is between the two of you.

Aziraphale needs to believe Crowley would never hurt him if he can help it. Crowley needs to trust Aziraphale's unwavering blind faith in him. Frankly, it all feels very symbolic of two people deeply in love losing their respective virginities with each other.

The trick is a success, and they share an intimate candlelit dinner in which they reaffirm their faith in each other. Aziraphale also begins to voice his agreement with Crowley, that maybe Heaven's rules shouldn't have to be as black and white as they are, and that there are benefits to... blurring the lines, shades of grey, wink wink (at which point even my mom was like, whoa guys, this is a family show).

Btw also: Can we all agree how much it looked like Crowley was getting ready to get a lapdance in that one scene? You know the one.

Also also: "Aim for my mouth"? Come on.

The Birds & The Bees

Now that I think of it, there's also something to be said for the fact that Crowley and Aziraphale are both obviously familiar with where babies come from (how they're made and how they're born) while the other angels aren't.

Something something Aziraphale and Crowley fundamentally understand sex and reproduction in a way the other angels (and probably demons) very much do not, nor have any desire to.

Probably not important. Just thought it was worth mentioning.

The Kiss™ & Religious Trauma

The Kiss. Where to even begin?

This has definitely been the hardest one to start, because there is so much going on here that I definitely won't be able to cover it all, and will certainly miss a few things here and there.

Aziraphale's reaction to the kiss afterwards is the most interesting to me. And I don't mean directly after, I don't mean the "I forgive you" part. I mean the way he touches his lips when Crowley is no longer in the room and he no longer needs to save face, when he is completely alone. Had it been directly after the kiss, it would have been rightfully read as horror, or disgust, a shield to discourage further action.

It's not. It isn't just a touch, it's a press. As desperate and angry and unexpected and imperfect as the kiss had been, Aziraphale is pressing it into himself, recreating the feeling as best he can. Beneath all the poor timing and shock and hurt from their fight and fallout, I think it's fair to say that it was something he enjoyed. Something he doesn't think he should enjoy, something that Feels Good that he only allows himself to indulge in when completely alone.

Remember, Aziraphale's idea of love is Jane Austen and gentleness and courtship and fantasy. If he'd ever even considered kissing an option, it might have been gentle pecks, cheek kisses, forehead kiss, hand kisses. Soft, safe, chaste affection.

Crowley's kiss turns all of that on its head. He introduces physical intimacy in a very real, very messy, very human way that I don't think Aziraphale ever even considered could apply to them. Considering what other angels are like and what they look down on, even Aziraphale's Jane Austen fantasies probably would have been considered taboo.

So for their first kiss to be rough and desperate and passionate in the way it was, of course he was confused and in shock. It was deeply physical, and as overwhelming and awful as it was in the moment, it Felt Good. Enough that he grasped at Crowley and kissed back, if only just for a moment, before stopping himself. Enough that he actively pressed it into his lips afterwards, in private, to remember.

I adore how Neil has decided to evolve these characters past the first book/season. More so in this season, Aziraphale and Crowley have both become such interesting allegories for queer people on either side of the spectrum of toxic religion. Aziraphale in particular obviously, because he is the side that so desperately wants to believe, to make a difference, and to unlearn all of the propaganda he's been fed over such a long time. Just like so much of organised religion, there is so much that he is told, time and time again, that he should not want, that he is silly or stupid or outright wrong for wanting. It reminds me so much of the severe Catholic guilt one might feel for wanting/engaging in sex for the first time, and the stigma of being queer layered on top of that.

What is so critical to Aziraphale's character is that he goes on wanting, and more than that, actively pursues. He was convinced to go up against Heaven and Hell and stop all of Armageddon because he wanted to go on listening to music and eating lunch and reading books and enjoying the simple company of the person he cares most deeply for, even if that person is supposed to be the enemy.

All this to say that if angels are as generally asexual/sex-averse as I believe them to be, narratively speaking, it would make sense for Aziraphale to be singular in that regard as well. Mirroring his first experience with food, it would make sense for Crowley to be the one to first introduce this new messy, physical, human dynamic between them, for Aziraphale to hesitate (obviously we are at the Hesitation phase at the moment), and then (eventually) for him to dive in wholeheartedly, to absolutely glut himself on this new thing that Feels Good. It would make sense for his character development to show him overcoming his metaphorical Catholic guilt and pursuing the sexual intimacy most (if not all) of the other angels would scorn.

(I can't help but remember that plot idea Neil described from the unwritten sequel, with Aziraphale in a hotel room trying to watch a full porno by way of the free 2-minute teaser clips so he wasn't technically sinning by paying for it. I so hope this is used in season 3, because gosh, I wonder why Aziraphale would suddenly be so interested in observing human physical intimacy after 6,000 years. Lonely and doing a little surreptitious research there, angel?)

Crowley, on the other hand, is the queer person who has broken free from his toxic religion. He prides himself on being his own person, on their his own side. He doesn't have the hang-ups Aziraphale does. He doesn't worry that he's going to be judged or cast aside for wanting things he's not supposed to. So it only makes sense for him to be the first one to suggest/initiate physical intimacy. It makes sense for him to be the one who "goes too fast" (another fantastic example of this dynamic beginning as early as s1; what is that conversation in the car meant to represent, if not Aziraphale being overwhelmed by the intensity of their relationship, and his fear of succumbing to it when he believes he shouldn't? It's also interesting that this is the first conversation to take place in Soho, just after watching Aziraphale realise he's caught feelings for a demon, with the red glow of lust serving as the backdrop).

Do I think the kiss in and of itself was sexual? No. I think it was a passionate and devastating last-ditch effort on Crowley's part to convey the way he feels for Aziraphale. Not just that he loves him, but that he loves him in the most human way possible. But I do think that the kiss represents how they can move forward from here, and what they might want to explore with each other once they feel free enough to do so.

In Conclusion

I am sure, deep in my bones (unless we are explicitly told otherwise), that this was both of their first kisses no, I'm not counting the gavotte, and that neither of them have ever thought to do anything else physical with the humans while they have been on Earth. Like I said before, they adore the human race and lifestyle in general, but ultimately view them as a separate species altogether, and they seem mostly happy to keep to themselves and each other, unless otherwise necessary. I just can't see either of them being drawn enough to a human to pursue anything close to sex. If Crowley in particular has had anything to do with sex in the context of temptations, I'm positive he would be inciting lust amongst the humans themselves, not involving himself directly. At least not that directly.

So, like every other human experience they've had on Earth, sex is something new that they could explore together, just the two of them, on their own side. A deeply intimate, tangible declaration of their love and everything they've gone through to earn it. A visceral finger to give both Heaven and Hell. A renewed appreciation for their corporations and for each other's. A enjoyable method for immortal beings to simply pass the time in each other's company. A new and exciting way to Feel Good, and all the variations that come with it.

You might agree with this post, or you might not. Whether this is something that is ever addressed or not, it doesn't matter to me. This is a brilliant love story either way, and I genuinely feel so privileged to witness it.

But I just can't find it in myself to imagine, given everything we know about these two characters, that sex isn't an experience they would both consume with wholehearted enthusiasm, curiosity, and profound, ineffable adoration.

___________________________________

Bonus feature: the very silly notes I made to myself that inspired this post

#pinned post bc I'm particularly proud of how it turned out and i don't want it to get buried when people check out my blog lol #Good omens #good omens spoilers #good omens season 2 #good omens season 2 spoilers #good omens 2 #good omens 2 spoilers #gos #gos spoilers #gos2 #gos2 spoilers #gomens #gomens spoilers #gomens 2 #gomens 2 spoilers #good omens s2 spoilers #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #mine #meta #character analysis #character study #discourse #making an effort #this literally took me a week to finish i really hope it doesn't sound stupid lol #i know I'm gonna wake up in a cold sweat every couple days bc i forgot to add something but i needed this out of my drafts and also my brain

[drabblesandimagines]

Scoot On Over

Leon Kennedy x female reader, established relationship, fluff with a tiny bit of suggestive spice at the end

Leon threw himself down onto the mattress with a relieved sigh – a cliché, but there was nothing like sleeping in your own bed after being away. It had been a mixture of questionable motel beds, a couple of nights in the backseat of the car, another night of no sleep at all and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t on the brink of exhaustion, running on adrenaline until he made it back home to you that evening.

He rubs his cheek against your pillow, inhaling the scent of your perfume and allows himself to close his eyes. Now, he just needs you in his arms for a perfect’s night sleep…

--

“Leon?”

Nothing – again. You’d worry he had stopped breathing entirely if he wasn’t letting out soft snores from where his face was pressed against your pillow. He’d been away on a mission for two long weeks and had arrived home early evening, duffel bag in hand, covered in fading bruises, kisses and wandering hands tinged with weariness despite his obvious excitement to be back home with you.

You made small talk as you’d made a light dinner – get him fed and then you could both have an early night. He didn’t like to talk much about his missions had entailed – he wanted to keep the two things as separate in his brain as he could – but he knew if he needed to talk about something, you’d be there and that was enough.

You’d sent him up to bed first whilst you finished up in the kitchen – you liked to start off each morning with a clean slate in there and it would only take you ten minutes tops to sort, you’d assured him, a cheeky pat to his backside as you encouraged him up the stairs.

He’d changed into a pair of plaid PJ bottoms and a plain white tee, so he must’ve brushed his teeth and then just… collapsed? You place a hand on the broad expanse of his back, giving him a light shake. “Sweetheart?”

The problem is, Leon is broad and tall and currently, somehow, taking up the whole of your double bed. You can’t even see a reasonable space you could try and curl up into against his side and be remotely comfortable, the way his limbs are spread out like a starfish.

“Leon,” you place another hand on his back and give a more vigorous shake. “I just need you to scooch on up a bit, sweetheart.”

Nothing.

You change tact and try and lift an arm, maybe you can get him to roll with a little encouragement, or he’ll wake up? Surely as an agent he’s a light sleeper anyway, what if you were an enemy or any sort of threat?

His arm is deadweight, all muscle - even if you try and lift it with both hands, embarrassingly, you can’t get it even an inch or so off the mattress.

You try and push it inwards so it’ll sit tight against his body, but it just won’t move.

“Leon?” You grab hold of his shoulder and shake it with all of your strength.

“Yeah, baby?” He mumbles.

A sign of life – hallelujah. “Can you move along a bit for me?”

“Sure.”

He doesn’t move.

“Just need you to scooch up a bit for me, handsome.” “Mm-hm…” And he snuggles his face further into your pillow, an adorable smile on his face as he does.

With a sigh, you try and wedge yourself into the space in defeat – maybe he’ll subconsciously feel you and lift his arm up for a cuddle, and then you’d be able to fit a little more comfortably? He did prefer to sleep with an arm wrapped around you, keeping you pressed close up against him, legs tangled together.

After trying out various positions in the hopes of coaxing him into a spoon, a few more vigorous shakes and, finally, a more than playful smack to his backside that achieved no more than a mumble – not proud of that one, but needs must - you admit defeat, kneel down beside the bed and stare at his slumbering face in thought.

He must be utterly exhausted and, despite the frustration of not being able to cuddle up against him after so many nights apart, it is flattering, you suppose, that he must feel safe within your company to allow himself to relax so completely and be out like a literal light.

You lean down to pick up his neglected pillow and press a kiss to his forehead, and grab the throw from the end of the bed – looks like it’s a night on the couch.

--

Leon wakes up slowly as light filters in through the curtains. His body had been aching from his time away, but it seems a night in his bed has set him right. He stretches his arms out, expecting for a hand to brush up against your warmth but is dismayed when he finds the bed empty.

He turns and sits up, cautiously, rubbing the back of his head with a loud yawn and takes in his surroundings, wondering if you’ve just nipped to the en-suite, but the door to it is ever so slightly ajar.

Your phone is plugged in on the bedside table, charging, which is odd – although not glued to the thing, it's strange for you not to have taken it with you if you’d gone downstairs to make breakfast…

There’s a sickening feeling in his stomach when he realizes he doesn’t remember you coming to bed at all, that he had been waiting for you to come join him and…

Hazy memories of you calling out to him?

Fuck.

He jumps up to his feet, dashes out the bedroom and takes the stairs down two at a time, trying to think. He’d left his gun in his duffel bag, hadn’t even taken it up with him, left it by the door when he arrived home last night. Had he been drugged? He had felt exhausted, but he’d put that down to the poor sleep over the last while. Could someone have followed him home last night, drugged him somehow, a tranquilizer, waited for him to be out for the count to swoop in and…?

His heart stops as he sees you lying on your side on the couch, the throw from the bed now twisted around your legs, arms wrapped around his pillow.

Safe and sound, and fast asleep.

He exhales, calming himself for a moment with a chuckle, before kneeling down besides you and tilting his head, awkwardly, so he can kiss you up the lips.

The sensation is enough for you to stir, blinking up at him with a dozy smile.

“Morning.”

“I don’t recall us having a fight last night, sweetheart.” He grins at his joke, but it’s one that falls flat.

“A fight?” You repeat, confused.

“You know, when couples fight, one of them ends up sleeping on the couch...”

“Oh, yeah,” you yawn, sitting up with the slightest wince. “You wouldn’t let me in the bed.”

“Huh?”

“When I came up to bed you were dead to the world, literally star-fished. I tried to get you to scoot up a little so I could get in but it was impossible, so I slept down here.”

“Seriously?”

“Mm-hm, you must’ve been exhausted.” You nod, shuffling around to place your feet flat on the ground. “Lemme make us some coffee… Ow!” You hiss as you stand, placing a hand on the small of your back.

Leon is quick to his feet, eyes wide in alarm. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m okay, it’s just my back,” you rub at the sore spot, the muscles feeling tender. It had been fine last night… “Maybe the couch isn’t the best for sleeping on.”

 You take another step forward, intent on heading to the kitchen, but there’s no hiding the wince from Leon’s gaze. “Oh, baby…”

“It’ll be fine, I just need to walk it off.”

“Uh-uh, come on,” and those muscular arms that were so impossible to move last night are suddenly scooping you up and holding you against his chest as he heads back towards the stairs. “Let’s get you to bed. It’s still early and a couple of hours on a proper, supportive mattress might work wonders.”

You wrap your arms around his neck in turn. “Oh, I know your game, Kennedy.”

“And what’s that?” He replies, nonchalantly as he begins to ascend the stairs, careful not to knock your legs against the banister.

“The other activity you like to conduct in bed, the one that’s not sleeping? I just…” You tense in his arms, looking a little hesitant. “I don’t know if my back’s gonna play ball...”

Leon reaches the top of the landing and smirks, “Trust me - stretches work wonders for back pain, sweetheart.”

He strides into the bedroom and kicks the door closed with his foot.

It doesn’t open again until late afternoon. -- AN: Inspired by my boyfriend actually star-fishing me outta the bed and me having to sleep on the couch x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

Comments, reblogs and likes make my whole day x

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy mild spice

[jeneveuxrein]

off the table (BLACKPINK Rosé)

word count: 13.5K

(meh, could've turned out better, but it'll suffice)

-- -- -- 

The door slams, startling you enough to flinch as you drop your controller on the carpet. When you pick it up to continue with your game, there’s a dramatic sigh. 

“Everything okay?” You ask politely, rolling your eyes when you see your opponent score a basket since you weren’t able to play defense. 

“No,” Rosie says flatly. You hear her keys tossed on the entry table before she sighs again. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You offer. You even pause the game. 

“Maybe later,” Rosie says as she passes by, “I’m going to bed.” 

“Oh alright, well—” You aren’t able to finish your sentence because the sound of her door shuts before you can. 

You shrug, indifferent to her mood. You unpause the game, continuing on as if nothing happened. 

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about her, she’ll talk to you when she’s ready.

-- --

You were desperate at the time. There were too many things happening at once, that you forgot to look where you were going to live next. The only reason remembered was because the building manager showed up at your condo to do an inspection—a week before your move-out date. 

It was your fault, ignoring the paper notices in your pile of mail and the emails that flooded your inbox. You had just finished the last of your exams. Your job pushed you to take, time passing by, that it completely slipped your mind. 

Once the inspection was over, you called everyone and anyone you knew if they had a spare room on short notice. Most of them were either living with their significant others or had a roommate already. 

Except for Lisa. 

She was the only one with a viable lead. One of her best friends had recently moved back to Seoul from Australia and needed someone to offset the cost of the mortgage. 

You found out Lisa’s friend was a woman. You were hesitant because you had never lived with a woman except for your mother and sister when you were younger. You voiced the concern to Lisa, who laughed because you were ‘too adorable’ and that it didn’t matter to Chaengie if she lived with a man. 

You bit the bullet and agreed to meet with Chaengie, come to find out her name was actually Chaeyoung or Roseanne, but she preferred Rosie if you called her by her English name. 

Rosie was nice enough, easily charming you and making you feel comfortable when Lisa introduced you at her place. 

It was a nice condo in one of the more luxurious areas of Seoul. Open floor concept with floor-to-ceiling windows and separate rooms on opposite sides of the unit had you wondering what Rosie did. When you found out she was a lawyer, it made sense for her to afford a place like this. You were on the fence about what your share would be because it couldn’t be cheap, likely double what you were paying for your condo. 

After the brief tour, there wasn’t much since it was half-furnished, Rosie surprised you by telling you that you could pay as much as you do for your current place. She could afford the mortgage on her own, but she wanted someone to live with more than worrying about the money. 

