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#it feels so dramatic but like it's fucking. life threatening.
likscrazy · 3 days
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KEN | Sim Jaeyun 𓏲 ๋࣭ ౨ৎ
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pairing: Stepfather! sim jake x female! reader
warnings: virgin reader, fuck boy jake is actually a gentleman, kissing, fingering, insecurity, mentions of crying, slight corruption kink. english is not my first language so there may be grammal or spelling errors
Synopsis: You played with those dolls, but you longed for a Ken, which happens when your mother leaves you alone on a trip with your stepfather
genre: smut
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Since she was little, y/n had played with her Barbie dolls, dreaming of finding her perfect Ken who would take her on her adventures and love her unconditionally. But everything changed the day her mother announced that she would have a stepfather named Jake. Although the thought of her made her uneasy at first, Jake turned out to be a kind and gentle man, although she couldn't deny that he was extremely handsome.
She y/n she was at a crossroads, on the one hand she felt an indescribable attraction towards Jake, but on the other hand there was the social prohibition of having feelings for someone who would become her stepfather. However, fate had other plans for them.
On a cold winter night, y/n's mother had left on a work trip, leaving her alone with her stepfather. As time passed, y/n and Jake began to develop a unique complicity, sharing deep conversations and moments. intimate relationships that brought them closer and closer. Although they tried to hide their feelings, it was evident that the attraction between them was palpable.
Even in her moments of loneliness, y/n found herself talking to the Barbie dolls, like she did as a child, longing to find the perfect Ken of hers in real life. Jake, for her part, watched discreetly from a distance, wishing he was the Ken she y/n had been looking for all this time.
Finally one night the tension between them reached its peak. The house was silent, only the sound of the rain hitting the windows breaking the silence. Jake and y/n were in the living room, looking at each other with desire in their eyes. After a long conversation full of complicity, their lips finally met in a passionate kiss that ignited an insatiable fire between them.
“Why don't we go to my room,” Jake whispered, guiding y/n towards what would become her pleasure den that night. Once inside, the atmosphere was charged with electricity, every look, every touch, caused the tension between them to increase dramatically.
“Can I be your Ken?”, Jake asked, his voice husky and full of desire, as he caressed y/n's soft skin with expert hands. She nodded, unable to contain the lust that consumed her at that moment. Her bodies merged in a passionate embrace, exploring every corner, every centimeter of skin they longed to discover.
Jake's hands roamed over y/n's body with unbridled hunger, eliciting muffled moans and ragged sighs. Every caress, every kiss, was a tribute to the passion that burned between them, a flame that threatened to consume them completely.
Between whispers and gasps, Jake and y/n lost themselves in a sea of intense sensations, giving themselves to each other without reservations or remorse. That night, time stopped for them, and there was only the absolute pleasure they shared in their intimacy.
After reaching ecstasy together, y/n snuggled into Jake's arms, feeling her heart beat in sync with his. "You're my Ken, and you always will be," she whispered with a shy smile on her lips. Jake held her tightly, silently promising her that he would never let her go, that he would always be there to protect her and love her.
And so, between whispers of love and promises of eternity, Jake and y/n sank into a restful sleep, feeling in their hearts that what they had was more than a simple physical attraction, it was a deep and sincere love that transcended the barriers of love. time and space.
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Note: It's my first time writing, I hope you like it 😭
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theodore-lasso · 1 year
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#the closest thing that seems to describe my relationship with dysphoria lately is chronic pain and i know its not 100%#but theres not a single second of the day that it doesn't cause me mental/emotional distress or like it's VERY rare#and i can almost feel it like a physical pain now#it feels so dramatic but like it's fucking. life threatening.#i run out of spoons so quickly#and im struggling to see the difference between a physical condition getting worse and smth like dysphoria which#when its bad or like even when its not that bad makes me want to kill myself#ive been talking about it for 6 months now was an actual issue that desperately needs medical treatment#but the fact that its woven in with mental illness and so enmeshed with depression and anxiety has made it almost impossible for me#dysphoria has essentially blocked me from everything i love and all my coping mechanisms that i usually use for my mental health#i cant spend time with ppl bc it makes me dysphoric i cant sing bc i can't listen to my voice i cant meet new ppl or do new things#any energy i was spending on catching up with old friends or friends i only saw irregularly is fkn gone#like its disappeared i can't fucking do it#which of course isolates me and makes my mental health worse#its just the compounding issues that make each other worse and the answer is to relieve my dysphoria#and then i can slowly start to rebuild as a person#but this whole fucking period has been so damaging to me#to be out for years and suddenly be so mentally ill that your brain challenges things it knows are true and starts saying#youre just a mentally ill woman every time you look in the mirror.#like thats a fucking horror movie#its isolation its doubting reality its exhaustion and normalised suicidality and kinda disordered eating and just. holding on#like i cant build anything new in this state im just treading water#idk i think i didnt realise what dysphoria was before. i think people downplay it to make trans people more palatable#or you only see people talk about it post transition#or you only hear ways to alleviate it#you dont really hear all the ways you just have to live with it. and you do. voice dysphoria is my biggest issue for sure#and i cannot get around it#so ive stopped one of my number one hobbies and sources of joy - music and singing. which was a big way id get around anxiety#because you have to breathe properly to sing#im running outta tags i just didnt wanna put this in a post but. yeah listen its rough out here buddy lmfao and it has been for. a while
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wynnyfryd · 6 months
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Trailer Park Steve AU part 4
part 1 | part 2 | part 3
September
He doesn’t talk to the Munsons much. (Doesn’t talk to anyone, really, aside from his mom and Robin and that one older woman who keeps renting and returning Gone With The Wind as an excuse to leave her house.) He keeps his head down and his nose clean, doesn’t care to make friends with the neighbors; just wants to get by.
One day Eddie approaches their door, waving a gas bill that got mixed up in their mail, and Steve greets him pleasantly enough.
“Stab anyone today?”
“Eat glass, Harrington.”
So it goes.
Steve watches the world pass and the weather turn, lets the hours bleed into weeks and squeezes his eyes shut against the flashbacks when they threaten to overwhelm.
Things with his mom are weird.
They don’t really speak, preferring to shrug their way past each other with careful, tight-lipped nods, and his mom takes these pills the doctor gave her that keep her perfectly pleasant and calm. Silent. Physically present but not really here.
And he can’t imagine how it feels to be her: Florence Harrington, ripped from the comforts of the upper crust and left to rot in a tin can seven miles across town. She spends most of her time letting out weary little sighs as she swans from room to room, drifting like a shade on the banks of the River Styx. (He can make that reference now because Robin won’t shut up about mythology. “It’s so gay, Steve. The Greeks were literally so gay.”)
Anyway.
Shit’s weird with the kids, too. He still drives them around — lets them loiter at Family Video when it’s slow; hangs around when they need a ride to the arcade or the movies or the skating rink; and he’s still on the hook for ‘ice cream. for. life,’ so…
It’s just not the same.
Like. Not to be dramatic, but who the fuck is Steve Harrington without the house and the pool and the free-for-all fridge? Just some kid with a car and a bat and a punchable face. And he can barely afford to keep the car now, anyway, so pretty soon they won’t need him for that, either. They’ll learn to drive; they’ll get their own jobs. Maybe Lucas builds enough muscle to take over as the party tank.
Maybe it’s better if he shelfs himself now before they realize he’s become obsolete.
“Oh, my god, you’re being pathetic,” he groans to himself. His voice is muffled where he’s lying face down on the couch. Ridiculous behavior, because everything is fine; Steve is fine. In the grand scheme of things where there are monsters and melted corpses and all kinds of crazy, horrible shit?
Yeah.
He’s being obnoxious. It’s a lovely sunny Saturday afternoon with just the right Autumn breeze going — gentle but cool; long sleeve polo weather; his favorite kind — and he’s sitting inside throwing himself a pity party.
Fucking absurd.
…Five more minutes.
Just five more minutes, then he’s getting off this couch.
He gets to a minute and a half when he hears the crunch of tires against the gravel, the clanging of a little bell from the handlebar of a bike, and then:
“STEVE!!!”
And that’ll be Dustin, trying to bang the door off the hinges and piss off the whole park at the same time. Kid’s nothing if not a multitasker. Steve lets another aggrieved groan loose into the couch cushion.
His mom’s out with the car; the lights are all off. Maybe he can just play dead ‘til Dustin leaves? He loves the kid, he really does, but his left ear is full of static, and he just wants to fucking sleep. Or sulk. Or both.
“STEVEN CHRISTOPHER, I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE.”
Jeeeeesus Christ. “Okay, chill,” Steve grumbles as he hauls himself upright and throws open the front door. His limbs feel like lead; there’s drool on his chin. “Wake the whole goddamn neighborhood, why don’t you?”
“It’s two in the afternoon.”
“Yeah, and half the people here work nights.”
“Oh-kayy,” Dustin drags out the word, “but you don’t.”
Ugh. Whatever. He’s not gonna be shamed by a toothless teenager for his depressing loser tendencies. “Did you need something?”
Steve scratches at his belly hair through his shirt, feels a muscle twinge in his shoulder and send a spark of nerve pain skittering up to the base of his skull.
Dustin either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care that Steve’s body is falling apart where he stands, because he just rolls his eyes and says, “Uh, yeah. I need to know why you’re avoiding everyone? Mom’s tried to invite you to dinner six times now.”
“I was working.”
“All six times?” Dustin glares. Steve feels a little pinned by it, feels guilt seeping through the cracks as he fidgets with his bad ear. This kid’s gonna be the scariest lawyer some day. “She’s worried.”
Goddammit.
Guilt squeezes hard behind his ribs; he knows Dustin uses his mom as a mouthpiece for the feelings he can’t express. “I’m fine,” he sighs, letting his eyes and voice go soft. “Honest.”
Dustin holds firm, gaze fierce and fists clenched. “Bullshit,” he insists.
“Man, don’t—”
“Bull. Shit.”
Suddenly, their impromptu interrogation gets interrupted by a crashing drum fill, a shriek of electric guitar as Munson’s van squeals into the lot. He’s blasting some melodramatic metal shit about wizards or whatever; Steve doesn’t know. He only knows that the skitter of nerve pain he felt is ramping up to a fullblown migraine now because this guy has to listen to his racket at full fucking volume, apparently, and isn’t this all just “fucking great.”
part 5
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riki-dazed · 1 month
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You get into a bad argument with your boyfriend, Riki. The evening proceeds to end in a very unexpected way.
NSFW smut · block & don't read if you're uncomfortable · toxicity, cursing, pure angsty, smutty filth with a touch of softness at the end,, call it a heart-wrenching rollercoaster, if you will · wc · 1774 · requested
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"You always find something about me to complain about," You cried, throwing your hands in the air as you stormed about Riki's tension-filled room in frustration, looking for your belongings.
"You're being dramatic," He snapped back as his eyes watched you from the door way, his gaze piercing. "Just say you regret ever becoming my girlfriend,"
Something within you snapped after Riki got home in a bad mood and decided to take out his frustrations on you. You couldn't control your emotions, considering it wasn't the first time he had done that. The both of you have already had to deal with a couple of arguments in the short time since you started dating, which was leading you to believe that you just simply weren't compatible for him in that sense. If you were to be completely honest with yourself, you were worried since the very beginning of the relationship. You and Riki spent many years as very close friends, you loved him dearly. More than any other friend. The thought of a relationship ruining things between the two of you scared you to death, though, Riki reassured you everything would be okay.
Until it wasn't.
His facial expression changed as he noticed you starting to pile clothes into one of your bags, his heart began to sink. He wanted to stop you but he didn't know how to approach the situation, he had never seen you that angry and upset in all of the years he had known you. The longer he watched you irritably pack your belongings, the tighter the feeling within his chest grew. The realization was starting to eat at him. He knew he messed up again, big time.
He watched you silence as your tears didn't stop flowing.
"Good fucking job for ruining this, Riki, I told you countless times how worried I was for us at the start,"
"Can you just stop and fucking talk to me," His voice began to tremble, his hands found their way into his hair and tugged at the strands.
"What's there to talk about? I do regret becoming your girlfriend!"
Although Riki was an emotional person, he was never great at expressing those said emotions. You kept your eyes off him, though, knowing how he affects you when he's upset. You cared for him so deeply, you'd cross oceans if you had to in order to comfort your boy, and by the sound of his voice, you could just tell his nonchalant composure was nowhere to be found anymore.
His tall frame stopped you in your tracks, his hands found their way to your shoulders as he towered over you. For someone so big compared to your frame, his voice sounded small.
"You don't mean that,"
"Get off me," You almost yelled, your eyes stayed focused on the floor, not daring to look at his face. Your body twisted and turned as it tried to get out of his grasp.
After not being able to break out of his hold, your tear-filled eyes finally looked up at Riki's. His bottom lip was quivering, the tears in his eyes threatening to spill. You had never seen his face look like that. Before you could process anything, Riki pulled you into his chest. His arms clung around you tightly, he was so afraid to let you go. Your arms stayed swinging by your sides as you stood against his warm chest, letting out silent cries as your tears continued to pour. Your eyes screwed shut.
Riki couldn't hold his emotions back after scenes of a life without you in it flashed throughout his mind. That was the first time he allowed himself to be so incredibly vulnerable in front of anyone, ever. Even you.
"You don't mean that," Riki repeated, he was crying into the crook of your neck. The sounds of his sniffles only made your tears fall harder. You raised your arms slightly, grasping the sides of his shirt within your hands.
