#i kept picking this up and putting it down for MONTHS i demand to be free of it

[strawbeelemonade]

Imagine: Being Miles Morales’ best friend but also your a bit insane

•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_

🕷- Miles used to be so scared of you

🕷 - Even before you started a mutual friendship you sorta just…. kept appearing.

🕷 - He wasn’t sure when he became desensitised to you. but he likes to think his new double life of being a crime fighting upstart has given him a bit of a tolorence.

🕷 - Miles will now watch you eat an apple from the top down, core, stem and all, and literally not say anything.

🕷 - Your so consistently insane in such a harmless way, it’s kinda nice.

🕷 - He wishes you would stop picking up wild animals, though.

🕷 - Seriously stop. at least one of them will have a fatal disease.

🕷 - You keep venturing into the underground subway to play with the New York rats. Nothing bad has happened yet but that doesn’t mean nothing will.

🕷 - Don’t get me wrong. Miles isn’t overprotective or anything, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still worry. Your one of his closest friends.

🕷 - He’s not sure what he’d do without you.

🕷 - So please take the rat out of your jacket pocket. Please.

🕷 - Oh but it’s so cute!!

🕷 - You are Cinderella actually.

🕷 - Miles stumbles across you as his spider-sona surprisingly often.

🕷 - Not always when your doing something illegal, so he kinda forms this double friendship with you.

🕷 - It’s hard because he forgets your not supposed to know who he is!!

🕷 - He keeps forgetting to deepen his voice and act macho. You just make him relax so easily.

🕷 - I like to think His powers are particularly in tune with body language, even if he doesn’t mean or want to. And it can become so incredibly exhausting. all the extra information and interference is unrelenting unless he’s completely alone or has his headphones on.

🕷 - But you’re different. You let Everything rest on the surface. You say what you think, and miles found after a couple of months of knowing you that you’re actually more deep thinking then you like to let anyone realise.

🕷 - Your completely willing to sit in total silence with him. It’s so relaxing.

🕷 - The closer you both get the more he starts to see that you are actually a total sweetheart.

🕷 - You remember little things about him, your willing to go through great lengths for him. He knows that no matter where the both of you are or what your doing, you are ready to drop anything and everything to come to him if he needs you.

🕷 - He doesn’t demand it from you, but…

🕷 - You show up outside his dorm window at 3am all on your own ok?!

🕷 - He just mentioned he was having trouble sleeping!!! It’s not his fault!!! … but he’s not complaining either.

🕷 - So yeah, you put him at ease.

🕷 - Which is why it comes to no one’s surprise except miles when you bust him within the first two weeks.

🕷 - It scared the shit out of him. The next time you saw him as spider man you were like “Yo, Miles”.

🕷 - Y/N PLEASE.

🕷 - He asks you how you found him out, And you laugh and claim his mask made him look like he’s bad at Spanish. He socks you in the shoulder and you laugh harder.

🕷 - He then timidly asks if you’ve said anything to anyone.

🕷 - You tell him you don’t have deep enough conversations with anyone else TO tell.

🕷 - He understands what your trying to say.

🕷 - It’s actually a lovely little moment.

🕷 - As Spider-Man, he’s gotten to know an even crazier side to you. The fact that that was possible scared him a bit.

🕷 - Miles always wondered what you would get up to when he wasn’t around. You would disappear for hours, even days at a time. But you’d always come back.

🕷 - You were like an outdoor cat lmao.

🕷 - Turns out your a bit of an adrenaline junky.

🕷 - “Y/n this is a 7 story building and there’s no stairs how are you up here.”

🕷 - You liked feeding the pigeons… which was… yeah. Ok, fine.

🕷 - Miles wasn’t sure how his parents would react to you. He wasn’t ASHAMED but… Was he worried? Definetely.

🕷 - His dad is a COP.

🕷 - When He gets home from a couple hours of patrolling New York after school he has a heart attack when he sees you sitting on the couch nursing a drink while chatting to his mom.

🕷 - Your not fake, your still you. but you make a conscious decision not to pull out the rat in your pocket until you both head to his room to hang out.

🕷 - He’s much more emotional then he likes to make himself out to be. He’s still trying to figure himself out, He’s still only 14 after all.

🕷 - So hearing you drop deep emotional wisdom at 2 in the morning is a fucking EXPERIENCE.

🕷 - The deep conversations you have (and, now that he’s thinking about it the meaningless ones as well) feel like precious moments. They leave a lasting affect on him, your presence makes him feel safe.

🕷 - He’s not sure how to say all that out loud though.

🕷 - He doesn’t have to. you already know.

🕷 - His parents are happy to know that he’s made you as a friend. No matter how much or little they really know about you, anyone with eyes and two working ears can tell that your a good kid.

🕷 - You probably end up in the hospital a lot.

🕷 - Like a lot a lot. You are in so many wrong places at so many wrong times…

🕷 - An arm in a cast is considered a small case when it comes to you.

🕷 - Miles wonders how your still even alive this point!

🕷 - foreshadowing

🕷 - After you become more acquainted with miles’ family, you start getting visits from them!

🕷 - Especially If you don’t have any stable adult figures in your life.

🕷 - You get in a lot of accidents and fights. And it starts getting worrying. You don’t go looking for any trouble but you don’t let the criminal population of New York stop you from venturing out at night, either.

🕷 - In the waiting room Your all smiles and laughs. Nothing fazes you it seems, even under extreme amounts of pain. so it makes them relax a bit.

🕷 - But they are MUCH more willing to let you practically walk in and out of their house whenever you need a Homebase to fall back on.

🕷 - Mr. Davis does NOT enjoy getting called out late at night over a complaint of a homeless person loitering on a bench and it’s literally just you.

🕷 - What are you doing out here young lady/man/ster.

🕷 - Sorry sir I missed my bus

🕷 - But why were you sleeping outside!

🕷 - Eepy.

🕷 - Let them help you please you don’t have to do things on your own.

🕷 - You’ve only gotten lucky enough to be attacked a handful of times.

🕷 - But when the opportunity arises you are so ready.

🕷 - Remember how I said you were crazy in a harmless way? Forget I said that.

🕷 - Miles has literally watched you rip an old (albeit loose) stop sign out of the ground and beat a mugger over the head with it.

🕷 - He was not ready.

🕷 - You don’t even have any powers that he knows of. No super strength or healing. No heightened senses to protect you.

🕷 - Miles is in awe of you sometimes.

🕷 - he’s saved you from trouble a

Handful of times.

🕷 - you’ve literally got Spiderman looking out for you.

🕷 - If anything happens to you

He will freak the hell out.

🕷 - you might end up being room

-mates at his new school

🕷 - No matter how low he’s feeling he knows that you’ll find a way to make him smile.

🕷 - You find the craziest things to do, there’s no where you’re not willing to venture and there’s nothing your not willing to play with.

🕷 - Unfortunately Miles suffers from the terrible ailment of being a teenager 💔 (and also occasionally having terrible bouts of anxiety)

🕷 - often times he just feels so painfully uncool. He catches himself asking if he’s really cut out for this life. Not just about being the next Spider-Man, but also in the the-American-dream-is-not-real-and-I-don’t-have-a-future kind of way. He worries if he’s failing underneath the weight of his burdens. That he’s a loser.

🕷 - But you don’t let him feel that way when your around.

🕷 - You make him feel like he’s cool. You make him feel like he’s funny. like he’s the most interesting person in the world, your so unshakably and enthusiastically invested in him and his successes!

🕷 - You celebrate with him when he wins small fights. When he saves people. When he gets higher grades on exams.

🕷 - He doesn’t feel insecure standing next to you, even when your personality is as chaotic as it is.

🕷 - Miles isn’t sure sure how he got so lucky to have met you. He doesn’t realise you feel the same about him.

_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•

#miles morales #spider man #spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse #into the spiderverse #not romantic btw #platonic #miles morales x reader #eyestrain #flashing lights

[kalims]

Hellooo I really like your writing :) May I request taking Malleus/Leona's favorite food from the fridge and leaving $2.18 in place of it?? How would they react when they find out their fav is missing?? Thank you so much !

ㅤas a form of payment

note. ty 🥲 I really appreciate since I basically disappeared for months LOL

in your defense, there's barely anything to snack on inside your dorm—unless you somehow enjoyed the myriad of canned cat food for grim (which you've been spending a lot on compared to your actual food..) and if there were anything to eat at all, you'd reckon the feline would've already gotten his hands on it and kept it to himself.

when you're already on a strict budget plan with the madol crowley 'graciously' provides you, barely enough to scrape by. you'd argue; but with the squawks of the blabbering he has, it's like arguing a wall.

thankfully lilia doesn't even seem to mind when you raid their fridge everytime you sleep over.

the dorm was really nice. nicer than your own, besides the fact sebek practically guards the front door with his life and demanding a formal invite from you the moment your knuckles resound against the door. though ramshackle, and diasomnia held similar vibes. the former looked younger than the latter but definitely in less good shape.

it was too enticing.. you shouldn't overstep as a guest.

but... "it's mocking me," you say to no one but yourself in particular. seated on a stool you found on the kitchen, in front of a counter and in the sights of the fridge. the green eccentrics of material drives your eyes to narrow further, a long, wistful sigh emitted from your lips as your folded hands rest beneath your chin.

not only that but it served like a warning to you, the color reminded you of sebek and his yelling habits. it would be a shame if you were discovered shredding their fridge with your gaze with the screech you'd imagine he'd make.

then something along the lines of; 'what are you planning, human?!'

surprisingly the dorm was eerily quiet during the night. they follow a strict protocol which only serves as fuel for your fire. you grumble. "I'm just a guest," you remind yourself. maybe to steel your morals but your resolve proves to reign when you quietly slip off the stool and open the freezer, eyes skimming through the frozen goods—a bar of chocolate, a frozen... eye...? whatever demon hotdogs were and—finally something normal.

you groan to yourself, feeling around your back pocket before peeling out a couple of coins that would be the equivalent of a dollar or two in your world. (also the last of your riches but atleast you partially paid?)

you look back, nervously looking around like a criminal before hauling the tub of ice cream in your arms. the rumble of your abdomen reminds you of why exactly you're even here committing a crime (or atleast it feels like you are...) you quickly grab a spoon, and tail it to the.. random ominous door you've never been to in your life.

malleus has this strange feeling.

he sums it up to hunger so he ventures down the familiar stairs of his dorm, through the living room, and to the place that will supposedly solve all of his problems. the churn in his gut grows stronger when he steps foot in the kitchen, blinking slowly when he cranes his head and finds the light illuminating and bright. when it shouldn't be.

it must be a resident that forgot. he shrugs it off, trudging over. picking up the smell of something familiar that brings warmth to his chest so his lips twitch into a pleasant smile. he must be going crazy, even now you're on his mind? "hmm," he mumbles, having opened the freezer and not spotting the familiar tub he's put earlier this morning.

sebek did say what it looked like, but none of these are even the delicacy he desires. he thinks, placing down a small cup of yogurt that could only belong to his father. maybe he put it in the refrigerator?

he sighs sharply through his nose and grumbles (coincidentally the same time a lightning strikes.) shutting the door to the refrigerator after finding nothing but a few eggs, chips from random residents, and more random thing that hss no correlation to what he wants. even if sebek did put it down there then what's the point in eating if it's not frozen?

malleus turns, about to sulk back to his room when he catches sight of a sticky notes and.. some madol?

'hi, this is for whoever ice cream that was T-T'

he crumples the paper in his grasp, wanting to seem understanding but the flash of lightning once again serves as a remainder of his growing irritation. a brightening of his eyes comes as quick as the tracking spell he casts quickly. eyes following a trail to the.. inconspicuous closet.

"oh, hi." the sudden light flooding in as you crouch on the floor, tub of desert between your crossed legs brings a hand over your eyes. unknown legs stand in front of the.. whatever room this is, but a closet seems more fitting so you'd call it that.

"child of man?" an incredulous voice echoes above you. the familiar sound illicits you to remove the hand blocking your sight, you wouldn't want to not look at malleus. you blink, fingers grasping the spoon laid forgotten inside the tub as you stare up at him and offer a nervous smile.

you wave with your free hand. "I got hungry?" you justify but that's only when he looks down at what you're glomping on and blinks, the random thunderstorm that started out of nowhere seems to pause for a few seconds before he breaks into a light chuckle and shakes his head. crouching down in front of you.

he presents you a small smirk. "I believe what you're eating is mine," he chides gently, devoid of any ill intent and previous irritation evaporating into nothingness when he finds you as the source of his troubles just a second ago. you open your mouth to reply, probably looking like an idiot with your mouth hung open, frozen when he just casually swipes a thumb on the corner of your mouth. wiping off an excess of ice cream that you didn't notice.

the notion might as well just given you a heart attack with the skip of a beat it did. it's almost as if malleus knows what's he's doing with the awfully appealing smirk on his face, still so gentle but you'd know better that he's doing it out of goodwill and natural caring nature for you. just the thought that he actually is so perfect warms your face.

you open your mouth—furrow your brows, close, and open. "I.. um... I'm sorry I know the money wasn't enough but I was really hungry, I'll get you a new one," a sincere apology, if you'd known it was his you would've never taken it in the first place. with the kindness he's extended you for so many times, you'd hate to see a frown on his face.

he huffs through his nose, a patient look of understanding on his face. "what's mine is all yours," he gestures to the tub between your legs, a reassuring hand on shoulder as he rubs his thumb around. he's close enough for you to see the light in his eyes, the green, and your reflection in the iris. you stare, a little dazed and mesmerized and he stares back.

"something as material as that doesn't matter compared to you," he adds.

oh my god. you gape. suddenly you're not so regretful of committing this crime.

his eyes drift up for a moment, pondering. standing back up to his full height and offering you a hand. "if you really want to make it up to me then why don't we eat it together?"

when you grasp his hand, his fingers enclose around yours. pulling you up with utmost caution. treating you as if you're the most fragile jewel he's ever held but holding you with a grip so firm you're almost afraid he's just never gonna never let go of you. you eye him as he leads you to the living room, having taken the stance as a gentleman and taking out the tub out of your hands.

even with the lasting cold from the tub transferring to your skin you still feel warm, something of a tranquil and quiet silence comfortable falling over as you both settle on the couch. you're surprised he doesn't take the seat on the opposite of you as he's always has, this time next to you. not minding your knees bumping against each other as he scoops a spoonful and offers it to you.

... how did you get in this predicament? you wonder, but open your mouth and allow yourself to shift a little closer.

not pr

#ㅤ◜◡◝ . . signed ! #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #x gn reader

[readychilledwine]

About Last Night

Happy Spoil Me Sunday 💜

I was going to save this for a rainy day. It's rainy where I live 😉

✨️ Lucien Girlies, this is for you ✨️

Lucien Vanserra x Human oc/reader

Warnings - orgasm denial, oral (fem rev), slight dom/sub dynamics

🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂

I hated when he did this.

My legs were thrown over his shoulders.

His hands tightly gripped my thighs and ass.

The cold wall pressed against my back as he held me against it.

But Gods, Lucien's tongue running from my leaking hole to my clit, circling that bundle of nerves as I pulled his hair and whined was heaven.

The warmth of his mouth licking, sucking, and kissing its way along my core to chase me into the highs of euphoria only he could could bring was utter bliss.

My head hit the wall as he gently rolled my clit over and over before sucking on it. "Lucien," I whispered softly. "Please, bed."

He chuckled darkly against me before pulling away enough to speak to me, "Such a picky demanding little human." He tutted me, squeezing my ass tighter in his grip. "Are you in charge?"

"No sir."

"Then shut your mouth like a good little girl and let me enjoy my early morning treat." He dove back in, groaning as his tongue pushed into me. I felt my eyes fluttering shut as my back arched slightly. Every flick, long drag, and groan from him drove me closer and closer to the edge he was looking for. 

A tight coil in my stomach was spreading heat through my body as he pulled me off the wall and used his inhuman strength to walk us to the bed without stopping his assault.

I whined desperately when he stopped to lay me down. "Head on the pillows, pretty girl. Now." I moved without second thought as he ripped his shirt off. "Spread your legs." 

He looked like a God, pulling his long red hair into a leather before getting onto the bed and between my legs. His head was straight back at my cunt as he looked up at me.

"You and your sister are interesting little creatures, y/n." He licked my core again, my head falling back as I watched him from my propped up position on my elbows. "For two humans who hate fae enough to kill one, you're both more than happy here. Especially you judging by how wet this pretty pussy is." 

I would have smacked him had he not taken that exact moment to push a single long thick finger into me and curled it up. I cried out his name softly making him chuckle. "So desperate for me to let you cum, aren't you little bunny?" I felt a haze set in with his words and his finger beginning to push in and out of me, curling for that perfect spot every time. "Of course you are. Don't worry, baby. We both know I'm more than capable of taking care of you."

Lucien put another finger in, the stretch burning slightly as I moaned loudly. His mouth reattached to my clit, forming a vacuum to keep that sensitive bud in contact with his tongue and mouth. He circled it, flicked at it, and gently nipped at it as his fingers picked up pace.