It was a no-brainer, a steal in your opinion because living here at a discounted rate would work in your favor. Plus with passing your exams, you were expecting a bump in your salary.

You agreed, promising that it would only be temporary until things settled down. At most, six months was what you projected, but Rosie said to stay for however long you liked. 

That was almost a year ago. 

Living with Rosie wasn’t what you expected. 

You had no experience with living with a woman and the last time you had a roommate was when you were at university. 

You figured she’d want her space, not wanting to intrude or bother her whenever she was home. In the beginning, you kept to your room for the most part unless you had to cook, which wasn’t often. Your job had you putting in long hours at the office that you would crash as soon as your head hit the pillow.

It wasn’t until about a month or so in of living together and work slowed down, allowing you to come home at a decent hour when Rosie knocked on your door, asking if you wanted to watch a movie together. 

That was the turning point where it became calling her your roommate seemed like an inaccurate description. 

You spent more time with Rosie, getting to know her on a personal level. She had this way of sharing about herself that made you want to share too, something you hardly did. She made you laugh as she told you about her day. She would make you eat actual food instead of relying on takeout, asking you to help her cook. 

She was someone you admired that it created a dilemma when you realized you developed romantic feelings for her. 

It was short-lived because you found out by accident that she didn’t see you as anything more than a really good friend. 

You woke up late one Sunday morning. You heard voices in the kitchen, which wasn’t out of the norm as Rosie had her friends over frequently. It was a conversation you shouldn’t have listened to, but curiosity got the best of you when your name came up.

You recognized the voice—Jennie, one of Rosie’s friends you met a few times—asked, giggling, “Have you slept with him yet?” 

“What? Unnie, that’s absurd. He’s my roommate,” Rosie answered, heavy emphasis on the label.

You were hiding, tucked around the hallway corner as the women conversed. Your mother used to scold you for eavesdropping, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. 

“So? He’s hot,” Jennie stated matter-of-factly. You blushed at her comment. “He looks like he works out and there’s something about him that I know he’s just good in bed.” 

“Jennie!” You imagined Rosie’s face shocked at her friend’s brazenness. “He’s my roommate,” She emphasized again. “I have not, and will not, ever look at him like that. He’s a really good guy, but he’s off limits.”

“Does that include me?” You heard Jennie yelp after her question, the sound of skin-on-skin contact was enough. “If you’re not going to sleep with him, why can’t I?!” 

You didn’t bother listening anymore, deciding that you would go to the gym instead of joining them for brunch. You walked away feeling a little dejected, knowing where you stood with her, but you respected it. Things could get messy, especially since you lived together. 

(Though if you stayed a minute more, you would’ve heard Rosie say that she thought about asking you out once you move out.) 

As time went on, your feelings for her grew. It was hard not to, with how much time you spent together, your friends even asked if Rosie was your girlfriend based on how you often mentioned her. 

It wasn’t like you could not not talk about her. She became part of your routine, part of your life that you found yourself riddled with guilt whenever you went out on dates with women who were genuinely interested in you. You were certain you would’ve been too, if your feelings for her didn’t loom.

That didn’t stop Rosie from telling you about her dating life. It wasn’t as detailed compared to if she was talking to Lisa or Jennie, but it was enough to sting every time. 

You made a rule to yourself that you’d never bring a woman over, keeping those activities away. You were human after all, and you had needs. 

Rosie was unaware of the self-imposed rule, and there were a few times you caught her night-time partners leaving in the morning. Sometimes it would be the same person. Other times just passing flings you never saw again. 

It was what it was, and Rosie didn’t seem in a rush for you to move out. 

Though at some point, you would have to. You didn’t want to overextend your stay. You hoped to remain friends with her, regardless of how you felt. 

It would probably make it easier for you to get over these unnecessary feelings. 

Right? 

-- --

You scoop the sliced up fruit into the blender, eyeballing how much milk you needed, when Rosie walks into the kitchen. You send her an easy smile before turning the machine on to blend the ingredients so you could make it to work on time. 

Rosie stands on the other side of the kitchen island, waiting for you to finish. When you’re done, she says, “I’m sorry about last night.” 

You raise an eyebrow, “For…?” 

“I felt that I was short with you. You didn’t deserve that,” Rosie says apologetically. 

“It’s nothing to worry about,” You smile, nodding reassuringly. “Whatever happened, just know you can talk to me.” 

“I know,” Rosie returns the smile, standing abruptly to make her way over to you as she wraps her arms around you. You hope she didn’t feel you tense up because any physical affection with her leaves you dizzy. “I might be home a little later tonight. Jennie and Lisa want to take me out.” 

“Okay, just text me if you need me to pick you up,” You can’t stop smiling around her. “I’ll probably just be here, playing video games.” 

Rosie makes a humming sound, sinking into your body before taking a sip of your smoothie. “You haven’t been on any dates recently, everything okay?” 

The statement throws you off. It’s not like Rosie isn’t aware of your dating life and when you’re not home, but she’s never said anything like that. 

“Er, I just noticed you haven’t been out as much,” She backtracks, her hand rubbing your back. 

“Been busy with work,” You reply noncommittally. It’s true, work has been busy with your boss on your ass about finishing the security protocol for the new application that was developed. You probably should find some sort of release to ease the tension, but that could wait. 

“Well don’t work too hard, okay?” Rosie looks up at you, eyes filled with worry that you’re overexerting yourself. She boops your nose, grinning when you make a face. She lets go of you and blows you a kiss, “I’ll see you later. Have a good day!” 

And with that, Rosie’s out of the condo, leaving you more confused because that was just weird. It was even weirder that you missed her close to you, but that was something you were familiar with. 

Oh well. 

--

Someone’s trying to break in. 

It sounds like it, based on the aggressive knocking on the front door that has you rushing out of the shower. You only have enough time to throw on a pair of sweats, that when you swing open the door, wolf whistles ring through your ears as your eyes fall on Rosie first before realizing she’s being held up by Jennie and Lisa. 

“What the fuck happened?” You step aside as they usher your roommate inside, worry etching across your face.

“Jeez,” Jennie scoffs, “Hi to you too, oppa.” 

Once you close the door, you immediately reach for Rosie, steadying her as Lisa takes her shoes off. 

“You smell nice,” Rosie slurs out, nose falling right in the crook of your neck. You stumble slightly, bringing an arm around her back to make sure she doesn’t topple over. “Did you just come back from working out?” She asks, sighing contentedly against your skin. 

“Yes,” You nod, hoping she or her friends don’t see your cheeks turn red. “Are you okay?” 

Rosie giggles, nodding deeper into your neck, “Just a little drunk.” She holds up her thumb and finger in front of your face, meaning she’s really drunk. 

You practically carry her to the sofa with Jennie and Lisa in tow. They’re whispering something about you and you hear the latter mention how toned you are. Your face feels hot, but you avoid looking at them by having Rosie sit. 

“I’ll be right back,” You say as they sit on either side of Rosie. Her head falls on Lisa’s shoulder, eyes barely open. “I’m going to put a shirt on.”

“Please,” Jennie smirks, “By all means. None of us mind if you don’t.” 

You roll your eyes after she winks, earning a chuckle from Lisa. You refuse to engage anymore, not giving either of them the satisfaction, and leave to your room. 

When you return, fully clothed, Lisa is nowhere to be found and Rosie’s much more awake than when she arrived. Jennie’s over in the kitchen, pouring a glass of water, raising the pitcher to you, which you shake your head. 

“You okay?” 

Rosie nods, shyly looking away, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be like this.” 

“It’s—”

“Chaeng, you literally got dumped for something so stupid,” Jennie cuts you off, aggressively slamming the fridge door. “It’s fine that you got drunk. You deserve to. You look hot, and people noticed.” 

There’s a lot of information to process, but you focus on the fact that Rosie had a boyfriend and you weren’t aware of it. 

“Uh,” You aren’t sure how to respond. 

“We’ll tell you about it,” Jennie appears in front of Rosie, holding the glass to her lips. “Lisa just went out to get some soju and beer.”

This wasn’t how you expected your night to go, but it looked like you didn’t have much of a choice. 

--

You take whatever Lisa bought out of the bag. It consisted of soju and beer along with a bunch of snacks that seemed a lot like Rosie’s favorites. 

While waiting for Lisa, Rosie changed into more comfortable clothes. She asked if she could wear your hoodie since you left it out, which you didn’t see any issue with. Jennie, on the other hand, snickered as if there was some secret you weren’t a part of. 

You wanted to know what happened between Rosie and her boyfriend, but you didn’t want to be nosey. You respect her privacy, especially since you didn’t know she had one in the first place. 

As Lisa places the glasses on the coffee table, Jennie tells you the reason why Rosie got too drunk at happy hour to make it to the club. 

Apparently Rosie’s now ex-boyfriend was an asshole. 

Just not in the way you’d think. 

Jennie waits to see if Rosie will elaborate behind you, but her eyes are closed, head resting on one of the pillows. When there’s no response, Lisa asks a question that had you almost dropping the bottle you’re pouring.

“What?” You stop what you’re doing, staring dumbfounded at the two women across from you. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t hear her,” Jennie rolls her eyes. “Are you against foreplay?” 

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” You feel the tips of your ears burn because you might consider these two your friends, but they weren’t your friends that you spoke with things like this with. 

“An honest one,” Lisa answers, taking the bottle out of your hand to continue pouring the shots. “You’re of the male species, so we want your perspective on it.” 

You piece together what kind of asshole Rosie was with, and that could never be you. 

“No,” You mumble. “I’m not.” 

“Like you actually do it, right? It’s not just rubbing your dick over the girl and calling it foreplay?” Jennie’s choice of words has you annoyed. 

“What? You know what foreplay is, right?” You grab the shot glass, taking it in one go because it’s very much needed with where this conversation is heading. You ignore the scowls on their faces when you drink without them.

“I do,” Jennie points to herself, then tilts her head to Lisa, “She does too, but Chaeng, on the other hand, hasn’t been with someone who’s as… let’s say, giving in that department.” 

“Leave him alone you two,” Rosie yawns, stretching her arms up before sitting up. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Let’s just keep drinking.” She reaches over you, since you’re sitting on the rug, and takes the soju bottle instead of a glass. 

Everyone watches Rosie take a lengthy swig before sinking back into the sofa. The defeated look on her face makes you want to hug her, which you will, but not in the presence of her friends. They’d relentlessly tease you both, something you can’t handle. There’s two of them. 

“To shitty sex?” Lisa raises her glass. 

“The absolute shittiest sex,” Rosie adds, holding the bottle up.

You have thoughts about that, but you can’t let yourself get too deep in them. It doesn’t help with the little (big) crush you have on her. 

You’re most likely delusional, but you think you could be someone that would show her what real sex was like.

Then again, like she’d give you a chance. 

--

“Get home safely, okay?” Lisa smiles, nodding as she holds Jennie up. “Make sure she drinks water.” 

“God, you’re so fucking nice,” Jennie slurs, eyes barely open. “Why don’t you just date Chaeng? She’d be so much happier. You’re also, like, really hot.” 

“Okay!” Lisa pulls her a little roughly, glaring even though Jennie is oblivious. “Time to go. Thanks again for having us over, we’ll see you soon.” She rushes out, turning before her friend could say anything else. 

You chuckle as they walk away, Lisa muttering something to Jennie that has you wondering how much truth there is to that statement. It’s a nice ego boost to find out Jennie, and by extension, Rosie, think of you as attractive. Even if it’s on a superficial, physical level. 

After you shut the door, you find your roommate curled on the couch. You wonder if she’s still awake, knowing she switched to water while the three of you continued drinking. You grab one of the blankets, unfolding it, when she yawns. 

“I’m still awake,” Rosie mumbles, one eye opening that stops you from covering her. “I’m sorry about tonight.”

“You’ve apologized to me three times today,” You cover her body anyways, joining her on the couch. She gets cold easily. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry you’ve been having shitty sex.” 

Rosie groans, burying her face into the pillow, “God, that’s fucking embarrassing too. I’m sorry you—”

“It’s fine,” You wave dismissively. “Seriously though, that’s terrible.”

“Tell me about it,” Rosie sighs dejectedly, shaking her head. “For once, can’t a guy I date just return the favor?” 

You try not to react, but the alcohol you’ve consumed has lowered your inhibitions, so you boldly ask, “Has no one ever gone down on you?”

Rosie sits up, tilting her head curiously as she stares at you, “Well people have, but I guess never enough for me to enjoy it? I don’t know. Lisa and Jennie hookup from time to time, and share, in great detail, what they do. It makes me wonder if I’m missing out.” 

“I’d say you probably are,” You nod, recollecting memories of the women you’ve slept with thoroughly enjoying the action when you do it. You get off on it alone, but that’s because you like doing that. 

“God, who the hell do I have to meet to experience it then?” 

It’s a question you’re not expected to answer, but you find yourself saying, “No one. I can do it.” 

You want to smack yourself in the head for even suggesting that. It’s treading into dangerous waters because you have to remind yourself who she is in your life. She’s your roommate, for god’s sake. 

“You would?” Rosie asks innocently, as if this was as simple as changing the lightbulb in her room. “Like actually?” 

“Um,” You clear your throat, averting your gaze from her imploring one. “Yeah if you really wanted. I enjoy it so I’m not expecting anything in return.” Your face feels on fire. 

“Okay,” Rosie nods, and your eyes meet hers. “There’s no pressure if you change your mind.”

You scan her face, searching for something—anything—that she’s actually serious. You can’t tell if she is, and she senses your hesitation by adding, “I’m drunk enough to want it, but not that drunk where I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

That gives you some reassurance, but you care the most about how it would affect your friendship. It would have to change something, right? You’ve always separated feelings and sex when it comes to one night stands or flings, but you have real feelings for the woman in front of you, that could either help or hurt you.

You’re not sure which is worse. 

When you still don’t say anything, Rosie continues, “It won’t change anything between us. Just think of it as friends helping each other. Well, I guess in this case, you’re just helping me, but I could return the favor?” 

You shake your head, “No, that’s unnecessary. I’ll manage.” A flat out lie because you know that you’ll become a ball of sexual frustration. You’ll likely have to reach out to someone in your phone book to help out the problem you’re creating for yourself. 

“Are you sure?” Rosie asks softly, hand reaching out to your forearm. Her thumb gently rubs your skin, and your body heats up at the contact. 

“Yeah,” You clear your throat, trying to focus on what you’re about to do. “So how do you want to do this?” You’re not sure if kissing is a part of the deal, but you don’t want to push your luck. 

A blush appears on Rosie’s cheeks, shyly looking away. “Um, how do you usually do it?” 

“Are you really asking me about my moves?” You smirk. It earns you a light slap on the arm. “I don’t have very much.” 

Rosie scoffs, leaning back into the couch, “Why do I find that hard to believe?” 

“Because I have none,” You chuckle, moving to stand in front of her, in between the couch and coffee table. You kneel, pushing the table slightly back to give you more space. “Comfortable?” 

“Nervous,” Rosie breathes out as you settle on your knees.

“Don’t be,” You murmur, reaching for the edge of the blanket. “If you want to stop, just tell me.” 

You pull the blanket off, letting it fall to the ground. There’s a sharp inhale and you grin, meeting her eyes locked onto you. “Let me know, okay? I’ll stop, no questions asked.” 

“Okay,” Her voice shakes, body trembling as your fingers hook onto the waistband of her sweats. 

“This is about you. I can say with one hundred percent confidence that whoever refused to do this is a fucking idiot.” You mean it because with someone like Rosie, she deserves to be worshiped. 

And even if you’ll never be her boyfriend, you could do this. 

You gently tug her sweats off. She lifts her hips up, making it easier for the both of you, and once the clothing’s removed, you notice her cute underwear. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, just a simple black bikini cut with a small pink bow at the top. It’s adorable really, chuckling that her legs reflexively close.

“Don’t be shy,” You rest your chin on her knee, tilting down to place a soft kiss on her skin. Her legs slowly spread, granting you access to more skin.

“That tickles,” Her body shivers as your lips curl up. 

Your fingers grab the waistband of her underwear, slowly dragging it down her legs, watching them join the discarded pile. You settle in between as her knees separate, inviting you to taste her. Your cock stirs at the sight of her pussy, clean and well-kept, that your mouth waters.

You will, but you can’t give in just yet. 

You pepper kisses along her inner thigh, ghosting over her skin that has her absolutely squirming. You place your hands on her knees, spreading her wider and holding her still. You alternate between thighs, sucking lightly on the skin. You shouldn’t want to leave marks, but you can’t help it. You’ll deal with the repercussions later. 

Because the only thing on your mind is her and her alone. 

By the time you reach the apex of her thighs, Rosie sucks in a breath. You briefly glance up to her eyes low, teeth clenching her bottom lip. She gives you the smallest nod before you swipe your tongue in between her folds. 

You let out a breathy groan the moment her slick meets your tongue. Your mind shuts off, body turning on auto-pilot as you explore her center.

“Fuck,” The word falls from your mouth after tentative licks in between her folds. She squirms at the ministrations, taste buds ablaze as her slick drips down your chin. 

“Holy shit,” Rosie lets out a pretty moan, music to your ears as you insert your tongue inside her pussy. 

You swear she gets wetter, the scent of her pussy against your nose has you breathing deeply, soaking all of her in. You move with ease, licking and tasting all she has to offer.

“You’re making a fucking mess,” You growl out when you see the small wet spot form on the couch. You should probably put something under her, but the sounds she’s making are too good to stop. 