"Y/n," His voice broke the sorrowful, long silence. He lifted his head from where it was settled beside your neck, and wiped at your tears with his thumbs. "Let me show you how much you mean to me,"
Your eyes drifted from his gaze, unsure of how to reply to him, "Riki.."
"Please," He pleaded, attaching his quivering, pillowy lips to one of your tear-stained cheeks.
One thing lead to another, and before you knew it, you were suddenly sat on the edge of Riki's bed. Your face was still struck by pain, you couldn't even force the frown off it. He stood in front of you, pulling his hoodie over his head. Your gaze lifted, eyes scanning him carefully as he revealed his breathtakingly toned body, you were sure it was sculpted by the gods. Silence continued to engulf the tension-filled room as your hands got to work on Riki's belt, one of his hands simultaneously pushed damp strands of hair out of your face. You shuffled your body backwards across the soft sheets, your eyes not leaving his. He climbed onto the bed after stepping out of his jeans, he followed after you and propped his body above yours.
Riki's woeful gaze burned into yours for what felt like an eternity.. Before his lips met yours in a fervent hunger. He kissed you like he had never kissed you before. Your tear-stained cheeks met his ones as he deepened the kiss, your mouth being entirely engulfed by his. Your breaths mingled, hot and heavy as you let his tongue fight against yours. The kiss spoke volumes without words, it expressed every single pent-up emotion he had buried deep within himself.
You couldn't believe this was how he was going to take your virginity, and you, his. While you were painfully upset at him. You thought about how you had different plans for how you wanted your first time to go, though, your focus was shifted back onto Riki as you felt him slightly lift your oversized shirt. He left gentle kisses across the skin on your abdomen, in which left you with chills running up your spine. He then tugged at the waistband of your sweatpants, helping you take them off. He left another trail of wet kisses up your legs and thighs, stopping at your soaked panties, almost drooling over the sight. Riki's eyes, puffy and red, found yours again. You gave him a nod, reassuring him that he could proceed.
His hands tugged the soft fabric down, his lips placing a kiss where your body needed him the most. He slipped a finger between your folds, wanting to ensure you were ready for him. Your body reacted immediately, your hips lifted off the bed and into his touch. He lips traveled up your body, and found their way back to yours in a sweet kiss. He reached a hand between your bodies, tugging at his boxers.
His voice was gentle as you felt him rub his length against your wetness, "Ready?"
"Yeah," You breathed out,
Riki's gaze didn't leave yours as he pushed himself into your core excruciatingly slowly, eliciting a gasp from you. He groaned at the feeling of having you finally wrapped around him. It took him a few moments to bottom out inside, before he waited for you to adjust to his size. He carefully analyzed your face for any signs of pain or discomfort. You were seeing stars at the feeling and size of him.
Riki became alarmed when he noticed your eyes starting to fill with tears yet again, he wasn't aware of the fact that it was due to how much of an emotional mess you were in the moment. You couldn't deny your anger towards him, yet you also couldn't deny the fact that you loved him more than anything and anyone in the world.
"Keep going," You broke the silence. He kissed your tears away before he began to thrust carefully into you, his gaze switching between your eyes and lips. A finger of yours settled on his bottom lip as you scanned his gorgeous features.
"Does it f-feel okay?" He managed to choke out quietly against your finger, as he continued his actions. Your back arched, your chest pushed against his.
Another moan escaped your lips, "More than okay,"
You could feel your release build up over the next few minutes as he repeatedly hit all of the right spots, he was thrusting into you like there was no tomorrow. Your hands ran along the soft skin of his back, he was so warm. The thin layer of sweat covering him made his skin glisten.
"Y/n," He panted into your ear, from what you could tell, he was very close, "I'm so sorry,"
You were closer.
A short, high-pitched moan fell out of your lips as you felt yourself come undone, Riki's pace quickened as he chased his own high. You choked out a sentence you had been meaning to tell Riki for a long time, in the middle of it all.
"I- I love you," You cried, barely being able to speak, your hands still stuck to the bed sheets,
Riki's gaze shifted back to your face instantaneously, he thought he was hearing things. His lips bit at yours as he pulled out and released all over your tummy, the sticky liquid felt warm against your skin. He felt another tear run down one of his cheeks, he was so overriden with emotions he didn't know what to do with himself.
"I love you so much more," The boy panted, trying to regain his breath as he laid his head on top of you, his chin nuzzling between your clothed breasts.
You pushed his hair out of his face as you raised an eyebrow at him, your voice tired, "But I'm still angry at you,"
His eyes closed as a light chuckle escaped his mouth, gaze soon softening as he continued to watch your face. Your fingers were still within the messy strands of his hair.
"I can live with that, but I can't live without you,"
His statement felt like a stab at your chest, god, you truly did love him.
"I never regretted becoming yours," You sighed as you suddenly remembered the angry sentence you spat at your boyfriend, just to get a reaction out of him for how he emotionally hurt you.
Riki moved his body to place a kiss on the side of your neck. He nuzzled into the space, his arms hung around your figure. He kept you close.
"I can't live without you either, Riki, we'll work through this."
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mytaiyakeylover · 11 months
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—𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞.
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—ft: seishiro nagi x gn!reader, sae itoshi x gn!reader
—warnings: none, just some cursing on sae’s part.
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𝚜𝚎𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚘 𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚒
seishiro is so lazy. the only time he ever decides to eat is whenever you agree to spoon-feed him. this boy is such a big baby, like, omg! he can't literally do anything without needing you to be there 25/8. and even then, he's not going to do much unless you put in just as much effort (if not more). don’t be mad! he just really enjoys being with you, and your presence is truly the only thing that can make this baby boy at least somewhat interested in whatever it is that you are doing. even in life-threatening situations like starvation.
“Why aren’t you eating?” Reo furrowed his eyebrows as he watched the white haired boy still very much occupied with the game in his hands. Seishiro hadn’t even glanced at his plate, let alone touched it.
“Come on, Nagi!” The boy exclaimed, his purple-colored eyes glaring at Nagi with a slight hint of annoyance. "We have practice today. You have to eat at least something," he added, feeling his left eyebrow twitch at the other’s response.
“But it’s such a hassle,” he mumbled, grayish eyes sparing one single glance at the food on his plate before going back to his game. The slightly shorter boy huffed at that. Sometimes he just couldn’t help but feel like he’s so done with this guy. Seishiro wasn’t exactly making things easier for him either, but he guessed it was a part of his charm.
Sighing dramatically, the boy with purple hair suddenly lifted himself from his seat and leaned slightly forward over the table. He took the other boy's knife and fork before cutting a piece of meat. However, it wasn't until a few seconds had passed that Seishiro finally acknowledged the food presented before him.
“Let me feed you, if you're going to continue being such a baby,” a pregnant pause soon followed as Reo muttered those words. Yet, instead of receiving the response that he’d been hoping for, it was one that almost made him scream at the top of his lungs.
“I want (Y/n)-chan to feed me.”
“Well, (Y/n)-chan is not here!”
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𝚜𝚊𝚎 𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚜𝚑𝚒
this arrogant boy can’t physically stomach any food that has not been cooked by you and you alone. i swear! this has never been an issue before, until sae met you. now, he can't even distinguish between luxurious dishes and the ones that we ordinary humans eat. in his opinion, they all fall into the category of “peasant foods” and he will fr glare eye daggers at anyone who even dares to say otherwise.
“What the fuck is this?”
Ryusei stifled a laugh as he heard the boy from his right. His pink eyes observed the midfielder in amusement as the other boy stared at the food presented before him with nothing but pure disdain. The blonde and pink haired boy didn’t want to admit it, but a part of him was quite surprised as he thought those rumors about Sae being an abnormally picky eater were absolute bullshit.
Now it seemed they were not, because never had he ever seen the boy look at something with that much disgust. Not even at Ryusei himself.
“Something wrong?” The horny demon had the audacity to smirk as he feigned obliviousness. Sae narrowed his eyes dangerously at the other boy, right eyebrow twitching in annoyance. Sighing at Ryusei’s dumb antics, the reddish-brown haired boy pinched the bridge of his nose before sending the aforementioned an unimpressed look.
“I said: What the fuck is this?”
A sudden gasp escaped the tanned boy’s lips as he sent the other a look of bewilderment. “How can you not recognize the cooking of your oh so beloved s/o?”
“You’re telling me that (Y/n) was the one who made this disgusting, repulsive, nauseating, stomach-churning thing called food?”
There was a moment of silence, tension growing thicker by each passing second. The stare down between pink and teal so intense that random passers-by were too afraid to get caught in the crossfire to as much as walk past them.
However, as soon as the tension appeared, it quickly dissipated. Ryusei's expression exuded nothing but sheer brattiness, and Sae felt a strong headache coming on, anticipating where this was headed.
“Y’know, what you said just now really hurt my ego.”
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gothicknightz · 1 year
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for her | ethan landry
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notes: ugh. for the LIFE of me i cannot get through a solid lengthy post, so a short couple of paragraphs should do. slightly sexy with a female reader.
“Mindy, you know I can handle myself. I'm a big girl now. No more horses and cowboys and conspiracy theories. We're both over Woodsboro.”
She leaned against the wall outside her roommate's brother's room, splitting a movie with her boyfriend.
“We've already learned from Sam that you can't trust the love interest. Horror rules 101.”
“Look, whatever you think is going on between me and Chad's roommate, it is definitely not a relationship.”
“But you two are fucking, yeah?”
“Mindy!”
“Hey, look, it still counts, okay! Besides, I've got x-rated dirt on you two from Chad.”
“Fuck you.”
“I think that's Ethan's job. Anyways, I have to pick Anika up from work, so I'll talk to you later.”
Rolling her eyes, she knocked on the door to her boyfriend's room, waiting for him to answer.
It had been a year since Woodsboro.
What could possibly go wrong?
As Ethan opened the door, he greeted her again with a smile, “Who called you this time?”
“Mindy.” She paused, his arm wrapping around her waist as they made it to Ethan's room. “She still doesn't trust you despite her hearing things from Chad. I'm sure the drama queen exaggerates our sex life.”
“Oh yeah?” Ethan asked, picking his girlfriend up bridal style as he sat down on his bed.
Laughing as he spun her around, she pressed a sweet kiss to his lips, “Yeah. Mindy says it's all x-rated.”
A small blush creeped onto Ethan's face as a small smile toyed at the end of his lips, “It's not that intense.”
“Its not?” She asked, moving a leg to the other side of his hips, with Ethan taking initiative and instinctively wrapping his arms around her waist.
Ethan softly shook his head 'no' as she was going in for the kiss, as the two earlier almost had a moment before getting interrupted by Mindy's call.
She pulled at Ethan's collar, desperate to pull him closer before grabbing a handful of his curls, which earned a sigh from him.
Despite his shy and nerdy exterior, Ethan was harder to break than a bag of cinder blocks once you got to him.
He grabbed onto her hip, his fingers curling inward as it lifted some of her shirt, the kissing rapidly getting more intense as the seconds ticked on.
At some point, Ethan fell backwards, which impaired their kissing temporarily, only to have his hands sliding up the back of her shirt as his hips bucked upwards.
“Aw,” She groaned, her grinding getting more needy as her hands were all over his body, “Somebody's getting needy.”
Ethan whined in agreement before muttering a soft ‘fuck’ as dramatic gagging noises were followed subsequently.
“Holy shit. I'm gonna get sick.”
“Fuck off, Chad!” She turned around and yelled at Ethan's roommate, who was standing at the doorframe.
“You two have got to see yourselves. You both were at it like animals.”
She threw a middle finger up at him, “Yeah, it ain't your first rodeo, princess. Now, out!”
Chad threw his hands up in surrender and defeat before chuckling, “Okay! I apologize giving you both blue balls. Besides, Tara and Sam need us. It's important.”
Chad closed the door before she threatened another insult at him, Ethan's arms slowly reaching out to her, his face flushed.
“Jesus, I hate your roommate.” She grumbled, still feeling the flush of heat between them.
“I know,” He replied, kissing her head, “But we can't possibly go there like this.” Gesturing to himself, Ethan's lips hung open a bit, his pupils blown.
She turned around and faced him, “I agree. Fuck what Mindy and Chad say.” Quickly pulling her shirt off, her hands found their way to her boyfriend's blue jeans.
“You think you can keep it quiet?”
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ayyy-pee · 5 months
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Discord 18+ - Twitter - Masterlist
Pairing: Nanami Kento x Female Reader
Story Summary: Following his mothers passing, Nanami inherits his family's rundown bakery. With the bakery on its last leg, Nanami reluctantly takes on the task of trying to save what his family has worked to keep for decades, but he can't do it alone.
Genre: Bakery/Coffee Shop AU
Warnings: Workaholic meanie Nanami, employee x boss relationship, but also enemies to lovers, death, grief/mourning, profanity, jealousy, fluff, angst, Nanami owns a bakery, parental loss, Nanami is bad at feelings, I don’t know if I’ll do smut for this one but sexual tension, mutual pining, Nanami is sort of an asshole here
Art by: Ilameys + (Unknown artist (right pic). I'd love to credit the artist so if you know who it is, please let me know!)
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Chapter 2 - Wienerbrød
Chapter Summary: You try to bake something new!
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You kick your shoes off as you enter your apartment. With your phone wedged between your ear and your shoulder, you groan in irritation as you storm into your living room.