"Lucien," I felt his name start to fall from my lips like a prayer, "Lucien, please." He chuckled again, knowing I couldn't find bliss with his permission. Knowing he had trained me so well within the past month that he had made my pleasure strictly his.

I began to whine and moan, breathing rapid but heavy. I was seconds from breaking his rules. I could feel myself tipping over the edge. I could feel myself sqeezing his fingers tightly, my clit becoming more sensitive as he continued his onslaught, but anytime that coil threatened to snap this morning, he'd slow down. Changing the flick of his tongue, fingers no longer hitting that special spot. I cried loudly, causing him to chuckle against me.

"Gods Lucien, please. I'm sorry! I'm sorry about what happened last night." I knew he wanted an apology. I knew this early morning attack was due to my choices during the celebration last night. My confirmation came when he kept his fingers going but pulled his mouth off of me.

"And what exactly happened to make you sorry, bunny?" Gods he was torturing me, fingers dancing tapping and pressing harshly inside me. I felt myself twitch and squeeze the digits again as I whimpered something that sounded close to his name. "Don't you fucking cum. Only good girls get to cum."

I whined, head thrown back, back arched. "I'm sorry I left my room. I'm sorry I talked to the dark haired male. I'm sorry I didn't listen. I just needed you. Gods, I need you. Please, sir please."

He hummed softly. "Someone else could have claimed you and taken you as their prize for the night," his thumb came to my clit, rubbing circles as he moved back up my body. He smirked as he looked me over. "Do you understand how dangerous that was?" I nodded. "Do you understand how embarrassed you should have been when I ended up fucking you like a beast on the forest floor?" I smiled and laughed lightly, making him groan. "Look at me, little bunny." 

I raised my eyes to him, feeling more wetness start to drip out of me as I thought about Lucien fucking me for hours in the forest. "I'm not sorry about that part. Just the rest," I moaned. "Sir, please."

"Fucking brat," his thumb pushed down harder on my clit and he grabbed and squeezed my throat. "Cum. Cum for me like you did over and over last night."

At his words, the coil snapped. I felt myself begin to ride his hand as I screamed his name. I felt him lean into my ear and begin whispering gently.

"Just like that, y/n. Gods you are doing so well, beautiful. Keep riding my hand and fingers. Just fucking like that, honey. Good girl. Good fucking girl." His gentle praises had me whining, tears coming to my eyes as he prolonged my high by continuing his attack on my core. "I love you," he whispered. 

"I love you," I whispered back as the last wave hit me and left my legs shaking. "I love you so much."

He smiled and leaned his forehead against mine. "I'm going to pull my fingers out, okay?" He moved his hand and brought his glistening fingers to my lips, "Clean me off, baby." He groaned as he pushed his two digits into my mouth. 

My tongue swirled around them, lapping at every ounce of my essence as we maintained eye contact. He pulled my fingers from his mouth before leaning down to kiss me. 

"I am sorry about last night. I don't know what happened. I just.. I thought I heard you calling for me. I ignored it. I really did, and then everything got warm and I needed to be with you. I felt like I was on fire. Like if I didn't find you it'd never stop."

He nodded and hummed, an eyebrow raised as he studied my face. "Interesting. It would appear the Rite called you to me. If you ever see the dark haired male again though, you do not approach him. Am I understood?" I nodded again and agreed as I ran my hands up and down his arms. 

He kissed me tenderly. "I think we should just move your things into my room today. Let's get dressed and go to breakfast. We'll see what Tam and Fey are doing, then maybe get started on that?" 

"Only if we're going to torment them extensively in the process."

Lucien's smile was feral, eye ablaze with a post lust high and amusement, "Always."

#acotar #acotar x reader #lucien vanserra x reader #lucien vanserra #lucien x reader #lucien fic #readychilledwine's heresto100 celebration

[thru-the-grapevine]

Lady in Red

Pairing: Woozi x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, smut

Warnings: negative self-talk, petnames (mostly "princess" lol), fingering, unprotected sex; please note reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina

A/N: this is purely self-serving I was having a DAY

It’s finally Friday, you continued to chant in your head. Microsoft Outlook swam in your vision as you did your best to respond to all the emails sent last minute by people who make twice as much as you do. Yet another email full of typos demanding something of you thirty minutes before you clock out. Absolutely not. 

Setting your Teams status to “Busy,” you opted to twirl around in your office chair instead. Much more entertaining than answering bossy emails. Would it bite you in the ass on Monday? Sure. Did you care? Not right now. 

Sighing deeply, you peered at your reflection in the mirror across the hall. Your hair was a mess, sticking up in random directions as you hadn’t had the energy to style it this morning. Working from home had some advantages, but the way you neglected to care for your appearance was not one of them. 

Feeling a little gross suddenly, you picked at a cat hair stuck to your sweatpants. When was the last time you wore something that made you feel pretty? Sure, there was nothing wrong with the hoodie and sweatpants you normally opted for. They kept you warm and cozy as you slaved away to capitalism. 

But every once in a while you missed dressing up. You missed styling your hair, adding little sparkly accessories to it just because. You missed wearing clothes that didn��t make you feel like a lazy slob. 

With a sigh, you glanced back at the computer screen as another email came in. 

“What’s the sigh for, love?” a familiar voice brought a small smile to your face. 

Jihoon stood in the doorway, dressed in a simple pair of sweats and a t-shirt that you knew he chose for the way it hugged his torso, showing off all the hard work he’d put in at the gym lately. 

“Nothing really,” you sighed, not wanting to bother him. He’d been holed up in his studio a lot lately, working tirelessly on Seventeen’s next album. To see him home so early was a rare treat, you didn’t want to ruin it.

Jihoon raised an eyebrow at you, clearly unconvinced. He began walking across the room towards you, and suddenly you became hyper-aware of your appearance once again. Anxiously, you began picking more cat hair off your sweatpants, refusing to look Jihoon in the eye. How could you when he looked like a god and you felt like a pig who’d just rolled in mud? 

Jihoon hummed thoughtfully when he reached you. He put his hand under your chin, lifting your head gently to look him in the eye. Ever-observant, you could tell he knew what was wrong. Shame washed over you, but Jihoon just smiled gently. “Sign out of work,” he stated. 

“Now? But it’s not my time yet,” you argued, worried that you’d be caught. 

“Don’t care. They can let you go a little early on a Friday. I want you all to myself tonight,” he said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

You melted into his touch, already nodding and moving to shut down your work computer. They wouldn’t miss you. Probably. 

“Good girl,” Jihoon cooed, still messing with your hair. “Now, I want you to go pamper yourself. Take a long bath, use the nice soap and one of those fancy bath bombs I got you for Christmas. Doll yourself up. I know you’ve been missing it. I want to see my little princess feeling as beautiful as she looks.” 

At the nickname, you felt a rush of heat to your cheeks and your stomach. Blinking nervously, you looked up at him. “But what should I wear?” 

He answered almost instantly. “That red dress I bought you. I’ve been wanting to see you in it for a while now.” 

Your eyes widened. The dress in question was one Jihoon had bought you a few months ago after seeing it at a fashion show he attended. He refused to tell you the price, insisting that no price was too steep for his princess. But still, you were terrified to wear the thing. What if you tripped and the hem tore? What if you spilled something on the front and it stained? No, it was better off safe and sound in the back of your closet. 

“But-” you tried to say. 

Jihoon frowned. “Are you trying to argue with me?” 

You gulped. “No, sir.” 

“Good. Now go. I’ll order our favorite for dinner,” he said, bending down to give your cheek a gentle kiss. 

“We’re not going out?” you asked, bewildered. Why did he want you to wear the dress then? 

Jihoon smiled and shook his head, his long, dark hair flopping almost cutely as he did so. “I told you; I want you to myself tonight.” 

And with that he ushered you into the bathroom, even helping you pick out a bath bomb. Then he shut the door behind him and left you to decide how best to pamper yourself. At first you just stood there, unsure of what to do. How do you even pamper yourself? When was the last time you had a self-care day? 

Slowly, your brain kicked into gear. You turned the faucets on to nice and hot. When the tub was filled, you plopped the bath bomb in and spent a couple minutes watching the colors spread. Jihoon made sure all of the bath bombs he got you were purple - your favorite color. This one was a deep plum and smelled floral. It was lovely. 

You stripped out of your clothes, grabbed your shaving kit, and eased yourself down into the hot water. This time your sigh was one of relief as the heat eased your stiff muscles. You hadn’t realized how tense you were. 

You let yourself soak for a while, just vegetating and allowing yourself to empty your thoughts. You should’ve brought a book and a glass of wine with you. Oh well, next time. And you made the promise to yourself that there will definitely be a next time. 

Eventually, you felt the water begin to grow lukewarm and you decided to shave your legs and bathe. It felt like you were washing away the stress of the week. Every mistake you made and every scolding you got from higher-ups just fading into the background.

After you were clean and your hair was washed, you wrapped yourself in the fluffiest towel you owned and made the (chilly) trek to your bedroom. There you stared, still clad in only towel, at the beautiful red dress you laid out on your bed. It truly was gorgeous. The deep red, Jihoon’s favorite color, was complimented by silver embellishments. The swirly designs graced the flowy skirt, and the sleeves also flowed gracefully. 

Taking a deep breath, you eased yourself carefully into the dress, pleased to find it fit perfectly. Of course Jihoon had it tailored to you. He knew every inch of your body by heart. 

Deciding that if you’re going to wear this dress, you might as well go all out. You pulled out your slightly dusty makeup bag and pulled out your favorite eyeshadow palette along with the rest of your makeup. You took your time dolling your face up, feeling the icky feeling from earlier fading from your mind. 

Finally satisfied with your look, you floofed you hair to give it some volume, allowing the curls to do their thing as they air dried. Lastly you picked out some jewelry, also gifted to you by Jihoon, and slipped on a pair of sparkly silver heels. 

Nervously you peeked out of your bedroom. Then you ambled down the hall to the living room where Jihoon was waiting, the TV playing some variety show quietly in the background as he scrolled on his phone. 

Hearing the click clack of your heels, he looked up and you swear you watched his pupils dilate. 

“Holy shit,” he said, standing up. He’d changed too, now sporting a black button down with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of black slacks. “That dress is fucking perfect on you, princess,” he all but growled. He took your hand and gave you a twirl, admiring the way your cheeks flushed with his compliment. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled, shy. “It’s really a beautiful dress. I don’t think I could ever make it up to you for giving it to me.” 

“Don’t give me that,” he said, gently flicking your forehead. “It’s more than enough reward to just see you in this, my gorgeous girl.” 

Your brain was swirling with the compliments. Jihoon wasn’t often outspoken about how much he adored you, opting usually for acts of service and gifts and small gestures to make sure you felt loved. But sometimes, when you were feeling down, he allowed his walls to come down and finally tell you what he always felt. 

The two of you ate dinner, just some simple takeout from your favorite Korean restaurant nearby, and chatted. You were very careful not to spill any sauce on your dress. 

After dinner, Jihoon cleaned up the table, refusing to allow you to lift a finger. “Princesses don’t clean,” he chastised. 

You grumbled, “Princes don’t either…” 

Jihoon laughed at your obstinance and couldn’t help planting another kiss on your cheek. “Cute.” 

After he cleaned up, Jihoon began fiddling with his phone and some speakers he’d bought. You watched him in confusion until a waltz came on. Jihoon walked over to you, bowed, and held out his hand.

You shyly took it and allowed him to pull you up, wrapping an arm around your waist. Then, as if he’d practiced the waltz for years, he began to teach you the steps. 

The two of you danced slowly around the living room, careful to not bump into the table. Slowly you grew more confident in your dancing and allowed yourself to relax into the steps. Jihoon smiled at you and pulled you a bit closer. Your chest bumped against his, and you could’ve sworn you heard a sharp intake of breath from him. 

Before you could ask what’s wrong, Jihoon captured your lips in a heated kiss, not once breaking step. When you broke apart, you stared up at him, lips parted in surprise. Jihoon felt a tightening in his pants at the innocent look on your face. “As much as I love seeing you in this dress, I can’t fucking wait to take it off you,” he said. 

Your eyes widened, heat rushing to your core. Jihoon pulled you closer, allowing you to feel the growing tent in his pants. But still, the song wasn’t done, so he continued to twirl you around. You were growing impatient and tried nipping at his bottom lip to let him know. 

“Uh uh,” he said, “patience little princess. The song will be over soon. For now, let me get one last look at you in the dress I picked out for you.” 

And with a twirl, Jihoon’s eyes raked up and down your body, taking note of the way the bodice of the dress hugged your breasts. He loved the way the dress poofed out, teasing him by hiding your legs from him. 

When the song ended, it was like something snapped inside him. Jihoon pushed you backwards until you landed with a soft “oof” on the couch. He grabbed your wrists and held them above your head with one hand, the other hand holding the side of your face as he kissed you passionately. His knee found your clothed core, hiking up your skirts that fell around your thighs. 

“So fucking pretty for me,” he whispered in your ear. “Getting all dolled up just for me to ruin you. But you like that, don’t you little girl? You like it when your prince corrupts you.” 

Flushing, you nodded, unable to deny him. You did love dressing up for him. You did love when he absolutely ruined you. You loved every bit about him, the way he kissed you, the way he comforted you when you were upset, the way he quietly but firmly took care of you just as much as you cared for him. 

Jihoon’s hand trailed its way from your face to your neck to your chest. His lips followed suit and you gasped when he bit down on the top of your breast, tongue gently soothing the skin immediately after. 

He dropped your hands to start fumbling with the buttons in the back of your dress, hands slipping a little in his eagerness. He huffed. “This is taking too long.” Then he shocked you by ripping the back of the dress open. You felt several buttons pop off and yelped. 

“Jihoon!” 

“I’ll have it fixed later, now come here,” he responded before latching onto your breast. 

You yelped again, which turned into a breathy moan as he ran his tongue over your nipple. His other hand made its way down to your thigh to squeeze it. 

Jihoon’s focus shifted to your thighs and he knelt down to pepper kisses all up your thigh, leaving a hickey or two as well. You wiggled as his lithe fingers found your clothed core. 

“Mmm, my princess is so wet for me already,” he hummed. He bunched the dress’s skirts up higher, then took his time pulling the matching red panties down. 

Jihoon licked his lips at the sight of your soaking wet core, his dick straining painfully in his pants. You whimpered and reached out for him. Tilting his head, he stood up and leaned in close to you. 

Happily, you pulled him close and began undoing the buttons on his shirt. You felt yourself grow wetter at the feeling of his hard muscles beneath your hands. Jihoon watched your face as you concentrated on not fumbling on the buttons. Your breasts spilled out of the torn dress, and your thighs were practically begging him to come kiss them again. Your hair was already disheveled, and he found you the most beautiful person in the world. 

Finally, his shirt was off and flung to the floor. Greedily, you pulled him in for more kisses, and Jihoon was happy to oblige. While you were distracted, his hand made its way under your skirts. You let out a gasp as he inserted a finger and began pumping, his thumb circling your clit. 

Jihoon swallowed your breathy gasps greedily, hitting your g-spot expertly with every thrust of his finger. You whimpered when he inserted a second finger, and Jihoon groaned at the way your pussy practically swallowed his fingers. 

“You’re so tight, pretty girl,” he groaned, yet despite his words he inserted a third finger, making you cry out. 

His pumping didn’t slow down, even as your gasps grew higher in pitch. You could feel the coil in your stomach tightening already, the stress from the week having left you wound up. 

Between Jihoon’s fingers and his thumb circling your clit, it wasn’t long before you were crying out his name in pleasure, your thighs trembling as you rode out your high. 

Jihoon waited until you were back down to earth before removing his fingers and licking your release off them. You watched through heavy-lidded eyes as you tried to catch your breath. 

Jihoon began unbuttoning his pants, pulling them and his boxers down in one go. His dick sprang free, red and dripping with precum. You groaned, mouth watering, but Jihoon pushed you back on the couch. 

“Not tonight, princess. Tonight I spoil you, just as you deserve,” he cooed. 

You blinked up at him, pouting. “But-” 

He put a finger to your lips, shushing you. “Don’t argue, little girl. Don’t worry, I’m being greedy too. I can’t wait to fuck you until you’re screaming my name.” 

At the dirty talk, you closed your mouth, no longer even remotely tempted to argue with him. 

“Good girl,” Jihoon said before entering you with a groan. 

You moaned helplessly at the way he filled you up. He waited a moment before his patience ran out, and he began to move. 

Jihoon fucked you like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. Maybe you were in his mind, you could never know. But the way he buried himself in you and the way he moaned your name gave you little doubt of his affection. He knew your body better than you did, hitting that spot that made you see stars every single time. 

“Jihoon- ah! I’m- I’m gonna-” you tried to speak but the pleasure was overtaking you. Your mind just chanted his name over and over, and all you saw was his body over yours, his cock entering you with every thrust. 

“Cum for me, princess. Let me hear your pretty moans,” Jihoon said, increasing his speed as he felt himself racing towards his finish. 