“I’m so fucking wet,” The sounds she’s making has you moaning against her pussy as your cock pulses in your sweats. “You feel so good.”

Rosie’s hand shoots to your head, fingers threading through your hair. It forces you to look up at her, and you shove your hand underneath your sweats, gripping your cock, because the sight is unholy. 

You’ve always been attracted to Rosie, that much was obvious the first day you met her. You’d be an idiot if you didn’t see the stares people threw whenever you were with her. Though, she was oblivious to it all, smiling back that would have them swooning. 

But like this? 

You’ve never seen anything hotter. 

You don’t know when it happened, but her hand slipped underneath her shirt, exposing more skin as she touched breasts, squeezing, massaging as your tongue continued its movement. Her hair’s an unruly mess, hair sticking up as a light sheen of sweat covers her face.

What really gets you is the lust-filled gaze, eyes narrowed, silently asking to continue. You’ve never seen her like this, and you can’t help but stroke your length. You keep your eyes locked on hers, tongue swirling in, over, around her pussy, leaving no spot untouched. 

Her grip on your hair tightens as she rolls her hips down, nose brushing against her clit. You slip your hand in between her legs, fingers teasing her outer lips before slowly inserting your index finger.

You watch Rosie’s eyes bulge, gasping, choking for air at the surprised intrusion. Her head tilts back, moaning as she rubs herself over your lower face. 

Rosie says your name like a prayer, a promise, an oath, that you’ll keep. You’d live your life in between her legs if it meant you get to hear her moan your name over and over. 

“God,” Your eyes roll back, intoxicated by her taste, getting harder the more she squirms against your mouth. “If I’m really the first person to actually do this, you’ve been having shitty sex.” 

“You are,” Rosie says through gritted teeth. “I realize that now.”

Her pussy practically sucks you in, your middle finger joining as her walls quickly squeeze around you. You want to make this last, but by the way she feels, and the way her breaths shorten with each inhale, she’s close. 

“Fuck,” Rosie’s hand never left your head, shoving your face deeper in her cunt as her legs spread wide, knees touching the couch. “I think I’m going to cum.”

“Go ahead,” You command, too lust-driven to watch what you say. “You’re so fucking hot. You feel so good around me. I wonder how you’d feel wrapped around my cock.” 

You break character for a moment, explicitly sharing what you want. For a brief second, you wait for her to pull away because this is for her. Her body reacts differently. Her inner walls tighten deliciously after mentioning that, lighting a fire under you. 

“Yeah? You want that?” You taunt, scissoring your fingers, curling, rubbing the muscles. “Your pussy wants my cock huh? God, I’d cum so fucking fast.”

Your thoughts are all over the place, thinking of any and every position you want her in. You need something to relieve yourself as your cock throbs in your hand, blood rushing south as you feel dizzy.

On top of you, watching her hips swivel as she tries to take all of you. Or you’d want to see her ass bouncing on you, legs spread over your knees as you fuck up into her, impatient. Or bent over the couch, ass high as you impale her along your length, so hard that she falls over. 

You don’t realize you’re talking to her pussy, muttering all the filthy things you want to do, until she gushes over your face, screaming as her orgasm rips through her body. Her walls keep your fingers locked in, but that doesn’t deter you. You continue moving your fingers, curling up just enough to hit that spot inside her before both hands are around your neck, holding you there as she thrusts herself on your face. 

You feel lightheaded. You can’t breathe, suffocated by Rosie’s thighs, keeping you there as she grinds haphazardly all over your face. You groan, choking out air as your tongue repeatedly flicks against her clit that has her body spasming.

When you pull away, you gasp, chest heaving as you stare at the blissed out woman in front of you. 

“Holy…” She doesn’t finish her sentence, eyes closed as she’s not faring any better than you. “Your mouth.” 

Embarrassingly enough, you came inside your sweats. You rest your forehead on her thigh before giving her one last peck. You lean back, using the collar of your shirt to wipe your face. 

“So,” You nod, as if what you just did was an everyday occurrence. “I hope you enjoyed that.” 

“Thanks for that,” Rosie gets out in between breaths, eyes opening slowly. “Seriously.” 

“Anytime,” You cringe because it makes you sound desperate. If she asked though, you would do it again. And again. 

And again. 

“I might have to take you up on that,” Rosie sighs dreamily. You chalk it up to the hormones clouding her brain, especially since her orgasm was strong. 

You feel the wetness in your pants, which thankfully they’re black so you couldn’t see your release staining. You distract yourself by gathering Rosie’s clothes. She’s still trying to catch her breath, body limp against the cushions, so you help dress her, slipping her underwear as best you can. 

“It’s fine, I can do it,” Rosie says so softly that you look up, meeting her gaze and something shifts. You can’t describe it, but you could feel something close to adoration just by the way she looks at you. 

Again, you’ll blame the hormones and alcohol, but it scares you to see that she might, in some kind of way, like you the way you do. 

“Let me.” You’re stubborn in that sense. You’ve always been respectful of women. You do your best to make sure they’re comfortable, and aftercare is a part of it. Rosie relents, letting you dress her before covering her with the blanket again. “There. Want me to carry you to your room too?”

“Stop,” Rosie blushes, averting her gaze to anywhere else. “You’ve done enough. I’ll get there, just let me be.”

You nod, rubbing her knee before standing up. “Goodnight Chaengie.” You smile as she lets out a contented sigh, snuggling deeper into the couch. 

-- 

You take a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for Rosie’s return, as you sit on the couch. The very same couch you were in between Rosie’s legs. 

You haven't seen Rosie since Friday night. The following morning, you expected to see her, but you woke up to a text message that she would be out for the weekend with her family in Busan, something she mentioned before about a wedding she had to attend. 

It was a blessing in disguise since it gave you time to ruminate over what happened. 

You weren’t entirely sure how you felt. You knew for certain that you were horny and needed to fuck someone to get out all the pent up tension that your hand could not provide you. You wanted to do it again (and a whole lot more), but that wasn’t something you could ask of her.  

You hoped things between you hadn't changed because it would, for a lack of a better word, suck, if it did. You’d have to find a new place to live when you’ve gotten so used to being in her presence. You’d have to change your number because you wouldn’t be able to face her. You’d also probably have to never talk to Lisa again because the chances of you seeing Lisa with Rosie in tow were high. 

(You’re just being dramatic at this point, but still.)

Rosie sent you a message about an hour ago that she’d be home soon. You contemplated ordering take away from one of her favorite spots, but opted not to and would just ask her if she was hungry as soon as she walked through the door. 

You had to make it seem like nothing changed anyways. 

You almost don’t hear her walk in, too absorbed in your own head that the sound of her whistling breaks you out of your thoughts. 

“Hey oppa,” Rosie greets as she sits next to you, leaving a friendly amount of space in between. 

“Roseanne,” You nod, smirking when she rolls her eyes at the use of her full name. “How was the wedding?” 

“Same old, same old,” Rosie sighs, shoulders dropping as you watch the tension leave her body. “My aunts kept asking me when it would be my turn to get married since Alice-unnie’s engaged, and the disappointment on their face when I told them I’m single was priceless.” 

You chuckle, “I’m sure you could be in a relationship if you want to. It’s not like people aren’t interested.” 

“Eh,” Rosie shrugs, “I know people are interested, but after the last one, I think it’s in my best interest to be single to figure out what I want.” 

She has a point. You haven’t been in a relationship in years, at least nothing serious where you considered marriage. Sure you have flings here and there, but it wasn’t more than just sharing a few meals and spending nights with women who weren’t looking for anything serious. 

It was nice, but there were times you wanted something more than just that. 

You imagined it a lot over the weekend with Rosie, which you partly blame on your feelings for her and watching her cum on your tongue. 

“That’s good,” Is all you can really say without delving too deep in the turmoil you felt over the weekend. 

Rosie checks her phone for a bit, leaving a lull in the conversation. You want to say something to address what happened, but you feel awkward doing so. You stare blankly at the blank television screen as she responds to whoever. 

“What’s wrong?” Rosie asks after a couple minutes. 

“Oh, uh, nothing,” You rush out, avoiding her gaze burning on the side of your face. 

Rosie places her phone on the coffee table before turning to face you, tugging on your arm. You can’t help but look at her, noticing the concerned look she’s giving you. She waits, and you relent, sighing, “Fine, I thought things would be awkward.”

“Awkward because…?” Rosie trails off as you watch her face blush, realizing what you mean. “That? Nothing’s changed. Sure, you might’ve set the bar really high for people in that department, but it’s nothing to make things awkward between us.” 

“Rosie,” You deadpan. 

“Oppa.” She knows how much formalities like that irritate you, especially when it’s just you two. 

“You sure?” You ask, needing this reassurance from her because your friendship with her has become one of the most important things to you. 

Rosie nods enthusiastically, smiling, as she leans forward to rest her head on your shoulder, “Yes. More than sure. I felt comfortable the whole time and I don’t regret it.” 

You smile, the guilt of taking advantage of her lifting off your chest. It doesn’t lessen how you feel about her, but at least you could live with knowing that. 

“Sooo…” Rosie drawls out, playing with the sleeve of your shirt. “Did you want to do it again?” 

What?

“Uh?” You’re dumbfounded. 

“I mean you could say no!” Rosie says quickly, pulling away. “It was nice, like really nice, and I think it could be fun to do it every once in a while.” 

“You’re actually serious?” 

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t,” Rosie shrugs indifferently. 

You internally groan because you feel your cock starting to get hard at the thought of doing that again. You gain nothing from this except material for you to use after the fact because you still wouldn’t be able to ask her to help out. 

“Sure why not.” You’ll deal with your hormones after, in a very cold shower. 

“Really?” Rosie beams, giggling as she sinks into the couch. 

“Here? Or…?” You glance behind her to the hallway. 

“I don’t mind the bedroom,” Rosie whispers. 

That’s all the confirmation you need.

You stand abruptly, scooping Rosie in your arms, that she squeals at being carried. You chuckle as she playfully hits you, arms encircling around your neck tightly. 

“You’re so annoying,” Rosie mutters against your neck.

You try to ignore the sensation of her breath on your skin by pulling her closer to your body. You don’t want to drop her after all. 

“Yeah, well, in about ten minutes, you’ll be saying something else.”

“You promise?” 

“Absolutely.” 

-- -- 

It was a mistake, telling your friends about your situation with Rosie. They asked why you seemed happier because you couldn’t just be happy without a reason. 

Rosie may be the reason why, but well, you didn’t have an excuse. 

She is the reason why. 

Which is an odd thing to say because you literally don’t get anything out of this except a shit ton of sexual frustration that you deal with—alone. You haven’t had the heart to ask anyone on a date lately, or entertain the women that you meet when you’re out and about. 

You’ve done everything to Rosie you possibly could, yet she doesn’t get tired of your mouth. 

At the rate you two were going, you’ve had to have developed some kind of jaw problem. 

She asked one night, after you washed your face, while watching one of her shows before you went to bed, if she could sit on it. By her logic, and something you found out accidentally, she finds men who take care of themselves to be attractive. Not that that comment went to your head because then by your logic, she would have to find you attractive. 

There was a time when she wore an oversized shirt and nothing else except for cute cheeky underwear that you tried very hard not to notice as you were making a smoothie. It didn’t help that she kept shaking her hips in front of you when you asked her if she wanted something, which was met with her bending over against the counter. It wasn’t like you could say no, especially when she slowly pulled her underwear down. 

Then, there was another time after a night out that she practically pushed you to your knees to eat her out right against the door. 

With too many times in between, you’ve basically haven’t had a decent, satisfying release since this one-sided arrangement started—two months ago. Your hand could only do so much for you. 

Your friends may have noticed you were happy, but they also saw how on edge you were that they asked what was going on. You might’ve been a little too loose with your words to say you’ve been spending time with Rosie by doing that for her, but then you haven’t gotten anything out of it. 

“Bro, you just gotta fuck someone if she’s not going to fuck you,” Jungkook says in your ear as Taehyung and Minwoo nod in agreement.

“It just feels wrong to,” You sigh, shoulders dropping as you drop your head on the table. 

“Wait,” Minwoo raises an eyebrow. “Are you saying you like Chaeyoung?” 

Your silence is enough for them. 

“Dude!” Jungkook slaps your back, much harder than you expected, jolting your head up. “What kind of shit is that? You haven’t fucked her. Hell, you guys haven’t even kissed.”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” You almost growl out, eyes narrowing toward Jungkook that he switches spots with Taehyung. 

“Well that says a lot,” Minwoo nods to himself in confirmation. 

“What?” 

“You do like Chaeyoung, but we sort of—minus Kook—already knew,” Minwoo explains, sipping his beer. 

“Okay, yeah, you’re right,” Shoulders dropping as you admit out loud that you do like Rosie. You may even be in love with her, but that’s something you’ll keep to yourself. 

Minwoo and Taehyung shoot you a sympathetic smile that makes you feel worse. Jungkook, however, completely misses the point, “Well why don’t you just fuck her out of your system?” 

“Do you always have to talk so crassly about women?” Taehyung sighs, shaking his head while slapping the back of Jungkook’s. 

“What!” Jungkook rolls his eyes, rubbing the spot he hit. “I get it. It must be hard to live with someone and do something like that with them for nothing in return. By the way, you’re a saint because if I—” Jungkook doesn’t finish that statement as Taehyung hits him again. 

“Sorry Tae,” Minwoo shoots you a look, “I sort of agree with him.”

“You what?” You and Taehyung speak at the same time. 

“It’s not healthy by any means. You’re probably a god in her eyes, but let’s be honest, you know you need to,” Minwoo says matter-of-factly. 

“I mean, I guess? It just feels wrong to,” You reason, trying to make up an excuse. 

“Why? It’s not like you’re dating. She’s single as far as you know. I’m sure you could find someone tonight if you really tried,” Minwoo encourages, nodding his head to the crowd in the bar. 

“I invited Jeongyeon,” Taehyung says suddenly. 

“What, why? It’s supposed to be a boys’ night out,” Jungkook whines, pouting like a puppy that you all ignore. 

Taehyung glances at you before answering, “Nayeon’s in town. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to see her since she’s hardly around.”

“Dude,” You glare at Taehyung, who isn’t fazed by your tone. “Are you fucking serious?” 

“What?” Taehyung shrugs. “You two ended just fine, and she’s also single. So why not have a nice one night stand with someone you know very well?” 

You want nothing more than to punch Taehyung in his face, but you also do not want to get kicked out of this bar you go to often.

Im Nayeon. 

A woman you haven’t seen in years, but she’s also the woman you dated for about three years. 

The breakup was amicable. No bad blood between you. Life was pulling you in different directions that neither of you wanted to give up your dreams to stay together. Nayeon moved to Busan while you stayed in Seoul. 

You’d be happy to see her on any other occasion, or maybe, any other moment in your life where you weren’t pining for someone that was your roommate. 

The problem is, Nayeon would actually be down to have sex with you. A problem that’s too tempting in the state that you’re in where, as your friends eloquently put it, you need to get laid. 

“I’m going home,” You stand, digging through your pockets for whatever bills you had. 

“Too late,” Minwoo mumbles before you hear Nayeon’s obnoxious laugh behind you. 

“What? Leaving already? I just got here, oppa,” The all-too familiar voice says as you turn around. You’re met with a toothy smile and eyes squinted that you can’t stop the smile forming on your face. 

Fuck. 

-- 

You’ve missed Nayeon. She has always been someone that made you laugh even when you’ve had the worst days. She still has the same obnoxious laugh and teases you to no end, but she’s different from how she was. 

Nayeon still has that level of immaturity when it comes to trivial things, but the way she carries herself proves she’s much more confident and sure of herself. She listens to what you tell her whether it be about work or how your sister wants you to spend more time with her, giving advice when appropriate. 

Your friends left you two alone when a billiards table opened up. Jungkook and Jeongyeon nodded approvingly like they were expecting something to happen tonight, which as things were unfolding was highly likely. 

“So are you dating anyone?” Nayeon asks after finishing the third round of drinks. 

You hesitate, quickly shaking your head as the bartender comes over and asks if you wanted anything else. It buys you some time, but once the drinks are poured, Nayeon waits for an answer. 

“I’m not,” You take a hefty swig, choosing your words carefully because Nayeon has a tendency to dice and analyze stuff like this. “It’s a bit complicated?” 

“When is it not with you?” Nayeon teases, biting her lip to hide her smile. “Tell me about her.” 

You thought it would be weird to talk to your ex-girlfriend about the woman you’re currently interested in, who happens to also be your roommate. She doesn’t say much, except for clarification on minor details, as you do your best to give a condensed version of who Rosie was to you. 

When you bring up that night, you wait to get scolded for taking advantage of Rosie, Nayeon surprises you by remaining indifferent. If you were looking at her, you wouldn’t have missed her eyes slightly narrowing as you describe how much Rosie uses this ‘perk’ frequently. 

You finish, and the weight on your shoulders feel a little lighter, like you can actually sit up straight for once. You see the wheels turning in Nayeon’s head, picking her words carefully. 

“Tell her how you feel,” Nayeon says softly, leaning slightly forward just enough to smell her perfume. 

“It’s really not that simple,” You sigh, leaning forward as your shoulder brushes against hers. 

Nayeon rolls her eyes, “It seems pretty cut and dry. You accidentally fall in love with your roommate, eat her out so well that you’ve practically ruined her for any other person, that she actually ends up falling in love with you too, but is too scared to do anything about it since you’re roommates. The only thing to quote unquote keep you is to ask you multiple times throughout the week to eat her out. Am I wrong?” 