“I’m telling you, Shoko. This guy is such a fucking asshole. Shut me down the second I asked him a simple question,” you’re ranting as you flop down onto your couch. “He’s got to be the most pessimistic person I’ve ever met. He did nothing but pick apart the entire bakery and tell me how shitty it was, tried to establish some strange dominance thing in the kitchen after offering me the job… the kitchen,” you stress dramatically, wavering your arms as if Shoko can see you. “My domain! Can you believe him? He doesn’t give a shit about the actual bakery. He’s a total businessman type. Stiff, boring as hell and a dick. I don’t know why I said yes to the position. I’m going to hate my life.”
You exhale sharply once you’ve finished your tirade. On the other end of the line, you hear your friend inhale deeply. You didn’t have to ask to know she was sucking on a cigarette, likely almost finished with it and prepping her second, maybe third. After a short beat of silence, you hear her exhale. “Hmm, is he hot at least?”
“Extremely,” you admit through gritted teeth, rubbing away the tension quickly forming between your brows. “That’s the worst part.”
You hate to think it, you loathe to admit it, but Nanami was so very fucking attractive, like stupid hot and it pissed you off! Those thick arms practically bulging through his dress shirt, those veins that exposed themselves and ran enticingly along his forearms when he rolled his sleeves up. His chiseled features, those sharp cheekbones, even his frown was attractive. And god, you didn’t even want to think about his waist. 
Anyone with eyes could see Nanami Kento was an insanely beautiful man, modelesque even. But it only served to piss you off more. His constant gloomy attitude was so off-putting, it almost took away from his beauty, like a rain cloud threatening to cover a blue sky.
“Anyway,” you sigh, putting a stop to your own thoughts as you stare up at the ceiling.  “That’s beside the point, Shoko. He’s an asshole, but it’s obvious he needs help to get his bakery up and running. I think it’s family owned. He told me that he grew up in the bakery. Seemed miserable about it, though.”
“Interesting,” Shoko manages, though she sounds rather disinterested. “Well if he had to pick anyone, he definitely hired the best person for the job. You’re annoyingly positive.”
“Okay, rude.”
“I just mean you’ll balance his negativity well. Just try not to let him walk all over you. You’ve worked with plenty of dickheads before. What’s one more?”
You hum, your mind already accepting your fate. “I guess you’re right.”
“You know I am. The guy clearly needs help and you love this kind of thing - taking something old, miserable and rundown and making it loveable again.”
You hum again, listening as Shoko blows out another breath of smoke. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll do the same for the bakery, too.”
“Right. Wait– what?”
“I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” She says, voice light with humor. The line goes dead and you roll your eyes at your friends comments as you let the day's events wash over you. Nanami said he wanted to sample some of your desserts on Monday and see some new recipes. You can do that.
The moment you’d stepped into the bakery’s kitchen, your mind raced with possibilities. You felt at home there. The kitchen felt like it had been loved, like it was properly used and cared for, albeit old and a little rundown. That was okay. It gave the kitchen personality and you loved that. You wanted to continue giving the kitchen the love it deserved.
Nanami told you he’d grown up in that kitchen, but he truly seemed to hate even being in the building. You tried to picture a chubby little blonde boy with his arms crossed and a scowl etched across his face standing in the kitchen covered in flour and icing. Adorable, but definitely not the man you’d met today. You wondered how it came to be that he now owned this bakery when he seemed to despise it.
And you wondered if there was a way to get him to learn to love it again.
You shake your head, pushing the thought away. It wasn’t your job to turn his frown upside down, so to speak. It was your job to make sure the bakery was successful as it’s Head Baker and that’s what you intended to do.
- - - - - -
The weekend came and went just as quickly and now you find yourself standing in the kitchen of the bakery with Nanami as the sun barely begins to rise over the city. You pile your notebooks onto the large metal table in the center of the room. Nanami reaches over, taking the notebook sitting atop the stack.
“Are these your recipes?” He asks, flipping through the pages.
“Yep. These are some pastries I created on a whim. I was thinking we could go through and select what you like, maybe tweak some so that they fit more of the vibe you’re going for with the bakery. Or are there any pastries you’d like to keep from the previous owner?” 
Nanami’s dark eyes shoot up from the notebook to look at you. You hold his gaze, trying to find anything behind those eyes aside from the clear hatred he holds for this bakery, but you don’t. It’s frustrating.
“No,” is all he says.
“Okay…well, we can start from scratch then. Let me know what you see that you may like.”
Nanami replies with something between a grunt and a hum. “I’ll review a few of these and will follow up. If you want to get comfortable and organize the kitchen to your liking, go ahead. Please try and have a sample pastry ready within the next few hours.”
He turns to go into his office without so much as a look back.
You sigh, trying to get used to this silence you were sure you’d be working in everyday whether Mr. Nanami was there or not. You couldn’t wait to establish a menu so you could bring staff on. At least then you wouldn’t feel so alone.
You wander through the kitchen with a notepad, looking through all of the smallwares and jotting down what you see in case you need to place an order. There seems to be many of the supplies you need here already and in good condition - spatulas, mixing bowls, flour sifters, icing tips. The bakeware also seems to be well supplied with an array of bread pans, muffin tins and cake pans. This place was fully stocked as far as you could tell. 
You shuffle over to where three mixer appliances sit on a counter against the wall, setting your notepad down to inspect them. They’re a little older, but they turn on and mix just fine. You’d bet they mixed better than some of the newer models. You decide you’ll keep them.
As you lean one of the mixers over to check its condition, you find a small booklet lying underneath the stand. You pick it up, gently setting the mixer back down before you open it to inspect it. It’s a tiny black leatherbound journal with very faded gold lettering in a language you definitely don’t know.
And you? Well, you’re nosey as hell, so you carefully peel back the cover, taking in the elegant writing etched onto the first page.
To my baby boy
There’s some strange writing scrawled beneath this in what looks like English letters. You can’t really tell, but it seems to be some message in whatever language this is. You turn a couple of pages and let your eyes roam over what’s written within. The rest of the pages you can read fairly easily as they’re in English. You can see immediately that these are recipes. The booklet is full of pastry dishes, both sweet and savory. They appear to be foreign pastries and you feel your heart race with excitement as you imagine making them because while you were adventurous with your baking, you’re positive you haven’t tried to make any of these. 
And Nanami did want to sample your baking, so why not give him something he’s not going to see in your portfolio?
Eagerly, you begin moving through the rest of the kitchen equipment, taking out what you need to begin.
- - - - - -
The kitchen is full with the smell of fresh dough baking. The quiet hum of the ovens working calms you as you sift through the recipe in the booklet you’d found earlier. You decided to make one of your original creations while also trying your hand at this new mystery pastry in case Mr. Nanami liked both…or one…or none. Shit, you didn’t want to imagine him not liking either.
You stare down at the ingredients already in the mixing machines.
“Alright. So, water, 2 large eggs, a teaspoon of salt, unsalted butter, active dry yeast…” You read through the remaining list of ingredients until you reach the end. “And now…flour?” You squint down at the notebook, the words scribbled messily on the paper, time having faded the ink. You can’t really make out the measurements written out. It looks like 2 ½ cups. You’ll try it and hey, if it doesn’t work, you’ll simply adjust the recipe to find the right mix. Easy.
Just as you’re sorting through the measuring cups, Nanami emerges from his office with your journals, mouth set in its usual hard line as he makes his way to you. He sets the books down, and you swear you see him inhale the sweet scent of the pastries currently baking in the oven before softly exhaling. You open your mouth to say something before quickly shutting it because he’s back to business in about .02 seconds. You really can’t read this guy, so you don’t try to. You redirect your focus back on to your task.
“These look good,” he tells you, his finger tapping on the book stacked on top. “I placed a post-it note on the recipes I think may work for the soft opening, but I’d like for you to make a sample of them beforehand. Maybe just a few a day.”
You nod, acknowledging his request but far too focused on scooping your guesstimate of flour. Nanami eyes you carefully, brown eyes staring as you carefully run your finger over the top of the flour. The excess falls carelessly onto the table and just before you pour it in, Nanami speaks, his voice halting your movements.
“What are you making now?”
“Hmm?” You ask, glancing over at him. “Oh, something called…” you peer down at the booklet, “Wee-ner-brod?” You’re one hundred percent positive you butchered that pronunciation, but how do you even pronounce ‘wienerbrød’? 
Clearly Nanami knows because he surprisingly lets out an amused chuckle before he asks, “Wienerbrød?” With what you assume is perfect pronunciation. And you’re not sure why, but the sound of his deep baritone laugh makes your stomach twist in a strangely pleasant way.
“Yes! That!” You point to Nanami with your free finger. “I’m making…” you stumble your way through the pronunciation again and get another small laugh from Mr. Nanami which makes your own lips curl up in a smile.
“I didn’t know you knew how to make Danish pastries.”
“I don’t, but you don’t learn without trying.”
“True. What step are you on now?” Nanami asks curiously, coming up to stand next to you. This close to him, you can truly see just how large he is. Not to mention, he smells incredible. You ignore the way the mix of the aroma of baked goods and his cologne almost makes your eyes want to roll back. You’d never smelled something so tantalizing before.
Nanami calls your name and you clear your throat, trying to re-focus.
“Oh, um…well I’ve added mostly everything and now I need to incorporate the flour - about 2 ½ cups.”
“Your calculation is off.” He affirms gently, eyeing the measuring cup in your hand.
You snort, “Are you suddenly an expert in Danish baking or something?”
“I can throw a few things together.” He says and you peek over to see him rolling the sleeves of his very nice (and probably very expensive) shirt up to his elbows. Your eyes roam over, drinking in the sight of those thick veins that you couldn’t get out of your head over the weekend protruding from his forearms, the way his muscles flex with the slightest movement and you wonder for a moment what it would be like to grab onto those arms while he –
“As I was saying,” Nanami’s quiet voice interrupts your reverie. “2 ½ cups is close, but you actually need 2 ¾ cups for this recipe.” He reaches in front of you to grab a ¾ measuring cup and again, you’re assaulted with the scent of his cologne. Your mind erupts with thoughts of nothing appropriate for an employee to be thinking about their boss, but you can’t help it!
You blame it on that damn smile of his and that laugh. It’s thrown you off of your game.
Nanami takes the measuring cup you’re holding and replaces it with another. “You also need to use your hands to mix this.”
You might faint.
“Is that…” you lick your lips, mouth suddenly feeling dry. “Is that completely necessary?”
Nanami slowly adds small amounts of flour into the mixer bowl while kneading with his other hand. “It’s time consuming, of course, but it allows for more control over the dough. You can feel the dough's texture…if it’s too dry or if it’s too wet. From there you can determine if more water or more flour is needed.” You watch as his brows furrow in concentration, a little surprised by his knowledge around dough. Though it shouldn’t be surprising given that he grew up in this very same bakery. Of course he’d know.
And once again, your stomach does somersaults.
Damnit, he was definitely going to need to stay out of the kitchen if you were going to stay employed here.
As Nanami continues working through the recipe, you chat idly about general things. He tells you a bit about his time as a businessman, but doesn’t elaborate on what exactly led him to own a bakery. And you tell him a bit about yourself, trying to keep the conversation light as this was the most you’d both interacted since your interview and you’re surprised by how well it’s going. You don’t want to ruin it by poking and prodding.
As the conversation goes on, you watch him very carefully as he works the dough, ignoring the way your heart races watching him do the very thing you do almost daily.
“The end result should be somewhat sticky,” he states.
And oh god, something was getting sticky alright…and it lay between your legs. Your eyes are glued to the bulging muscles of Nanami’s forearms working the flour into a thick doughy substance between his large, thick fingers. Your gaze moves up his stupidly sexy arms, to his biceps straining against his shirt and you imagine him flexing so hard, it rips to shreds, falling in tatters to the floor. The cartoonish image almost makes you want to laugh. And you would have if your eyes hadn’t continued their journey, higher to his tight shoulders moving in circles as he presses his palms into the dough. Higher to the tension in his jaw, the muscles rippling as he grits his teeth with focus. The kitchen suddenly feels unbearably hot and you’re not sure if it’s the ovens running causing the temperature to rise or the view in front of you.
Nanami had never mentioned he knew how to bake. But why would he? It was your job to know. You also never thought to ask after the sour note your interview ended on despite you still being offered the position. You could not stand him upon first meeting and now here you were practically drooling into this batter over how incredibly sexy he was when he was baking.
Nanami slowly pours flour in again as he kneads the dough with expert precision. The way he grips it in his hands, the way his fingers deftly sprinkle flour into the mix. You wonder what else those big hands can do.
The oven timer dings and you snap out of your lewd thoughts, pretty sure sweat is forming on your forehead from your fantasies. You spin around quickly to slide on oven mitts before you pull the pans from the oven. You’d chosen to make miniature fruit tarts with a vanilla pastry cream. A simple recipe, but absolutely to die for. Setting the tray down, you return to Nanami’s side just as he finishes kneading the dough.
And you try to hide the frown pulling at the corner of your lips when you realize you’d lost your perfect view.
He moves to the sink to wash the remaining dough from his hands, returning with plastic wrap to cover the mixing bowl. “I hope you weren’t planning on completing that today,” He says before turning to head toward the walk-in refrigerator. When he emerges, you shoot him a questioning look.
“I was going to let the dough rise for a few hours while I worked on some other things.”
He hums in acknowledgment, but shakes his head. “For this dough, you need to do a long rise for the best result. Overnight is best.”
“Okay, you’re the expert Danish pastry baker apparently,” you tease, earning you another small chuckle from him and you feel your face heat up at the sound.
What is with you today?
“How did you come up with the idea to make Wienerbrød anyway?” He questions suddenly. “Just seems a bit random given what recipes you’d given me to review.”