You came hard, throwing your head back in a silent scream as your entire body trembled in Jihoon’s grasp. Feeling your cunt convulse around him, Jihoon’s pace grew erratic until he too came with a loud moan, spilling into you. He buried his face into the crook of your neck as he came down from his own high. 

After a moment of heavy breathing, Jihoon moved off of you, pulling out of you. He watched as his cum leaked out of you. Frowning, he pushed it back into you, making sure not a single drop was wasted. 

You flushed at the feeling, so full and satisfied. You gave Jihoon a dopey smile that he happily returned. “Always so good for me, pretty girl,” he crooned. “Now let’s get you cleaned up.” 

He scooped you up, your dress still halfway on your body, and carried you to the bathroom. He took the dress the rest of the way off you and turned on the faucets of the tub again, wetting a washcloth to clean you. 

“Next time, I’m buying you a purple dress.” 

#woozi #woozi x reader #jihoon x reader #svt woozi #woozi fanfic #woozi smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #rae writes #admin rae

[b1rds3ye]

a farah or valeria × reader perhaps? love ur writing btw ^_^

THANK YOU ANON!! Ngl I would've preferred more detail but I needed to write something for the gals ✌️

Taking What’s Mine

With the 141 being done with Valeria, she’s handed off to you and the Vaqueros to be sent to custody. You should have known better than thinking she would forget you.

Pairing: Valeria Garza x GN!Reader

Genre: Drama, Canon-Compliant, Enemies to more

Word Count: 2.1 k

Warning: Canon typical violence, yandere-ish Valeria? (Valeria's just generally a menace but better safe than sorry)

A/N: Italic sentences are meant to be characters talking in Spanish

You hop out of the driver’s seat of the black transport van to open the back door. Pulling back the door, you offer a mock bow, knowing whoever is entering is the infamous cartel leader, a rabid animal now restrained.

You barely have time to look as Alejandro all but shoves the package into the back seats. Only when you’re behind the package do you peer into the van at the poison of Las Almas. Turning around, she locks eyes with you. Your hesitation is quickly masked as you put your hands on your hips.

So this was the famed El Sin Nombre, who you now knew to have the name Valeria. She was formidable. Even sitting down, arms pulled behind her back, her attention on you had your hand instinctively covering your holster. Everywhere her eyes went was a purposeful action, picking apart every piece of the environment, every person. It settles on the space between you, Rudy and Alejandro - or the lack thereof - and you can see the gears turning in her mind. This was undoubtedly a seasoned fighter, finding potential weaknesses within a moment’s silence. Finding bonds, calculating potential damages. With no other form of retaliation, you slam the door shut, unable to see her reaction from the tinted glass.

Offering goodbyes and good luck to the rest of the 141, Alejandro and Rudolfo brief you for your next mission outside the van when your new allies leave. You’ll be personally keeping guard of Valeria for the foreseeable future until better arrangements can be made to detain someone in such high demand.

Alejandro drives, Rudolfo takes shotgun, and you’re given the unpleasant seat in the back beside the druglord. You figured the ride would be tense simply because the others had served together. Betrayal made the air heavy, it had Rudolfo dipping his head and exhaling heavily. Alejandro, ever the passionate one, was a lit fuse, jaw constantly clenched and screwing tighter with every second.

You were sure they had plenty to discuss, but what you didn’t expect - and prayed to not happen - was Valeria’s interest in you. You kept your head to the side, the back of the head is far less identifiable than the front. But you could feel it, the Nameless inspecting every aspect of you down to the pores of your skin, probably taking note of how you had forgotten to secure one of the velcro straps on your uniform. Amongst the silence of the van your swallow was audible in your ears and you swear she could hear it.

“I remember you,” Valeria states and you flinch. You can hear the smile in her voice. “I don’t remember faces often, they’re disposed of before they do anything memorable.”

You dare turn your head to look straight forward, only greeted with the back of Rudolfo's seat.

“Two months ago, southeast port, you sabotaged my shipment. You were pretending to be an independent vigilante taking matters into your own hands.”

You’re hyper aware of every process in your body. Every inhale takes a little more effort and your back is now straighter with every bump on the road unpleasantly smacking your spine. And you’re also aware that Valeria is tracking every single response, even the ones you're not conscious of, down to the hairs on your arm that now stand up straight.

“You don’t have the patch but I know a vaquero when I see one.”

Valeria turns back to the front, Rudolfo is eyeing her as Alejandro keeps driving.

“Alejandro. Dios mío, making your own a mercenary and having them do your dirty work. I thought you were better than that. I thought the Vaqueros prided themselves on cleanliness.”

“You can’t offer better,” you retort on behalf of Alejandro, to defend his honour. It came out before you could stop it but Valeria raises her eyebrows at you in amusement and you’re cursing yourself.

“I never said I could, but I don’t corrupt. Las Almas does that for me.”

Valeria shakes her head dismissively and she rests back in the seat. There’s a small smile on her face and it’s as dangerous as it is pretty. If you didn’t know any better you would think it was a smile of fondness.

“You even held me at gunpoint. Do you remember, vaquero? But then I begged and begged to return to my family and you took pity.”

There is only the sound of the van engine exerting itself through the crumbling terrain of Las Almas. You’ll no doubt end up discussing your mission once again with your colonel. Through the rear view mirror Alejandro spares a glance at you but there’s no disappointment, only understanding.

You grimace at the memory, that night at the port. It was early into your mission, the cartel weren’t even aware you were there hidden behind freight containers, save for (who you thought) was a single sicario stumbling into your little hiding spot. Even though you lost the element of surprise, you managed to bring her to her knees, gun pointed to her temple. But you did not operate like a cartel, you could not kill indiscriminately. You succumbed to those wide eyes that gazed up at you, frightfully admitting they were prey, and so upon taking all her weapons and military gear, you sent her off.

You realise now that you only shed off the sheep’s clothing and were now staring straight at the wolf. You can no longer call yourself a hero who delivered forgiveness. You mistook the shine in her eyes for tears when really it was the gleam of malice like a blade under the moonlight.

“How do you feel now, knowing that you were so close to ending El Sin Nombre but only lost from your own cowardice?”

“They have nothing to do with you.”

Alejandro’s grip on the wheel tightens until his knuckles are white. You want to speak up, to tell him it’s okay and that you can defend yourself, but you knew what Valeria wanted and you refused to give anymore.

“Oh but they do,” Valeria snaps and she regards you once again, you can see it in your peripheral vision. “You take away my profits and I will get them back."

Your square your shoulders, shifting in your seat. Your next swallow is so dry it hurts.

"See, I don’t forget fighters like you. People like you are risky for business. Like a cockroach you corrupt my supplies and never die.”

Her tone is teetering on a dangerous balance between spite and admiration. You suppose it’s not everyday someone screws up her orders and lives this long to tell the tale. Such skill and luck would be ideal to work in a cartel, you muse and just maybe you’re starting to piece her together as her unwavering gaze freezes the side of your skull. She’s already poking and prodding with her words, seeing if you can break, no, bend around this lawless nation. Las Almas can corrupt anyone, after all.

“I could make use of someone like you,” Valeria pursed her lips in contemplation. “I suppose you could say there are a few slots left open.”

Alejandro and Rudolfo had warned you of Valeria. In particular they warned you of her fire. She burned hotter than the buildings that baked under the Mexican sun. Her tongue held a venom that she inflicted liberally to anyone who dare cross her. And yet there was no aggression in her words. Her tone was deceptive all the same, but the sickly sweetness had you wondering what the hell you ever did to deserve such different treatment.

“I lost some of my best that day,” Valeria huffs like a child that lost their toy.

“My condolences,” you grumble half-heartedly as you focus on the individual fabrics of the back of the car seat. One piece of fluff is sticking out and you’re itching to pull it off, fingers twitching over your holstered pistol. “But you have the wrong person.”

But Valeria does not relent. Instead, she leans towards you, across the small middle seat that divides you and as far as her restraints will let her. Her breaths are heavy, strong enough that the tail-end of it warms your skin. Your cold sweat feels ever colder.

“Let me remind you, that I do not lose. I trade, cariño.”

“Leave them alone!” Alejandro bellows as he dares peel his eyes off the road and back at Valeria. His reaction is enough for her to pull away from you, bound wrists up in mock surrender with a satisfied smirk on her face.

“You’ll learn to accept losses,” you state, easing back into your seat in a pathetic attempt of confidence. “Solitary confinement teaches you a lot.”

“If anyone is learning anything, it will be you,” she argues. Shooting you one final look, she then switches her attention to the window, idly watching as the rugged yet beautiful terrain of Las Almas pass her by. “I’ll be out within twenty-four hours, and your precious vaqueros will be gone in half of that.”

So perhaps Valeria lied that time. She can only sigh upon running into her own men, almost mistaking them for other prison guards amongst the flashing red lights of a prison break. Months of suffering in a tiny cell that was as empty as your threats of solitary confinement, but even then the bite in your words provided her plenty of entertainment until the next time you’d pay a visit to her cell to make sure she was indeed still there.

“What the fuck took you so long?” She snarls at her own, already walking past them as they try to blurt out excuses for their tardiness. She only switches the safety of her rifle off in response and the rest of the cartel hurriedly follow her towards the exit of the prison. Stepping past fallen bodies and only narrowly avoiding the pools of blood that could dirty her boots, Las Almas cartel always knew how to make a statement. A sadistic smile settled on her face at what the Vaqueros would think of their parting gift.

Her reverie is broken by the distant call of her title and Valeria stifles a groan, stopping in her tracks.

“Is this the one?”

Valeria rolls her eyes before looking back at one of her lackeys, curses already on the tip of her tongue until she sees the little gift her subordinates prepared for her - upon her orders of course.

A man walks up to Valeria, hauling you in tow. He kicks the back of your knees, shins cracking against the cement floor. Your whole body joints at the pain, and you further jerk your bound wrists in a vain attempt to get free, but he only tugs back to contort your arms into an impossible angle.

“Fucker took out seven of us,” he spat at you, and even through the fear of being held captive you feel proud of the disdain in his voice, even as you feel the back of your head catch the offset of his saliva.

Valeria tuts as she walks up, spending a good moment with you having no choice but to look at her boots. Until her hand grips at the back of your collar like a baby animal, she yanks your uniform back to look at her as she squats down to your level.

“You are taking more of my assets,” she mutters and despite the chastising tone that coats her voice she doesn’t sound entirely disappointed. Her face is now closer to you as she inspects the blood that is dribbling down your temple.

With her other hand she wipes it away with uncharacteristic sweetness. She takes her time, as though there wasn’t a prison break and you weren’t her prison guard for the last half year. Even the dribble of her own subordinate is wiped off by her as she reaches over to the back of your head. The red lights cast shadows over her face as she looks down at you, but even through the darkness you can tell her features hold a smile only for you as her unkempt fringe falls across her face.

“Fortunately for you, that only increases your worth in my eyes, cariño.”

With no time to even question her, Valeria jerks her head as a sign for your handler to haul you back up to your feet.

“Damage the package and you will only be another ghost to The Nameless.”

You warily check the other cartel members but none of them look confused in the slightest, only nodding at the new orders. A bag over your head obscures your vision entirely and you’re shoved forward, being led to what you can only assume to be the depths of hell.

Call of Duty Masterlist

#call of duty x reader #valeria garza x reader #valeria garza x you #valeria x reader #cod fanfic #call of duty x you #cod x reader #cod x you #valeria garza #valeria mw2 #/*avery checks the mailbox*/ #/*avery actually writes*/ #anon mail ❤️

[carlsdarling]

okay, now i need a fic about carl's gigantic balls😔😔😔

Jingle balls, jingle balls

Y/N wonders if Carl really has gigantic balls... Bit more of a plot, then sex. Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, oral (male receiving)

As so often, you watched Carl as he helped Olivia to carry groceries into the warehouse. To do this, he repeatedly climbed into the back of the pick-up truck parked outside the warehouse and the fabric of his jeans stretched over his crotch, leaving a visible bulge. You giggled furtively, because ever since a certain day, you'd been a little obsessed with Carl and what was going on under his belt.

That was when Negan had first come to Alexandria with his men to demand supplies, and when two of his men had gone to get medicine from Rick's house, Carl had angrily stood in their way and threatened them with his gun. You had heard the gunshot from the house and seen Rick, Negan and Gabriel rush to Rick's house, so you had followed them, curious and worried at the same time.

Inside the house was Carl, his one eye glinting with rage, his cheeks flushed delightfully as he pointed the gun at Negan's men and forbade them to take the drugs. The muscles on his arm and neck were tense, and he ignored Negan, who approached with amusement and began to admonish Carl. But Carl was not intimidated by Negan, so the latter finally got a little annoyed and said: "So, dude, at what point were we? Oh yes! At your gigantic balls down there!"

The blush had rushed to your face and you had struggled to suppress a giggle despite the dangerous situation, so Gabriel had looked at you in bewilderment and confusion. You had thought Carl was cute ever since he had come to Alexandria, but since that day, you kept trying to imagine him naked and wondered if Negan was right with his comment.

However, you and Carl didn't get close at first because he spent a lot of time with Enid, and eventually he and Enid became a couple, which made you jealous. But around the time of Carl's 19th birthday, things started to fall apart and a few months later they had a big fight and broke up, leaving Carl single again. Faced with this fact, you were all excited, but at first you just couldn't find a way to get closer to Carl.

Until the day you happened to be assigned to guard duty together. It was a few days before Christmas and Alexandria was already festively decorated; it was snowing lightly as you and Carl climbed the stairs to the wall.

You kept glancing stealthily at Carl from the side. He was wearing a parka against the cold, so you couldn't catch a glimpse of his crotch, but you were firmly convinced that Carl was well equipped, and Negan's words kept coming back to your mind.

It didn't take long for Carl to notice your strange behavior. "What's wrong?" he asked with a hint of irritation. "Why do you always stare at me like that?"

You immediately blushed. "What? Like what?" you tried to deny it.

Carl looked at you with raised eyebrows, snowflakes settling on his bandage. "I don't know. But you're always gaping at me like you're trying to figure something out." Your face grew even hotter, and Carl grinned knowingly. "You have the hots for me, haven't you?"

"No," you immediately denied it.

"No? Too bad," Carl said casually. "I mean, I'm single again, and we could have some fun." He pointed to a vacant house near the wall. "There don't seem to be any walkers out today anyway. No one will notice if we disappear for a while." He winked indecently at you. "But it's not like you're interested." He shrugged his shoulders.

You cleared your throat. "Umm, I wouldn't put it like that. It's just..."

"What?" Carl eyed you with amusement.

"Well, Negan made a remark about your balls back then." You giggled, embarrassed. "I've always wondered since then if it was true. Well, that they're gigantic."

Carl laughed out loud. "Okay, so they're not small," he let you know in a teasing tone. "Neither is the rest. But don't you want to find out for yourself?" He stepped closer so that his breath brushed hotly across your cheek.

The arousal swept over you like an electric shock. You could smell Carl's scent very clearly, his long hair tickled your face and his pheromones mesmerized you. You and Carl had never been this close before. His lips almost touched yours. "Yes," you breathed, your heart pounding wildly.

"Come on then," Carl said, taking your hand after looking around and realizing that no one was watching you. He pulled you down the stairs and over to the abandoned house. New residents were due to move in these days, so the heating was turned up and it was comfortably warm.

Apparently Carl had been pretty needy since breaking up with Enid, because he pulled you into a hug as soon as he closed the front door behind you both and kissed you fiercely, his hands sliding under your clothes and immediately fumbling with the clasp of your bra. "Bedroom," he murmured as he pushed you towards the stairs. On the way up, you were already stripping off some of your clothes. You admired Carl's naked torso, the finely chiseled muscles, the fair skin, and the soft line of dark hair that led down from his navel.

You fiddled eagerly with Carl's belt. "I want to see you," you said breathlessly, licking at his neck.

Carl groaned, shoved your hand aside and undid his belt and the buttons of his jeans himself before sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling down his jeans and boxers. His cock was standing straight up, the tip touching his stomach and leaving a wet trail. You grabbed Carl by the shoulders and made him lie on his back, then you took his cock in your hand and began to gently rub up and down and apply pressure. Carl whimpered and squirmed on the bed, his eye closed. You let go of his dick and turned your attention to his balls - indeed, they weren't gigantic, but they were big, one almost filling your entire hand. "Are they always this... full?" you teased him, caressing his balls, swirling your tongue around his red, precum-oozing tip.

Carl whimpered and grinned sheepishly. "Maybe not quite so full," he whispered, his voice hoarse with excitement. "It's just, uum, I've got a bit of blue balls, if you know what I mean, oh please, don't stop." He groaned lustfully and bucked his hips up as you playfully licked his balls.

You leaned over Carl to kiss him and he yanked impatiently at your panties, slipping them over your thighs and shoving his long fingers between your legs. "You're already so wet, baby," he gasped, gripping your hips. Very slowly, he pushed his dick in.