“You’re so annoying,” You shake your head. 

“But you’re not saying I’m wrong, so just either tell her how you feel,” Nayeon reiterates, resting a hand on your thigh, “Or you’re going to get blue-balled to the point of insanity. Which for what it’s worth, is a loss for her because whenever you’re really riled up, sex is amazing.” 

“Nayeon,” You grit out, reaching for your drink because this is not what you want to talk about with her, of all people. 

Realization crosses her face and she giggles, hitting your thigh three times before saying, “You’re frustrated, aren’t you? Oh this is gold. I can’t believe you, of all people, are having trouble sealing the deal.” 

“Fuck off,” You pout, turning away to hide the embarrassment on your face. 

“Hey,” Nayeon says softly, affectionately, that it’s jumbling your thoughts as you try to separate how you feel about Rosie and the pent up energy waiting to be released. “I’m just kidding about the whole ‘sealing the deal’ part. It took a while to win me over.” It’s a joke between you because she was the one that pursued you after working on a project together. 

“Nayeon,” You sigh dejectedly as you turn to face her, resting your face in your hand. 

“Hm?” She raises an eyebrow after she sips her glass. You ask a question, but it’s barely audible. “Speak up.” 

“Do you want to spend the night together?” 

Nayeon doesn’t answer right away, choosing to swirl the ice in her glass. 

It gives you a chance to drink some water because the alcohol is definitely getting to you if you brazenly asked your ex-girlfriend to spend the night. There’s a part of you that wants her to say no thank you, but there’s a more selfish part that wants her to say yes. 

“When was the last time you had sex?” Nayeon asks after a few minutes, dragging it longer than necessary.

The question catches you off guard, but you answer, “Probably three months ago.” 

She makes a humming sound, raising her hand for the bill as the bartender walks by, “Fine. On one condition.” 

“What?” You shift on your seat, excited and eager that she’s agreeing. You pull out your wallet, handing your card to the bartender before he could hand her the bill. 

Nayeon leans forward, invading your space to feel her breath against your skin. You brace yourself for whatever she has to say. 

“Fuck me like I’m her.”

--

You hear footsteps across the hardwood floor, but it’s not enough to stop you from what you’re doing—making a smoothie. It isn’t until two arms wrap around your stomach that prompts you to stop. 

“You and these damn smoothies,” Nayeon mumbles, nuzzling her face into your back. 

“I made you one too.” Nayeon giggles, sneaking a hand underneath your shirt. Your muscles flex at her touch. “Having fun there?” You ask as her finger traces up and down, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“Always with you,” Nayeon kisses your shoulder blade, peering her head around to watch. 

It’s nice to be like this with Nayeon. It’s familiar, the same sort of routine you had after spending countless nights together. You had a tendency to wake up before her, especially after a night like last night. 

Nayeon was insatiable—still is—and you both reaped the benefits of your sexual frustration. She wouldn’t let up, practically begging you to do all the things you wanted to do, as if it was Rosie you were fucking. She didn’t care how hard or fast you went because she knew how you were when it came to sex. 

There’s a bit of guilt that you couldn’t make it to your room. Nayeon practically jumped on you as soon as you entered the apartment, dragging you to the couch before the door fully shut. She was in your lap before you knew it, stroking you to a full mast that had you seeing stars. One moment you were groaning against her lips, the next she was kneeling in between your legs. 

The rest of the night was just you taking all your pent up frustration out. Nayeon welcomed it, spurring you on by whispering the thoughts you’ve had about Rosie in your ear. You nearly lost yourself to the sensation of Nayeon’s body wrapped around yours, overwhelming you when the picture of Rosie popped into your mind. 

It was almost morning by the time you both tapped out, exhausted and relaxed. You had never had anyone stay in your bed, but it was nice to cuddle with Nayeon before sleep took over. Rosie wasn’t home, vacationing with her family on Jeju Island, so you weren’t expecting their paths to cross. Nayeon had plans with her sister and mother anyways before she had to return to Busan. 

“Is your roommate home?” Nayeon asks once you hand her the smoothie.

You shake your head, turning around to face her, “Rosie’s coming home tonight.” 

Nayeon leans into you as you place your free hand on her waist, gently rubbing her back. “So…” The teasing glint in her eyes spells mischief. 

“Seriously?” You knew Nayeon had a high sex drive, but you’re not sure you have anything left. “Four times wasn’t enough?” 

“One for good luck?” The smoothie’s on the counter, her arms wrapping around your neck as she stands on her tiptoes. Her lips brush against yours, murmuring, “You know you want to.”

You couldn’t ignore the effect she has on your body, cock awakening when she presses her body just enough. Nayeon’s hot, and she knows how to push every single one of your buttons. 

“Why not right here?” Nayeon nips at your bottom lip, sucking lightly.

“There’s food on the counter,” You reason, eyes closing as you move your lips languidly against hers. 

“And…?” Nayeon pulls away, dropping on her heels. 

Your eyes open slowly, hand immediately dropping when they land on Rosie standing in the hallway. 

It’s like a deer caught in the headlights. You watch her mouth open and close, but no sound comes out. Nayeon senses your body tense, head turning slightly and a grin forms on her face. 

“Hi,” Nayeon says casually. She turns around so that her back’s against your front. She loops your arms around her waist as you stifle a groan at her bottom pressed directly over your crotch. “I’m Nayeon, it’s nice to meet you. You must be Rosie right?” 

You didn’t realize Nayeon’s clothing choice because she’s wearing one of your shirts, falling mid-thigh. She’s wearing her underwear, at least, but even that does nothing to hide the small love bites you left on her skin. 

Rosie clears her throat, “Yeah.” You hear her voice crack. “It’s nice to meet you too. Um,” Her eyes shift to yours, “I’ll leave you two alone. Sorry to, uh, intrude.”

You’re barely able to get a word out before Rosie rushes to her room, leaving you and Nayeon to watch her door quietly shut. The woman in your arms chuckles, shaking her head. 

“That was rude,” You lightly scold, pinching her stomach. 

“Look,” Nayeon shakes you off before turning to face you, crossing her arms, “Give it a month, at most three, you’ll be together.” 

“You were toying with her,” You roll your eyes, mirroring her stance. 

“How?” Nayeon snaps, eyes glaring. “Neither you nor I knew she was going to be here this morning. Maybe her seeing you with someone else was a wake up call.” 

“Yeah but still, you didn’t need to do all that,” You argue. It’s a weak position, but you had to justify it somehow. 

“Don’t act all high and mighty. You literally came inside me twice. Call a spade a spade, you fucked me while thinking of her, which I have no issue with. My issue is, how long can you act like you’re not in love with her?” You almost interject, but she raises a finger, “I know you are. Give me that, at least.” 

Nayeon stares, waiting for your response, but you have nothing. She’s right in every sense because you are in love with Rosie.

“It may have been a few years since we dated, but I still care about you,” Nayeon continues to talk, sending you a sympathetic smile, “Just be honest with yourself and her. There’s something there.” 

“Okay,” Your shoulders sag, avoiding her gaze. You’re probably pouting based on Nayeon’s fingers suddenly cupping your chin, tilting your head up. “What?” 

“It’ll work out, trust me. You might not know girls as well as I do, but it was all over her face.” You raise an eyebrow. “She’s jealous.” 

-- -- 

You’re confused, stumped even on how to proceed. 

Things have been awkward. 

It’s not like you’re avoiding each other because you still see her in the mornings and evenings. It’s always a brief conversation about how things are going, then Rosie excuses herself either to her room or she has plans. 

You might as well be avoiding each other. 

You feel the need to explain yourself, but Nayeon has been in your messages saying that you owe her nothing because it’s “her thing to deal with”—whatever that means. You tried asking her to explain, but she was adamant to just wait. 

It’s been a couple weeks since you spent the night with Nayeon. Rosie’s been distant ever since.

Lisa’s birthday party is this evening and you briefly spoke with Rosie to go together, but she isn’t home yet. You caught her this morning to confirm plans, which she was all for, quickly agreeing before she left for work. 

Rosie’s late. You have half the mind to call her and ask her where she is. The party started at seven, and when you glance at the clock, it’s five past. It’s normal to arrive late to events, but it’s a good drive across town that Lisa would give you a hard time if you show up after Jennie. 

You contemplate leaving without Rosie when the front door swings open a minute later. 

“I’m so sorry, my meeting ran late and my coworker needed help with her opening statement,” Rosie rushes out when she sees you sitting on the couch. “Give me, like, three minutes.” She doesn’t give you a chance to respond as she hurries to her room. 

You weren’t planning on drinking. You haven’t since you saw Nayeon because you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of Rosie. It’s the first time since that morning where you’ll actually be hanging out with her, even though your friends will be there too. 

You don’t keep track of time, but the sound of heels on the hallway floor brings your attention to Rosie. Your jaw nearly drops because she’s absolutely stunning. She’s wearing this brown sheer outfit? You don’t know how to explain it. It’s revealing, her pale skin looks luminescent under the fabric. Her top’s fucking open, stomach showing as it flows over her skin, rustling through her purse before her eyes meet yours. 

“Ready?” 

You clench your jaw, averting your gaze before returning. You prayed to whatever higher being that she doesn’t realize you were practically undressing her with your eyes. You try to play it cool, nodding with a soft yeah. 

Rosie nods, “Let’s go.” 

You desperately want to reach out, pulling her body against yours to whisper to her all the things you want to do to her, but you don’t. You just hoped that things would go back to normal, whatever normal was. 

-- 

Rosie laughs, shifting in your lap as Jennie tells her something about someone they know. You stifle a groan as that particular movement has your cock straining against your slacks. You readjust your legs, as Rosie settles more into you, having the nerve to loosely wrap her arm around your neck. You don’t know if she knows what she’s doing to you, but you have a feeling she does.

The party’s in full swing. A few of Lisa’s friends are singing off-tune while the rest are conversing, drinking. You could be enjoying it more, engaging more, if it wasn’t for the problem in between your legs. Something caused by the very woman who’s animatedly talking about another person they know. 

The drive from the apartment wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good. The conversation was stiff, forced, and the songs from Rosie’s phone filled the silence. You felt like you didn’t know what to say after the night with Nayeon, embarrassed that she caught you like that, even though your ex-girlfriend aggressively reminded you that you two weren’t dating. Rosie spent most of the ride on her phone, typing away to whoever or scrolling through her socials. 

Stop lights had never felt so long. 

It wasn’t until you parked that Rosie broke the ice. 

“I don’t want things to be weird between us,” Rosie said quietly, unbuckling her seatbelt to face you. “I’m sorry I was rude to Nayeon, and I’m sorry if I’ve been distant.” 

You changed your position, turning your head, “I’m sorry too. Let’s just go back to how things were before?” 

She tilts her head, expression unreadable that the hairs on your neck stand. There’s a sudden tension in the air that you can’t quite place, but being this close to her has your senses heightened. 

“Sure,” Rosie’s voice barely comes out in a whisper, “Let’s do that.” 

It was nice to see all the people here to celebrate Lisa, but what made it even nicer was Rosie was always next to you. She might not have been directly part of the conversations you were having, but she was always close by. At one point, her fingers threaded through yours, palm soft against your skin. 

When Jennie arrived, she immediately pulled you with her. She guided you to sit on the free space on the bench. You were about to move to make room when her hand was on your shoulder, stopping you, and she sat in between your legs. 

“What about you, oppa?” The question catches you off guard, breaking you out of your thoughts. You haven’t been paying attention to their conversation, so you have no substance to contribute. 

“You okay?” Rosie asks, a sly smirk on her face, confirming she knows exactly what she’s doing and she’s getting the reaction she wants. “You look… distracted.” 

Clearing your throat, hoping your voice doesn’t sound too hoarse, “Just great.” It must not work based on the chuckle she lets out. “Sorry, what are you two gossip queens talking about?” 

Jennie’s eyes narrow, huffing, “First of all, we weren’t gossiping. I was just telling Rosie about my trip to France with my mother. And to answer your question, I asked what was new with you.” 

Oh. 

That was easy to answer. There hadn’t been much going in your life since you last saw Jennie, which wasn’t too long ago. By the time you finish telling her about an upcoming business trip to the United States, a mischievous glint forms in her eyes. 

“Dating anyone?” The woman in your lap stiffens at the question. “Rosie mentioned that you had someone over recently.” 

“Oh well,” You shrug, not entirely sure how to answer. “Yeah, I did. It was just a one night stand.” 

“So you aren’t dating her?” Jennie prods as the tension rolls off Rosie’s body. 

“No, I’m not dating anyone.” You answer flatly, slightly annoyed with her sudden interest in your dating life. 

“Interesting,” Jennie nods, crossing her arms as she leans back. She seems satisfied with your answer, glancing at Rosie who still feels tense. You sneak a hand around her, arm resting on her waist as you give a reassuring squeeze. Her body relaxes into your touch. You missed how Jennie observed the small interaction, only hearing her say, “Very interesting.”  

-- 

This is dangerous, very dangerous. 

You didn’t know what was worse–getting caught or dying. Though there was a thrill that came with the former. 

You couldn’t pinpoint what changed, but as soon as you and Rosie entered the car, that same heavy tension was there. You couldn’t ignore it, and it didn’t seem like she could either, by the way she kept fidgeting in her seat as you drove home. 

It snapped the moment you hit a red light because suddenly Rosie’s lips were on yours. You couldn’t help the small moan being swallowed by her mouth eagerly on yours. You practically melted into the kiss, leaning over to the center console, but the sound of the car horn blaring behind you had you reluctantly pulling away. 

“How well can you drive?” Your eyes were focused on the road when Rosie’s hand rested on your thigh. You thought it was a weird question to ask. She had been in the car with you numerous times and you take safety seriously after a wicked crash when you were younger.

“Uh, pretty well?” You answered dumbly, braking slowly as the next traffic signal turned red. 

“Good,” Rosie nodded, hand inching dangerously closer to your crotch. 

“Chaeng,” You glanced down, watching her hand swiftly undo your belt. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

“Eyes on the road,” Rosie murmured. Her other hand reached over, unbuttoning your slacks just enough. “Don’t crash.” 

Another car horn went off, giving you no choice but to drive. You saw Rosie move the seat belt, freeing her movement as her body leaned over the center console. 

“Chaeng,” You groaned the moment her hand made contact, slipping your cock out of your briefs. 

“Don’t crash.”

You couldn’t make any promises. Your body jerked when you felt her lips gently brush over you, tongue licking slowly over the tip. 

You definitely weren’t expecting any of this tonight, but you weren’t against it. 

Even if it jeopardizes your safety and life.

“Fuck,” You mutter underneath your breath as Rosie’s mouth takes you in again. She goes lower on your length, the apartment building getting closer. The grip on the steering wheel tightens when you hit the back of her throat. “Chaeng,” You warn, your control slipping as your foot presses on the accelerator. 

Her mouth’s immediately off you, but she keeps her hand wrapped around you. Your body tenses, unsure of her next move. You focus entirely on the road, and not on her hand slowly stroking you. 

“I had a feeling you were big,” Rosie says casually, leaning her head on your shoulder. “Do you think it’ll fit?” She murmurs against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. 

Her lips press on your jaw, muscle tensing underneath her touch. You almost let out a sigh of relief when you take a tight turn into the driveway, but it comes out as a gasp because she decides to drop her head. 

“Dear fuck,” You groan, peeling into the assigned parking spot. By the time you put the car in park, your fingers thread through her hair, hips thrusting up. 

Hitting the back of her throat, Rosie shoots up, gasping for air before her warm, wet mouth’s around you once again. Your fingers tense, tugging at her hair when she chokes, throat constricting around your length. Your head falls back against the headrest as a pit forms in your stomach. 

“I’m, I’m—fuck,” You can barely start your sentence, grip loosening as your vision blurs. 

“You’re doing so well for me.” You know that Rosie’s talking to you, and the praise does something to you. “You deserve this,” She continues, hand steadily stroking with the occasional lick along the underside of your length. “I’ll be good for you. I’ll let you finish inside my mouth, yeah?” She goads, voice dropping an octave, driving you absolutely insane. 

“Fuck, yes, yes,” You chant, nodding desperately before making a mistake that ends you. 

You gain some semblance of control of your body, eyes opening and looking down right when Rosie’s pretty lips wrap around your cock. You whimper, hand shooting to the back of her head, as you release into her mouth. You choke out a few breaths, hips driving upward as you push her head farther along. You’re met with no resistance, feeling her throat relax when her nose touches your pubic bone. Your vision goes white, a guttural groan falls from your lips, feeling her cheeks hollow as you just keep cumming. 

You don’t know where you start and she ends, but when it does, Rosie lifts her head. You see the smallest dribble of your cum on her chin, painting a vivid image of her face covered in you. You watch her bring her thumb up, wiping it into her mouth, licking her lips before meeting your fucked out gaze. 

“Open your mouth,” You say quietly, lifting your hand to cup her chin. She follows your command, slowly opening her mouth, and all you see is pink, no trace of you inside. “Good girl,” You murmur, pulling her lips to yours.

Sighing contentedly, Rosie’s lips move languidly against yours. She pulls away after a few moments, resting her forehead on yours, “Sleep with me tonight?” 

Whatever she wants. 

--

No sleep was happening. 

You were naive to think you’d actually be sleeping. 

Once you made yourself somewhat presentable, in the event you saw another tenant, you let Rosie pull you out of the car. Your knees almost buckled the moment you stood, but she was there to catch you, giggling against your chest as she held you up. 