“Oh!” You rush back over to the mixers excitedly and grab the booklet, holding it up for Nanami to see, a wide grin on your face. “I found this under one of the mixers. It has some strange language I can’t read in the front of it…I’m assuming it’s Danish? But some delicious sounding recipes from what I could understand when I skimmed through. I decided this would be a good idea to take myself out of my comfort zone to try something new.”
Nanami takes a step forward, squinting hard at the little journal in your hands. Suddenly, his eyes widen slightly and he snatches the book from your hold. He opens it to the first page, where the foreign message is scrawled down before he snaps the book shut, his lips pursing in displeasure.
He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs in clear irritation. “Next time you find something that is very clearly a personal belonging, please bring it to me before you take it upon yourself to poke through something that isn’t yours,” he snaps, his voice clipped.
The shift in tone takes you aback.
“Oh. I’m sorry, Mr. Nanami. It just seemed to belong to someone who knew their way around baking so I–”
“I didn’t ask for the reasoning behind your nosiness,” he cuts you off and you feel your own irritation begin to slowly rise. “Is this a habit of yours? Digging through people’s belongings and taking things that aren’t yours?”
You scoff, folding your arms across your chest defensively. “If you’d let me finish, I’m trying to apologize –”
“I don’t want an apology. I want you to show up here, bake and leave. Not spend your time digging through someone else’s belongings.”
You inhale sharply, trying to gather your thoughts. This conversation has taken an unpleasant turn and the last thing you want to do is have a blow up with your boss. You feel like you’ve actually made progress with him today and this feels like a setback waiting to happen.
“Again, Mr. Nanami, that wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to try something new. I had no idea this book…” you wave your hand in his direction. “...would be such a sore spot for you.”
At this, Nanami seems to bristle. “My sore spot,” he stresses the words, “is nosey employees who don’t just do the job I asked them to do. I asked you to make a sample pastry –”
“And I did,” you cut him off, gesturing to your tarts cooling on the table. “And I had enough time to try my hand at something new, which is why I wanted to try something new and present it to you.”
You sigh when Nanami meets your response with silence.
“What’s the issue here? You had no problem with helping me make this until you saw that book,” you say, pointing at the small black journal he holds. Your gazes lock in an intense staredown and even as Nanami annoys you, you can’t help but find his frustratingly pretty brown eyes completely mesmerizing. 
Ugh, stop.
“The issue,” Nanami stresses, “is you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“Excuse me? It’s just a recipe book. Why are you so upset about it? Is it yours or something?”
“Again, poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“Mr. Nanami, with all due…respect,” you grit out the last word because he was really starting to piss you off, “if we’re going to be working together as closely as we are, there needs to be some trust here. It’s just a recipe book. I apologize for overstepping, but you can tell me why referencing this book to make Weenerbrod is such a big deal.”
You could swear you see the ghost of a smile on his lips just before he rolls his eyes, correcting your pronunciation of the pastry again, just as he turns his back to you. “You are my employee, I am your employer and that’s it. My helping you to bake a simple bread does not make us friends. Please complete the sample pastries I requested of you and we can reconvene once they’re finished. End of discussion.”
Nanami heads to his office without another word, slamming the door behind him.
You can only watch him disappear from your sight, seething. Left standing in the kitchen alone after yet another faceoff with your new boss, you’re suddenly reminded of your earlier conversation with Shoko.
Just try not to let him walk all over you. You’ve worked with plenty of dickheads before. What’s one more?
You resist going after Nanami and giving him a piece of your mind, instead following his instructions to finish your samples. You won’t push him. Clearly that little book meant something to him and he had no intention of sharing. And he was right. It wasn’t your business to know…
…But you can’t help feeling upset that the light mood of earlier is now gone.
You sigh, ignoring the pit in your stomach as your anger begins to subside. Instead, you move to the walk in refrigerator, gathering the ingredients to make the vanilla cream for your tarts.
Your mind is still racing with the conversation that just took place even as you mix your ingredients and pack the cream into the icing decorating bags. You realize for the first time since meeting Nanami that he wasn’t only this stoic tyrant that enjoys barking orders. He was someone with interests, someone with depth, someone who clearly enjoyed the art of baking the same way you do. You saw the look in his eyes as he guided you through making this pastry. And while you’ve barely known Nanami, you’re familiar with the look on someone’s face when they’ve participated in their passion. He looked…happy. Clearly, there’s more to Nanami than you know.
More to him than what he was willing to show you. For now. 
You’re annoyingly positive.
Shoko’s words make you roll your eyes as they echo in her head. Because you know she’s right.
584 notes · View notes
suguru-getos · 6 months
Text
୨・┈﹕✦﹕ Kinktober Day 12/13﹕✦﹕┈・୧
keigo takami x f!reader -> nipple play, thigh riding
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-> art credit goes to the wonderful @/kadeart
-> event masterlist
being the number two hero’s assistant at work had it’s own perks. you had a lavish salary, you had a lot of work so you were busy in the best of ways, you had hawks — the bestest perk ever. you got to be near him, near enough so you could smell his wonderful cologne whenever he talked to you, near enough to see his beautiful crimson wings and how they had a life of their own. expressing hawks’ moods whenever. sometimes they’d be extra perky, sometimes faltered up when he’s bored/annoyed. sometimes flared up when he’s a little moody.
you also know what he likes/dislikes by your heart. his favorite coffee, his favorite restaurant place he likes to takeout from. and his antics and his charm whenever he wants something.
it started a few months ago with a drunken one night stand which has now made you hawks’ most favorite toy and loved toy ever. you don’t want to label it as a relationship, part of you dreads he would run away if you got a little too clingy. part of you could almost see hawks wanting you to be his baby-mama with the way sometimes his pupils slit and his gaze darkens in the most carnal, predatory & animalistic of ways.
whether he would just shamelessly look down your ass when you wear a pencil skirt, bend you over his table and tease you with his semi protuding between your ass cheeks and call you cute for whimpering for him. or whether it’s one of his sick games. oh yeah— hawks loves to play with his prey, you.
today’s game was boredom. keigo was bored and sick of the paperwork he had, being the fastest hero sure had some disadvantages too. slumping dramatically over his desk, his brain smirked at what was next. he called you to his cabin, feathers quickly locking and shutting the roor while he yanked you to straddle his thigh, skirt hiked up and shirt’s buttons loosened. “fuck- hawks- what are you?” you gasped softly while his hands massaged your mounds with a hum.
“ssh~ is it professional to speak to your boss like that?” he smirked, leaning in and biting your sensitive earlobe. your breasts were pulled out of your bra cups, while you could feel your cheeks darken at the embarrassment and flustering situation keigo has put you in. you gasped, your pelvis on fire with the way he knows how to touch your body in the best ways.
“god it’s tiring to read so much.” keigo sighs, pinching and squeezing your nipples while you feel the pressure on your clit when he hikes his knee up. you gasped out, whimpering & mewling at the tug on your hardened nipples. “please- shit oh my god.”
hawks smirked, and you could feel his cockiness when he whispered. “it’s so lewd how you’re not listening—“ he mumbled, “don’t make me punish you now.” he warned once, pinching your nipple harshly so the pain makes you comply.
“hmm, so, where was i? yeah.” he grinned, still toying with your nipple and “grind on my thigh.” he commanded, and it was as if you had no choice but to comply. cheeks flushed as you moved your pelvis against him while he didn’t leave your nipples alone. “you will read these paperwork reports, all the ones which are left, and until we’re done… you don’t cum.”
a rebellious whine escaped from your parted lips, brows furrowed as you continued, and even though hawks had been relentless in toying with your pebbled nub, he means it. “come on; it should be rewarding in some ways.. shouldn’t it babybird?”
“go on… read.” hawks’ voice was a threatening order. while you whimpered, trying so hard to focus on the piece of paper in front of you.
“the- the smuggling gan- gang res- responsible for the smuggling of antiques was, hnng- recently caught by the wing hero.” you pathetically finished the sentence, while hawks could feel himself losing his mind over the way his cock threatened to come out from the tent in his pants.
“aw good girl.” hawks smirked, “continue… go on.” he continued, kissing the sweet spot in your neck & suckling onto your skin, breaking it into a hickey.
eventually, after long, cumbersome 44 minutes of you sniffling, whimpering, and begging hawks to let you cum, hawks melted. “awh, she’s crying now?” he cooed, kissing your cheek.
“go on babybird, cum for me.” he smiled, and you tipped off the edge, staining your pants and also his thigh while your nipples were sore from the continuous playing hawks never got tired of.
your mouth parted in a silent scream when you whimpered and tipped off the edge, nerve wracking orgasm tearing through you. “that’s it, sweet girl.” hawks cooed, kissing your cheek and eventually eating your sniffles in a silent, passionate kiss.
he did the courtsey of dressing you up, primming you up & kissing your chin. “that’s it girl, that’s it. you did so well for me. you know that? hmm?” his behavior had changed completely, peppering your face with soft and tender kisses all over. “gonna need you to go to dinner with me, love bird.” he cooed, while you hummed in a nod.
“sure, hawks.” you spoke out, wiping your tears and reduced to a mess in subspace.
“it’s keigo, sweetness.”
979 notes · View notes
illusioninfnty · 6 months
Text
day 31 ; sex pollen
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↠ buggy the clown x reader
fandom: one piece word count: 1.6k warnings: nsfw 18+, dubcon, semi-public sex, fuck or die-ish, fingering, banter, unprotected sex, squirting, creampie
kinktober m.list || read on ao3
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You know Buggy’s going to leave as soon as he gets his body back.
You’re not going to let that happen. When he finally reattaches himself, and runs off with a see ya!, you run after him.
“Stop!” you call out to him. “You need to stay and fight. We saved your ass, didn’t we?”
He turns around and sighs dramatically seeing you. “You again? Seriously sweetcheeks, would ya let me leave?”
You cross your arms, and give him the most intimidating glare you can muster. You only recently joined the crew, and you wanted to prove that you were tough enough to fight with the rest of them. Making sure that Buggy helped you guys fight Arlong and his fishmen while Luffy went to go save Nami was a way to prove yourself to them.
“I can’t let you—” you're interrupted by a fishman coming out from behind Buggy and approaching you. You whip out a dagger to prepare for his attack, but before you can get a move in he sprays some sort of powdery mist in your face, completely taking over your vision.
“Good luck trying to fight me now when you gotta deal with that,” he snickers as he runs away.
You cough and bend over, hands on your knees, as the mist lands in your nostrils and mouth. You try to swat it away in the air surrounding you, but it feels as though the mist has already gotten inside of you, and there’s no way to escape it now.
“Well, anyways, I’m going to go then,” Buggy starts, slowly backing away as he gets ready to escape.
You’re too weak to try and distracted now to try and stop him, but then your body starts to feel different. Your internal temperature skyrockets, causing beads of sweat to start dripping down your face despite the fairly average temperature outside. You can feel your body not getting hot because of that, but also the sudden arousal that threatens your core. 
Your legs begin to tremble as your body aches with need, a deep feeling in your gut that you never felt before. It’s like a hunger that needs to be sated immediately, as though it were a life or death situation. It has you wanting to just stick your fingers inside of your pussy and just fuck yourself silly until you can rid yourself of this itch you can’t seem to scratch.
“W-wait!” You call out to him. You must sound extremely desperate, because Buggy actually stops and turns towards you instead of ignoring your pleas.
You swallow hard and continue. “I need…help.” Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth as you grit out your words, embarrassed by just how much you want the stupid clown to fuck you. You can already feel how wet you are through your bottoms, and as the seconds tick by it feels as though your arousal is going to start spilling out onto the floor. “Need you to fuck me. Please.”
You’re too ashamed of your desperation to look Buggy in the face to see his reaction to your words. You only know of his answer when you fall to your knees, legs too weak to hold yourself up, and you feel his palm on your back.
“Well when you look like that, how can I say no?” Sarcasm drips in his voice, and you can tell he’s not really taking you seriously.
“I’m serious!” You try to sound as adamant as you can given how weak you feel at the moment.
“So am—” You interrupt him, finally having enough, by grabbing him by the back of his neck and smashing your lips against his own in a kiss.
His own hands move to cup your face, and you open your mouth up to let his tongue in. As the kiss becomes sloppy, you start to rid yourself of your clothes, needing your body to cool down.
He pulls away as he sees you baring yourself to him, eyes widening and a smirk overtaking his face. “Woah, didn’t realize you wanted to fuck me so badly. I would’ve happily done it if you were nice and asked.”
You don’t have it in you to protest him now. Instead you move your fingers inside of you, your juices gushing out of you despite the lack of attention your pussy had been receiving.
“The shit he sprayed me with,” you start. You lay yourself on the ground, arching your back as you piston your fingers in and out of you, praying that you find your release soon.
Buggy hums in thought. “I should be thanking him, then. Got myself a nice view.”
“You can do that after you fuck me.” The next thing you know his cock is inside of you, and he’s thrusting with the vigor of a man starved. You moan and arch yourself into him, your hands scrambling as they claw at his back. You wrap your legs around him, wanting to keep him close as his thick cock ruts into you.
You don’t think sex had ever felt this good before. Your juices are squirting out of you, proving to be a great replacement for lube, and your walls clench down hard on Buggy’s cock, like a vice. He groans above you as you tighten your grip around him, walls fluttering as they refuse to let him leave you.
The pleasure is too much for you to bear, and you can hardly talk. Your eyes roll back into your head and your tongue lolls out of your mouth, drool escaping the corners of your lips.