You trembled with pleasure, and he chuckled, while his cock sliding inside you, making naughty slippery noises. You clenched your muscles around him, and he started moaning loudly, arching his back. You leaned forward and touched his big balls at the same time, gently massaging them, and this almost drove Carl over the edge, he was so close to cumming, but he successfully held himself back.

The way his dick was stretching you out was amazing, and you whined loudly, which made Carl grin. "It's not just my balls that are big," he joked.

"Oh my god, Carl," you moaned and the movements of your hips became faster and more erratic as you felt the orgasm approaching. When you cum around his cock, Carl feverishly bucked his hips, he let out a little scream and his cum filled you up to he rim. You had to grip onto his shoulders for support. "Going wild, huh?" you panted. Carl lied back, exhausted, he tried to catch his breath.

You collapsed on top of him, your head resting in the crook of his neck, before you dismounted him to snuggle up to him.

Carl looked at you, his cheeks still flushed, his heart beating hard. "That was... beyond words," he whispered and kissed you. You touched his balls again, and Carl inhaled sharply.

"They're not so full anymore," you said, giggling.

Carl smiled a little bashfully. "You took care of them, didn't you? But you have to admit, they're really big," he hinted with a pout.

There was no denying it. "They are," you giggled. "So is your dick."

Carl suddenly pressed you into the mattress and lay on top of you, gently spreading your legs. You could clearly feel that he was ready for you again. "Since you liked it, can we do it again?" he suggested. "Again and again," you mumbled as Carl penetrated you a second time.

--

Tags: @knochentrocken0808 @xxcarlswifexx @taylormarieee @tessasweet

(Originally the fic was planned for X-mas time, but then my dad passed away, so it got delayed)

#the walking dead #twd #carl grimes #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes imagines #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes smut #carl fanfiction

[martybaker]

Whiskey for the good times

It’s a warm June evening and Dream is sitting at the end of the bar at The New Inn, watching Hob at work.

Priya the bartender called in sick and so Hob is manning the bar himself tonight. The inn is full of patrons and Hob is kept busy, clever fingers handling various bottles of liquor. He chats amicably with regulars and newcomers alike, ever with a kind smile on his face, even though there is a sheen of sweat at his temples, testament to his hard work.

And despite the crowd, whenever there’s a lull in the influx of warm bodies demanding his attention, he finds a moment to wind back to Dream, to give him a refill, a new anecdote, an observation about a patron, or just a smile before he’s called back to duty.

Dream enjoys their conversations, but he enjoys simply watching Hob at work as well, and he has had plenty of opportunities to do so over the last year. Since his escape from Fawney Rig and the subsequent demands of his office, his visits to the Waking world had became much more frequent. But not only because of his duties, but also thanks to the newly rediscovered pleasure of Hob’s company.

They agreed to meet once a month, so Hob could more thoroughly catch Dream up on all the things he has missed during the years of his…detainment, and slowly conversations over a drink turned into invites to, quote, “hang out” with Hob outside of the New Inn as well. Some things are better shown than told, he said, and Dream smiled and complied rather too easily. Their monthly meetings became weekly, and though Dream was notoriously prone to getting lost in his work, he suddenly found himself in the habit of time keeping and counting down days until their next meeting.

Today, however, is special. The calendar on the wall reads June 7th in bold black letters. A day as any other, but also their day.

Dream watches Hob, circling the rim of his glass with his finger.

Currently Hob is held at the other end of the bar by a pair of young giggling women he seems to be familiar with, presumably his students. They keep glancing in Dream’s direction, and Hob’s face is growing redder by the minute. He keeps shaking his head, disputing whatever notion they’re pushing, but the girls seem relentless.

Eventually, when he makes his way back to Dream, Dream cannot help letting his curiosity take over.

“Your students?”

Hob nods, a faint flush still visible on his cheeks.

“What were they inquiring about?”

Hob huffs, shaking his head. “They were making fun of their old history professor, s’wat they been doing.”

Dream rises his eyebrows at him.

Hob sighs, fidgeting under the gaze, but eventually breaks.

“They were asking if you were a good kisser,” he admits, darting away with his gaze as soon as he says it, tugging nervously at his ear.

Dream’s eyebrows shoot up even higher. “Were they? What did you tell them?”

Hob blinks at him. “The truth? That I wouldn’t know?”

“Hmm,” Dream hums, twirling the amber liquid in his glass. He slowly puts it down, then reaches across the bar and pulls Hob towards him, leaning in to join their lips. Hob makes a noise of surpise against him but then falls into the kiss, tasting the whiskey from Dream’s lips.

When Dream pulls back, Hob sways on his feet, looking lost with his mouth hanging open and pupils dilated. His hands clench, frozen in midair as if he wanted to hold onto Dream but wasn’t sure he was allowed to.

There’s a whistle and laughter from the other side of the bar.

Dream picks up his glass again and smiles at Hob beatifically. “There. So you could give them an honest review.”

Hob blinks at him and makes a noise like a squeezed rubber duck.

Dream cannot help the grin tugging on his lips as he nods in the direction of the women, encouraging Hob to return back to them to relay his impressions.

Hob unfreezes slowly, shaking his head, running a hand through his hair and muttering “bloody hell” under his breath before he hesitently makes his way back to the other side of the bar. The students immediately latch onto him, rejuvinated by the display as well as the liquir running through their veins.

When Hob comes back to uncork new bottles for the customers he is unusually quiet and the red on his cheeks seems to have made a permanent residence there.

As he grabs for a bottle of tequilla it slips from his fingers and shatters on the floor, minutely interrupting the rumor of conversations before they’re picked up again.

“Bollocks!” He curses.

Dream hears himself laugh. Not a full on raucous laugh, just a chuckle, but Hob looks at him with wide eyes, as if he was seeing the eight wonder of the world.

Hob laughs too, breaking the moment, and returns his attention to the shattered bottle.

“Look what you’ve done to me!” he says, grabbing for a broom and glancing at Dream with mirth dancing in his eyes.

“Menace.”

Dream hides his smile in his glass. He feels a sparkling feeling in his chest, which doesn’t seem right because alcohol shoud have no effect on him unless he lets it. Perhaps his control is slipping, or perhaps it’s just the pleasent buzz of the evening and good company.

Perhaps he doesn’t mind all that much, letting his control slip tonight.

Having cleaned the mess, Hob comes back to him, as he always does, and gives him a crooked smile. “You’ve just about made their day tonight. I won’t hear the end of it at the uni, thanks a lot.”

“You’re welcome,” Dream drawls, leaning his head on his hand. He gives Hob a once-over, gesturing at his shirt that’s been soaked by the alcohol. “You might want to take that off.”

Hob looks at his shirt, then back at Dream, huffing in disbelief. “Was that the plan all along??”

“An unforseen benefit.”

“Uhuh,” Hob says, giving Dream a dubious look. “Heavens, you are in a mood tonight. Should have given me a warning beforehand, I don’t know if I can survive a whole evening of this,” he says, gesturing at the whole of Dream.

“You can survive anything,” Dream reminds him.

“Physically, maybe, but my composure? My dignity? My sanity? I am really not all that sure, love.”

Dream smiles, keeps smiling, really, as he doesn’t seem to be able to do otherwise tonight. He downs the last sip of whiskey along with the sweet tingle of Hob’s endearment.

“Want a refill?” Hob nods at his empty glass. “Or would you like to try something new? Something more daring?” he says, rising his eyebrows in a challenge. “Since that seems to be the vibe tonight.”

Dream hums. “Perhaps i would like to try something old.”

If Dream knew Hob’s reactions to a little bit of flirting would be so entertaining, he would have endeavoured to do so sooner. Hob grows even redder in the face if that’s even possible, huffing and blinking rapidly, seemingly unable to decide what to do with his hands which he twists together, then crosses across his chest, then lets fall against his sides again, smoothing down the seams of his trousers.

He shakes his head and rubs his forehead.

“You’re something else, Dream,” he says with a deep sigh.

“Yes, that is a correct assesment.”

Hob rolls his eyes.

“Hey, Mickey!” He yells at a regular at a nearby table, “would you like to make a quick buck? Can you come over to man the bar for a minute? I need to change.”

“Sure thing, mate!”

Hob takes of his apron, muscles flexing underneath the shirt made half translucent, and Dream wants.

“Do you need assistance,” he asks nonsensically, but Hob understands it for the proposal that it is.

Hob’s eyes grow wide. He laughs, shaking his head. “Christ, if I were really working here I would get fired for this,” he says, but he beckons at Dream who slips from his chair and joins Hob at the other side of the bar. Hob puts his hand on his back and nudges him towards the backroom.

“Lucky you are the owner, then,” Dream points out.

“Yeah, lucky,” Hob says, hand slipping around Dream’s waist from behind, and kisses Dream’s neck as he closes the door behind them.

——————

Happy 7th of June dreamling nation!

Here’s something for ‘Ep6 continuation’ prompt of Dreamling Week :)

#dreamling #dreamlingweek2023 #dreamlingweek #dreamling week #dreamling week 2023 #my writing #the sandman #sandman #dream x hob #hob x dream #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream the endless #morpheus #sandman dreamling #not beta-ed we die like jessamy

[m0nsterqzzz]

•A Sense of Impending Doom•

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x gn!reader

summary: being forced to go to a Stark party, you just pray the last person you want to see, doesn't come up to you.

warnings: really shitty angst?, cussing, alcohol

a/n: I've never wrote angst so sorry if this is so terrible lol. I don't think I wrote pronouns like once and I used, "they" so other then that, gender neutral. let me know if its not

With a heavy sigh, you exit the elevator and into the huge room. There are colorful lights all over, and you slightly hear someone singing I Wanna Dance with Somebody over the loud talking of the party guests.

When you got the invitation to yet another Stark party about a week ago, you instantly threw it in the trash. You’re trying to put your Avenger days behind you after your breakup with one of them, but Tony has never been able to catch a hint. The next one came from a text from Steve, where your best friend tried to convince you to come with the promise, “Natasha won’t be there.” You know that’s not true, so you left the man on read until he changed the subject. Then Yelena literally came to your apartment, and the young woman literally wouldn’t stop “Rockin Around the Christmas Tree.” until you agreed to go. Random, but effective.

So here you are, all dressed in a fancy outfit and flask of vodka in hand. Of course Tony always provides drinks, but this was for the cab ride to the Compound. 

You catch Tony’s eye from across the room, but he looks too far gone for you to even get a full conversation with him right now so you instead look around for anyone else. Suddenly, you're being picked up by two strong arms, and you instantly reach back to elbow them in the face. A harsh reaction, but Natasha would definitely be proud at the groan the person releases after months of trying to teach you self defense. Your attacker drops you on your feet, and you turn to see Bucky wincing as he holds his bloody nose. You let out something between a gasp and a laugh and Bucky glares at you.

“I’m sorry Buck! I thought you were attacking me!” “Why would someone attack you here? You’re literally surrounded by Avengers!” He makes a valid point, and that’s what you voice as you walk him to the bar to get the first aid kit always kept behind it. You guys learned your lesson after having to go search for one every time Tony drunkenly gets hurt and bleeds all over his nice rugs on the floor of the party room. 

You try your best to clean up the blood and fix his nose, but something- or should I say someone catches your attention and you drop the flask you're holding in your hand. The metal makes a loud noise as it clatters against the ground, but you pray it’s too loud for your discretion to notice. Your prayers are not answered. 

The woman a few feet away turns to face your direction, you pretend you don’t notice as the redhead gulps down her drink and continues staring at you even when you go back to fixing Bucky's nose.

“Natasha?” Bucky asks, and you sigh as you nod. “She’s staring. Get her to stop Buck.” He just chuckles and shakes his head. “What do you want me to do? Go over to her and demand she look somewhere else?” “Exactly!” You both laugh, and you give him a soft kiss on his forehead when you're done with his nose. The blood is mostly gone, and you know his super soldier serum will heal the rest of his nose in the next few weeks. He gets up, walking behind the bar and slinging a towel over his shoulder as he pretends to be your bartender, “What can I get you tonight?” You give him your order, and watch as he stares at you for a few seconds before you both burst out laughing. “I don’t know how to fucking make that! How about a glass of whiskey? Or two? Or five?”

Bucky is your best friend next to Steve and Wanda. Nobody can really tell why, but everyone knows it’s still a great pair even if you two don’t seem like people who would usually be friends.

You nod, and he pulls out the bottle of whiskey before someone takes it from his hand. You both turn to face the person stopping you from enjoying alcohol and your eyes widen. Natashas standing there, and her raspy voice that used to be your favorite speaks to Bucky. “I know what they're talking about. I’ll make it.” You plead for him to stay with your eyes, but he just hands her the bottle and leaves. Traitor. 

You met Natasha when you were recruited for SHIELD and she was your partner before she was ever your girlfriend.

She doesn’t say anything for a while as she makes your drink, but when she's done she sets it in front of you and asks, “How are you doing?” Is she serious? You think, and it’s clear she knows that as she grimaces at her own words. “I’m alright.”

You’re not alright. You haven’t been alright from the day you came home from work to find Natasha standing outside your front door with a suitcase by her side. You haven’t been alright since she mumbled, “I’ve never really loved you.” You haven’t been alright since the day Natasha Romanoff broke your heart and left you sobbing in the hallway in front

 of your apartment's front door.

She doesn’t need to know any of this though.

She nods, starting to awkwardly hum along to the song playing. There was never an awkward moment between you and the ex- assassin when you guys were dating, but with the feeling surrounding you right now, it feels like that's all that’s ever been between you two.

She suddenly starts to speak, but three loud voices boom from behind you before she can. You spin on your seat, and you come face to face with three of your favorite people. 

Maria Hill, Thor Odinson, and Tony Stark. 

They all look plastered, and Tony stumbles closer to you to put his arm around your shoulder. Your suspicions are confirmed true when you smell the alcohol reeking off of his breath as he leans down to whisper- quite loudly- in your ear, “You and Natasha huh? Yall getting back together? That sounds like it’s time to throw another party, baby.” You cringe, pushing him away from you as both you and Natasha look at anything but each other.

Thor and Maria drunkenly giggle behind him, and you reach out to pinch Thor’s arm as hard as you can. He shrieks, practically jumping a foot in the air as he backs away from you slowly.

Tony looks at you expectantly and you sigh. You are definitely going to beat the crap out of him 

“No way in hell-” You start

“Well maybe-” She speaks at the exact same time.

Your eyes widen, and anger flashes through you at the look of pure sadness in her eyes. “What the fuck do you mean “maybe”?” She looks taken aback at your outburst, and so do the three behind you as they look at each other and begin stumbling away. 

She begins stuttering out an answer, but you’re continuing on before she can. “There is no maybe Natalia! You messed it up!” People are beginning to stare at this point, and Natasha nervously looks around as she mumbles, and you can hear it now that someone has turned off the music, “I’m sorry.” You scoff.

“You broke my heart and the only thing you can think to say is sorry?” The redhead sighs, looking at the drink on the counter that is now covered in condensation. “I’m really, really sorry.” It’s silent for a minute, until you speak harshly, “Don’t be sorry. It’s my fault for not listening to the people that told me loving you was a bad idea.” Your words cut deep inside her, but she knows she deserves them.

When you first started dating, all her and your friends were thrilled. They were so happy for you guys. But they were also nervous. Your friends had concerns about her job and how safe you’d be with her- but you reassured them with the knowledge that there has never been a day you didn’t feel safe with her. Because she was your protector. At the time at least. And her friends have sat you down when she wasn’t around, telling you they were scared her being unable to show/control her emotions would take a toll on you. But it was easy to prove to them it would be alright, as they watched the way you slowly melted Natasha’s cold stone heart. In fact, you’d never once seen the side of her they spoke off. Well, until the day she left. When she asked you, “Who could ever love a person like you?” It was clear it was rhetorical, but you couldn’t think up an answer even if you wanted to.

You can hear Tony trying to figure out how to get the music going again, but other than that, the only sound that fills the party room is silence. 

“Don’t you understand how much it hurt to let you go? You were the best partner I ever had. both in my career and in relationships.” You let out a laugh at her words, and it turns into a genuine cackle even while everyone looks at you like you're insane. She looks up from the counter and speaks loudly over your laugh, “I had to do it okay?! I had to!” “You don’t have to do anything Natalia!” She sighs, looking towards Clint who stands near the bar. He nods his head to the green eyed girl, and she takes a deep breath before revealing quietly,

“I still love you. And I want to try us again.”

Her words make you freeze, and you look to your best friends with tears in your eyes. “What?” She thinks you just didn't hear her, so she repeats, “I still love you.” You shake your head, slowly backing up from the bar. She comes around the counter, and you back up even more as she tries to take your hands in her own. “N-no. You don't love me.” “I do. I love you darling.” “Don't do that Nat…..please don't do that to me.”

You both stop, and you shake your head when she goes to caress her face. “You wouldn't have left me if you love me, Nat. You don't love me.”

You both stop walking, and the party music suddenly turns on, as if a ending to your conversation. A single tear falls down her face, and you fight the urge to wipe it away.