“You’re being dramatic,” Rosie commented as you draped an arm around her. 

“You sucked the literal life out of me,” You couldn’t help your bluntness. The hormones were still releasing and all you wanted to do was pull her into you more. “I could’ve crashed,” You added, unsure of how you made it, but thankful you did. 

“Well thanks,” Rosie said, a blush forming on her face that you don’t miss. “For, you know, keeping us alive.” 

You smiled, eyes drooping as Rosie dragged you to the elevator. She lightly scolded you when you’d drop your weight onto her, huffing cutely before snuggling deeper into your side. That was a win for you. 

When you finally made it inside the apartment, your body was on autopilot and went straight to your room, Rosie glued to your side. 

“Oppa,” Whining as she struggled to get out of your hold, “I want to change.” 

You hardly pay her any mind, falling onto your bed and taking Rosie with you. She shrieked, hitting your back. 

“Go change,” You mumbled, head turning to face her. “Come back when you’re done.” 

Rosie booped your nose with her pinky, getting up before you could react. You heard her giggles as she ran out of the room. You were sure you were sporting a dopey smile. 

You decided to follow suit. Changing in your mind was shrugging off your pants and haphazardly taking your shirt off, barely undoing any of the buttons. You tended to have a more thorough nightly routine that involved you sleeping in more clothes, but you were in too much of a relaxed state to care.

It could’ve been hours, dozing in and out of sleep, when it was really only ten minutes before Rosie returned. 

“No pajamas?” Rosie scoffed playfully. 

You opened one eye and saw her nightwear choice. An oversized shirt you recognized immediately since it was your shirt that went missing a few months ago. You chalked it up to being left on vacation, but here it was, barely covering the culprit’s body. 

“No clothes of your own?” You retorted, earning a smack on your back. 

“Whatever,” Point you. “Let’s just sleep now.” 

Sleep my ass. 

“I told you,” Rosie gasps, body trembling as she folds forward, lips pressed against yours. “I’d be good for you.” 

“So fucking good,” You moan watching your length disappear in between her legs. “Such a good girl.” 

You were on your side, your hand resting high on Rosie’s waist. You were trying to sleep, but she kept squirming. It wasn’t until she was pressed up against you that she stopped. 

Or so you thought she’d just fall asleep. 

As your body relaxed, inhaling the scent of Rosie so close to you, you felt her hand in between your bodies, landing perfectly on your crotch. She started slowly, cupping and rubbing your cock over the fabric. You couldn’t help the bodily response, hardening as time went on. 

“Chaeng,” You moaned softly against her head. 

“I want you,” Rosie whispered, her lips placing a kiss on the underside of your jaw. “Let me be good for you.” 

You didn’t know how she did it, but you were suddenly on your back with Rosie on top of you. You couldn’t remember if she wore anything underneath your shirt, but the warmth of her center over your briefs has you lost in the sensation. 

“You know,” Rosie’s hands worked quickly to pull you out, “I’m usually not this forward, but,” You whimpered when she guided your cock to her slit, “I’ve been thinking about this since you let me sit on your face while we were watching a show. Want to hear a secret?” 

You nodded, too entranced by her playing with your cock against her. She could be telling you that she committed murder. 

“I couldn’t help but touch myself again later that night,” Rosie inhaled sharply when she brushed you against her clit. “I saw your sweats tented and imagined what you’d feel like.” 

If you remembered correctly, that time she mentioned wasn’t too long after the first time. That made you dizzy to think about because she already came over your face, but she still touched herself after. 

And that was hot. 

“Guess I’m about to find out.” 

Bringing you to fill Rosie to the hilt, swallowing the moans she lets out against your lips. Your head falls onto the pillow, watching her steady herself as her body adjusts to the intrusion. 

“Am I doing well?” Her eyes are low, barely being held open as you watch the pleasure wash over her face. 

“You could do better,” You bring your hands behind your head. Her eyes widen when you roll your hips, telling her in a not-so-subtle way to show you just how good she could be. 

Maybe you should’ve kept your mouth shut, but you have never been known to say the most appropriate thing. Your words light a fire in her, and you see the switch happen in real time. 

“Better?” Rosie shifts slightly, resting her knees at your sides while keeping you snug in between her warm walls. “Okay,” She nods before slowly raising her hips as your cock appears. 

Rosie goes for the kill, slamming her body against yours. Your hands shoot to her hips, the move startling you. She repeats the motion again, again, and again. 

“Good?” Rosie pulls away, sitting upright. 

“So fucking good,” Is all you know how to say and you keep saying that when Rosie moves her body on top of you, undulating her hips. 

You’re hypnotized as she works herself over you, swiveling her hips and rolling her body. You watch her movement stutter, realizing quickly she found the perfect tempo and spot. You can’t ignore the knot forming as she continues her ministrations. She’s moving faster, signaling she’s close. You also can’t ignore how soaked it is between your bodies. 

“Such a good girl,” You mutter absentmindedly, her pace increasing as her inner muscles tighten. “Good girls cum, yeah?” 

Rosie nods, mewling in your lap, “Yes, I’m good. I know I’m being good.” She babbles, eyes rolling back as she tightens forcefully around you, body wracked with tremors as her orgasm hits. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Your hips move on their own accord, thrusting up into her as your hands pull her along your cock. “Do you want me to pull—”

Rosie vigorously shakes her head, collapsing into you as she grabs your hands off her hips. She pins your hands over your head. You feel her walls contract, squeezing you tightly that you can’t stop yourself from cumming, painting her insides white. Your lips find hers, a filthy moan leaves your mouth as you let everything out. 

“It’s so much,” Rosie gasps out, small aftershocks hitting her body as you roll your hips up, prolonging both your orgasms. 

You didn’t realize how hard you were gripping her hands until you felt a gentle squeeze. She’s a mess on top of you, hair wild and all over the place as she catches her breath. 

You kiss her temple, breathing hard as her body goes limp on top of yours. You carefully move to pull yourself out, wincing at the release in pressure. Her sudden intake of breath doesn’t go unnoticed, kissing her again. 

“Sorry,” You whisper. It all feels wet down there and the sicker side of you wants to see what it looks like, but you have a feeling this will happen again. 

“Sleep,” Rosie mumbles, burying her face into the crook of your neck. 

You chuckle, shaking your head. You agree that sleep is what should happen next, but you couldn’t leave her like this—as hot as it would be. 

“Let me clean up first,” You coo. She doesn’t respond, the light snores you hear below has you rolling your eyes.

You do your best to maneuver yourself out from underneath her, minimally disturbing her as you roll out of bed. You grab what you need from the bathroom to come back to Rosie laying on her stomach. You try to clean the mess you made, internally battling with yourself if you should move to her room. 

Rosie’s too adorable in your bed that you decide not to. You pull a pair of old shorts out, slipping it on her frame. When you're satisfied with what you could do, you shut the lights off. 

You’ll have to change your bedsheets at some point, but Rosie curling into your side as soon as you slide underneath the comforter makes you forget about it. 

-- -- 

You’re grinning as soon as you walk through the door. Your eyes immediately fall onto Rosie staring intently at her laptop screen as she chose the kitchen as her office for the day. 

“Jagiya,” You say affectionately when you’re behind her, kissing her sweetly on the top of her head. “I have news.” 

Rosie’s half paying attention, humming as you massage her shoulders. “What?” She asks distractedly, typing away.

“I’m moving out,” You announce, proud of the statement as the sound of her keyboard stops. 

“You’re what?” 

“I’m moving out,” You pull up the stool to sit next to her. 

Rosie raises an eyebrow, confused at what you’re saying because you’ve been living together for two years and dating for almost a year. 

It should’ve been a weird transition—the whole roommates turned lovers thing—but it actually wasn’t. It was almost too easy, in which the only problem you had was who’s room you were sleeping in. 

“Where are you going?” She asks pointedly, crossing her arms whenever she felt she was getting tested. 

It’s a test she’s thinking too hard about. 

You say an address, one you’re both familiar with, and you chuckle when you see her nose scrunch. 

“Uh… Okay…” Rosie trails off, puzzled at your news. “Did something happen?” 

You see the wheels turning in her head, thoughts and memories flickering through her mind as she racks her brain over what you’re getting at. 

“Nope,” You respond simply, popping the p. “Are you going to ask which unit?” 

“You’re being difficult,” Rosie huffs, shaking her head. “Where the fuck are you moving?” 

“This one,” You say simply, grinning as her expression goes blank. 

“What?” 

You reach out, pulling her body onto your lap. Nuzzling your face into her neck, “I’m moving in.” 

“You’ve been moved in, dumb dumb,” Rosie flicks your forehead. “What’re you getting at? I’m getting irritated.” 

“Well, oh love of my life,” You peck her cheek sweetly, ignoring the glare she sends your way. “Let’s turn my room into an office since we spend most nights in your room. Yours is bigger anyways.” 

It’s been gnawing at you for the past month. There were a few things you had been waiting for too before bringing it up. Number one being this promotion your bosses really want you to have with a larger increase in your pay. 

“What about all our clothes?” Rosie asks after a moment. Of course that would be on her mind, out of everything. 

“We just move some things around,” You say easily, shrugging because that isn’t that big of a deal. “I love you.” 

“And I love you too,” Rosie smiles, looping her arms around your neck as she leans forward. “But we really don’t have to do all that. I don’t mind working out here!” She gestures to the living room and kitchen. 

You shake your head, smiling softly, “I know you don’t, but I do. You should be able to separate the spaces.” 

It’s definitely more of a you thing because you want Rosie to be able to work without it bleeding into the areas she spends the most time in. She hasn’t complained, but you could tell she never actually relaxes when she’s home. 

“You’re sweet,” Rosie mumbles, lips pressed against yours that you find yourself smiling. You lower your arms, wrapping loosely around her waist to bring her closer. She lets out a hmph before melting into the embrace. “You’re so good to me.” 

The praises echoes in your mind, groaning softly when she moves her lips against yours. “So, so good,” She breathes out that the grip on her waist tightens. 

“Chaeng.” She’s highly aware of the effect that has on you, but you’re preparing yourself for what she does next. 

“I think I should reward you,” Rosie’s index finger trails down your jaw. “You take care of me so well.” 

You can’t even say anything as Rosie kisses you one last time before taking a step back, slowly dropping to her knees. The sight of her in between your legs is one you never tire of. 

“Be good baby,” You scratch the top of her head, undoing her ponytail as blonde hair frames her face. 

“For you? Always.” 

-- -- -- 

#blackpink smut #blackpink rose #blackpink park chaeyoung #rosie smut #park chaeyoung smut #park chaeyoung

[doki-doki-imagines]

Happy new Year! I wanted to request an Reader with healing powers by touching,healing the boys of Mortal Kombat pls?

author note: Thanks! Happy new Year to you too!! As someone studying to become a doctor this request is a little to perfect LOL. feat. Earthrealm guys for my own sanity this time, but if you want you can also ask for Outworld ones.

Johnny Cage: -He doesn't believe in your powers AT ALL. -I'm not saying Johnny can't wait to hurt himself, because pain sucks, but he may get a bit careless… -He's gonna cut his finger with paper, the most stupid wound that sting like a bitch. -He visits you, you don't laugh at him, just touch his index with yours and…voilà! No wounds anymore. -He is stunned, mouth open. You absolutely need to come to Hollywood and let people pay, you know how rich you can get?? -Johnny will be attached to your hips, wounds or not. If he can't get you out your clinic he wants at least a date with the cute doctor.

Kenshi Takahashi: -He visited you after the Mileena accident. -Sadly you can't regrow new eyes, being able to heal just from tissue that is alive. -That doesn't mean you can't help him soothing his pain! Or decrease the itch he feels from the skin that grew there. -Kenshi visits you frequently, not just for medical reasons but also to share a cup of tea together, your chats a relaxing moment during frenzy times.

Raiden: -He doesn't visit you often, but when Raiden does he has a kind voice, even with broken bones and teared skin. -Luckily most of the time Raiden wounds aren't that serious, but he tends to prolong his stay in your clinic. -At times he felt asleep on the bed, heavy breath and some times snores. -He is so cute you never wake him up, but pulling a cover on his body to keep him warm and comfortable.

Kung Lao: -He has never been proud of the wounds and scar that he has, but at least now Lao can see the positive side of the bruises; visiting you. -You don't say he is dumb, and treats him with utmost care, your soft fingers on his skin make his heartrate speed up terribly. -Lao hopes you don't notice, hiding his real emotions under puns and flirty jokes. -You can totally feel Lao's heart, but find him cute, trying to sputter out puns to make you laugh, so you let him act.

Liu Kang: -He asked you to help at Wu Shi Academy because he knew about your powers. -Liu Kang made sure you had a tiny house of your own, separated from training grounds, but near enough to run to you in case of emergency. -He doesn't suffer of any injury, but he often visits you to ask if you are fine, just chit chatting about your days. -Every time Liu Kang visits you he brings a present, each time it gets more expensive. Maybe one day you'll pick up the signals, or maybe you could heal his broken courage; it has been awhile since Liu Kang asked someone out.

Geras: -He also doesn't need any kind of healing, but when someone is wounded he runs to you. -Most of the time you talk about work, you tried to pry informations about the you of other timelines but Geras never budges. -So you started to gossip with him, useless stuff, but you know he'll never tell the secrets out. -He listens to you, already knowing everything, but Geras enjoys your company so he sits still, your voice almost lulling him.

Bi-Han: -Doesn't trust you, he has never heard of healing magic. -But there you are, on your knees, him laying on the ground, your fingers repairing every cut, every wounds on his body with a mere touch. -Bi-Han starts to visit you more often, he wants to know your secret, the Lin Kuei's doctors could only improve with your guide. -You laugh at his proposal, telling him this is a gift you have since you were born and that you prefer your magic to be of everyone usage, not only his ninjas. -He scowls and exits your house. But Bi-Han won't give up, he'll convince you one day, he is sure of it.

Kuai Liang: -He doesn't have the time to have doubts about your powers because the first time Liang heard of you is the time you are healing him. -Now it is too late to heal his face scar, but for sure you can help him with his other wounds. -Liang begs you to join Shirai Ryu, but you refuse "You are good people, but my power is for everybody, not just your clan." -He accepts it…and trasfer Shirai Ryu base near your house, enough that if his men needs help you'll be right there. -And maybe Liang would be able to visit you not only for work matters…

Tomas Vrbada: -He visits you mostly because everybody is talking about your powers. -Tomas brings food, while you prepare a hot beverage for you two. You chat about your days, 'till Tomas finally asks you the question that has been wandering in his head for too long. -"So, are your powers real?" -You smirk into the cup, but don't reply. You take a knife and do a small cut on the back of your hand, you are so fast that Tomas cannot stop you. -He cannot also because the moment a drop of blood spill the wound has already healed itself. -Tomas is astonished, wide eyes. -"You are so damn cool." -You hope he'll visit you more often, you enjoys his company. Let's hope Tomas will never come for working matters, tho.

#mk x reader #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat x reader #mk headcanons #mk1 headcanons #mortal kombat headcanons #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #kenshi takahashi #kenshi takashi x reader #mk1 raiden #raiden x reader #kung lao #kung lao x reader #liu kang #liu kang x reader #geras #geras x reader #bi han #bi han x reader #kuai liang x reader #kuai liang #tomas vrbada #tomas x reader #mk1 smoke #smoke x reader

[oxymorayuri]

❞𝑊𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙.❝

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓: Law/Ace/Doffy: pol | Kid: ダイコン

Headcanons » Law ✧ Ace ✧ Kid ✧ Doflamingo Wordcount » 1873 Info » Fem reader, mature/kinky things but also fluffy and cute

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ

𝑇𝑟𝑎𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑔𝑎𝑟 𝐷. 𝑊𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐿𝑎𝑤

» When you read something to him: Usually you're with Law in his study, even when the two of you are doing separate things. He's mostly working on some plans or studying medical books while you're quietly reading a book on the sofa, simply enjoying each other's presence. Some days, however, you decide to read in the library. There is a big and cozy reading corner with lots of cushions and blankets, as it is always cold in the Polar Tang. The reason why you love reading there is because of the large bull's eye that reveals the secrets of the sea. Sometimes you sink into your thoughts and dream of the future as you gaze out into the blue, not even realizing how Law quietly sneaks under your blanket. Only when he takes you in his arms and presses you against him, you come back to yourself and drop your book. You talk briefly about the day so far, what you've done and then he lays his head on your lap. You brush his hair out of his face, he looks a little tired and has come to you to relax. You are his safe place, just as he is yours. You know immediately what to do and turn a few pages in another book.... "I assume we're having our little reading session again today, darling?" It's become like an unwritten rule for you, that when he lies down on your lap, you read to him and then take a nap together. Law looks at you with one eye open and grins, as you turn to the page where you left off last time. He likes the way you change your voice depending on what is happening in the story and after a while he is so relaxed that he falls asleep. When you hear his light snoring, you smile at him lovingly and put the bookmark on the current page before putting the book aside. You snuggle up to him and enjoy the peacefulness.

» Your fragrance: The perfume you wear and your own scent have a better effect on him than lavender and directly soothes his senses. You smell like home to him. When you are together with the others and you lean on his shoulder, he always tries to discreetly place a kiss on your head. Your hair always smells like fresh lemon, but rather light and refreshing. You don't like classy and expensive fragrances and prefer things to be natural and simple. Your scent is like aromatherapy for Law and that's a secret you'll never discover.