All that comes out of your mouth and pathetic whimpers and breaths of yes, yes, yes as Buggy fucks you with reckless abandon.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grits out as his muscles bulge from holding you down with so much force. His hips collide with your own, the sounds of your skin slapping loud enough to draw the attention of anyone who would’ve been in the vicinity of the two of you. “Shoulda fucked you when I first saw you. Lookin’ all cute in slutty in your little pirate getup.”
You know you should feel insulted by the way he technically insinuated you were “playing” pirate, but the horny, afflicted side of you only chooses to focus on the yearning in his voice of wanting to fuck you, and how his cock is hitting parts of you that make you see stars.
It comes to no surprise to you that your orgasm is already closely approaching within minutes of having Buggy’s cock fucking into you. Your nails dig into his skin, and your whines increase in pitch and speed.
“I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” Buggy groans as you clench down even harder around his cock, as impossible as it may seem, and your orgasm crashes into you like a wave. You can only gasp out curses as you squirt all over his cock, your juices rushing out of you wildly.
Your release soaks yourself and him, both inside and out. Buggy’s orgasm isn’t too far behind as his hips begin to stutter in their rhythm and soon he’s moaning lowly in your ear and filling you to the brim.
A sudden rush of calmness washes over you as Buggy’s cum fills you up. It’s like all of the horniness and desperation for sex escapes your body as soon as it comes into contact with his cum. Your body temperature returns to normal, and the shaking of your body is solely in response to your orgasm instead of the deep aching within your core that seemed as though it could never be satiated.
You hold onto him for a couple of moments longer, catching your breath and coming down from your high as Buggy’s arms also remain wrapped around you and his cock stays nestled inside your entrance.
It’s then that you hear your name being called out in the distance. It seems as though while you were affected by the mist powder, your crew had completed all they set out to do.
Not wanting them to see you in the precarious situation you’re in, covered in juices and Buggy on top of you, still inside your entrance, you scramble away from him. Stumbling as you put your pants back on, ignoring the way his cum pools out of you, you give him a kick to his side.
“Ow!” He whines, rubbing the area you made contact with.
“Get out of here!” you whisper to him, despite no one being around you for probably miles out. “If they see us like this I’m totally screwed!”
He rolls his eyes, but still goes to stand up and get dressed again. “Oh, what? Embarrassed to be seen with me? Real original.” 
Your eyes narrow and you cross your arms. “I am trying to make a good impression with my crew, and this—” your hands gesture to yourself and Buggy—“is not going to help that.”
Buggy holds his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine. But you owe me one.” He begrudgingly begins to leave by walking backwards, his eyes on yours the entire time. “Next time we meet, I'll have you help me out with something.” He wiggles his eyebrows in a way that makes you want to cringe, yet you can’t find it in yourself to dismiss him completely.
You shoo him away, ignoring the way heat rises to your cheeks. “Maybe. Now scram.”
You see your crew approach just as Buggy is out of sight. Thinking about your encounter with him more, technically, your mission was a success. You’d call it a win in your books.
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i wish more than anything you were good to me; your memory kisses me softer than you ever did.
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tz11 x reader: halloween parties are for exes. 
(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), choking, hair pulling (both ways), fingering, dirty talk (obviously), both characters are toxic and mean and all that (i can't write a healthy tz11 relationship for the life of me, (please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)
(a/n: welcome to the spice installment of sugar and spice! favorites - this was so fun for me to write, you have no idea. nothing i love more than a main character (you) who gives tz11 what's coming to him. if you don't like toxic relationships, maybe don't read, but i think this one is really fun. and you get a happy ending (my kind of happy ending, at least)! but, please, don't actually fuck your exes. i promise it's not as hot as i'm making it out to be. this is a shorter, single scene piece, sort of like my earlier stuff. i hope you enjoy, and i hope you tell me what you think. you can read the sugar installment here for a no-smut, meet-cute type of piece with jd6. happy halloween! sending so much love and beauty and gentleness to you and your snakes. go canucks! i love that i can say that and have them actually be playing! until next time).
a couple hours before, when you were getting ready for the party, lacing up your corset with thick red ribbon and painting thin, dark veins under your eyes like spiders, you had laughed with your friends about how nothing could ruin this night.
evidently, you had been wrong.
you felt him before you saw him. you had always had a sort of sixth sense for his presence. even when you were together, looking back, it wasn't necessary a good feeling, but a stimulating one. when he entered a room, your blood felt like it sparked to life, moved through your body faster than what was healthy. electricity hummed at your fingertips, practically making your teeth chatter.
this time, a month or so after you broke up with him, a month or so after he cheated on you without even a breath of remorse, a bitter taste filled your mouth.
a bitterness that exploded when he locked eyes with you across the dark, crowded room. his eyes that you had hoped you wouldn't recognize, hoped you wouldn't find as captivating as you had before.
but you did, and he probably knew that. he smirked at you, the expression pulling at his mouth in an easy way you had always been envious of. you scowled, turned away, felt something like rage and embarrassment and grief well up within you, push at the boundaries of your body, threaten to force their way to the outside world, to the world of the known.
your waterline felt tense, explosive with the pressure of it all. your skin felt hot, your hands didn't feel like yours. you ducked your head down, felt your exhale come out shallow and shaky, almost like the breath you let out when you had shut your door on him, one last time, not so long ago. maybe you should just go home. maybe you weren't ready, just yet. maybe -
"sugar."
you lifted your head up instinctually, found him much too close, so close it made you devastatingly angry. how could he stand here, so close you could smell his cologne, but not the one you had bought him for his last birthday? instead, that cheap, horrid one you always hated but he insisted on? the one you thought made him smell like an over-excited teenager?
and who was he to call you that, now? a name that once had sent your head spinning with delight, with fantasies of a one-day autumn wedding, of a house with a wrap around porch, of a rescue dog and a blue-tile kitchen. now, it made wrath cloud your head like potent whiskey.
"trevor," you responded, surprised yourself at the hardness, the coldness that froze your words in midair.
he pouted as he leaned back against the wall, his bottom lip jutting out in a dramatic way. he was making fun of you.
he nodded up and down, gesturing to your costume. "and what're you supposed to be? dracula's whore?"
you bristled. he never had understood boundaries, how he had relinquished any right to judge you.
you looked good, you knew it, and you could tell he knew it, too. he wouldn't have called you that if he didn't. and you didn't miss the spark of heat that caught behind his gaze, the way his eyes caught lazily on your chest.
he was an asshole, but he still wanted you. that had to count for something.
"what are you supposed to be? a narcissistic douchebag?" you looked him up and down, and a laugh bubbled free from your throat. a real one, when you realized what he was wearing. "no way you actually wore your own jersey."
you shot him a look of false pity, placed a manicured hand over your heart like a southern belle that possessed all the forgiveness you so lacked. "couldn't pay some other girl to wear it for you? no one wants to be an overrated sellout this halloween?"
he chuckled, a sound full of danger and you hated how your stomach turned upon hearing it. how something tightened at the reminder of the good parts - how you wished you could only remember the bad ones.
your biting tone seemed to set him at ease, if anything. he cocked his head to the side, crossed his arms across his chest, shot you a knowing look. "when have i ever had to pay for that, sugar?" he asked, teasing and slow, like talking to a toddler.
a tone you refused to accept.
"i don't know," you shrugged, brushed your hands on your skirt. "i guess i always assumed you paid off the girl you cheated on me with." you gave a light gesture to his general being. "because it isn't your looks, and surely it isn't your sparkling personality."
he laughed, deep and raw, rebalanced himself on his feet. you took a sip of your drink, ran your tongue along your cheek, took the opportunity to really take him in.
it's not like he looked too different from when you last saw him. same messy hair, if not a bit grown out. same sharp features, same childish expressions that always made him look less mature than his face. same long frame and strong shoulders. same aura of self-assurance, of steadiness.
"are you done, sugar?" he asked, in a single motion grabbing your drink from your hand and taking a sip.
you rolled your eyes. "like you want me to be." you didn't necessarily have a problem with him knowing you were looking at him like that. maybe it was a side effect of having been in a serious (to you) relationship with him.
he shrugged. "fair enough," he conceded, and you took your drink right back.
"you don't like cocktails, remember," you bit out, attempting to wield history like some fabled blade.
when you were together, he never drank sweet drinks, even though you knew he liked them more than beer or hard liquor. he would always drink yours, like he was doing now.
you had always believed he was far too concerned with his image.
his smirk grew deeper, a flash of teeth that could have been a snarl if he took you more seriously. "how's celibacy treating you, then, sugar?"
"stop calling me that," you bit out, felt your anger swirl around you like a poison fog.
"you're nothing else to me," he said, little more than a scoff.
you refused to even justify his narcissism with a response. you shoved your cocktail into his chest for him to finish. "and i'm not celibate, you dick." you tilted your head, let your eyes fill with pity. "someone needed to finish the job after a year of dissatisfaction." the lie felt powerful as it escaped past your teeth.
so you turned, walked away from him, before he could bite out something terrible.
finding your friends, making your way to the dance floor, you exhaled, something heavy and flat on your breath. something that may have had something to do with the fact that even after all he had done, all he had put you through, how much you hated him, you still wanted him.
how infuriating was that? how paper thin the line was between want and spite?
so a combination of both rumbled through you like an earthquake as you danced, let your hair fall gracefully down one side of your neck, your head thrown back, the music like a heartbeat.
you didn't know where he was, but you knew he was watching you, knew he couldn't tear his gaze away, and that knowledge was intoxicating.
even as someone else came up behind you, some other lacking man whispered something in your ear, something that made you laugh, even as this ghost of a man put a hand on your hip, and swayed with you, even then he was watching.
he was watching for what could have been a moment, could have been an hour, until he was right in front of you again, pulling you away, pulling you down the hall, until it was just the two of you under dim lights, the air smelling of smoke and regret.
you peered up at him, his body so, so close. "what the fuck, trevor?" you seethed.
he boxed you against the wall, his forearm above your head, the other hand bracing at your side. "oh, please, sugar. you don't want him."
the air between you sparked, familiar as a favorite sweater. you smirked at him, found want flooding from his gaze like an unchecked faucet. maybe you would have pointed it out if you didn't know the same want was reflected in yours.
"ah," you said. "you're jealous." your mouth ticked, smug, satisfied. you brought a delicate hand up to pat his cheek like a chastising grandparent. "rich, coming from you, trev."
you made to pull your hand back, but he was faster, moving his own hand to cover yours, holding it against his face.
the gravity of the motion startled you, made your stomach tighten. this, a voice cooed inside of you like a demon, this is the part you'll miss.
"'m not jealous," he breathed, shaky, as if your extended touch made him lose his balance.
was his face getting closer to yours? when was the last time you had been able to see his eyes so close, besides in memories that made hot tears prick at your lashes?
"liar," you hissed, heat from his cheek seeming to scorch clean through your palm.
"yeah, sugar?" he whispered, his gaze dipping down to your mouth almost drowsily, "make a liar out of me."
he guided your lips to his in a kiss that felt like your favorite dive bar after weeks of fancy hotel restaurants, like flame and fog and tarnished jewelry you couldn't bring yourself to take off.
he relaxed against your body with a sound you had forgotten he could make, in moments like these. a mix of a moan, an exhale, a whimper - how could you have forgotten? surely there had never been anything more important.
you looped your arms around his neck, pulled him down, closer, as he reached down to hook one of your legs up around his hip.
you moaned into his mouth as he rolled his hips up into you, exactly the kind of frantic and direct you had missed from him.
he tasted like the sweet drink you had shared, like brutal history, like catastrophic closure.
somehow, this felt like power, as you felt him harden against you.
because you wanted him, sure, but he would never have you the way he had before. he would never have all of you, so completely and wholly and absolutely. never again would he understand the privilege of how he had known you before, so cruelly and deeply and personally.
tonight, you would have him with a nonchalance and an indifference that felt like victory. you would have him, and then you would walk away, and you wouldn't feel abandoned or less-than or second best.
so you laced your hands into the grown out curls at the nape of his neck, tugged gently, swallowed his following moan. you rolled your hips right back against him, let yourself relish in how good he felt, how solid.
you let him drag his lips down to your neck, linger there, biting lightly at your collarbone. you let his fingers trace across your upper thigh, reaching gently under your short skirt. his gentleness made you smirk.
"getting shy on me, now?" you said, your voice a low laugh. he picked his head up, eyes heavy, searching yours. you gathered his shirt in your fist, tugged him to your level. "i don't want shy."
he rolled his eyes in a playful sort of way, a light teasing in his gaze. "and sugar always gets what she wants, hm?"
maybe a past you would have blushed, been embarrassed, but just hummed a sound of affirmation and let him pull you somewhere with a door that locked.
in a blur the door was shutting and you were pushed up against it as he once against hiked up your leg, this time without any hesitation, his hands moving like muscle memory.
there was no trace of shyness, of gentleness, because what room was there for that? you were past that kind of relationship with him.
your breath caught when he finally dragged his rough fingers through your folds, made you arch your back up off the door, which made him tsk in disapproval.
"stay still for me, sugar," he cooed, with his other hand keeping your torso pressed down, "be good for me, yeah?"
you nodded as he pushed a finger inside of you, focused all your energy into keeping your back against the door. the sensation made you crazy, made your stomach tighten, your head cloud as he began to set a slow rhythm in and out.
"fuck, trevor." you choked on a moan, squeezed at his bicep so hard you wondered if there would be purplish phantoms of your fingertips left behind. "fuck, faster, please."