This time, when you begin walking away, Natasha doesn't follow.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #gender neutral reader #the black widow #black widow #angst #angst no comfort #marvel x you #marvel x reader

[hellcat8908]

can i please request one where reader is azriel and gwyns daughter. and she’s secretly dating nyx. Reader is 20 and Nyx is 21. They’ve been sneaking around a few months and nobody knows bc reader has her shadows alert if someone gets close so they’re never caught. And no one questions shy they spend so much time together bc they are bestfriends and were raised together. and also reader is going to the spymaster and shadowsinger when nyx becomes high lord so they often train together. Imagine then one day they think everyone are gone for the meeting at hewn city so they’re making out in the riverhouse with no shirts on so if they’re caught, there’s no lying. They’re so distracted that not even readers shadows pick up that the inner circle comes back and they’re all just shocked with their jaws dropped to see them together. Gwyn laughs and that catches their attention and they throw eachother away and act like nothing happened but everyone are asking questions especially azriel..

Busted Nyx x Female Reader (Both Adults)

Once you were old enough, your parents decided it was time you started training, both physically and mentally. Since you were Azriel's daughter, you were to be Nyx's spymaster once he became high lord. It only seemed natural that you and Nyx had formed a relationship that was more than a friendship. You had extra training sessions with him when your schedules allowed it. Neither your parents nor his thought anything of it since you've been friends from the start, plus your future duties. Now with you being 20 and Nyx being 21,  your father's had informed the two of you that the inner circle would be going to Hewn City for to check on things and that the two of you would be remaining in Velaris.

The next few days dragged on until the day of the trip was finally here. You had gone to the river house with your parents to see them off and of course to see Nyx. Your parents and the rest of the inner circle said their goodbyes to you, reminding you they'd be home later that night. Once you made sure they were gone, Nyx had his arms around you and his lips pressed against yours in a searing kiss. You were both excited at the idea of truly being alone for a while. Nyx took your hand and led you to his bedroom where the house had left snacks and drinks for the two of you. You curled up together, ready to spend the next several hours lost in each other. You kept several shadows on guard just in case, but you doubted they'd return early.

You had spent a portion of the morning listening to music while cuddling and talking. The music took a turn to slower songs, and soon, you were locking lips with Nyx. Your hands pulled at the bottom of his shirt before he broke the kiss and allowed you to take it off. Your shirt was quick to follow after it. His lips found yours again as you pulled him closer, tangling your fingers in his hair. He trailed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, noting your heart rate picking up. His hands had just skimmed over your bra when a laugh pulled you back to the present in a panic.

Feyre and Gwyn stood laughing in the doorway while Rhys and Azriel stood there fuming. Gwyn and Feyre patted their perspective mates and told them to go easy on the two of you before making their way back to the main living room. You frantically searched for your shirt, wanting to cover up. Nyx gently handed it to you before you put it back on. "How was your trip?" You ask nervously, wanting to talk about anything besides them finding you. "Don't try to change the subject. How long has this been going on?" Azriel all but demands.

"This is the first time we've gone any further than just kissing, and we really didn't go that far." You answer shyly. "And if we hadn't come home, how far would it have gone exactly?" Azriel asks as he glares at Nyx. Your cheeks turn a hint of pink, "Dad, we're both adults, I'm not your little girl anymore. You and mom both knew this day would come." You see the fash of hurt in his eyes at your words. He regains control as he tells you to go wait with your mom. You give Nyx a worried look, and he gently squeezes your hand to reassure you.

Nyx braces himself for whatever Azriel has to say, glancing nervously at his dad. Rhys just shakes his head, "You're an adult making adult decisions. you're on your own." He tells Nyx before placing his hands in his pockets. "What exactly are your intentions with y/n?" Azriel starts his interrogation. "I love her, have for a while now. Eventually, I want to spend the rest of my life with her if she'll let me." Nyx answers calmly. "Why the secret relationship? Why not just tell us?" Azriel asks. "Y/n was worried how would react. And we wanted to make sure there was actually something between us before announcing it."

Azriel looks to Rhys, "What do you think?" Rhys looks at Nyx and then to Azriel, "I think y/n could do a lot worse than Nyx but I also think we all should've seen this coming with as much time as they spend together." Azriel nods in agreement. "What do you think is a fitting punishment for them sneaking around?" Rhys asks. Azriel gives Rhys a smirk, "I think I know just the thing." You hear Azriel call you back to the room, his voice loud and thunderous. Once you're standing beside him, he indicates for you to take a seat next to Nyx.

"You have my blessing for your relationship as long as you both are respectful of each other, and we will be watching the two of you." You excited hug Nyx and kiss him. Azriel clears his thoat, "However, we don't approve of you sneaking around so as punishment you both have to run up and down the 10,000 steps at the house of wind." Your jaw drops and shoulders sag. "How many times?" You ask. "Twice, once for each month you been snuck around." You groan at the thought of how sore your legs are going to be. "You're worth it, babe," Nyx tells you with a wink and a smile. You smile back and tell him he is, too.

"Now, can we please eat? I'm starving." You announce. "Yeah, you're going to need the extra calories for your run." Rhys teases as you all stand to walk into the living room. "I see everyone is still alive." Feyre teases. "You sound surprised." Azriel says. "Well, you can't blame me." Feyre says with a grin. "Dinner should be ready soon." Rhys says, changing the subject. "So how soon can we expect grandbabies?" Gwyn asks as Azriel takes a drink, causing him to spew it on Rhys. The room erupted in laughter.

"Relax, dad, not anytime soon." You tell him. Nyx suddenly looks at you like he's picturing a future with kids with you. A quick smack to the back of the head from Azriel's shadows brings him back to reality. "I'm too young to be a grandparent." Azriel grumbles. "But just think how cute the nursery would be and all the little baby clothes." Gwyn adds. "You're all trying to give me a heart attack, aren't you?" Azriel asks. You excuse yourself and have your shadows ask Azriel to join you outside while dinner is being made.

You only have to wait a few seconds outside before Azriel stands beside you. "Are you at least a little bit happy for me?" You ask softly. "Of course I'm happy for you, sweetie." He says, putting an arm around you. "As long as he treats you right and you're happy, that's all I care about. I know he's a good kid." You rest your head against him, "You know you'll always be my little girl, right?" He says softly. "I know, and you know I'll always need you no matter what." He smiles down at you. "I know."

#acotar fic #batboys #sarah j maas #acotar fanfic #azriel #nyx x reader #acotar #fanfic

[anklebitingbrat]

mdni ! 18+ this is inspired by Pencil Skirt by Pulp :3

It’s Tuesday at 5:48pm, he was over. Fiancé out of town on a work trip made this easier for you both, but the goodbye later on was hard, a lingering “I’ll see you soon, yeah?” would always fall from his lips as he stood in the hall. He would always be back, be back for you.

Anakin wouldn’t let you change from work, pencil skirt still on, blouse unbuttoned but still tucked in, he took his time, relishing in the moment. He would sit back on his knees, looking at you, slowly beginning to move the hemline further up, never breaking eye contact, a sense of teasing, a sense of power over you.

“You still miss me even when you’re with him?” it was hardly a whisper, he wanted to ask if you still loved him. You did.

“We shouldn’t be doing this Ani-” you reply, stating the obvious and dodging his question, but of course you did.

He liked when you said this, when you put up a fight. For the past 22 months whenever you would find each other again, you made a point to say this, to clarify just how wrong this had been.

But Anakin liked that it was wrong. He liked that you knew it was wrong, and still did it.

He has you bent over now, his hands running down your arched back, back up towards your hips, memorizing this feeling, he never knows when it’ll be the last. When you finally marry someone else, when you finally move away.

“Anakin, this isn’t right.”

He doesn’t care, he doesn’t care because that matters in this moment is how wet you are, how you respond to him.

He’s been teasing his tip at your entrance for over a minute, slowly dragging himself back up your slit, collecting your slick on the head of his cock. He always loved how responsive you are to him.

“Anaki-”

He knew you put on this show of regret because he liked it - loved it - he loved when you’d tell him to stop. But he needed you to shut up, finally. As he thrust into you, he felt his conscience disappear.

Picking up his speed, he forced his hips into the back of your thighs, already coated in your arousal made this easy. His hands had a harsh grip on the skin of your hips, leverage to angle into you deeper, to hit you cervix, so when he’s long gone you still feel him. Anakin would always say this was a “parting gift,” “something to remember him by” when your fiancé gets back.

“Shut up, tellin’ me stop but you’re the one who begged me to be here” his voice was seething with anger, every word punctuated by his harsh and unrelenting pace.

He would let one hand go from your hip, slapping the side of your thigh, you were just so pretty all bent over in front of him, especially like this, especially when he could feel you pulsing around his length, a creamy ring forming around the base.

The anger from his comments was never towards you, he could never blame you, god, he still loved you, he still wanted you, but that diamond ring on your finger kept glinting in his eye and he couldn’t help the rage he felt.

“Pretty ring on your finger, baby, too bad he can’t make you cum, that’s why I got you bent over right now, huh?”

“You gonna call me up like this when you got kids”

“You gon’ keep on creaming on me like this forever”

He knew you couldn’t respond. Your inner guilt, but mostly because your face was pushed into the bed, soft moans being pushed out in tandem with his thrusts. But he didn’t like that.

Bending at his abdomen, never letting up on his quick pace, he’d reach around your neck, pulling you up. Your blouse open, your back to his bare chest. His mouth just behind your ear.

“Answer me” he would demand in a growl.

You could hear his pants, you could hear the desperation lacing each labored breath he let go, he wanted this just as much as you did.

But this was too messy, it was too ugly to keep going back to him like this. Your lack of response was irritating him, the hand on your neck moved to your jaw, and he craned your head towards the engagement pictures on your nightstand.

“Look at that picture and tell me we’ll always do this” your head buzzing from a lack of oxygen not even realizing his other hand was between your thighs, rubbing quick circles on your throbbing clit.

A ragged breath came from your mouth, “Yes, Anakin - yes.” You meant it, but it came out in sobs, you hadn’t meant to sound like that.

That was all Anakin had to hear, he pushed your head back down into the mattress, noticing a small tear rolling down the bridge of your nose, he loved you. He loved your body, your face, your hands, you, how wet you got, how you made him forget reality.

He wanted to make you forget about the man who put a ring on your finger. It should’ve been him. But, it wasn’t, so if this is how he got to spend his life with you, he was fine with that.

His hand landed back on your hip, other hand still toying with your throbbing bud. He had moved one of his knees up for a better angle, you’ll feel it more this way, and he wanted to show you a good time. He would die here if he could, he had to let you know.

He was high and drunk on you, he didn’t mean to let it slip, but it did.

“I still love you-”

#anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin star wars

[moni-logues]

Kintsugi 14

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, tiny bit of eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 6k

Content: SMUT WARNINGS!!! (hoooorayyy!!!) oral sex (f. receiving), protected sex, multiple orgasms, nipple play

A/N: unbeta'd!! literally just finished writing it!!! hooray for these two finally getting it on!!!

Chapter Thirteen | Masterlist | Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fourteen - Me, too

Part of you couldn’t believe it was happening. Another part of you couldn’t believe that it hadn’t been happening all along. You kept your hands on Yoongi’s face, not breaking the kiss, as you moved, straddling him and sitting down into his lap. It wasn’t close enough. You were filled with an intense longing, that expanded in your chest like a balloon waiting to burst.  

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered to Yoongi, your lips barely leaving his to say the words before you pressed them together again.  

“What?” 

You kissed him twice more before you could answer. 

“I don’t know; I just feel like I’ve missed you. We haven’t spoken for a week and I...”  

Your heart hiccupped and you took a breath, your face still close enough to his to smell the tang of whiskey in his mouth. 

“I thought it was all over,” you whispered.  

“I’m so-” 

You put a hand over his mouth; you didn’t need him to keep saying it. You didn’t want him to be sorry. That didn’t matter anymore. Not now. Not now you were right where you wanted to be.  

“You don’t have to keep saying it. It’s ok. I understand. It’s ok.” 

Yoongi was starting to shake his head, to argue with you even while you still had your hand over his mouth, but you wouldn’t have that either. You replaced your hand with your mouth, wove your fingers in his hair, and sucked on his bottom lip, grazing your teeth against it lightly. Yoongi’s hands were on your legs, just resting, and you had to move them for him, picking them up and placing one on your hip, one on your waist, your T-shirt lifting just enough to bring his palm in contact with your skin. His hands were cold—they always were—and goosebumps skittered across your skin. You moaned, encouraging, when he squeezed, his grip tightening on you.  

You wanted him to want this as much as you did; you were burning up with it. You wanted every inch of him, every ounce. You knew that it wasn’t exactly true, but it felt like it had been a year; it felt like you had been waiting for this since you met. Something unlocked inside you, unleashing things that had been bottled up so tightly, it took you months to realise they were there. But you knew now and you wouldn’t be forgetting. You were all in and your desire, your greed, for Yoongi was enormous.  

He wanted it. You. His skin felt aflame with it. His stomach flipped when you moaned into his mouth, when you rolled your tongue over his, when you shifted slightly on his lap. It was difficult not to fight it because he had been fighting these feelings for such a long time. Denying them, at first, refusing to accept them; trying to convince himself they were something else, something different. And then a different kind of denial: a denial that said he was fine with it, a denial that said he was happy being your friend, kept at that distance as you held others closer, a denial so sure that he hadn’t even recognised it was there. Finally, a gut-wrenching battle every time you smiled, every time you laughed, every time you so casually crossed into his space, inserted yourself there, your legs resting over him on the sofa, your head on his shoulder, your hand in his as you skipped down the road. He knew he was weak; he knew he was powerless in the face of your brightness. Shadows disappear under the light of the sun and so did his. You made him feel happy in a way that hurt because he wasn’t whole. Because there was always a gulf of two or three inches between him and you, whom he loved, without admitting that he loved.  

But now you were in his arms, your skin warm under his palms, your mouth sweet, your tiny little moans like arrows straight into his heart. And he wanted all of you. Every inch. Every ounce. Every drop of you that he could get. He wanted to melt right into you like sugar into water.  

Then you lowered one hand from his hair and ran it down his chest, your fingers toying with the hem of his shirt and the butterflies in his stomach turned to snakes.  

He wanted all of you. That much was indisputable. But there were things he didn’t want you to see. Not yet anyway. Not now. He had barely made it over here with his life and sanity intact. He couldn’t do more. He put his hand on yours, gently, not moving, just stilling. You pulled back and the space between you felt cold. 

“Are you ok?” you asked, your hand tangled in his where he had stopped you. 

He nodded and tried to think of what to say, of how to say it, of how to get out of saying it. You touched your nose to his.  

“What is it?”  

He cleared his throat. 

“Um, can we maybe get off the floor? My legs are going numb.” 

You giggled and stood, taking his hands in yours to pull him to his feet, too, leading him to the sofa. Yoongi grinned, relieved for a second to have dodged the bullet, his mind still working furiously to think of how to put you off a second time without having to reveal even more brokenness to you. 

As you walked the few paces to the sofa, there was so much more distance between you than there had been before and it almost felt like fresh air, like you had been drowning in Yoongi. Drowning happily. You felt dizzy, a little giddy, like laughing until your stomach hurt. It fizzed in you like a shaken can of coke.  

You made Yoongi sit, then pushed him backwards so he was lying, and took your place on top of him. You were happy kissing him. Just being this close to him. The feeling of his hands on your skin and the taste of his tongue and him being yours, you would take it.  

You twisted your hands into Yoongi’s hair and he sighed a breath of relief. Figuratively. Literally, he felt breathless, heart pounding and chest heaving, as it had been when he was standing outside your door, but better this time. All good. All you. All the breathless anticipation that had led to this, all the lovesick sighs and hitched breaths he’d tried to hide, all the days and weeks and months that he’d believed this would never happen evaporating into nothingness, filling the air with sweetness. He was terrified of being seen by you–literally–but he wanted to see you, touch you, taste you, all of you. He wondered if he could have it both ways. If you would let him just give to you, if you would let him hide for tonight even as he asked you to bare yourself.  

It ached in him, like a deep stretch, yearning for you, for your body, for the feel of it beneath his hands, for the sounds you might make, for showing you that he could be good to you. He slipped beneath your top once more, higher and higher, up your waist and past your ribs, until he could squeeze your breasts, rub a thumb over a nipple and feel it harden, until your lips opened and out fell a sigh of contentment, your hips slightly shifting over his.  

You bit down on Yoongi’s earlobe to try to stop the whine escaping you. You’d always been sensitive and he was being tantalisingly gentle with you, in a way that felt teasing, felt like breadcrumbs, felt like anticipation building in your gut and dripping in your underwear. You felt him shift beneath you, rising so you were both sitting and then pushing you back further, turning the tables so now you were on your back. You complied willingly, happy to be wherever he would put you, as long as he kept kissing you, as long as he kept touching you.  

When he dipped his head, you thought he was going to kiss your mouth, but he planted his lips against your neck, trailing down onto your chest.  

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered as he licked over your T-shirt, soaking the cotton and sucking at your nipple beneath it. “Yoongi...”  