» Your hips: Law is pretty good at keeping his face under control, but when you're wearing a crop top and showing your hips, you can see the blush on his cheeks. He really has a fetish for your curves and your belly. He places a thousand kisses on your tender skin as he goes down further towards your private parts. His lips fly so softly over your skin that you can barely feel them. When he's on top of you he loves to grab you by the hips to pull you towards him. Skillful hands caress your sides, giving you goosebumps and making you arch your back because of all those tender touches. The squeezing sensation builds up in your lower middle and you literally beg him to release you. Law is someone who likes to try out lots of positions, preferably ones where he can grab you by the hips to guide you. While he is still on top of you, he pulls you towards him and turns so that he is now underneath you and you are sitting on his dick. You are visibly surprised by the sudden change of position and need a moment before you start riding him. However, Law doesn't give you a second, moves along your thigh to your hips and moves you up and down. The forthcoming penetration makes you see stars and after you both reach your peak, you let yourself fall exhausted onto his chest. He kisses your forehead tenderly and caresses your hips as you both calm your breathing.

𝑃𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑔𝑎𝑠 𝐷. 𝐴𝑐𝑒

» The wrinkles around your eyes when you laugh: Your laugh alone makes him turn around as soon as he hears it, but the little wrinkles on your face are another level. He also shows no shame and stares into your face lovingly. Of course, you don't miss his stares and his answer to why he's staring at you so intensely was simple: "Your wrinkles are so adorable when you laugh.". He then had to convince you that he finds them charming, as you don't exactly find your wrinkles cute. In your eyes, they're more of a sign that you're ageing. His reaction afterwards was almost funny, because now it was him who was offended. In his eyes, the wrinkles only mean what a cheerful person you are.

» Your skin: Your skin is so soft and gives off a warmth that he doesn't even have, even though he's pure heat himself. lol. If the guy doesn't feel your skin on his, he feels like he's hypothermic. Nevertheless, he would never get on your nerves, he rather keeps it to himself how much he longs for your skin. That means he'll take every chance he gets to touch you. You're cooking? He will of course help you by hugging you from behind, putting his hand over yours and you two stir together :D He loves it when you sunbathe. Not only is it a nice sight for him to ogle you while you sizzle in the sun, it's also the perfect opportunity to touch you intimately in public. (Ace is definitely the type to have sex in public. Nicely on the beach while the sun goes down *-*) He definitely has a lot sunscreen in stock, even if he doesn't need it for himself, but it gives him one more reason to feel your skin without being intrusive. He applies the cream very thoroughly and definitely every 2 hours. At first you thought he was very sweet and attentive because you couldn't reach all the spots, then you realized that he just wanted a opportunity to grope you… But you won't say anything against it because you enjoy how thoroughly he massages the suncream into your skin.

𝐸𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝐾𝑖𝑑

» How you dance: No matter how full the pub is, his eyes are always on you and follow your rhythmical movements. His breathing slows down while your hips move seductively. You are a passionate woman but you dance just for yourself and simply enjoy the music as it moves through your body. Kid sometimes doesn't even notice when one of his crew members is talking to him… mostly it takes him a moment or two to react. He also finds it very satisfying to watch you reject other men. He feels proud. However, if someone touches you, he doesn't hesitate and intervenes aggressively. Just look and don't touch is the motto. You also like the way he gets angry and intervenes, so you happily snuggle up to him while you make a face at the other guy. Kid doesn't seem like it, but it takes a while before he forgives you for being such a hottie that other men keep coming crawling up to you. You enjoy it though, because it's almost cute how a tough guy like him pouts. However, he will forgive you... at the latest when you dance for him in your shared bedroom, in private ;)

» Your quick wit: Well, you do not only bark, you also bite. The Crew knows that and those who don't know you will find out soon enough! Kid never has to get involved when you're arguing with others. You're eloquent and if necessary you'll hit them! But don't worry, he's always keeping an eye on you and if you show him that you need his help, he won't hesitate and will happily take over the beating.

» Your relationship with his crew: Even if you are the captain's lover, it doesn't mean that you have automatically earned the respect of his crew... But it didn't take long for everyone to consider you one of them. For Heat, for example, you're like a little sister and you're probably the only one he's okay with when she cries (He hates crybabys, lol). The first person you really became friends with was Killer, and not just because Kid told him to look after you when he couldn't himself. It's actually because you both like spaghetti, while the others are already sick of it and you're an insane cook. The first time you cooked spaghetti, he liked it so much that he ate all the leftovers at night. This is especially important for Kid, because if his people don't love you, why should he?

𝐷𝑜𝑛𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑥𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝐷𝑜𝑓𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑜

» Your appearance: Doflamingo is an obsessive narcissist. He may love you in his own twisted way but he always says he owns you. He proudly displays you by his side and that's why your looks are important. In Doffy's eyes, you wouldn't be his queen if you weren't the most beautiful woman in the world. People who disagree with him will lose their lives faster than they would like… Because how dare they think that a man like him doesn't have the most beautiful wife. Not because you are incredibly beautiful (which is definitely true) but because Donquixote Doflamingo will only have the most beautiful woman by his side. (Know the difference..)

» How you moan his name: Doffy loves to get the softest sounds out of you while he fucks you into madness. "Say my name, my angel." You look up at him hesitantly. You can't think straight as he hammers into you, his movements are vigorous but so skillful that it doesn't hurt. It just feels so good when his tip triggers your G spot. Since Doflamingo isn't even waiting for you, he casually wraps a hand around your slender neck, forcing you to keep your gaze upright. You feel so intimidated when you look into his eyes… When you are intimate with each other, you have the honor of looking into his eyes. His gaze burns itself into your brain and if you're honest, you feel powerless. When you finally let yourself be overtaken by all your feelings, you can't help but release them through your voice. You are incredibly turned on by the way his elegant hand slowly takes your breath away and you arch your back. "Oh Doffy…" With these two words, you let the last bit of air out of your lungs and let your head fall back. "Fufufufu… My beautiful angel, don't stop singing for me." You completely let go of your embarrassment and give yourself completely to him. Your sweet sounds have an electrifying effect on him, feelings are released in his body that he can't identify, he only knows that he won't leave you to anyone. Your voice belongs to him alone and he decides to let the whole castle hear how he ruins you.

Hope you like it, I'm off to the land of dreams, good night :3

𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒚𝒖𝒓𝒊 ♡

#trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #law x reader #one piece #headcanon #portgas d ace #ace x reader #eustass kid #eustass x reader #donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo x reader #one piece reader #eustass kid x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #portgas d ace x reader #donquixote doflamingo x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece x reader

[mrswint3rs]

Their Fav Positions (just my personal hcs)

genre: smut

pairings- Rude, Reno, Tseng, Rufus Shinra x Fem! reader (separate)

NSFW WARNING:

contains- multiple sex positions, shower sex, pussy eating, edging, overstimulation, a bit of man handling 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Rude the ‘stand and deliver’ position. He loves looking at your pleasured face, more than you know, but he gets self conscious about his own expressions. Rude prefers to keep his cool and collected demeanor. He gets embarrassed about being vocal so he tries to hold it back as much as possible, and with you bent over in front of him it makes it so you can’t see his scrunched up face as he stuffs you full. Holding your arms back to keep you standing when your knees start to give out from his hard and powerful thrusts. It gives him a sense of control, knowing that you need him to hold you. Knowing he makes you that weak. Plus, he just adores your ass. And once he gets really close to finishing, he tries to throw in a bit of dirty talk for you. His deep baritone of a voice coming out in a low growl, “Such a needy little thing, can’t even stand on your own.”

“That’s my girl, cum on my cock.”

“I’m not done with you yet. Stay with me, baby. Gonna fill you to the brim.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Reno isn’t particularly picky, but he loves starting by eating you out. He can’t explain why it gets him going so much, but it does every time without fail. Hearing your pretty whines and cries as he messily smacks and slurps up your drooling pussy. The way your thighs clench around his head, hand tangled in his red locks. The taste of you alone makes him feel feral. His arousal unbearable and seeking release, he can’t keep his hands off. Slowly fucking into his palm while his tongue explores every fold and corner of your cunt. It doesn’t take long for him to get close, the way you writhe and squirm. But he feels a need for you to finish together as one. Quickly rising to your level, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder and turning you on your side. It gives the perfect angle for both of you. Bullying his cock into your depths he whimpers and groans like he’s losing himself. Your walls flutter against him as you start to reach climax. But then he stops, right before you’re about to burst.

“hold it. just a bit longer.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Tseng ‘the upstanding citizen’ position. Especially in the shower. Hooking his arms under your thighs, pinning you up to the shower wall, your tits resting against his chest. He loves everything about this position. Especially being able to look into your eyes while he fucks you silly. It’s adorable the way you cling onto him when he plunges into your tight entrance, your bodies both drenched and dripping water.

“I was looking forward to this all day at work,” he breathes, leaning in towards your face. “i missed you.” his head cocks to the side so you don’t bump noses, his lips finding yours. it’s rare for tseng to actually say and do affectionate things like that, but when he’s feeling this good, he doesn’t care how vulnerable he’s being, his true feelings just spill out. His breathy moans fill your mouth, as well as his tongue as it tangles with yours. The kiss grows more and more sloppy and heated as he feels his climax rapidly approaching. Letting out a soft cry of pleasure when it hits, cum spurting deep inside you, he stuffs it in as much as he can. But he can’t keep up for long in his weaker state, setting you down so he doesn’t drop you. His seed spills down your thighs and onto the shower floor. Another reason he loves shower sex, easy clean up.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Rufus ‘the love seat’ position. With your back to his chest, you on his lap as he sits on the edge of the bed, he loves the control. He bounces you on his cock, repeatedly ramming into your cervix and groaning into the crook of your neck. Leaving love bites and kisses wherever he can reach. His arms wrapped around your waist, hand greedily rubbing at your clit regardless of you just cumming.

“C’mon, you can take it.” he coos.

“Be a good girl for me.”

“just endure, don’t cry sweetheart.”

He loves the way you tremble and squirm in his grasp, his overstimulation unwavering. He wouldn’t stop until you begged him to. Until you absolutely couldn’t take it anymore. He was aware of your limitations and wouldn’t disrespect you by exceeding them. Though he struggled to express it, he loved you far too much to do that.

mlist

#headcanon #ffvii #ffvii x reader #turks x reader #reno x reader #reno smut #rude x reader #tseng x reader #rufus shinra x reader #ff7 #final fantasy x reader #final fantasy series #final fantasy 7 #final fantasy #final fantasy vii #reno of the turks #tseng of the turks #tseng ff7 #rude of the turks #rude ff7 #rude ffvii #rufus shinra #rufus shinra ff7 #fanfiction #smut #fem reader

[adventuringblind]

Attitude

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x Reader

Genre: smut 😈

Request: Yes. No comment.

Summary: Charles is pent up and needs to do something with it. The reader needs Max to come help her with him.

Warnings: spanking, choking, subspace, lots of dirty talk, praise, degradation, anal, oral (both receiving), daddy kink

Notes: a lestappen sandwich?!

Masterlist

If you looked at the trio, the first words in your head would be ridiculous. It's unconventional. It shouldn't work. All the dumb stuff that people say that only makes all three of them smile and laugh about it later.

It works for them. They all love each other. Their dynamic is not anyone else's business. The more interesting part is how they all fit together in their own little world.

Max is the most outgoing and protective. He's aggressive, but he's also incredibly sweet. She blames his daddy issues for his want (need?) to be in control of things. This also goes for sex. He's good at it, too. He just has a way of working tactically that makes her shiver at the thought.

On the opposite side, she is quiet and gentle. Christian lets her follow Max around like a lost puppy some days if he's in a mood. Why? Mad Max can't make an appearance if she's holding his hand. Don't get her wrong, she would bitch slap somebody if she needed too. But for the most part, she'll simply do as told.

Then there's Charles. He is the lovely gray area between them. The Monegasque isn't assertive for himself, but if it comes to the other two, then he's willing to commit war crimes (at least that's how it feels). He's Max's source of understanding with driving, and he takes care of the female when people are asking too much of her.

He is also a switch, interestingly enough. He will, and has, tired every role. Some days, he prefers to tag team her with Max, others he prefers to just take what Max gives. It depends on his mood, and it always makes for interesting nightly (all times of day, really) activities.

One thing about Charles is that he has separation anxiety. If her and Max are away from him for too long, then his temper starts to flair. Not in a bad way, his mind just wanders to every possibility of what could go wrong.

The difference is, when she's the one that gone Max can take of him. The Dutch can get him to subdrop in thirty seconds (give or take). It makes him feel better, makes him forget. It's almost like a reset button.

When Max is gone, it's much harder. She's tried. She's tried too hard to get him to drop. Make an attempt at playing into Max's usual role. But she can't figure it out for the life of her. Whether she's too gentle or doesn't say the right things, she has no idea.

Max and Charles have told her ample times that it's not her responsibility. Yet the little voice in her head screams at her to make it better.

That's probably the reason she's letting Charles bruise her.

Max had to fly back to England during the winter break for a couple of weeks. Charles, as per usual, was getting frustrated by day three of no Max. She cuddled him, made him food, and watched movies. She once again tried to help him sexually, but the pent-up anxiety and frustration just kept coming, and she was starting to lose faith in herself.

Halfway through the second week, she'd called Max half sobbing. She felt clueless on what to do. Not even Lando, with all of his anxiety soothing tactics, were helping. He'd reassured her it would work out fine, that Charles says things when he's anxious, but none of it is true (the biggest being Max is going to die).

Then, she decided to switch tactics. Sue called Christian and pleaded with him to send Max home early because both her and Charles are sick (ly in need of his sexual assistance). Christian relented cause he owed her a favor anyway, and Max was to be home late that evening.

What she was not expecting was for Charles to slam her against the wall. It took her off guard when he started begging to use her body. She complied, offering herself up like a Christmas present with a bow on top for him to unwrap. It's nothing new for her. Being manhandled and fucked into next year.

But this is Charles. Her gentle Charles. Eyes dilated with lust and hands litterally ripping her clothes off. Her Charles that takes at least ten minutes to communicate, getting straight into it. Charles who lays light kisses to her most sensitive areas, now biting and sucking like he's a starving vampire.

In reality, this was not her plan. Max was going to come home and give Charles what he actually needs that she can't provide.

"Fuck chéri, you really are a slut." He slaps her clit and it drags a whine out of her. "A dirty whore, gonna let me use you? Hmm?"

She nods her head vigorously. Her head felt foggy a few minutes ago, but now she's just gone. Mind desperate to please and give what he needs. Let him take every piece of her that he so desires.

First, he takes her mouth. Her head hanging upsidedown off the bed. His cock hitting the back of her throat consistently, angrily. She's choking, crying, and finding it difficult to breathe. He still took care of keeping her hands on him so she could tap out, but she wasn't going to. Her mind repeats the same words over and over again.

Finally, his hips stutter, and he's trying to keep himself upright. It's sticky down the back of her throat, but she could care less. Charles is moaning and panting, and it satisfies that need in her head to please him.

But it's not enough. She doesn't get time to recover. Charles drags her by the knees back onto the bed fully. He pins her waist down with one hand and shoves her legs open with the other. A sharp stinging sensation is laid to the insides of her thighs. She screams in surprise but he doesn't relent.

"Such a good toy. Are you going to be a good slut for me and and let me spank you?" She cries as her thighs touch when she rolls over for him. She whines out a little 'yes sir' and braces for his hand to meet her skin.

"Count and say thank you."

Something in her mind snaps. Is she being punished? Or is she being used? Cause in her mind those are two different thing.

Slap.

"One... thank you sir."

He's not like Max at all. Her head is too fuzzy to really remember things, but she's certain Max always clarifies.

Slap.

"Two... thank you sir."

She's not sure she's going to make it through however many he plans on. So she just takes it.

Slap.

"Ten... thank you sir."

She aches in every are. She wants to please. She needs to please. It is her purpose.

Slap.

"Sixteen... thank you sir."

Her words are slurred. She can't talk. Her mouth feels impossibly dry. Her tears have soaked into the sheets beneath her.

She sobs as Charles flips her again. There is a small part of her that thinks if he keeps manhandling her like this, she might finish without doing anything else. It's not going to take much with how close she is already.

Once again, her legs are spread. His hands grip her waist. Then he sheaths himself inside of her. There is no pause, simply pace. It's relentless and has her wailing.

Then nothing.

It's like time freezes. There is no movement. Charles has even stopped breathing.

She pulls her eyes open. The sight of Max, his grip halting every movement Charles can make, meets her eyes like he's an angel sent to fix this.

"Did you really think you could dom our girl, Charlie? You can't even take care of yourself." Max forces Charles to really look at her. The damage he'd done to her body as clear as day. "Do you see what you've done? What were you trying to achieve here?"

She can actively feel Charles melting. She can see his eyes getting glassy. They probably match now. If she were coherent, she would be upset that Max managed to make him drop with a couple of sentences. For now, she'll stick to not thinking and writhing around in pain.

She suddenly feels empty without Charles in her. Max had pulled him out of her. "Knees. On the floor. Hands behind your back." Max's demanding tone makes her feel all warm and fuzzy.

His calloused fingers dance across her beat thighs. She hisses at the sting but doesn't flinch away. "Who do you need right now, schat? Do you want me to be sir and keep being rough? Do you want me to be daddy and give you something soft?"

She feels stupid just staring at him in awe. Her mind is not able to fathom how good-looking he is. She curses her brain. She thought the same thing as Charles was using her for everything she had.