"always were so greedy," he groaned as he picked up the pace, making your head roll back, feel the indentations of the door in your hair.
you dug your nails into his arms, sucked on your teeth when he groaned at the pain, brought your other hand down to run just under his waistband, felt a shiver erupt under your fingertips.
"don't," he practically growled, his voice almost hoarse as his hand shot from your stomach to your throat, holding you in place and squeezing just gently enough to feel. he slowed the pace of his fingers down to something excruciating, so beautifully deep but just not enough. "don't tease, sugar."
despite it all, you felt a smile tug at the corners of your mouth. "why, baby?" you looked up at him through your lashes, could already feel your mascara running like your tears had, that night you found out. "scared you'll cum too quick?" you watched rage disguised as humor flash across his gaze, a look that brought back a million memories.
you cupped his jaw with a palm, soft and mocking like some kind of cruel mother. "'s okay, baby, some girls like that."
he ran his tongue along his teeth, slow and deliberate, below flipping you around so that your cheek was pressed against the door, your hands bracing yourself against it.
you felt him tug clothes aside, heard him spit into his hand. "think you're so funny, don't you?"
"your friends think so, too," you said, which had him tugging you back by your hair, a hiss escaping your parted lips.
"enough," he rasped, an angry noise, as he thrust into you, hard and deep, forcing a moan from somewhere inside of you you barely remembered.
his pace was immediate and staggering, so deep you felt him in your palms, so hard you remembered everything your grief had so graciously forced you to forget.
"fuck, sugar," he bit out, rough, like maybe he was remembering, too. "so wet for me, hm?"
maybe you nodded, stunned by sensation, as his rhythm solidified, sending you spiraling, your stomach tensing with that lovely pressure.
he reached a hand around you to rub at your clit as he continued to thrust into you, making your moans come out louder, made words die in your throat like flowers unwatered.
"nothin' to say, eh, sug?" he rasped. "so polite when you're clenching around my cock, hm?" his grasp on your hair tightened, making you whine. "tell me."
"stretchin' me so good, baby," you breathed, too far gone to care about anything but how close you were. "fuck, so close."
he groaned, and you could sense his arrogant smile. you had always known his mouth better than your own. "feel you close around me." his hand stilled against your clit, and you could have pouted. at your sound of discontent, he twisted your hair in his fist.
"beg, sugar." you whined, to which he thursted into you deep, silencing you. "only good girls get to cum, hm? beg." something devilish flashed in his eyes. "for old times' sake."
you could feel your body stutter on the edge. "please, baby, please make me cum." you reached a hand behind you to cup the side of his face. "need you so bad, trevor, promise i'll make you feel so good."
that must have been enough, because his hand resumed motion at your words, sending you over the edge quickly and overwhelmingly. in the haze of your climax, your moan and pressure triggered his own, hot and consuming.
you felt his whole weight as he collapsed against you, your chests heaving in time, your exhales sticky with history and knowing and other terrible things.
eventually, the fog around your head dissipated as you shrugged him off of your back, shifted your clothes back to something that resembled the way you had entered the party. you knew your makeup was ruined beyond repair, but maybe you could just change your costume from vampire to dracula's whore.
you wiped at your lip liner with your finger, using your phone camera as a mirror. "this changes nothing," you said, finally, breaking the silence, still looking at your phone.
he shrugged as he adjusted his own clothes. "it changes a little."
you met his gaze a final time, and you could have laughed. because you knew in your purest heart that it really, genuinely, didn't. "you're right," you said, opening the door, leaving him in his own stupid jersey. "you're not as good as i remember."
you shut the door behind you, began making your way back to your friends, to get a drink you didn't have to share with anyone.
and as the music got louder in your ears, you realized there was something wonderful about knowing he had lost the best thing he would ever have, but your best was still ahead of you.
how lucky you felt for that.
fin.
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smoochkooks · 2 months
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—chapter twenty: this hope is treacherous
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this is a part of my an ode to a broken heart drabble series.
pairing: jeon jungkook/reader genre: unrequited love, best friends to (?), heavy angst, smut
word count: 2.4k words summary: it is not a sign of maturity, to cling to someone’s drunken words so much. but for a while, you did.
previous || next
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Jungkook [Thursday, May 3rd, 05:32 pm]
How did it go? Soojin says everything’s fine between you
Want to grab bulgogi on Saturday? Same place as usual
Jungkook [Saturday, May 5th, 01:05 am]
Is everything alright? You haven’t been answering my texts
Jungkook [Saturday, may 5th, 03:45 pm]
Can I call you?
Two missed calls from: Jungkook
Jungkook [Wednesday, May 9th, 9:33 am]
Are you sick? Do you need something? I can drop by later today after work
I’m worried
Why are you not responding????
YN?
You [Wednesday, May 9th 06:15 pm]
Jungkook, sorry I have been MIA this past few days. I needed some time to think and I decided I want to keep some distance between us from now on.
Jungkook [Wednesday, May 9th  06:23 pm]
What are you talking about? I thought we were good.
Did Soojin say something to you?
You  [Wednesday, May 9th  06:25 pm]
No, nothing happened. Soojin accepted my apology and she decided to move on, as I think we all should.
It was solely my decision and I need you to respect it
One missed call from: Jungkook
Jungkook [Wednesday, May 9th  06:26 pm]
You won’t even answer my calls?
Come on YN, this is ridiculous
Jungkook [Wednesday, May 9th  08:15 pm]
Fine. I’ll respect your decision. Can I at least talk to you in person about it?
Please
“You’ve been staring at your phone for the past ten minutes, babe. Jungkook’s not going jump out of it, you can calm down for a sec.” Dahyun says from her place on your couch.
It’s Wednesday and Wednesdays for Dahyun are reserved for self-care, which often means trying out new face mask recipes she saw on TikTok. And since, as she stated a long time ago, “You’re my bestest friend, ever, ___” you are obligated to take part in it as well. If you refuse to participate, you should gear up for the Cheong Dahyun’s wrath.
That’s why you’re currently soaking your feet in a mixture of soap, bathing oils and a secret ingredient Dahyun doesn’t want to disclose, with a hydrating sheet mask on your face.
You lock your phone and throw it to the other side of the couch. “I should probably just ignore him completely.”
Dahyun rips off her sheet mask in a way too dramatic manner and turns to look at you. “And let that she-devil win? Fuck, no!” she blurts out.
You snort. “She-devil?”
“I would call her the b-word but I’m trying to cut down on derogatory terms when referring to women, even those who deserve to be called that,” she explains, massaging her neck with the sheet mask’s oily residue. “Anyway, I think you should tell Jungkook the truth. She’s manipulating both you and him!”
“If a say a word to Jungkook, she’s going to write a post on her social media and not only expose me, but also accuse of having an affair with him.” you reason.
“Just tell Jungkook she’s threatening you. He’s going to see right-through her bullshit, leave her alone and be with you,” Dahyun shrugs like your predicament isn’t complex at all, and motions for you to take your feet out of the water. She tosses you a white towel and hands an opaque container. “Now put that onto your feet. Girls on TikTok are saying they will feel like heaven. And smell like lavender too!”
You scoop the cream onto your nail and sigh. “It’s not that easy. She is his wife and he loves her, of course he will take her side. He might not even believe me,” you say. Your eyebrows involuntarily rise, inhaling the cream’s scent. “It does smell like lavender.”
Dahyun makes ‘I told you so’ face before replying, “You’ve got twenty years of friendship on her.”
 “And unrequited crush, and a whole book about it.” you point out.
“I forgot how complicated your life has become these days,” Dahyun says, shaking her head. “So what? You’re just going to give up? Ignore his messages, calls, don’t answer the door when he’s on the other side, hide in the bush when you’ll  randomly see him on the street and only contact him once a year for his birthday?” she asks.
Initially, your plan was to wait a few weeks after your confrontation with Soojin and eventually things would get back to normal, slowly and steadily. You’re used to being on stand-by, after all. But that was before you actually met up with her to talk. Before she’s threatened to reveal your biggest secret to the whole world. Variété would never grant you another book deal after such scandal. You would be ruined for good and blacklisted by every single publishing company in this country. You can’t risk your career like that. Not now, not when you’re already working on your new book and this time you decided to release it under your real name.
You think about your parents. What would they think about their daughter? Surely they would feel disappointed. Lastly, you think about Jungkook. If you let Soojin get away with her threats, you might lose Jungkook for good. And that would slowly kill you.
“Okay, fine. I will try to talk to him about it.” you finally decide.
Dahyun claps her hands. “I knew it! Gosh, You’re down bad for this man, aren’t you?” she asks, grinning.
“Stop teasing me or I’m going to cancel our next self-care Wednesday.”
She gasps. “You wouldn’t. I have gua-sha massages planned for that day.”
“Try me!”
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You [Wednesday, May 9th 11:08 pm]
Okay. We can talk in person
Jungkook  [Wednesday, May 9th 11:09 pm]
I’m visiting Busan this weekend. Soojin has a business trip so I’ll be alone
Would you like to go with me?
You [Wednesday, May 9th 11:12 pm]
Busan is fine by me. I missed my parents
I will take the train though.
Jungkook [Wednesday, May 9th 11:13 pm]
See you there
“There she is! My lovely daughter!”
It’s the first thing you hear after getting off the train at the railway station in Busan. Your mum hugs you tight and plants a kiss on your cheek. “Your dad couldn’t leave work earlier today so I’m picking you up instead,” She puts her hands on your shoulders and eyes you carefully. The smile she was wearing just seconds ago leaves her face. “I can tell you haven’t been eating well! What have I told you? You need to eat or you won’t have any energy!”
There it is. The world could be on fire and your mom would still worry about you not eating enough. Twenty-something years have gone by, and she’s still relentlessly reminding you to do so.
You roll your eyes, as you always do. “What did you make for dinner, then?” you ask, opening the car’s trunk and putting your bag there.
Your mom’s mood instantly lights up. “Chicken soup and jajangmyeon, your favorite,” she answers and starts the engine. “By the way, Jungkookie is also at his parents’, he arrived yesterday. Why haven’t you come with him?”
“I had a meeting at the publishing company that I couldn’t postpone,” you lie. “I’m meeting him later today, though.”
“I can’t believe my daughter is going to be a published author so-hey, you idiot! Who gave you a driving license?!” she yells. The young driver raises his hand in apology and your mom huffs. “It’s always the young ones! Anyway, do you know that Jungkook never visits his parents with that wife of his? I’ve only seen her once, during their engagement party for the whole family. You know which one, they did a big barbecue in the backyard. She seemed nice then, but a bit too standoffish, don’t you think? She comes from money, right?”
“Yeah, her parents own a company in Seoul that distributes vegetables and fruits all over the country. They also export, I think.” you reply, staring at the busy streets of Busan. You would probably rather talk about sex with your mom than discuss Jungkook’s marriage life, but your mom is a busy-body and loves gossip too much to let that slide.
To say the last, Soojin’s father is a big name in the industry. Jungkook told you once that he had to attend a dinner with Soojin and her parents, hosted by the minister of agriculture. You remember how much Jungkook worried he might not fit in the family. Soojin grew up with a silver spoon in her mouth, attending private schools and going on vacations overseas. The summer after they officially had started dating, Jungkook worked two jobs so he could afford to go to Thailand with her. What was a standard for Soojin, was a hard-earned commodity for Jungkook.
Your mom whistles. “No wonder she doesn’t like coming here to Busan. Too posh for that, ha! And especially now, with two extra people in the house. Oh, ___, they are such cute babies! Everyone is head over heels for them.” she says, beaming.
You smile to yourself. Junghyun, Jungkook’s older brother, got married four years before him to his high school sweetheart and few months ago she got birth to twins. Knowing Jungkook, he’s probably spoiling them with presents every time he visits.
And speaking of the devil, you notice his car immediately as your mom pulls up to your driveway. With a heavy sigh, you brace yourself for what’s to come.
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Four years ago, Junghyun’s wedding party
“So, my dear brother, when am I going to dance at your wedding?”
Junghyun was clearly drunk, his speech slurred as he wrapped his hands around Jungkook’s shoulders and gave him a loud kiss on the cheek. You giggled, positively buzzed yourself.
“I’m twenty-one and I just got back from the military. Let me live a little.” Jungkook grumbled and shoved his older brother away.
Really, it had been a little over two months now. His hair had grown into a nice length, the buzzcut long gone. He had gotten more buff, his dress shirt holding for dear life in some places. He’s matured, no longer a nineteen-year-old who had just finished high school but a grown adult.
Truth to be told, you missed him terribly.
Junghyun sat next to Jungkook, opened yet another soju bottle and poured a shot for each one of you. “To my beautiful wife Mina. I love you, honey!” he shouted and downed the alcohol. You could see Mina from across the room shaking her head with a soft smile playing on her lips. You grew up watching them fall for each other more and more with every passing day. If soulmates existed, Mina and Junghyun were definitely destined to be together.
“What about that birdie you’re dating now, huh? Sodam or something? Huh?” Junghyun asked, poking Jungkook in the ribs teasingly.
Jungkook’s already flushed cheeks, reddened ever more. “Her name’s Soojin and we are not dating. We went on one date,” he said sternly. “Besides, she’s out of my league. Her parents are super rich. Do you know she’s been to Paris this summer? She probably doesn’t know how cup noodles taste like!”
“She doesn’t know what she’s missing, then.” Junghyun shrugged his shoulders. He poured himself another shot of soju and looked at you, then at his younger brother, his face weirdly serious all of a sudden. “You know what I think?” he asked.