He pulled back and looked at you with eyes as bright and clear as you’d ever seen them. 

“Can I take this off?” he asked with the hem of your top in his hands.  

You nodded and lifted yourself up so he could pull it over your head and discard it onto the floor. And then your back arched as Yoongi’s hot mouth met your skin, as his tongue made a wet stripe across your chest, as he closed his lips around the tight, hard bud of your nipple and grazed his teeth gently over it.  

“Fuck,” you whispered, reaching down for Yoongi’s T-shirt, its hem out of reach but you grabbed at it anyway, pulling it up.  

He stopped immediately, his hands flying to yours, holding them still, stopping you.  

“But-” you began, confused now because you were just following his lead. 

He shook his head and you could see the reluctance in his face as his mouth chewed around words he didn’t want to say. Because saying there’s something you don’t want to say is, in some ways, as bad as saying the thing itself. By saying you don’t want something to be seen, you acknowledge that there is something to see. And Yoongi didn’t even want to think about that. He was cursing himself for stopping you but he was itching with the discomfort of disclosure, having to strip back even more of himself. Even though you wanted him. Even though you were right there, so close he could almost feel your heart beating. It still felt contingent. Contingent on him not being worse than you thought. Contingent on him being everything he wanted to be for you. He didn’t want to be letting you down, disappointing you so soon, not when he was so close to being so happy. 

“I don’t want,” he started, slowly, “I don’t want to take it off. I don’t-” 

He paused to clear his throat and you were already nodding, your hand flat on his back now, no longer grasping but soothing.  

“I don’t want you to touch me,” he said, his voice quiet, strained with the embarrassment of saying it.  

Your stomach flipped and you felt too many things at once: sad, disappointed, angry on top of your heady desire and longing for him. Sad because Yoongi, who was the most beautiful person in the world to you, no matter what you had or hadn’t seen of him, did not want to be seen or touched by you. You could barely stand not being touched by him, regardless of your body, regardless of what it looked like or how you felt about it; sometimes friend and sometimes foe, it was nevertheless the conduit by which you could transmit yourself to others, to him. It was up against the barrier of your skin that your heart pressed, trying to reach the rest of the world. It was your fingertips that traced his face; your skin that shivered with goosebumps when he touched you; your stomach that swirled, nervous and excited, when you saw him; it was your body that allowed you to experience all this, and you wanted him to feel it, too.  

You were also greedy. In the back of your mind, there was a distantly ringing bell that said you had decided it would be a good idea to move slowly, to pace yourself, to not gorge on this all at once, but it was one that you had stopped attending to. And you were disappointed because you wanted to see Yoongi, because you wanted to touch him, because you wanted the heat and sweat of your body against his. Not even everything would be enough – there was no such thing, not for you, not when it was Yoongi.  

And you were angry. Not with Yoongi, but with whoever and whatever made him feel like he couldn’t show himself to you. For spoiling this for him, for not allowing him to let go, for taking up space in his brain that they didn’t deserve.  

“At all?” you asked, trying not to sound put out; you would do whatever he wanted, whatever he needed; you wanted to do that.  

He shook his head.  

“Ok.” 

You sat up then, pushing Yoongi onto his knees above you, and you took his hand. 

“Just so you know, though, I do want to. I won’t. It's ok, I promise I won’t, but I want to say that I do want to. I want to see you and I want to touch you, ok? I want you, totally. And I’ll wait.”  

He nodded and avoided your gaze and squeezed your hand hard. You wanted him to look at you, to look in your eyes and see that you meant it, all of it: that you wanted him and that you would wait and that everything was ok, everything would be ok.  

“Yeah, I just...” He cleared his throat again. “Not now. Not forever, but it’s too much. I ca-” 

“It’s ok. We can do whatever you want.” 

When he did finally meet your gaze, his eyes were bright again, a glint in them that held wicked promise. He leant down and kissed you, eyes never leaving yours. He spoke with his lips against yours. 

“I want to taste you.” 

Yoongi didn’t believe he was good at much, but he knew he was good at this. He could make up for all his failings with his tongue lapping at your core, lips sucking at your clit; he would show you he was worth something. He had to. He had disappointed you enough.  

He took your face in his hands and kissed you, deep and slow and soft, a quiet, rumbling moan in his chest as he lay you down again, as he palmed at your breasts, as he sucked a trail of wet kisses down your neck, as he swirled his tongue around your nipple and lower, as a breathy whine escaped you when he pressed his fingers against your clothed core, as your hips lifted and tilted and rocked against his hand.  

You whimpered when he manhandled you, pulling you around, pulling your leggings down to your ankles and off, your underwear, too, so you were sitting, naked, at the edge of your sofa, skin shimmering with hot-blooded anticipation. When he kissed the inside of your thigh, you gasped, his mouth so warm on your goose-pimpled skin. You couldn’t even have spared a second to think about your legs, what they looked like, how embarrassed you’d been by them in times past because Yoongi was squeezing you with his hands and looking at you with naked desire. His tongue poked out and he licked his bottom lip before sucking it between his teeth and taking a sharp inhale.  

“Fuck,” he gasped on the exhale. “I’m going to enjoy this.” 

You were waiting for it, his lips, his tongue, the wet heat of them mingling with the wet heat of your arousal, the slickness of your lips and cunt, but it was his hands first, his thumbs pressing against you, spreading you open, still with that hungry focus in his eyes, drinking you in. But you couldn’t stand it; you needed him now. He had said he wanted to taste you so why wasn’t he tasting already? 

“Babe,” you whined, drawn out and high-pitched. 

When Yoongi responded, it was with a low chuckle, deep in his chest, that sent a thrill right through you.  

“Ok,” he replied, gentle, and he pressed his lips to your thigh again, then the crease in your hip, and then all over, but just the lightest of kisses, barely there, barely felt, barely registering a tingle against the searing need already screaming in you.  

But he was just getting himself acquainted. He was trying to slow himself down because he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. He wanted this to be right; he wanted to put his best foot (mouth, hand, fingers, whatever) forward and he needed to start light. He wanted to take his time, devour you slowly, unravel you carefully like the finest silk, all tangled. He could feel you getting restless beneath his hands, hear the way you huffed, impatient with him, and he took one final second to remind himself not to eat you all at once. Then he pressed his tongue to your slick, dripping slit and felt you shudder. 

He gathered your arousal and pushed it up, swirling around your clit, once, twice, over and over and you were losing yourself to it, the world receding, fading to black. You tried not to lose control, not to rush through this – though you were close, so close already, so easy for him: did he know? Could he tell? Did he know you were like putty in his hands, that everything he was doing to you was setting you alight? That you had been waiting for this for months and you wanted to savour every second, even though he was pushing you closer to the edge with every lap of his tongue, every squeeze of your thighs, every moan vibrating through his lips.  

You were panting, breathlessly chanting his name, just Yoongi, Yoongi, no one else, because it was him, and you could call anyone ‘babe’ (you did, in fact, call anyone ‘babe’, any pet name you liked), but there was only one Yoongi, only one man doing this to you right then and right there.  

And right then, right there, he sealed his lips around your clit, his tongue alternately soft and hard, lapping and flicking. Right then, right there, he slipped two fingers inside you, curling them hard and insistent against you, and you couldn’t stop the low, deep moan that tumbled from you, nor the rocking of your hips. You couldn’t help the trembling and tensing of your thighs, the way they tried to close on Yoongi’s head, as you burst with pleasure, gushed with it, tingling all over as Yoongi drank you in. You came with his name on your lips and were seeing stars on the ceiling as you lifted your head, with heavy eyes and a heaving chest, to see Yoongi looking straight out you, putting his fingers in his mouth and licking you off them. 

“Oh my god,” you gasped, your head falling back onto the sofa. “You’re so fucking hot.” 

With bones that still felt like rubber, you slid from the sofa and into Yoongi’s lap. You could feel that he was hard and you were relieved, hopeful that it meant he wanted it, wanted you, even if he didn’t want to be touched. Yet. You clasped his face between your hands and kissed him, hard, shifting when he wrapped his arms around you and shuffled you into just the right place, just the place where he could feel your wetness meet his own through the fabric of his joggers.  

He pulled away to kiss your cheek, your jaw, your neck, and asked, with a voice gruff and strained,  

“Can I fuck you?” 

The sigh of relief came out of you like a whimper and you kissed him again. 

“Yes,” you muttered, your lips barely leaving his. “Yes. Please.”  

You scrambled off him and stumbled to the bathroom, crossing your fingers that you had condoms somewhere in there. Luck was on your side.  

You fell to your knees and Yoongi took the little foil packet from you and nodded for you to climb onto the sofa. You lay back and he knelt over you, eyes roving, lip caught between his teeth. You tentatively reached out a hand and palmed at him over his clothes; his eyes fluttered shut and you watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. He placed his hand over yours and moved it away, so he could push his trousers and his boxers down, and you watched with rapt attention. 

Yoongi didn’t look at you; he chose not to see you seeing him, even just this much of him. A blush he wished he could hide crept onto his cheeks because he realised that this was the first time, that last time, he had been behind you, your back to him, face down against a sideboard, but now, your eyes were on him. Your eyes were wide and open and shining and he could feel the heat of them as he tore open the packet and put on the condom. He didn’t have the wherewithal to think about your reaction to him; he still had something to prove.  

He shifted you again and you loved the way he did it, that he grabbed you and moved you, that he knew what he wanted and took it. You wanted him to take you. He stuffed a cushion beneath your hips and pressed your thighs apart.  

“Please.” 

You had intended it as a whisper but it came out a whine. The ache in your cunt was sharp and strong and your body trembled with need. You were barely touching, your legs resting over his, one of his hands on his thighs, the other on his cock, and you wanted more. You wanted to be smothered, overwhelmed, suffocated by him.  

“Please,” you said again and he finally flicked his eyes to yours.  

You gasped as he smirked and pressed his tip against your entrance; you were nodding fervently, panting ‘yes’ as he pushed inside.  

Yoongi had to close his eyes, had to focus on going slowly; he wanted this to be good for you, far more than he cared what he got.  

“Are you ok?” he asked, risking a quick glance at your face.  

Your affirmative reply was barely breathed, high and tremulous, and Yoongi might have mistaken it for a lie, for you saying what he wanted to hear, for uncertainty, but your hands were clawing at him, pulling him down by the shoulders, bringing his face to yours so you could kiss him; your legs were lifting, wrapping around his back as he bottomed out. You moaned into his mouth as he pulled back and tipped your hips so that when he pressed in again, he hit you exactly right, and you clenched around him. 

It would have been a lie for Yoongi to say that he hadn’t thought about this at all over the last eleven months. But it wasn’t a lie to say he’d tried not to. He’d tried not to think of you like this: wet and naked and kissing him, warm and pliant and squeezing him tight as he fucked you slowly. He’d tried not to fantasise about this even though he thought he’d never have it because it didn’t feel right. It hadn’t felt right to think about you like this when you were only friends, when it wasn’t what you wanted; there was a boundary there and he didn’t want to cross it. But now that you were, now that you really were bare and blushing and breathing heavy beneath him, everything he’d tried not to think came at him.  

In a grossly not safe for work kaleidoscope, he saw this, you, him, the two of you, everywhere. He was fucking you on this sofa and he’d fuck you in your bed, and his bed, and on the floor of every room of his apartment; he’d eat you out in the barely private toilet stall of a club and you’d suck him off in the shower; you’d wake him with your small, warm hands wrapped around his dick; he’d leave work early to come home to you and fuck you on the dining table while dinner got cold; he’d finally make use of the back seat of his car... Every minute drop of desire he’d felt for you came raging forth and he gasped when he realised how close he was, how he could come that very second.  

That wasn’t what he wanted. He tangled his fingers in your hair and kissed you hard, looking into your eyes that looked back at him with a kind of open vulnerability that made him want to cry. He closed his eyes and kissed you again, grateful for you, desperately grateful that you were there, for everything you had ever done, for making the first move, for giving him a second chance.  

He had to slow down. He hadn’t intended to fuck you this fast. He pushed himself up on his hands and looked down your body to where you and he connected and he groaned.  

“Fuck,” he whispered, more to himself than anything. “Fuck, you feel good. Shit.” 

You hummed your agreement and tightened your legs around him. He had to bite his tongue when you said his name, breathy and deep and almost slurred. No one had ever said his name like that before, like you were drunk on him, drunk with desire.  

Because you were. You were full, everywhere. His cock stretched out your cunt and your feelings for him stretched out your heart; your smile stretched your face when you looked at him, sweaty at his hairline, fucked out, mouth hanging open. You hoped this was as good for him as it was for you, because it was really fucking good for you.  

Then he shifted his weight onto one arm and his other hand found your clit. Your head tipped back and your eyes rolled with it as you thundered towards another climax, your breath catching in your chest, a half-uttered exclamation trapped in your throat. Yoongi grunted, his eyebrows knitted together as you came, the sick squelch of him moving through your flooding core making him clench his jaw. If he let himself, he’d come too, but he wanted to fuck you through it, wanted to make sure you were all done, out for the count, before he did.  

Spent, your limbs flopped, an arm falling off the sofa and your legs falling from Yoongi’s back. As if reading your mind, he leant down again, on his elbows now, closer to you, so you could kiss him, so you could taste him and sink your teeth into his bottom lip, so you could feel him groan as he picked up his pace.  

He surrendered to it, let himself into his body to feel it, you. Taut like a tightrope, he was trembling as he slammed his hips against yours a final once, twice, and three times before he came, his face pressed into your neck, your lips next to his ear, calling him ‘baby’.  

He stilled, getting his breath back, careful not to fall onto you, and you both lay quiet for a moment, the rush of your breath the only sound between you.  

You whined, pouting, when he moved first. When he carefully pulled himself out and climbed off the sofa, discarding the used condom and tucking himself back into his clothes.  

“Hey!” you called, when he didn’t come immediately back to you.  

You heard his footsteps grow more distant and you were just waiting for your body to come around so you could turn over, look for him. He was back before that, with a damp towel that he cleaned you up with. The tenderness built a lump in your throat and you swallowed thickly, promising yourself that you weren’t going to cry. You were done with crying.  

Yoongi moved away again and he looked at the towel in his hands, not sure what to do with it. He didn’t know where you put your dirty laundry, wasn’t sure if he should put it there even if he knew because it was damp and damp things would fester if they weren’t dried. He stood in your kitchen, looking left and right, still a little dazed, and he suddenly felt so stupid. Because it had been going so well. And- 

“Hey!” 

He turned around when you called him again and he could see your head over the arm of the sofa, looking at him, frowning and pouting. 

“What are you doing?” 

He held the towel aloft and then shrugged. 

“Where should I, wha-” 

“Throw it on the floor for all I care! Get back here!” 

You were about to feel self-conscious of your neediness, self-conscious of your nakedness next to Yoongi, fully-clothed, but he grinned and it seemed so genuine, so unguarded, his smile so wide that you forgot to. You shuffled over on the sofa so he could lie on his back and you could drape yourself over him. You had to turn his face with your hand so you could kiss him, had to hold it there so you could look at him some more. You saw the pink at the tips of his ears reach his cheeks, noticed that he didn’t hold your gaze. You giggled and kissed his cheek. 

“You’re so funny,” you said. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re being all shy and cute but five minutes ago, you were so confident, even smug about getting me off.” 

Yoongi’s mouth twisted and you rushed to make sure he didn’t take it the wrong way. 

“I liked it. The confidence is well-deserved, trust me-” and you pressed another kiss to his cheek, “it’s just funny seeing you like that, and now like this.”  

Yoongi cleared his throat and nodded but still didn’t look at you when he spoke. 

“I’m good in bed; I know I’m good in bed-” 

“-I’ll say-” 

“It’s not-… It’s actually not that hard to be good if you pay attention. I know I- I can give you what I want to give you-” 

“Like two orgasms?” 

Yoongi pinched his lips together as he tried not to laugh and the blush on his cheeks deepened. 

“Something like that... It’s just... This part, I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what you want.” 

You shrugged. 

“I want this.” 

He looked at you, his face an open question. 

“Yeah,” you affirmed. “Don’t you? Are you not a cuddler? Do you not like cuddling?” 

Yoongi shrugged. 

“I do-” 

“Oh, well, thank god, because you may have noticed, I’m kind of a cuddly person. I need them to live.” 

He didn’t fight his smile this time. 

“I had noticed.” 

He turned to you voluntarily then and you took the opportunity to kiss him. You kissed him lightly at first, but you couldn’t help yourself going in for another, for more this time, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth, gliding your tongue over it, rolling it over his when he opened up. You could have lain for hours doing just this, just this much.  

“I’m happy you’re here,” you whispered against his lips. 

“Me, too.” 

You dragged yourself back, knowing you were wandering so close to the edge of being truly drunk on him, too giddy and loved-up to ask the questions that were hovering at the edges of your brain. 

“Um,” you began, and it was your turn to not want to look at him. “Where do we go from here?” 

“Bed?” 

You snorted and playfully slapped at his chest. 

“No, I mean, like... us. Are we- like, we, are we together now?” 