"Come on love. I need you to stay with me. Need you to tell me your colors."

"Green, Daddy. Mm green. I tried to help..." it comes out a slurred mumble, and she hopes he can understand her.

"Daddy's gonna take care of you now, yeah? Have you cum yet?" She shakes her head no and goes back memorizing his face.

Max moves away from her, and she whines at the loss of contact. She can only watch as Max gets a hold of Charles' thick brown locks. The Monegasque moans at the force.

Max brings him to his feet and again forces his gaze onto her. "She hasn't even finished yet, Charles. If you want me to fuck you out of this mood then you're going to fix your mess first."

She's shocked at how easily Max maneuvers Charles into position. There is no hesitation for Max to shove his tongue into her core.

Fuck does she whine. She moans. She writhes. She wails as his tongue swirls around her clit.

Her hands find his hair, which only amplifies his moans. Max is behind him, working him open for whatever he has planned. She assumes, based on the level of moans and pants, that Max is touching his prostate in very clinical ways.

Finally, she's asking for it. Begging for her release that she has waited for, been used for.

"Cum for me. Let Charles taste all of you."

The pleasure she'd been dipping her toes in is now swallowing her whole. Her body spasms and her muscles contract. Charles has to keep her knees apart so her can help elongate her high.

She can barely breathe when her body settles. Sweat drips down her face along with another set of tears. Charles also lies flat, staring up at her like a puppy who's gotten in trouble. Which isn't to far from the truth, she thinks.

"Colors?"

A course of breathy "green" echoes through the room. Max then moves to the side of her. He kisses her skin. He tells her how good she is. Then he immediately goes back to situating their bodies.

"Okay, Charlie, I'm going to give you what you want. I'm going to fix this attitude problem." They end up in a position that is less fun for Charles, easy for her (despite the weight at times) and very fun for Max.

Every movment brings Charles more stimulation. Max moves his hips back and forth. In and out of both simultaneously. He is taking Max from behind while she lets him stretch her once again.

She's already to far gone to really notice everything that's happening. However. Charles is looking at her like she's the most amazing creature he's ever beheld.

"Apoligize to her, and maybe I'll let you move faster."

Charles begins dripping in apologies. "I'm so sorry, amour. I wasn't being careful. Just wanted to feel good. Please- fuck- I'm so sorry."

"S'okay, Charlie." Is what she manages. Though she's sure it isn't coherent.

Max picks up the speed. This time, praising them both. It's dirty and relentless. The words leaving his mouth are filthy to most, but to her, they create a sense of pride.

"My good sluts. Taking what I give you."

Charles is begging for it. She would be too if Max hadn't told her she didn't have to ask. To which she realizes it's probably not helping the Monegasque to have cum around him multiple times now.

Finally, Max relents. Charles collapses into a writhing spasming mess. Max's hands are all over his body, dragging the high out as much as he can.

Then they are curled up together. No sexual intent, just cuddles. Max In between the two, stroking hair and backs.

He didn't want to try and bathe them or start icing mucles and bruises so far into the head space. So he settles for kisses and sweet words instead.

"Mm sorry for being to hot headed."

"You don't have to be sorry for your emotions, Charles. But you also need to be in a good headspace if you're going to dom like that." Max turns and kisses his cheek. "I am glad your feeling better."

Max glances the other direction when he hears light snores coming from the female.

"Do you think she'll still trust me?"

"If she didn't trust you, then she wouldn't have continued. Just make nit to try that again for a while. I didn't think you had it in you to try that."

"I didn't either, to be honest."

"Next time, maybe I'll let you do that to me." Max laughs, mostly because he knows it would take a lot to get him to the point of wanting that.

Charles simply gives him a terrible wink as if to signify that he'll be holding him to that.

#x reader #fanficion #formula one #f1 fic #formula 1 #racing #f1 fanfic #max verstappen #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen f1 #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x charles leclerc #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #Charles leclerc #redbull racing #ferrari #f1 #lestappen #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc #scuderia ferrari #redbull

[undeadcannibal]

Cod men with an so that has a kink for their gear/uniform *insert evil laugh* like they come home from work and their so is just DROOLINGGG over them like ughhh

Summary: Headcanons for Alejandro, Ghost, and Price with an SO who likes their gear/uniform~

Genre: Headcanons, request(s) Characters featured: Alejandro, Ghost, and Price

Warnings: none!

A/N: Hello hello! Thank you for the request, Anon. Hopefully this suffices because I felt I didn’t do this one enough justice cause I’m getting back into the swing of things, ahhh. Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy! TuT  ( Gif credit: xxx )

Alejandro―

He's the type to immediately notice your affinity for his gear, even if you're the type that tries to suppress your desires 

Specifically, he notices each time your gaze lingers on his form longer than usual. Even more so when he has to stop to adjust or fix a part of his uniform 

At first, he doesn't let you know he's in on your little secret. Although, that doesn't mean he doesn't feed into it whenever he has the chance 

Whenever he's returning home from an extended mission - regardless of whether or not he's exhausted - he'll take his sweet time in removing his gear. Allowing you to soak in the view of each and every intricate piece adorning his body 

With Alejandro's gear, it's difficult for you to pick a favorite piece you enjoy seeing him wear, but he notes that familiar gleam of desire in your eyes whenever he's dealing with straps

Naturally, so he's not losing anything important, they've to be pretty tight to his form. Still, he'll go just a bit tighter than he usually does right before he's through the door

I can also definitely see him as the type to try and impress you by showing off, busting open the tight strap wrapped around his flexing bicep~

Kiss him and tell him all about how much you adore seeing him in his gear and he'll happily put on a show for you in any of his uniforms/sets 

Ghost― 

Much like Alejandro, he notices the lingering looks and extra touches to his gear right away. However, he's much more subtle about indulging you with it 

He doesn't always like to wear his full gear when he's home. I headcanon him as the type to prefer to keep that part of his life separate from his home life for many reasons

However... 

He'll tease you ever so often by wearing one of his more casual skull-decorated masks around the house, maybe even including his skeleton gloves if he's feeling extra

Either way, you best believe he'll casually torture you when wearing them around you. Going out of his way to purposefully ignore any staring or dodging certain touches he knows are just to cop a feel  

Once he thinks you've had enough, he finally indulges you by touching you with his gloved hands wherever you please~ 

Possibly could be talked into bringing a mask of his into the bedroom for you

GOD, GIVE ME MASKED, GLOVED GHOST IN MY BEDROOM AHHH

He won't admit how much he enjoys it like you, but after trying it a few times, I can definitely see him imagining those evenings you spend together each time he sees those gloves and mask  

Price―

Sometimes when he's too tired, he'll get a little lazy when taking off his gear, so occasionally he'll bump into you while still wearing his vest and hat

Though, shortly after noticing the way you become very interested in his gear, he's perking up in no time. Why was he so tired again?  

Much like Alejandro, he delights in giving in to your desires and goes out of his way to leave on certain pieces of his gear/uniform when he's feeling in the mood to be a tease

Adores the way your hands feel tugging on his vest impatiently, or whenever you're pleading for something you need

If you're good, maybe even lets you wear the hat while the two of you fool around

Seeing you wearing it while atop him makes him understand why you like seeing him in his own gear so much

Even more so if you're just wearing his hat~

#call of duty x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #cod headcanons #headcanons #anonymous #requests #opened mail #my writing

[jessequinones]

Writing Advice: Chapters

A lot of my advice comes down to, having beta readers, and “it’s up to you” which doesn’t sound like good advice but when it comes to writing, everyone writes differently so there are different ways of doing the same thing. So, what’s my advice when I talk about chapters?

To me, a chapter is a section of the book which talks about a certain event. There’s no right or wrong way for how long the event should be, and there’s no right or wrong way of how the event can start or end. Here’s how I write my chapters and what I’ve learned along the way.

Starting the chapter:

Before I start the chapter, I need to figure out what the main event is gonna be. Will this event be informational? Action pact? Suspenseful? It can also be a combination of a few events as well, such as having my characters find information, but something goes wrong and now they have to escape.

After I figure out what the main event is gonna be, I start writing and once I complete that event I end it and move on. I try not to carry on too much after the main event has finished because I feel like my chapters might drag if I do.

Writing the chapter:

When it comes to a chapter, I try to have a beginning, middle, and end section. (Keep in mind this doesn’t work for every chapter.) Let me explain what I meant about those sections. The event in this example is Nix and Dante are tryna get information, but something goes wrong after they get said information. So the chapter starts at the beginning where Nix and Dante enter a secured location. The middle is where they get passed all of the alarms and hacked into the network. The ending is they got the information but an alarm gets triggered anyway.

Expanding the chapter:

So, I wrote the beginning, middle, and end, the event is done, but it was kind of boring. Let’s expand it to them escaping. This is where I think chapters start to become long. Some people combine two events into one chapter and some events are longer than others. Escaping a secured facility sounds more difficult than sneaking in. So, adding an escape attempt can spice up the chapter, but you need to be careful with how you do it.

I think when people complain about long chapters, one of their reasoning is “This feels like it could’ve been split into two chapters”. It might be the fact there are two separate events, both with their beginning, middle, and ends. If you want to expand upon your chapter, I would change how the beginning, middle, and end originally played out so it feels more natural when you go from one event to the next. This will take practice and beta readers can help if a chapter sounds too long or just right.

So instead of sneaking into a place, getting the information and having to escape. I would get rid of the middle part where Nix and Dante were sneaking and just show them entering the building, maybe talk for a few paragraphs before they reach their end goal because I already know escaping is gonna add several more pages. It’s a trial and error, and some readers might prefer the sneaking portion, while others might enjoy the fast pace. The end result is what do you like?

Continuing chapters:

What about chapters that don’t need a beginning, middle and end? Those chapters are what I call, continuing chapters. The most obvious examples of continuing chapters are the final climax of a story, like a big battle. The big battle might take multiple chapters to get through, and starting at the beginning, middle, and end of each chapter where the main event is the final fight, might get a bit tiresome. A simplified way of taking a large event, like a big fight, and breaking it over several continuing chapters is having each chapter be its own thing. Let’s say it takes three chapters to finish the final confrontation. The first chapter is the beginning, so there’s lots of build-up, but nothing too bad. The second chapter is the middle and is normally the longest out of the three. It’s the one with the most fighting and maybe a character dies at the end as a cliffhanger. The third chapter is where the villain is defeated and the fight is over thrust concluding the three sections.

That was a very simplified way of explaining continuing chapters, but yeah, not every event can be told in a single chapter, sometimes you have to space them out a bit. I would recommend letting the readers know that said event will most likely take a long time to complete so they'll be aware it's gonna be a long read.

Length of a chapter:

People often ask, how long should a chapter be, and there’s no real answer to that. Some can be a page, and I’ve seen others that are thirty. (Looking at you DragonFire). I personally don’t try to go for a word count or page limit. Often times when I try to make my chapters reach a certain goal, I find there’s a lot of filler that could’ve been cut. This is why I like to write my chapters as if I were writing an event and just focus on the event itself. If I need to expand or get rid of something, I can do that later.

My chapters are normally three pages in length, whenever I go over that, I try to tell my readers the next upcoming chapters will be long. This kind of tactic will depend on your story of course, but let’s go back to Nix and Dante.

In the example, Nix and Dante went into a secured location, took some information and got caught, now they needed to escape. If I want to add the escape portion in the same chapter because breaking in was kind of short, I might tell the reader before said chapter even began that “This mission won't be an easy one”, or “You’ll need to be real careful stealing the information because if you get caught, guards will come.” So, by the time Nix and Dante do get caught, the reader should be aware, the chapter will continue for a few more pages.

Oh yeah, if you’re gonna write a long chapter, make sure to have at least one smaller chapter to break it up. (DragonFire) Having long chapters, after long chapters, is, at least for me, very tiring. I don’t like to stop reading midway through a chapter, but reading thirty pages in a day is very difficult. So if you know you have some long chapters, throw in a few short ones.

Readers might also hate long chapters because they feel like there’s a bit too much filler in them. (Filler-in chapters aren’t the same thing as filler chapters).

Filler-in chapters might appear in one of two ways, either there’s too much filler to get to the main event, or there’s too much filler and the chapter should’ve ended already. Beta readers are a good way of telling you if there’s filler in a chapter or not. Keep in mind, that you, as the writer know what’s best for your story. Readers can only tell you how they feel. If you feel the “filler” part isn’t filler, but a lot of people say it is. Finding a workaround can be difficult. Unfortunately, I don’t have any advice on this kind of topic because this kind of writing problem is unique for every writer. Writing groups might be able to help as they’ll have your text and can help figure out what's going on.

Filler chapters:

There’s nothing wrong with filler chapters. Not every chapter needs to focus on the main story. I personally like filler chapters. They’re fun chapters which explore the characters and the world. A bit of a refresher after an intense fight is fine. When people complain about filler chapters, it’s often because there’s a bit too much of them. Or they came out of nowhere and killed the pacing. For example, if everything has been dark and gritty, having a chapter that’s more on the upbeat side is strange. Also if the chapter ends with a character's death and the next one ignores it, readers might not like that. This is one of the reasons why I don’t like POV swapping between every chapter. If someone dies in character (A) POV, and the next chapter switches to character (B) POV where they’re on the beach…I might get a bit annoyed. Even if Character (B) POV isn’t filler, I just witnessed someone die, I wanna know what’s going on and not swap to another POV.

Also filler chapters tend to be on the shorter side as well. If a filler chapter goes on a bit too long, then it might feel like the story is losing its focus a bit.

Beta readers can help point out which chapters are filler and where to add in filler if that's something you want to do.

Chapter Endings:

Ending a chapter is always interesting, do you want to end it with a cliffhanger or not? Does your chapter flow smoothly from one to the other? I don’t mind cliffhanger endings but try not to make every chapter a cliffhanger. At some point it becomes a bit much for some readers such as myself, I prefer to stop reading at a good stopping point. Cliffhangers aren’t a stopping point, I need to see what’s gonna happen next. Creating a cliffhanger after a long chapter, for me is a bit much. Long chapters already drain me, and forcing me to continue to get to an actual stopping point will make me enjoy your book less. (I understand no one is forcing me to read a book, but I just really, really hate stopping at cliffhangers). Not to mention if there are multiple cliffhangers in a row, I might put the book down and not pick it up for a long time because I’ll have no idea how many cliffhangers I’ll have to deal with before getting to an actual pause in the story. Personally, as a reader, I feel like there needs to be good stopping points. Places where it’s safe to stop reading and the reader can pick it back up later.

If you end a chapter in a city and the next one starts in a jungle, that kind of scene change might be a bit confusing so again, just send it through a couple of beta readers and see how you did with the transition portion of going from one chapter to the next. The same thing goes for tone as well. If the last chapter ends with a death, and the next one is in a circus, the tone shift might be a bit much. Just pass it along with a beta reader.

That’s about it for chapters. If you want some more detailed advice on certain chapters then let me know, but chapters are one of those things where it comes with practice. The length, the event, the ending, all of this stuff will be determined by your ability to write. Beta readers are a great way of pointing out how they felt while reading a chapter and you can go from there.

#writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writers of tumblr #writer #writers #writerscommunity #creative writing #writing advice #write

[unoislazy]

BES Characters and Pets

How they would react to you bringing home an animal

Characters:Mizu,Akemi,Taigen and Ringo

A/N: Pretty short but I want to give you guys more variety than just I Am No Coward back to back

(Apparently I can’t spell cause I’ve had to edit this four separate times so I’m sorry if there are any spelling errors)

————————————————————

Mizu

-The moment you walk through that door with an animal in hand, no matter how small or cute the first thing she says is

“Put it back.”

-of course you would’ve already been committed to the little creature at that point so that wasn’t even in the question.

-she would begrudgingly allow you to continue to have it, but she wouldn’t want anything to do with it

-she thinks you give it more attention than you give her, but she never says anything about it

-very slowly she would eventually start to come around, It would take a fair amount of convincing though

-one day something in her just clicks and suddenly she doesn’t mind the animal at all.

-if the animal was a cat the moment to cause this click would definitely be it rubbing up against her for the first time

-you’d catch her talking to the animal occasionally when she thinks she’s alone, almost like she’s having a conversation with it

Akemi

-Akemi would be more a fan of more delicate animals, maybe a bird or a bunny

-she would also feel guilty for having one in the first place so you’d have to explain that the chances of it surviving on its own are low

-that’s literally all it would take to convince her

-don’t expect her to take care of the messy parts though

-she may grow fond of the animal but the moment it makes a mess, that’s your pet not hers

-she can handle dirt and grime but if she doesn’t have to, she’s prefer not to

-you have found her ranting to the animal before about her father which you decided was best if you didn’t interrupt

Taigen

-this man is a dog lover through and through there’s NO way he isn't

-100% thinks cats are all mean

-If you brought back a dog with you he would be secretly ecstatic

-you thought that was your dog? Nope not anymore

-mans best friend for a reason I suppose

-would find training him extremely entertaining and when he’s not training himself, he’s off training the dog

-tried to teach the dog how to fight with a sword once…

-didn’t end well.