“I haven’t gained the ability to read your thoughts yet, hyung.”
Junghyun smacked Jungkook’s head. “Aish, who taught you to speak like that to your hyung?” You knew that, from the way Jungkook was biting his lips to refrain from laughing, that he wanted so badly to answer: “You did!”, but he decided to let Junghyun continue his drunken monologue. “I think that you and ___ will end up together one day.”
You tried to conceal your surprised expression with a chuckle. “Me and Jungkook? Please, I wouldn’t stand his ass.”
“Hey!”
Junghyun shook his head. “I’m serious. Best relationships, the ones that last years and years, are made out of friendship. Your partner should be your best friend! Look at our parents! Look at me and Mina! We’ve been friends throughout the whole middle school, tiptoeing around each other before one us decided to finally make a move. And now we’re married.” he said, his gaze longingly fixated on his wife. You dared to glance at Jungkook, thinking you’d find him amused by his brother’s drunken speech, but he was looking at Junghyun, not a hint of smile on his lips. “I think that it might take you a while to get there but eventually, I’ll dance at your wedding. And I’ll be really, really happy to do so.”
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It is not a sign of maturity, to cling to someone’s drunken words so much. But for a while, you did. You replayed that moment over and over again in your head. You thought about Jungkook, his stoic expression while listening to his older brother. How he did not protest. How maybe, he could too imagine that happening. But then he went on another date with Soojin, and another. Started working extra hours to afford her lifestyle. Years gone by, and for some unknown reason, you still hold that memory close to your broken heart. 
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leighsartworks216 · 7 months
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Hellooooo i have a request for Astarion that like
I’m dying to see:
Gn! Druid Tav that had small petty fight with Astarion, Astarion being his stubborn self didn’t apologize ~properly~ or acknowledge he was wrong, tries to pretend the fight didnt happen and chat with Tav, Tav shapeshifts into a cat to avoid talking to him and fights sass with sass and Astarion melts at Tav being adorable😭?
I finished writing this and then was like,, I forgot it's not normal for partners to like scold each other by pinching them and stuff?? My ex used to do shit like that so I just forgot that wasn't normal. So I'm just going to clarify that in this story it's not malicious or anything like that. If it makes you uncomfortable tho I am 100% willing to rewrite it so that's not there at all
Warnings: swearing, scratching
Word Count: 759
Masterlist
AO3
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Astarion sits beside you as though it’s just any other day. He’s got that damn suave smirk on his face - you can just feel it radiating off of him without even needing to see. You try not to visibly bristle and turn your head further away from him. It was best to just wait it out and maybe he’d finally suck up his damn pride long enough to apologize. Maybe.
“So, darling,” he makes sure to really emphasize the word, drawing it out sweetly, “in the interest of keeping myself in peak fighting form, I’m inclined to ask if you would be ever so kind as to let me dine with - or rather - on you tonight.”
You huff a dry laugh. Sharp, short, but lacking genuine amusement. You don’t say anything. Instead, you focus on patching up one of your shirts.
He leans close to you, hovering just over your shoulder. His chest just barely grazes your arm and his breath ghosts across your ear and neck. Was this bastard really trying to seduce you? At a time like this? “Please, dear heart? I’ll be gentle, I promise.”
You glance over your shoulder, to make sure he can see the dead-pan look on your face. “No.” You pull the thread taught. Admittedly, you tug a little more than necessary, bunching up the fabric. Astarion definitely notices. He always does.
“Don’t tell me you’re still upset about earlier?” he chides.
You turn to face your back fully to him, forcing him to move back. You smooth out the bunches of fabric and roughly, messily, continue the next few stitches. He sighs dramatically.
“Come on, love, that was hours ago! All I said was your stitches aren’t even!”
You scoffed and angrily wrinkled your shirt in your lap as you whirled around to face him. “You said my stitches weren’t even and that they were ugly! I have been fixing my clothes my whole life - this is the most efficient stitch to ensure it doesn’t unravel!”
“That doesn’t mean you have to leave a mile between stitches!”
Fuck this. If he doesn’t want to apologize, the least you can do is give him a taste of his own catty fighting style.
One moment, you’re a perfectly humanoid being. The next, you’ve shrunken to less than a foot off the ground. Your back arches, your tail fluffs and sticks straight up, and you bare pointed canines at him as a scratchy hissing comes from your throat. Astarion can hardly feel threatened by a feline.
“Now you’re just being childish,” he scoffs. You jump forward to dig your claws into his leg. “Ow! Hey, that’s not fair!”
He grabs you by your middle and lifts you up. Your claws are removed from his skin, but they continue to pull on his pants.
“You’re going to rip my pants!”
You squirm from his hold, releasing his pants in the process, and land back on the ground. You sit next to your abandoned, half-fixed shirt, back turned to the vampire once more. Your tail flicks side to side in irritation.
Astarion rubs his leg and checks that there’s no lasting damage. There isn’t, of course. Even your claws were mere pinpricks compared to what damage you could do with them, and you’d never willingly destroy his belongings, no matter how pissed at him you were. And even though you are pissed at him, he still can’t help but admire you.
You’re upset, but you’re not physically assaulting him until he apologizes. You pinch him, give him a little scratch - sure. But that pain fades, at most leaving a small mark that fades in a day. You’re so utterly, bafflingly kind to him. Even when he’s being a dick.
He reaches out and scratches just behind your ear. Your ear twitches, but otherwise you show no reaction to his touch. He sighs. “I’m sorry for insulting your handiwork, my dear. You know your work better than anyone, and I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Your tail continues flicking back and forth a moment longer. But then you relent. You turn around and press your cheek into his hand, which he gladly glides along your soft fur. He’d asked once what it felt like to be pet like this. You’d said it was like a massage; like someone was scratching an itch you just couldn’t reach.
You step into his lap and plop right down, rubbing yourself into his abdomen with loud purrs. He chuckles. “Oh you sweet thing,” he coos. “What have I done to deserve you?”
---
Tag List:
@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @lynnlovesloki @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @mheerdraws @kindadolly @httyd-chocolate @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog
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magicmarkeruser · 7 months
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*NSFW* To Starboard (OPLA Shanks x reader)
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AN: all i can say is GAW DAMN i am a depraved slut for this man. Where my depraved girlies at
Warning: just smut, piv, cussing, nothing violent (does an already missing arm count?)
***
Your crew prepared to dock as the distance between the island and your ship shrank, windmills on the terrain growing larger and larger. You're standing on the main deck, hands on your hips as you inspect your crew bustling about. They're a loyal lot, you helped most of them from worse situations, therefore they feel indebted to you. Yes, you were a pirate with a sun bleached black ship and a hefty bounty on your head, but you led a life of ease. You weren't too worried about looking over your shoulder or becoming the biggest and baddest in the East Blue, as long as you could feel the wind brushing your shoulders and the sun kissing your skin you were happy. That didn't mean you never indulged in the pleasures of this world though. You had a little more than a collection of fancy shotguns in your cabin, one would even call it an armory for the Marines; and you had a notorious romantic streak across the sea. You didn't mean to break a few hearts here and there, but you just got bored after a while and needed to run off once again. Some flings came back though, begging for more.
"Raise ALL THE SAILS you fucking rat!" Your first mate yells at the new boy. You smile and begin to intervene, but come to an abrupt stop. A ship with red masts sails by to your right. You turn your body to face the passing ship, your hand finding the rigging to steady yourself as your eyes scan it's entire deck. Finally, you lock eyes with the captain who had already been looking at you. Red-Haired Shanks. He was elated to see you and you knew it, but you didn't betray any emotion on your own face. The two of you mirror each other, slowly pacing towards the back of the deck. Your ships were no longer facing side to side by the time you reached the quarter deck. Shanks' seemed anxious that this would be it, until you turned to make sure no one was watching you on board. You turn your back to your crew to look at him once again and prop your foot up on the cannon in front of you, hiking up your skirt to reveal a leg. Your hand holds your skirt up to your mid thigh, only enough to reveal a frilly garter. Your little show was heaven sent. Shanks' eyes widen and he fervently yells something unintelligible, his crew answering back. You drop your leg down and walk back to the main deck, a smile threatening to tear your face. Your ship had been docked and you waited for someone to drop a ladder for you to get on the harbor. You glance back at the Red Hair's ship, and sure enough it was reeling so hard to the right that it was threatening to tip over. Some people on the harbor watch in confusion as the ship's hull is almost fully exposed at the dramatic turn, then carry back on to their business once the ship was set straight back to the docks.
"Whaddya think that's all about cap'n?" Your navigator asks you, her eyebrow cocked as she looks back and forth between you and Shanks' ship.
"I wouldn't know," you coyly reply, and begin your climb down to the port. You jump off the ladder and smooth down your skirt. Suddenly you became captious about your appearance: was your skin as smooth as it used to be, did you smell like a sea dog, was your corset tight enough, was your hair in place? What were you doing? You weren't the eager one in these moments, but seeing Shanks excited you. Some of your crew work to tie down the ship, others walk to the nearest pub. You stand a moment longer by your ship, droplets of sweat beginning to form at your bandana. Then, his ship is anchored down once again a couple docks away from you, and you begin your slow walk down the port. As you make it down the boardwalk, you catch a glint of red in your peripherals. Butterflies swarm within your lower belly. Shanks is half running to meet you in the middle, slowing down once he's mere feet behind you. The town is bustling with people, yet they remain unaware of the electricity sparking between the two of you. You only give Shanks a small turn of your head and smile, and continue walking a little slower, not looking back at him. He follows behind you, his hand reaches for yours. Your fingers grazing against each other in a dance of their own. You're unaware of the compass of your own body (pussy) as you guide Shanks to a small inn. You continue in a dream like state as you enter the parlor, get a room key, and lead him upstairs. As the two of you stand in the poorly lit narrow hall, Shanks pulls you back down to earth the moment he pushes his hips into your ass. You turn the key quicker at the feel of his hardening cock.
"It's been too long darling," He whispers onto the skin of your neck, "I've missed you so much." He keeps whispering sweet nothings until the door clicks opens and you're both inside. Shanks shoves you back into the door, not giving you a moment to react after closing it. Your back is pressed onto the wood but you don't care. Shanks' lips find yours and you're both kissing in an urgency you didn't realize you were holding back. He nips your lower lip softly, asking your permission, and you let him slip his tongue in to meet yours. You moan into the kiss, causing Shanks' to buck his hips into yours. His hand rakes down from your clavicle to your breast and further to your waist. Hand? You break away from the kiss with a small push to his chest and yelp at his missing arm, hitting your head on the door behind you.
"Fucking hell Shanks, how'd this happen??" You push his cape off fully to reveal the empty sleeve and look up at him, gaping. Shanks only sighs, whispering something under his breath and uses his only hand to reach for yours. His thumb strokes the back of your hand, you look down at it and back up, giving him a quizzical look. He leads you to the small bed and sits you down. He tells you what had happened only days ago on this same island. You find yourself snapping your hands up to wipe the unwanted tears pricking through your lashes. Shanks clicks his tongue.
"It's just an arm love, don't sully your pretty face over it," Shanks gently pries a hand from your face and kisses your tears away, whispering a "please" between the kisses. His mouth finds yours once again and you relax into him. Heat rises between your bodies and you're pulling his face into yours. He quickly releases you to remove his straw hat, tossing it to a side table before he returns to your lips. Things grow sloppier, Shanks let's go of your lips to latch onto your neck, leaving blooms where his teeth sinks into and pulling out a faint cry from you as he sucks on your most sensitive spot. In your daze you hear Shanks unbuckling his belt and tossing it across the room. His hand becomes frantic as they begin to tug at your corset or his own shirt, so you stop him. Shanks eyes glint with confusion, but you only smile at him as you reach for him. You gently pull his shirt out of his waistband and over his body, he complies and crooks his neck forward to let you pull his shirt off over his head. You then get up from the bed and kneel in front of him. His eyes say something different now, you cannot quite tell what though. Something had possessed you in that moment. Here you were gently prying Shanks' shoes off, pulling his trousers down and over his ankles. Once you finish undressing him he reaches for you again, but you push his hand away and stand before him. Slowly yet not so much, you unlace your corset and drop it to the floor. You unclasp your leather belt with its pistols hanging on the sides, and push your skirt down as well. Shanks' already hardened cock twitches at every article of cloth being removed. You finally remove the flimsy chemise and bloomers, a pirate didn't need ten other extra undergarments. You reach for the garter on your thigh but Shanks raises his hand.
"Keep that on" he says, his voice now gruff with pent up desire. He reaches for it and pulls you in between his legs, your hands find their place on his shoulders. His hot breath hits your stomach, causing your pussy to clench around nothing. He looks up at you with blown out pupils, you both remain still for a moment. The spell breaks and he pulls you down into his lap in the middle of the bed. You whimper at the sudden sensation of his cock against your clit, and you grind down onto him to feel it again. His eyes threaten to roll back and he grabs your face down to kiss him once more, his hand then traveling down to your breast where he pinches and rolls your nipple between his fingers.
"Fuck Shanks-" you begin but get cut off by his mouth latching onto your other nipple. His tongue swirls and sucks onto you and you let out a small cry. Your hips push down towards his cock again, but he doesn't let you sink down on him so this time you use a hand to play with his tip. He becomes merciless with his mouth as you tease him, and finally releases both of your breasts to stop your hand and hold your hips still.
"Shanks please- fuck- please I want you so bad- I need you.." you spill out as you fail to make contact with his skin again. He only smiles and softens his grip.