You tried not to be nervous because he said he felt it, had feelings, wanted you. And he had fucked you like he meant it—it had felt like he meant it, hadn’t it? -- so you shouldn’t be nervous. But you were.  

“Do you want to be?” he asked back. 

“Yes.” 

“Me, too.” 

And you were going to respond, to say more, to kiss him one more time, but he spoke first. 

“I want to take you on a date.” 

“A date?” 

“Yes, a date. If you want.” 

Yoongi was already anxious about it. About what to do and where to take you and whether or not you’ll like it, whether or not you’ll have a good time, will it change things or will he do the wrong thing—but he wanted to do it. He had talked himself into this (with a little help from Namjoon and Suri) with the truth: he trusted you and you never ran away from him. You still hadn’t run yet; you were still naked in his arms, telling him you needed cuddles to live and it hit him again: you’d always been like this. You had always been coming towards him, even when there were other people, or when things went wrong or things were bad, you were always coming to him; you never walked away from him, never left him. Even after last week when he had let you down, broken your heart, you still let him come back to you. So he was going to do this. He wanted to be everything he could for you; he wanted to be everything or at least die trying, so yes, he would take you on a fucking date. 

Your heart fluttered in your chest. Of course you wanted to go on a date. And it filled your heart with a soaring relief, that he had thought about it, that he was thinking about it. That there was something beyond the edge of this sofa, the end of this night. He had kissed you and fucked you and he was still holding you now and he was looking at tomorrow or tomorrow’s tomorrow and making plans for it. There was a future and you weren’t the only one looking at it.  

But you still had to check. Because you couldn’t be wrong again. Not with Yoongi. You had to make sure you were on the same page, completely, that this was it, that he was yours, that you were his. And if he uttered the word ‘casual’ or said you’d ‘see how things go’ or anything that implied he wasn’t both feet in, you thought you would burst into flames, spontaneously combust and never come back to this realm again. So you had to ask.  

“Babe?” 

He hummed his response. 

“Are we... Is-” You paused, cleared your throat, and took a sharp, decisive breath. “Are you my boyfriend now? Do you want to be?” 

“You want that?” 

You were frustrated that he couldn’t just answer, that you had to be the one to say it first again. You knew why, you understood, but your guts still twisted that he fired it back at you, that he didn’t just say it, that he couldn’t tell you what he wanted, that he wanted you. You knew he’d say it if you did, but it somehow didn’t make it easier to say. 

“Yes, I do.” 

You heard Yoongi’s sigh of relief as you let out your own. 

“Me, too,” he said. 

“I don’t want to see anyone else,” you clarified further, needing this to be absolutely explicit. “This is it for me. You.” 

Yoongi’s arms reached around you and he squeezed as he kissed your hair. He sighed lightly, breath washing over you. 

“Me, too. I haven’t wanted anyone else since the day we met.” 

Chapter Thirteen | Masterlist | Chapter Fifteen

tags: @chimmisbae, @idkjustlovingbts @miriamxsworld, @quarter-life-crisis2, @tarahardcore, @simp47koreancrackheads, @xyahrinx, @olyd, @diorh0seokie, @thelilbutifulthings, @acquiescence804

#yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi fluff

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Gaps 3

Yandere Platonic Batfam x Mentally Ill/Forgetful Reader

Warning: This is a yandere work, and as such, contains themes of obsession and unhealthy relationships. This particular snippet from Gaps will be an escalation, since this is a series, so trigger warning for kidnapping, non-consensual drugging, obsessive behaviors and manipulation.

There was a half full bottle of psychiatric meds in the glove box of your car. You have absolutely no clue when this got there, buried as it was under your insurance information, registration, and car owners manual, but it was there.

You turn the bottle over in your hands, reading the small label. Prazosin. You were glad to have some extra, in case Bruce hadn’t been able to get your refill this month. He had been good about it, the past couple of months while you waited for your appointment at the DMV, but it was always good to have spares, just in case. And something in your stomach urged you not to rely on the billionaire too much.

You pocket the bottle of pills. Sure, your script had been changed from prazosin to nitrazepam, by Dr. Leslie Thompkins since she was the only person that would treat you without an ID, but you didn’t like how the nitrazepam left you sluggish the next morning. You also didn’t like the thought of just how vulnerable you would be, in such a deep sleep.

Your cell phone rings. You pick up on the first ring, humming.

“(Y/N).” It was Damian. A bit of a surprise, since he didn’t really seek you out, but not an entirely unwelcome one. “You used to have a cat, correct?”

You snort. Of course one of the few times Damian calls you, it was about an animal. You didn’t expect anything less.

“Yeah. I had a Maine Coon kitten for a while before I moved. She was the sweetest little thing too, would always climb onto my shoulders whenever I got home from work.”

“What happened to her?”

“When I moved, I had to give her to my roommate. I visit her whenever I go to Bludhaven.” You explain, beginning your nightly routine. You brush the knots out of your hair, root around for your pajamas, drop two tablets in your hand.

“I see. I’m sorry you had to leave her behind.”

You smile, glancing at the time. The two tablets go down easy, and you double and triple check your locks. In Gotham, it didn’t hurt to be vigilant.

“It’s not a problem. I do have work tomorrow, so I’m gonna turn in, okay?”

“Of course. Get some rest, (Y/N).” He says it like it’s practically a demand, and you laugh when the line goes dead.

You drift off to sleep, eventually, your limbs heavy and numb.

——————

Your woken up by the sound of your bedroom door creaking open. Your heart stops, before thundering in your chest, slamming fast against your ribs.

Your mind races, and you force yourself to breath slow and deep, feigning sleep. The average thief wouldn’t bother to kill a sleeping person, but who knew what would happen if they thought there were witnesses. Carefully, you shift, making sure the movement looked to be the shifting of a sleeping body.

There’s a sound of crackling above you, and you don’t know what that means before the intruder speaks.

“You sure you got the dosage right? They’re moving around a lot for someone who’s sedated.” A modulated voice, indistinguishable thanks to the static. Your stomach drops, and it takes everything you have not to stiffen in terror. No average thief would have a fucking voice modulator. And what did they mean, the dosage? What the fuck did they mean?

Your fingers close around the handle of the small folding knife you kept under your pillow.

“It’s not full sedation. They’ll sleep deeply enough that we can move freely, but too high of a dosage would cause issues.” A low, gravelly voice and you feel your breath hitch. Both voices go quiet.

You hear a soft rattle as a pill bottle is picked up. Your heart hammers in your throat. You can’t remember which bottle of meds was by your bedside.

“Didn’t you get them put on nitrazepam?”

“Yes.”

“Old man, this isn’t nitrazepam. It’s an old script of prazosin.”

Silence. Deafening silence. Your eyes snap open.

You don’t even give yourself time to process the fact that there were two of Gotham’s vigilantes in your room. You don’t give yourself time to panic, or feel betrayed, because if you do, you won’t stop. You’ll be frozen and defenseless and unable to do anything.

You lunge up, throwing the blankets off yourself, and you try to twist away when the goddamn Red Hood lunges to catch you, only for his arm to wrap around your waist, yanking you back. The small fold out knife clatters to the ground, and a hand wraps around your wrist.

“Why don’t we all just cool off, yeah? No more stabbing attempts.” He sounds almost amused, but there’s an edge of danger in his voice that makes you shudder. He releases you, and you stagger away from him.

Batman hovers in the corner of the room, and even though he is the furthest from you, he feels so much closer.

“You got my script changed. Why?” Your voice is trembling, and you grimace. You don’t like the way you sound far too vulnerable.

“The old man is paranoid as hell, that’s why.” Hood grumbles, crossing his arms. He leans back, giving you space, and even though you know you aren’t any safer, you appreciate it.

“Hood. Now is not the time.” Batman growls, and Hood snorts.

“When would be the time old man? We would have avoided all of this if we had just gone with my plan.” Hood points out. You have no idea what he means.

“They weren’t ready.” Batman snaps, and you don’t know what that means. “This isn’t the place for this discussion, Hood.”

He turns to you, and for a moment, hesitates. The moment passes, and he lifts his hands, tugging back his cowl.

You stare. Staring back at you with intense blue eyes is Bruce Wayne.

So many things click in your mind. The inexplicable cancelling of your appointments. The paranoia. The way you had been struggling to work past the constant fear you were being watched. The way your things went missing when you needed them.

“(Y/N), I know you’re confused right now. Just let me explain.” Bruce says gently, and you shake your head, backing up.

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say right now. You.. how long have you been breaking into my apartment? How long have you been using my meds to do it? And why?!”

“(Y/N), you barely manage to function on a day to day basis. I was just insuring your safety.”

“My safety?! Arguably I would be even more vulnerable SEDATED in an apartment in Gotham? Why do you think I check my locks so often? Why I have lists, of every possible thing I could need? I KNOW how to take care of myself, but clearly I made some sort of mistake when met all of you!” You shriek, and there are hot, ugly tears streaming down your face.

You didn’t need this, you didn’t need him, and you certainly did not need him pulling the strings on your life.

“Alright, you clearly can’t handle this old man.” Hood turns to you, arms crossed. “Listen, I get it. Batman’s a controlling, manipulative bastard. But we aren’t having this discussion here.”

You yell when his hand closes around your arm, and raise your hand to slap him away. He tugs you forward, twisting your arm behind your back and holding it there, and you yell.

A sharp pain in your neck, and your vision blurs.

You feel your knees buckle, feel yourself start to sag.

Gloved hands hold you up, and your head spins. Armored arms scoop you up, and you push at the thick Kevlar.

The last thing you see before unconsciousness takes you is white lenses staring down.

#yandere x reader #yandere dc #yandere platonic x reader #yandere platonic batfam

[honeybubblebeeeeee]

Toji is one to come and go as he pleases. He also expects you to wait for him. To not see anyone else.

He would leave for days, weeks, even months at a time. He wouldn't say a word. Just disappear. He wouldn't answer his phone.

Toji had already been gone two months. He didn't answer when you called or texted and of course no one else knew where he was either. You went out with your friends to a bar, your head was fuzzy, your body was warm, in the moment nothing really mattered aside from the music playing and the way your body moved to the beat.

Eventually you stumbled from the bar for your walk home. You weren't plastered, just happily buzzed. Heels clicked on the sidewalk as you walked, the cool breeze against your skin not covered by your short dress felt good.

Your ears perked at the heavy footsteps behind you. You huffed and kept walking. The footsteps didn't relent. You rolled your eyes and stopped walking, turning on your toes and looking up to face the culprit.

"Finally decided to come back did you?" Toji's tall muscular frame loomed over you.

"Seems you've been busy." His deep voice feathered over your skin.

You hummed your discontent and turned to keep walking. He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you flush against him. "Going somewhere darling? This is how you greet me after I’ve been gone?" You pushed at his chest, his sly smirk only enraging you more.

"Fuck off Toji." You squirmed out of his grip and made a move to run for it but he was faster. He picked you up like you weighed nothing and threw you over his shoulder. You thumped on his back. "Put me down!" He rewarded your demands with a slap on the ass.

You squealed and he chuckled low, it vibrated your body. "Have I been gone that long that you've already forgotten you're mine?" He continued walking towards an unknown destination.

"Yours? You never answer your fucking phone, you don't tell me where you’re going or what you’re doing” You huffed. “Or who you’re doing” you whispered under your breath.

He stopped dead, putting you down just enough that your feet scraped the concrete but not enough for you to get away. “What do you want hm?”

“For you to fuck off.” You glared at him, your arms trapped between you and him.

“We both know that’s never happening. So what do I have to do to get you to stop acting like a brat?” His nose brushed yours, scarred lips smirking at the way your face heated up.

You turned your head away from him. Toji continued to hold you barely off the ground with one arm while the other turned your head back towards him. “Look at me darlin’. You know I only want you. So again, what do I have to do to get you to stop acting like this every time I leave?” His eyes bore into yours almost putting you into a trance before you shook her head.

“Maybe I don’t know, not leave without telling me. Maybe, answer your phone. I know you have one.” Your tone was sarcastic as your rolled your eyes at him.

“How about I just pack you up and take you with me hm? Is that what you want? I’ll just never let you out of my sight again, how about that.” His voice was mostly sarcastic but there was a hint of truth underneath. He always wanted you around. He never saw anyone else in the months he was gone. Yeah he didn’t answer your calls or texts all the time and truthfully he didn’t have a good reason but that didn’t mean you weren’t on his mind. In truth he would probably get nothing done with you around all the time but he didn't necessarily hate the idea either.

Your face held a subtle pout at his words. Toji couldn’t help but run his thumb along your bottom lip. “Tell. me. what. you. want.” He accentuated the words dramatically.

What did you want? “Answering your phone and telling me when you leave will suffice.” You tried to turn away from him but he held you still.

Toji eyed you with the look of a predator watching prey. You were screwed and you knew it. "I don't think it will. You're coming with me from now on."

"Toji, I-" You got cut off as he slung you back over his shoulder and kept on walking. You screamed trying to stifle the laugh that threatened to rise from your throat and kicked your legs, trying to get out of his hold.

"The more you act like a brat the more I'm going to treat you like one." He ran his hands over the back of your thighs.

You huffed and stopped fighting him eventually. Finally on a street you were familiar with, because it was the one his house was on. He dropped you to your feet and let you go. While you adjusted your dress, he watched your every move. "I will consider coming with you."

He laughed. "Then I will consider not answering my phone."

Your eyes narrowed at him, as you went to stomp up to him he cupped your face with his large rough hands, whispering in your ear. "I did miss you and your fire. Not a moment went by that I hadn't thought of you. If you came with me I could show you all the ways I think about you all the time."

Your breath hitched in your throat. Toji pulled away, eyes burrowing into you. He let you go and walked a few steps past you. "So are you coming or not?" Raising a hand to you in offering.

You wanted to tell him no out of spite, for all the times he left and said nothing. For all the missed phone calls and ignored texts. However, he never did not show up when you needed him. Any time you had called or texted because you were having a bad day or someone had bothered you he had picked up and conveniently came back to you the next day. He had always insisted it was simply because he was done with whatever job he was doing but you knew better deep down. He did care in his own twisted way. Besides it wasn't like there was really anything holding you here. You would have shown up where he was multiple times if you had known where he'd gone.

You stepped up to him, his hand a breaths away. You hid your smirk as you smacked your hand into his. Toji wasted no time in pulling you into him and finishing the walk to his house with you under his arm. Kissing the top of your head, he whispered in your ear, "That's my girl."

(also send requests! i appreciate them they help smmmm with writers block <3)

#toji x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x you #fushiguro toji #toji fluff #toji x y/n #toji headcanons

[pls-hold-me-im-justa-weeb]

Zoro x Fem reader fluff! You know how Zoro has an unimaginable amount of debt towards Nami? Well, S/O has been paying Nami time after time to slowly repay Zoro’s debt because she loves him so much and she’s sweet enough to do that. Nami does decrease his debt to a point where even Zoro notices his debt decreased. When questioned, Nami confessed what S/O did for him and how she’s so sweet that she didn’t have to and Nami collected all the money to give to Zoro so he could make it up to S/O.

So cute omggggg. As you wish my lovely! I kept this as broad as possible, with an S/O who likes music, which I think is pretty broad, but if it isn't, don’t come at me pls I’m just a baby.

I think in One Piece, they have like CD players where you plug in headphones and you can carry it around, at least that's what was shown in the anime when people were lining up for Brook's concert after the time skip. I can't remember the name of it, but it used to be a popular thing. I made it a spring island because its (supposed) to be starting to be spring where I am, but we just started our second winter (as per usual with the midwest lol).

Warnings: paying off partner’s debt behind his back, cheating at GAME, Zoro being broke lol.

It's just fluff man idk what else to say.

“Witch.”

“Unsanitary marimo” Nami replied easily, keeping her focus on her magazine. Zoro’s eye twitched, but he held his tongue.

“Since we got loot at the last island, how much are you pulling out of my debt for my share?”

Nami’s ear perked at the word “loot”, and she did some quick mental calculations.

“Hmmm. All but your allowance. But I’ve been considering reducing that for you”

“Oi! Why would you cut my allowance?”

Nami shrugged.

“You only buy alcohol”

“So?”

“So you don’t need that much. Besides, after a couple months of a reduced allowance, you’d be down to at least an imaginable amount of debt.”

Zoro paused. Why was his debt going down? He wasn’t paying unless she demanded it. Had he paid that much? Or did they get that much loot at the last island?

“How much did we get at the last island?” He asked. Nami glanced up at him.

“It’s kinda creepy how you’re showing interest in money, but about 734,286 Beli” she said. Zoro only focused on the seven hundred thousand Beli. He wasn’t great at math, but knew when that was split between the crew, his share would hardly make a dent in his debt. So why?

“That doesn’t make sense” he muttered. Nami looked at him curious.

“No?”

“My debt was… I don’t even know how much. So why has it been going down?”

“Hmmm. Maybe I’m just generous!” She smiled sweetly at the swordsman, putting on her most innocent act. He narrowed his eyes at her. She knew something.

“What do you know.”