-you tried to tell him but Taigen has an issue with listening apparently

Ringo

-all animals

-he loves them all

-you give him any animal he would protect it with his life

-no convincing needed

-that man would find joy in any animal you give him

-I could see him looking after a duckling

#x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #unoislazy #fanfiction #mizu come home the kids miss you #bes mizu #mizu x reader #blue eye samurai fanfic #blue eye samurai x reader #x gn reader #blue eye samurai x you #ringo blue eye samurai #blue eyed samurai #blue eye samurai ringo #akemi #akemi blue eye samurai #bes akemi #taigen #taigen blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai taigen #heacanons #headcanons #headcanon

[heathersdesk]

When I was investigating the Church, I told the people around me I wanted to get baptized after I'd only been to services a few times. I hadn't read much of the Book of Mormon. There were many things I didn't know or understand. But I had felt the Spirit of God and knew that this was the place where I would find God. I knew I was supposed to be baptized.

What was the response?

"You can't do that."

They didn't have missionaries. They didn't have anyone to teach me the discussions. I was coming to Church in a different place from where I lived because of where my friends, who were members and who had invited me, were living.

It got bad enough that I set a date for myself to get baptized and told them they had that long to figure it out and deal with their scruples. And they did.

Then I found out about patriarchal blessings in one of the lessons I had in Young Women. I wanted mine. I went to my branch president and told him that.

"You can't do that."

I hadn't been to church long enough. Could I wait a year? Six months?

But that's not what the lesson I was taught said. It said that if I felt like I was ready, then I could have one. So I showed up outside of my branch president's office every week for over a month to ask again. Finally, he talked to the stake president, who told him there was no rule or timeline mandated in the Handbook of Instruction that prevented me from receiving my patriarchal blessing. I finally received it 4 months after I was baptized.

Then I went to BYU. I was in one of my favorite wards I've ever attended. Everyone around me was so kind and supportive. They helped me deepen my knowledge of the restored gospel and the scriptures. And when all the young men in my classes started receiving mission calls, I wanted to as well. I felt "called to the work," and the Doctrine and Covenants said that was enough.

"You can't do that."

They didn't let women serve at 19 at the time. I had to wait. Why? Because I might get married instead. The hypothetical possibility of reserving me for a man was more important than the calling I had received from God.

I had the opportunity to serve in the temple regularly for the first time in my life. I was from an area where the temple was two hours away, which meant I got to go only a couple times a year, at most. As the only member in my family, I had many names to do. And as the endowments started piling up, I could feel the weight of my responsibility to get the names done weighing on me. I didn't have a ward full of endowed people to rely on in my student wards. It was just me. And the more I went to the temple, the more I craved that divine closeness, the spiritual support for how much harder it was for me to be a member of the Church than it was for everyone else. I was totally on my own, no support from large extended families like they had. I needed more support to come from somewhere. So I started asking to receive my endowment.

"You can't do that."

I needed to be getting married (preferably, in their minds) or serving a mission to get endowed. That was the rule at the time. It didn't matter that I already wanted to serve a mission. It would be so much more special if I could go with my husband! Didn't I see that? My life was just supposed to stay on hold for him, whoever he was. The idea that I would have a spiritual development and progression separate from his was a totally foreign idea at the time, and wasn't reason enough for me to receive my own endowment. Meanwhile, as the ordinances in my own family backed up higher and higher because I was in student wards with no access to the endowment or other endowed people, I was just stuck and alone.

Then the identity of the mysterious young man I would eventually marry was revealed to me. Hurray! And we both went on missions. We were planning our wedding. And after years of alienating my family with all the milestones of my adult life they didn't get to witness because I was *IN UTAH* thousands of miles away, I wanted to have a ring ceremony so they could at least watch me get married.

"You can't do that."

And every reason I was given, especially the one that it took away from the validity and the sacredness of my temple sealing, was later disavowed when they did away with this rule.

ALL OF THIS TO SAY, I've been in the Church for almost 18 years. I have seen so many changes come into the Church and its culture in that time. The things that were impediments to me as a young believer and convert are no longer there, in part because I left so many bloody knuckle prints on heaven's door, pleading for these things to change. Heaven bore witness to how many times I was told "You can't do that" by my own community—with shallow, indefensible reasons for why my journey needed to be so much harder and lonelier than it needed to be.

Changes like these do not come about simply by waiting. They come because the faithful, especially those who are most affected by the lack of change, keep praying and pleading with heaven for change. The hurt goes on the altar because it never should've been mine to carry. Let God witness it. Let him see, feel, and know the burdens I bore in his name, solely at the behest of my community whose reasoning for it was poor and indefensible, because it all came down to a single failure: they couldn't begin to imagine the impacts of their choices were having on me. And until they could begin to understand it, they could never conceive of why their status quo needed to change. Their ignorance and desire to remain in what was familiar and comfortable was a form of bondage to me. That was true.

But what was equally true was that there was nothing wrong or evil in pushing back against all of that, with all the strength I possessed. I would live to see so many of these stumbling blocks I encountered change for those who came behind me. Young people in my church community today don't have to make many of the same choices I did anymore—and thank God for that! I called down the powers of heaven to me to witness these burdens so no one else would ever have to carry them again! I have been witness to the power that these prayers—my prayers—have had to build the kingdom of God on the earth by affecting these changes.

And we're not done. There are many more such changes that need to come to fruition , including (but not limited to) making the Church fully accessible to everyone in our community. Our LGBTQIA+ and disabled people, our women and single Saints, our marginalized, abused, and forgotten in communities of color all over this world.

The kingdom of Heaven is not built, our work is not finished, until ALL are safely gathered in. That is, until they all CAN be safely gathered in. Until all that resists unity, diversity, equity, and inclusion that will define Heaven are removed by the Saints, whose job it is to build that kingdom. To never say again to someone who is trying to come to Christ "You can't do that."

Because with enough time, and effort from the Saints, you'll find they can, in fact, do that.

#mormon #mormonism #lds #tumblrstake #the church of jesus christ of latter day saints #religion #faith #queerstake

[chuuyasfanboy]

hi! may i request hurt to comfort scenarios with dazai, ranpo and chuuya in which it's the first time they make the reader cry during an argument?

yesss hi my first request! I always love reading these kinds of scenarios, they're super angsty but also comforting ykykyk. This is just me but personally I have a really hard time reading hurt no comfort (definitely easy to write it tho hheeeh) so I usually prefer hurt comfort...

Anyways, here we go! I love these three sm<333

Ranpo, Dazai, and Chuuya (Seperate) x GN!Reader when they make you cry in an argument

Ranpo Edogawa

He should know better

No.

He DOES know better.

But for some reason, he just got so heated that he stopped thinking morally. Some evil part of him deep down inside wanted you to cry

The moment it happens though, everything comes back to him

He said the wrong thing at a HORRIBLY wrong time and he knew he did.

He drops everything, goes straight to petty, simple ways to get you to smile

Free reign to his candies, cuddles galore, constant apologies

His first priority is to stop you from being mad. Once you're calmed down, then you two can talk properly

He knows communication is important, and he tries his best to keep it going even when its embarrassing

Especially when it's about you, like it is now

When your tears have been reduced to nothing but little choked sobs, he pulls you into a separate room

Thankfully, nobody was in the office to see that

If they were, he'd be harassed about it for weeks. And he'd deserve it

But nobody was

Just in case though, he still pulls you into a private room

For your sake, he insists to himself, because he doesn't want you to be seen like this, he knows how bad it feels (And he doesn't want anyone to know it was him who did that to you)

He runs his hands through your hair gently, mumbling out soft, genuine apologies

"I'm so sorry, Sugar.." He whispers into your hair, your face stuffed and hidden away in the crook of his neck. He holds you there, because he doesn't mind it, and he needs you to know that right now. "I didn't mean any of it, I'm so sorry. I knew better than that..."

Dazai Osamu

"Oh shit-"

His mind goes completely blank, his jaw drops

He didn't mean to bring you to tears, that was never his intention

Honestly, he thought it was a funny joke, he thought it would lighten the argument

But it did not, it most certainly did not.

His arms immediately wrap around your head and pull you close to his chest

He doesn't want you to pull away, not right now

He needs a second to process himself

To think about his words, what about them affected you

"Oh, 'donna.."

Seeing you like this gets to him, because he honest to god feels like a monster now

What kind of beast makes his own lover cry. He never thought it would be him

So he keeps you close, he mumbles into your ear and tries to calm down you

He's not good at it, he never has been, and he never will be

But he's trying so hard he might cry himself

And then you're both in tears together, confused and miserable

Safe to say after that, the argument blows over and is forgotten

Because nothing is more important than each other, and now you're both just trying to figure out why the other is in tears

"I didn't mean it, 'donna, I didn't," it's the fifth time he's said it in the last minute. You know he's sorry, but hell if he's going to stop saying it. He's trying to comfort himself too, promise to himself that he'd never treat you like that again. Even if it was harmless, even if you were just in a bad mood, he never wants to hurt you.

Chuuya Nakahara

Somehow, this always seemed to happen

After a shitty day at work, and a shitty day for you too.

Usually, you two would just sit in silence, enjoy a movie, and go to bed quietly

But on the few occasions where you two did talk during those frustrating nights, everything cracked

He was so mad, and you were too, you were both so tired

And everything fell into yelling so quickly, quicker than usual

This is why you two didn't talk after shared long days, because of this

But you never cried

You never cried because of him

Not until now

He's almost breathless when he realizes you're choking over your words

He whips around to face you, and for a second it looks like he's going to yell at you more

But instead he's gently wiping your tears away

Because fuck, as perfect as you are regardless, you should never be crying when he's around

When you two got together, he promised you would never cry again

And that was a lie, it seems

You didn't even remember that promise, of course. But he did, because he meant it

This is very serious to him.

He seats you on the couch, tucks a blanket around you, and sits down in front of you on the floor, holding your hands in his

He knows he can't really make up for it. Yelling at you was always a shitty idea, and he should've realized that before every time the two of you devolved into arguments like that

But now the pressure had all come down on your chest, and he was going to keep it from being too much

Your favorite movie or show is on as background noise

Soft kisses on your hands, quiet mumbles in your skin

He's so gentle with you. Maybe it doesn't always seem like that, but he is right now

"My sweet thing, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have yelled like that. I'll make up for it," his voice is always so harmonic like that, when he's frowning up at you and tracing shapes into the palm of your hand. He's ordering takeout, your favorite comfort or safe food. He'll even cook it himself if you ask, anything to make you feel better right now. There's water to your side, the softest blanket he could find tucked snug around your shoulders. And he's going to stay here with you for as long as you need to forgive him.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #dazai #dazai x reader #x reader #bsd x reader #chuuya x reader #requests open #writing requests #chuuya #x male reader #x female reader #x gn reader #x gender neutral reader #ranpo #ranpo edogawa #bsd ranpo #ranpo x reader #hurt/comfort #hurt #comfort #taking requests #answered asks

[candyk0rn]

❧Their ideal date

So…it’s been a while !! My bad everyone 😔 good news? Requests are now up and running again!! It’s also my first time attempting to write for Jjk, so take this with that in mind

Thank you for bearing with me, but CandyK0rn is up and running once again!!

Warnings: None!

Included: Megumi Fushiguro, Itadori Yuuji, Kugisaki Nobara (separate.)

I. Yuuji:

You already know what time it is

Movie dates ALL the way

I wouldn’t say it would be a theater date, because just chilling at home (more specifically, in his dorm) sounds like such an upgrade from a stuffy movie theater

Though, he likes the popcorn better

If you dose off even a bit expect a flick on the forehead

Especially if it’s one of his favorites, or even a newer movie released to DVD neither of you have seen

Speaking of DVD, he prefers it over streaming any day

I’d say he even has his own collection

After having to sit through countless hours of movies for his training, there were some that stuck out to him that he’d wanna rewatch with you

He is the literal WORST when it comes to spoilers though

“That’s foreshadowing for the end! I won’t tell you how it ends, of course.”

…

“..Unless you wanna know?!”

His favorites tend to be action or horror

And if you tend to get squeamish with horror, well you just have the perfect shining knight in armor to help out, huh?

Even if you like horror, it wouldn’t hurt to stroke his ego a bit

Totally cuddles during the entire watch

It’s just a chaotic pile of you, him, snacks and blankets

Expect him to play with your hair if you’re laying on top of him, he just cannot help himself

Definitely not a fancy date by any means, but it’s these nights that he remembers most <3

K.Nobara:

Dear lord

Going out with this woman is a JOURNEY

Because shopping dates are her thing, especially if you spoil her with money from your pocket.

But it’s not just the ‘date’ itself, it’s the before and after of it all

Expect her to go through her entire makeup and attire routine alongside you, if that’s not your thing? You’re sure as hell watching.

She’ll talk your ear off as she does it too

“Oh! This is that new lipgloss I was telling you about..some influencer was using it. Isn’t it the perfect shade?!”

She doesn’t exactly say it, but she’s happy even if you just listen to her

It’s what makes her happy, and to have someone listen to her ramble on is a gift in itself

Then there’s the during, where you not only go to the local clothing, cosmetic and jewelry shops

But you have to try the snacks around these places!

She’s still getting used to Tokyo, and there’s just so many new things to try.

Oh! But you have to wait to eat it, because she has to take a picture of it first

Then you can dig in.

And of course, there’s the ‘after’

She likes just sitting down and unloading everything she bought, going through each item and talking about how excited she is about it

If you got new clothes, she expects a fashion show equal to that of vogue.

She cheers you on and takes pictures of you the entire time

With the flash on, of course.

It adds to the ‘paparazzi fantasy’ as she calls it.

F. Megumi:

Like Yuuji, he much prefers to stay inside just in the comfort of your dorm/home

But he knows that also gets repetitive, so he tries to take extra steps once in a while

His dates are simple,

Dinners, walks around the city, even training with you is something he enjoys

But there has to be a specific time for them

He likes taking you out to eat right after missions, like a way to calm down the stress everyone’s been feeling

He texts Yuuji for the best places nearby, because usually he grabs something quick from the Seven Eleven and calls it a night

Itadori: There’s a sweet katsu place I ate at yesterday

Gumi: that’ll be good. thanks again.

Itadori: Yk I’m the best wingman around. 😋

Gumi: mhm

And honestly? During the outing, he just likes talking.

It’s not something he’d say he necessarily enjoys

He’s never exactly been a talker

But for some reason he cannot explain, you make him want to just share things

How his day went, something Gojo did that he found annoying…

But more importantly, he likes listening

He likes the sound of your voice, he likes the way you sound when your passionate, he likes the way you sound when your angered or frustrated

God, he just likes you.

He never thought he would ever admit that. But here he is

Enjoying a conversation over tonkatsu with the person he cares for the most.

Thanks for reading!!

#it’s been a bit.. #x reader #fanfic #headcanons #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #Jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuji itadori #Itadori x reader #nobara kugisaki #Nobara x reader #megumi fushiguro #Megumi x reader #x y/n #gender neutral reader #fluff #candyk0rn talks #candyk0rn Jjk #where you go I go #fyp #for you page

[swordsmans]

prompted by a baffling conversation with one of my friends + overall trends with events like big bangs. apparently i am deeply underestimating the amount of, like, actual consumption crossover between fanartists and fanwriters. i've been operating under the assumption that the majority of fanartists don't read fanfic and that fanfic is a relatively niche thing mostly shared between fanwriters with a few outlier exceptions. like, that the "communities" or w/e are relatively separate??

this is possibly because i've been out of "fandom" for a few years (or bc im not on twitter/insta where the artists hang out), but i feel like most of my friends are other fanwriters and most of the people who actively engage with fanfic on tumblr/ao3 are also fanwriters (and vice-versa with fanartists gravitating to each other). however. my friend disagrees? neither of us are actually artists tho so i'm putting the question out to the crowd. (more thoughts) ->

side note: i didn't include an option for being BOTH a fanartist/fanwriter because 1) you're like rare and exotic birds to me 2) i'm trying to figure out who falls into which category based on what community you "identify" with the most. if you write the occasional fanfic but you mostly think about/create fanart, you're a fanartist; if you mostly write fanfic but every now and then will think about/make some art, you're a fanwriter. the group you're more likely to engage with. that kinda thing.

side note 2: you will see i have included an option for fanwriters who don't/rarely read fanfic. i know you exist because that is my category. i read fanfic but do so rarely these days. i'm selective because i dont have a lot of time on my hands. this is possibly another reason why i feel like engagement between fanwriters is so high, because if i'm going to engage with a fanfic i'm gonna put my whole ass into it since that's the kind of engagement that makes me happiest from a writer's perspective.

for reference, when i say "engagement" i'm talking about leaving kudos, comments on ao3, asks/comments on tumblr, tags on reblogs... that kinda thing.

with all of this in mind, this could literally just be because fanfic writers are more willing to engage with other writers bc of their own shared hobby and/or because fanfic writers know what kind of engagement theyd prefer on their own fics and act accordingly--and non-writer/artists are just more willing to engage in general because that's the primary way you participate in fan communities. on the flip side, fanartists might just straight up be a really quiet bunch... possibly because your thing (affectionate) is "visual" more than "verbal" (if that makes sense).

basically... this is exactly what i'd like to know LOL.

#this is mostly abt one piece because i DEFINITELY feel like there was WAY more crossover between artist/writers reading fanfic in homestuck #but that was also literally a decade ago & i feel like theres been a HUGE shift in how people see/are willing to engage w fanfic these days #THIS ISN'T SHADE OR ANYTHING I'M GENUINELY SO CURIOUS #i found out some people i assumed didnt read fanfic at all actually DO and i was BAFFLED #the librarian urge to do research create categories and make lists #spiders loopey is an outlier and should not be counted lfasjlhlhsdfsdhfkjs (kidding ily) #gyro.txt