Nami glanced around, as if making sure anyone besides the swordsman was within earshot. Zoro furrowed his brow at the action.

“What is it?” He muttered, arms crossed. Nami sighed.

“Look. You should thank her by doing something nice for once. She’s so sweet and kind, and I have no idea how you ended up dating her but… I saved the money she’s been paying me for your debt. I thought maybe you knew, and I was going to smack some sense into you but she begged me to keep it quiet," Nami shrugged and picked at her nails before continuing, "Technically, it’s been going towards your debt but I figured I could be nice and generous for once, and ask you if you wanted to accept it. Once you found out, of course. But if you want, I can give it to you and you can spend it on her instead.”

Zoro’s jaw clenched, and he looked down. You had really been doing that? For him? He only mentioned being annoyed by that damn debt when Nami held it over his head when he had to do the dirty jobs for her. He could be mad at you for thinking he couldn’t handle it on his own, but honestly? He couldn’t handle it, and he couldn’t be mad at you. He just ignored the debt, hoping it would eventually go away, and you were so kind to him. He hardly deserved you.

He scraped a hand through his hair, sighing as the other hand landed on his hip.

“I… I don’t know how to… I want to do something for her to pay her back. But what?”

Nami leaned back in her chair, gesturing for the swordsman to sit next to her. He slumped into the chair, brow furrowed as he thought.

“In a day or two, depending on the weather, we should make it to another island. Think about what she likes, not you. Go and enjoy it with her, together. Support her passions, and it’ll mean so much to her”

Zoro huffed.

“How much did that advice cost me?”

“Free for this time, only because of her. Not you. It would be 100 Beli otherwise”

“100?!!”

“I could make it 500.”

“You’re scamming me.”

“You’re the one who needs my help. Why should I give my help for free?”

Zoro sucked his teeth and stood to walk away but paused. The navigator looked up questioningly. He looked off into the distance, a stoic expression on his face.

“Thanks for the advice” he muttered. He obviously meant it, so Nami smiled in return, and he walked off to find you.

He found you playing a card game with Luffy and Usopp, laughing as you laid down your winning hand. The other two complained loudly, groaning and flopping back. Luffy accused you of cheating, and Usopp backed him up.

"Me? Cheating? Never" you teased, giggling. You looked around as you heard heavy footsteps behind you, eyes landing on your boyfriend. You turned back to the other two in front of you and stood, producing a card from its hiding place, tossing it on the pile of cards.

"You guys are pirates, think of this as training to learn when someone is cheating at a card game"

"Hey! You were cheating!"

"No fair!"

"Like I said- training, not cheating"

Zoro stood behind you arms crossed and a smirk on his face at your antics. You turned around, hands laced behind your back, trying to look innocent. You batted your lashes at him, smiling sweetly.

"Right, Zoro?"

He looked at you and grunted, seemingly unfazed by your act. Inside, his heart skipped a beat with how cute you looked.

"Don't tease them. They're idiots"

"Hey!" "We're not idiots!" Luffy and Usopp protested in tandem. You sighed, pouting at him. He blinked at you, keeping his face neutral despite his sudden desire to kiss the pout right off your face.

"C'mon. I wanna ask you something" Zoro said instead, turning on his heel and leading the way. You followed, but not before turning and tossing the last card you cheated with on the pile. Luffy pulled his eye and stuck his tongue out, and Usopp blew a raspberry at you. You stuck your tongue out in retaliation, and skipped off after your boyfriend.

You followed him, unsurprisingly, to the crows nest, scampering after him on the ropes. You were a little nervous. Zoro wanting to ask you something could range from giving your humble opinion on a sword technique, to if you loved him even though he was aggressive. You simply didn't know. You entered the crows nest with practiced movements, eyes falling on the swordsman sitting on a bench near an open window.

You approached him, slightly hesitant.

"What did you want to ask me?"

He hummed, acknowledging your question and indicating he was constructing his answer. You furrowed your brow. He hardly ever thought through his words. He spoke once you had sat next to him.

"What do you know about the next island?"

You cocked your head.

"Nothing really just that it's a spring island... should I know something?"

"Just curious. Is there something you've been wanting to do lately? Like something that can really only be done on an island?"

You thought. Nothing in particular came to mind. But maybe...

"I uh. I want to buy some music to listen to. I know we have Brook, and he's amazing but... I dunno. I miss my music player a lot, and hearing whole bands at once and different singers... I mean Brook is a great singer and he does different genre's, but sometimes you want to shake things up so you're not listening to the same artist all the time, ya know? But I usually end up buying some other things I need instead" you shrugged. You looked at Zoro. He wasn't looking at you, instead was looking out the window. He grunted.

"Show me"

"Show you what?"

"Show me what you listen to, and what you like. I'm not really familiar with music all that much, having not listened to it much growin up or... ever really."

Excitement grew with every word. He wanted you to introduce you to music? To the music you listened to and liked? What would he like? Would anything surprise you? Warmth spread from your chest, through your body, and you bounced in your seat, a grin curving your lips.

"Really?! Oh my goodness there's so much to show you! I can't tell if you'd like softer music like R&B or maybe you'd like hard rock... I'm not sure you'd like pop punk but you might! Maybe some pop songs, but you might be picky about that. French jazz might be meh for you, but it might remind you of Sanji so maybe we should stay away from that... Maybe some other jazz? Or probably something with a good beat. Like workout music?" You babbled on excitedly, pondering the possibilities. You continued talking, not completely sure if Zoro was listening, but you didn't mind.

A small smile formed on Zoro's lips as he listened. Nami had been right, frustratingly, but this way, he would get to see a side of you he hadn't yet. Even if he didn't like the music you did, experiencing it would be good for him, and more importantly, you'd be happy. He saw the little scrunch of your nose that you got when you were really happy and excited, and he huffed a laugh.

"and maybe- what are you laughing at?" you looked at him, smiling still as you interrupted your chatter. He finally faced you fully, leaning his head on his hand, his arm propped on the back of the bench.

"Just you. You're cute when you're all excited about something. You get a little scrunch in your nose when you smile when you're happy like this."

Your hand rose self-consciously to cover your nose. He gently smacked it away with one hand, swooping in to kiss the tip of your nose gently.

"Don't cover it. It's cute"

You blushed, flustered. A thought suddenly occurred to you.

"Why are you asking about what I want to do on the next island? Normally, we do what catches your interest, which don't get me wrong, is typically entertaining, but... why the change?"

"You."

Your brow furrowed in confusion.

"Me?"

"You've been paying my debt to Nami"

"Whaaa??? Psshh nooo~ I never. I mean. I would, but I haven't?"

Zoro raised a singular brow. You swallowed, eyes flicking to the side.

"That so?"

"Uhh. Yes?"

"You are really a terrible liar. How can you cheat so well at card games but you can't lie to save your life?" he teased, a rare soft smile curving his lips as he spoke.

"You're intimidate me and fluster me at the same time! I can't help it!" you whined, before shyly asking, "You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad at you for taking care of me?"

He ruffled your hair, and you squawked in indignation.

"Thank you, really" he said softly. You looked at him, smiling.

"You're welcome"

The two of you sat in easy silence, listening to the waves and distant chatter of Usopp and Luffy.

"So music, huh? What do you like?"

You wiggled excitedly, chattering away with Zoro asking the occasional question, even as he started training again.

~~~

"You're buying this?? Zoro, hon, I can get it" you pleaded, eyeing your pile of CD's and your brand new player.

"Nope"

"You can hardly afford alcohol! How could you afford this?"

Zoro ignored you, producing some other CD's you had reluctantly put back earlier, unable to afford them.

"These too" he muttered to the cashier. You repeatedly smacked your boyfriends arm, getting rougher with each one. He finally caught your hand.

"Stop hitting me, woman! Nami gave me the money you paid her for my debt, and now I'm spending it on you! Accept my love, damnit!"

You froze, looking at him in awe and surprise. You started as the cashier cleared his throat.

"Th-that'll be uh... the a-amount you s-see right there... s-sir" the poor teen stuttered, obviously intimidated by the swordsman. You would've snorted had you not been filled with love and awe for your boyfriend. Zoro paid the cashier and took hold of the bags. You followed closely, still aware of yourself enough to know he would get lost without you. Again.

"Thank you, Zoro" you finally said. He smirked at you.

"Of course."

#one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece fluff #one piece #zoro x y/n #zoro x reader #zoro x you #fluff #mugiwara kaizoku #fem reader #roronoa zoro #zoro fluff #no use of y/n #no smut #one piece nami #nami headcanons

[hatchetmanofficial]

Why does Alan seem less supernatural than his coworkers?

Of course he’s just as dangerous but a lot of his unhinged behaviour and readiness to break the rules can be explained by the way he grew up abused, was being forced to be aggressive to defend himself, his lack of socialisation, being rebellious against a society that didn’t help him, and even an underlying mental condition (maybe inherited from his dad). With the trauma, isolation and demands of his job then turning it all up to 11. I mean, despite being axe crazy and a bit sociopathic Alan still seems mostly human. If a little animalistic. He’s very strong and fast and completely ignores the norms of society but still looks and acts basically human.

Whereas you’ve got dudes like Carver whose whole appearance has warped, and Stitches who was literally created a month ago from components and kills in a body horror way. One look and you know something is very wrong.

Alan also seems to be the only one with the wish or ability to defy the boss. Is it because he rejected the work name and mentally kept his own identity? Are names power here? Literally or symbolically.

It feels like the Boss employs vulnerable drifters, the lost souls. Does the Boss find it easier to control you if you want to reject/forget your identity, are running from your past or a bad situation, or (like Stitches) never had one?

Obviously it is a predatory Leonine contract, basically a deal with the devil. Nobody ends up like this coming from a good situation or with any better choices available. And the horrific consequences if you leave or disobey are a huge factor. But I’m covering subtleties and the differences between the coworkers.

Or is it because in spite of how cruel life and people have been to Alan he still has a tiny scrap of humanity left? Before he only had the solace of animals. Doe Eyes has reminded him how starved he is for kindness and love, maybe recalling the time before his mom died when he had a family, and Doe Eyes is human.

It makes it hard to obey the solitary rule. To stay misanthropic and emotionally shut down enough to continue indiscriminately killing people for the Boss.

(I’m the shy anon who suggested the idea of untraumatized Ranger Alan a long while back 👋 Wherever he is, whenever he is, I hope he’s happy and well adjusted.)

(I love this question and I love your username!!!)

I like to think that Alan still has a part of him, that wants to weasel his way back into society, especially after meeting his Doe-eyes. But he can never have it. It's selfish of him to want.

Boss is unpredictable and very much so picks those who believe they are someone without a cause. I'd like to think that The Beast's song "Come Wayward Souls" applies to him. However, he can still influence his employers. If he sees someone get out of line, he would simply have to put them back in place. Alan, however, never gave Boss any hassle, not even when he first found him. You could say he has a clean track record when it comes to his job. Until doe-eyes that is.

When I say that Boss kinda has favorites.

He truly does.

[femoso-seben]

Task Force 141 X gn Reader

Working with a Legend

Pt. 1

TW: Violence and Death

You stare out the truck window your a random sniper rifle in your hands. You had no particular type of sniper gun you specialized in. You're a jack of all trades master of none, for being a master of one is a fool's job. You picked up your gun and looked it over. It was one of the latest models. New scope and everything. You smirk and set it down.

They’re always someone looking at you. One of them was always looking at you. They could not stop watching you waiting to see your skills up close. Soap, that one watched you like a hawk as another sniper he was giddy, on the other hand, Ghost simply existed behind you.

He kept you in his gaze everywhere you go he followed. It was cute, like a puppy he was an obedient thing. You kinda of wanted to see how far he’ll go.

The truck came to a stop and you all filed out. You take a deep breath and wait for Ghost. He demanded you to be on his team so he could keep an eye on you. It’s been a few months, and this was the second mission. The first one you and Gaz sat taking out the individuals and snipers.

You turn to Ghost and nod, you're not here to win their trust, you're paid to be here. You didn’t need to like them and they didn’t need to like you. As long as they keep paying you and the price is proportional to the mission you’ll stick around. You’re a person who only does things not for honor, or the right thing, but for the money.

Money rules the world and you like to dominate things.

Your mission collect a Nazi terrorist group leader alive. A former customer, but you never sign deals where you can’t kill them. Soap walked in front while Ghost brought up the rear. The walk was silent as you three creep up on the compound these Nazis live in. You turn to Ghost.

“What’s your plan?” You asked. You’re not being paid enough to create a plan or to care if a plan is good or not. You’re paid to be a simple grunt there is no need to be anything more.

“Soap take the lead we’ll back you up.” Ghost instructs, “You stay back and cover us.” You nod.

Now you remember why you left the military. All these procedures were time-consuming and very boring. You could have simply killed the man without this hassle, but they want this fool alive. How annoying, how tedious. You stare at the racist and look away what a sad little man following another sad little man.

You sat back, back turned to the interrogation. You’re not paid to enough to care, if under investigation— you saw nothing. You put on your headphones— you hear nothing. It’s not your business. You look down at the gun, it is nice but a little pompous. they were clearly trying to win her over.

You smirk and look out of the building seeing the dead body littering the ground. Kate’s playing a deadly game. She didn’t want to lose you, but she also didn’t want you to slip from their fingers again. The door opens and you see the task force walking out of the room. The man was nowhere in sight, probably dead.

You stand and follow after the group Ghost of course behind you staring holes in the back of your head. You look over your cold eyes catching his. His gaze was a little hard to read, it was certainly an untrusting gaze.

“I don’t even know why you're even here.” Ghost finally spoke up in the quiet truck. Everyone turns to you waiting for a response.

“Tell that to Kate, It’s America’s money.” You turn to him with a slight smirk.

“Did his words bug you?” Soap asked looking at you up and down.

“Hardly, he’s not my employer. Even if he was I wouldn’t care.” You hum with a yawn. “I won’t lie this is a waste of my time and talent.” You push her hair back and look at them.

“Of course, you would think that.” Gaz sneers.

“Sweetheart, money talks and I like money.” You say honestly.

“So you’re a mercenary for money?”

“You can say that.” You won’t lie you technically are a mercenary but you also had private militia contact. You are part of a group. But they don’t need to know that.

A few days passed and Ghost spent of course his days staring at you. Watching you, hunting you. You learn to ignore it, it did get under your skin but he could not let him know it did.

Laswell walked in.

“Laswell, how have you been?” She turns to you with a scowl. No one liked you— it didn’t matter.

“You have a mission by the US Government.” She states.

“What is it?” Price stands up walking over to see the case files.

“It’s only for L.” A sly smirk crosses your face and you take the file.

It was a hit on a Middle eastern Terrorist leader. You look over the details and memorize everything. “Done,” You hand back the file and begin to walk away considering your plan.

“Wait.” You look over.

“They’re part of this team, this is our mission.” Ghost spoke up. He didn’t want you out of his grip.

“fives a crowd.” Ghost shot you a glare.

“I agree.” Price spoke up.

“Fine, I’ll take Gaz and Soap.” Price and Ghost frown but they cannot argue with her.

“All right.”

“Let me back my things.” You stand up and walk out.

“Keep an eye on them.”

You three left the next day on a cargo plane. It is a few hours and you’ll stop by a base pick up the gun and stalk your prey. The two men stared at you most of the time. You told them very little of the mission. The cargo plane lands and the tree walks over to the next plane.

As they walk you catch them up to date on the mission. The person’s name, their role in the terrorist group, the impact of them, and how you plan on finding them. “Do you got that?” They nod and look at each other it was a thorough plan.

Weeks pass as the three of them gather information on the target silently. They took out footmen and slowly hunted the man down. You three tracked the person down to a few buildings, he traveled too.

“What’s that?”

“Poison.”

“Why do you have that?” Soap asks.

“Watch.” You walked up to a little girl and spoke to her in her native tongue. The little girl took the vile.

“What the hell was that?”

“I’m making this easier on us, they want this to look like an accident.” You state as both men follow after you. “Go to that alleyway and shoot it up.”

“What?”

“We’re going to simulate a small skirmish and he dies from a stray bullet. I’ll signal you to begin shooting he’ll walk onto his balcony and I’ll get him”

“What’s the poison for?”

“It’ll force him to go upstairs.” Soap’s eyes lit up and he nodded both men finally understood. They nod and walk into the alleyway making sure no one else is there.

You take your spot and wait. You see him walking up into his room, “Now,” You say in the comms. They lit up the alleyway. As you thought the man stumbles out. You took the shot. before pulling out a second gun just like the ones used by Gaz and Soap.

You shot the balcony up and to the alleyway. “Let’s go!” You shout and they run after you.

“Is this how most of your mission goes?” Gaz asks a little out of breath.

“No, but since I got two helpers I used it.” You state as you guys head back to your makeshift home base.

“I see why Laswell doesn’t want you out of her grips.” Soap states as you three pack up.

“What can I say, I am highly wanted.”

#cod x reader #141 #call of duty #captain price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #cod #kyle gaz garrick #modern warfare 2 #cod mw2