"So have me" he says. You blank for a moment, then use one hand to line his dick with your entrance and slowly go down on him. He's too big. You let out something between a moan and gasp as you slowly push him back out and in again. Shanks is struggling to hold himself together too, letting out shaky moans of your name. After a few slow attempts, you seat yourself fully onto his cock. The stretch makes your head buzz and you rock back and forth, stirring obscenities out of the both of you.
"Fuck-ck you're so tight...hhh you're so..fuck..wet- listen to how fucking wet you are for me" Shanks half mutters half groans as you ride him with a quicker pace. You have one hand on his shoulder and another on his thigh to stop yourself from toppling over. His own hand is holding you by the hip, attempting to guide you to bounce harder onto him. He grows impatient and suddenly between strokes, Shanks fucks up into you and causes you to wail. His eyes turn into obsidian and he grabs your waist, pulling you into his body as he lies down with his cock still inside you. Your cheek is pressed into his chest and before you protest, Shanks snaps his hips upwards into you causing you to muffle a scream with your fist. He continues to fuck you for what felt like eternity. Driving his cock so far into you at this angle you begin to see stars. His one arm keeps you mercilessly pinned to his body.
"Shanks I'm gon- I'm gonna cum- FUCK" you hardly finish talking before that familiar feeling shoots up through your nerves and into your brain. Your thighs quiver aggressively around him and Shanks let's out a hoarse groan as his own orgasm erupts out of him. You feel your cunt heating up, filling with his cum as his strokes slow down. His arm loosens around you, finding your hair and brushing it as he cooes you through your orgasm. You try to slide off of him, but he keeps you there.
"I'm not letting you get away from me this time," Shanks murmurs into your hair, pressing kisses where he spoke. He knew you didn't like sticking around. He knew you were afraid of getting attached only to possibly get hurt, he knew the last time you had seen him you were dangerously close to leaving everything for him, causing you to live a flighty life. You roll off of him and sit up, failing to give him your strict glare once you look back at him. His eyes are begging for you to stay, pleading with love he'd been desperate to show you. His hand reaches for yours once more, grasping it with a firmness that feared you'd fly away again.
"I know you feel the same, i know you use others to forget about me-"
"Shanks you lost your fucking arm in a blink of an eye what if it's your lift next-"
"So why won't you take that risk?" He asks, he's sitting up now too, desperation filling his voice, "because I sure as bloody hell would do it for you. I love you!" You stare at him in awe, your eyebrows overwork themselves as your mind tosses around in its anxieties.
"I love you too..." you answer mindlessly. You betrayed your own code. Fuck it if it meant not hurting Shanks anymore. The two of you sit there, eyes boring their deepest desires into each other as the setting sun greets you through the stained window.
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buckybarnesb-tch · 1 year
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You’re Mine, Whether You Know it or Not -Klaus M.
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Kidnapping theme, slight Yandere Klaus
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You had been hanging out with Klaus for several weeks now.
It had started as an accident. You were excited as everyone in the Boarding house had gone out, leaving you all alone to watch TV and relax. You had stolen a bottle of Damon’s oldest Whiskey and mixed it with some coke, enjoying a tipsy night of movies, or so you thought.
Klaus had shown up looking for Damon and while you ignored the knock at the front door, the Hybrid didn’t need to be invited in anymore so he just walked into the house.
~~
‘Damon isn’t here. He’ll be back later after he saves Elena or Stefan or…I don’t know, I wasn’t listening. I’ll let him know you stopped by.’ You unpaused your movie, expecting the man to leave as he had no need to speak to you and you had never met before now so you had no reason to speak.
‘You won’t mind if I wait for him here, will you?’ It didn’t sound like much of a question so you ignored him, facing the TV again. ‘I don’t think I’ve seen you here before…are you new?’ You shook your head.
‘Nope. I just try and stay out of their Supernatural issues. They have nothing to do with me and it’s not like I can help. Useless little human right here so you have no reason to try and hurt me.’ You grabbed another glass, pouring him some of Damon’s bourbon before handing the glass over. ‘Not that you would. You seem like a nice enough guy, personally I think Damon is a bit dramatic when it comes to you. If he just left you alone it would solve like 75% of the problems.’ You shrugged and didn’t notice the way the Hybrid had been staring at you since the moment he walked in. It only seemed to get worse as you spoke with him but you continued drinking and explaining the movie to him so he was caught up. He moved to sit beside you and spent the evening watching movies beside you until you eventually fell asleep on his shoulder.
That was the first time you ever met Klaus Mikaelson and you had considered it a good moment, you actually enjoyed speaking with the centuries old man, he had fascinating stories and he listened to you in a way none of your friends ever did, as if you had something interesting to say.
Klaus always gave you his undivided attention, to the point of ignoring real problems in his day to day life, not that you would know that but his family took notice. Elijah noted how you had captured his brothers attention and honestly, it worried him a bit. Elijah knew you to be a very sweet, kind hearted girl, you never judged anyone too harshly considering you liked him as well and only based things on how people treated you personally, and Klaus? He was always so kind to you. Kol noticed you as well and had been threatened by his elder brother repeatedly about leaving you alone and for once, Kol heeded those threats, there was something about how he spoke about you that the younger Mikaelson didn’t want to fuck around with.
Your friends repeatedly warned you about Klaus, now knowing that you were spending time with him nearly daily, to the point that he needed to see you at least once every day to ensure his day went well, if he didn’t see your smiling face at least once the Hybrid would be a miserable asshole all day.
Klaus went so far as to take care of you when you were sick. He had given you his number one of those first days you spent time together and while you didn’t use it much, when you woke up feeling sick that morning you texted him that you wouldn’t be out that day and to not wait up for you at the Grille. What you didn’t expect however was him showing up at your doorstep with bags of god knows what. When you saw the cold medicine and the food he had gotten to make you soup you realized how much he really cared for you and it was the first moment you invited him into your house.
What you didn’t know was that Klaus had planned it like that. He knew he could get you to invite him in to take care of you, you were his sweet little human after all, you needed to be cared for and nursed back to health. That’s what Klaus is here for.
You didn’t see his obsession with you growing the way that everyone else did and no matter how many times you were warned, you just thought your friends were being dramatic. Klaus was the best friend you had had in a really long time and you didn’t want to lose that, and you certainly weren’t going to give it up just because Elena and Caroline were a bit worried.
3 months after you began spending time together was when you finally realized your friends may have been right about how much Klaus had come to care for you.
You had decided to spend time with Elena, Caroline and Bonnie one weekend night, staying in all day, up all night and the next day binging movies and shows you had been putting off thanks to all the Supernatural drama and you had told the Hybrid you would be gone all day and night. You didn’t know that he had checked up on you at the Boarding house at least 6 times since yesterday and that night when you took your stuff and walked your way home, stoned from one too many of Jeremy’s cookies, that he was watching from the trees. The second he noticed you were high he knew that you couldn’t take care of yourself, and he knew that he needed to do it himself.
When you awoke the next morning you were in a much too comfortable bed. It was actually very nice, prompting you too roll over and drift back off to sleep when you rested your head on someone’s chest, startling you. ‘Klaus?! What the hell?!’ You snapped, moving to get up when his arms were suddenly wrapped around you tightly.
‘Calm down love, you’re safe. You were stumbling home, it was dangerous Little Wolf, and your so called “friends” just let you go! I need to keep you safe.’ The look on his face was one of devotion, it was strange to see from your friend.
‘Yeah, we got a little high but I’m okay. You don’t need to worry so much-‘
‘But I do! I do worry Y/n, because I love you and if you haven’t figured that out by now then clearly I’m doing something wrong, I-‘ he sighed heavily. ‘Please? Just relax and go back to sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up and we’ll order some breakfast. Just sleep my darling.’ You nodded, doing as he said and trusting him, resting your head back into his chest. He had admitted to loving you and while that was a bit heavy you loved him too and you trusted him…you just didn’t know that he didn’t plan on ever letting you go.
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Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist
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spidervee · 1 year
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in which jake is your roommate and ruins all your dates. accidentally. accidentally, right?🌻 18+ only!
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Jake Seresin isn’t an ideal roommate. He sings in the shower at 5 a.m., he can’t load a dishwasher to save his life—seriously, who puts mugs on the bottom—and he has a habit of walking around shirtless that is beginning to interfere with your love life.
Of course, he’s got a lot of good qualities. He’s a surprisingly good cook, with a recipe for chicken and dumplings you’re pretty sure is the best thing you’ve ever eaten. He’s also got that Navy-mandated tidiness, so the apartment you share is always vacuumed and dusted. And he has a habit of walking around shirtless, which, as appealing as it is for your eyes, is…
Yepp. Starting to mess with your love life.
Because guys see Jake making a smoothie in the kitchen or getting back from a run or literally doing anything and decide they have to have some stupid pissing contest with your roommate, who remains, you think, entirely oblivious to how threatened he makes the men you bring home. Because why would he see them as a threat, right? He’s so far out of your league that your dates have nothing to worry about. Jake Seresin could pull any girl he ever wanted so why would he want you?
You’re almost grateful he’s deployed—despite your usual worry for his safety—when you bring a new guy home from the bar. No Jake means no weird energy and maybe a chance to actually let a relationship get off its feet.
Until he comes out of the bathroom and you’re smiling at your phone because Jake sent you a text, a photo of the two of you at the beach from last year. One of those iPhone memories that apparently made him think of you.
This came up on my phone yesterday. Miss you, sweetheart. Don’t burn the place down. Oh and I’m safe in case you couldn’t tell.
Your date isn’t thrilled to see the photo, even though he asks to. Tells you it looks like you’re a couple—as if—and that Jake seems really comfortable touching you—he’s just a touchy person.
The night ends with some mediocre sex and, despite his words to the otherwise, your date never calls you back.
You try not to blame Jake, but it’s hard not to see him as the root of all your woes in love. And if you’re not mad at him, you’ll have to analyze why he’s accidentally ruining every date you’re on and maybe you’ll have to admit that it’s because none of these guys actually measure up to Jake.
You’d have to have the startling realization that you are hopelessly in love with your roommate.
So when Jake comes back a few weeks later maybe you’re cold. Maybe you’re quiet. Maybe you’re keeping to yourself and maybe you tell him to fuck off when he keeps asking what he did wrong.
You move to storm out of the apartment and it’s all very dramatic, but Jake stops you with a hand grasped firmly around your wrist. It’s not rough, but determined, and he pulls you gently closer to him, his green eyes burning with confusion under furrowed brows.
“What was that?” His skin is sun-kissed and he can’t tell you where he was deployed but you know it was somewhere warm from the way the few freckles that dot his nose are more prominent than usual.
“Fuck. Off.”
Jake blinks, undeterred. And then he stares at you, gaze so focused you feel like you’re a target in one of his stupid training exercises. You want to shy away, but when his other hand comes up to wipe away the tears you hadn’t realized we’re gathering in your eyes it all comes out. All your weird and messy feelings that will certainly ruin everything and make it so you need to find another place to live.
But when you’re done talking, Jake just frowns. He pulls you impossibly closer and rests his chin atop your head. “I’m sorry, sweets,” he mutters, “But I’m glad I scared those guys off.” He doesn’t add that he was totally doing it on purpose as often as he could—things are still too fragile for that. One day he’ll tell you. And on that day, he’ll receive a face full of chocolate cake as punishment.
But for today, he just lets you sniffle in his arms, holds you close as you put a wet spot down the front of his t-shirt. “They’re not good enough for you,” he continues, “I just helped them realize that sooner rather than later.”
“Jake,” you complain, “You can’t keep doing that. I need…I want to find someone.”
His frown deepens and he places his hands on your waist, tapping your hips lightly to warn you that he’s going to pick you up. Carrying you into your bedroom, he sighs. “Fine. I’ll stop, if you give this guy I know a shot.”
“I’m listening.”
“He’s Navy,” Jake continues, “And he’s got a killer body.”
“Definitely listening,” you laugh, but try to ignore the pang of hurt that is Jake setting you up with one of his friends.
Jake rolls his eyes and takes a spot beside you on your bed. “He’s a great pilot, some say the best. And he’s a gentleman, Texas-raised so he knows his way around a kitchen.”
Oh. Oh.
“Jake…”
He holds up a hand, not willing to be interrupted. “And he’s shit at loading the dishwasher, sweets, but I know he’d be willing to learn.”
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luxesiren · 9 months
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⸻ 𝐖𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒
cw :: nsfw content (MDNI)
a/n :: i love this man so much. i don't think yall understand this big ass man? i love him so much and i want him.
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{✰} sfw ::
{✰} wade is a mercenary but he keeps his work life away from you so you don't get hurt because he doesn't want to lose you.
{✰} wade is always joking around with you, his one goal is to make you laugh every day, even when he's not with you. he always sends you messages and voice memos which make you laugh.
{✰} wade loves cooking and he would get all dramatic and make you a full-course meal as if he's on chopped or something. he wants you to pretend to be gordon ramsay
{✰} wade loves spending money on you, he doesn't use the money for anything besides food and rent for his apartment, so he loves spending it on you. whatever you want, he gets it for you. any time you go out to dinner wade will threaten to drop your wallet off a cliff because "why're you trying to pay? don't do that again or i will throw your wallet off a cliff and into some water."
{✰} wade would get matching nails with you, whatever set you get, he's ready to get a matching set.
{✰} wade doesn't like to have his mask off in public because of his scars and at first, he didn't even show you his face half the time but now that you guys have been together for so long, he takes it off around you because he knows it doesn't phase you.
{✰} wade loves physical touch so naturally, he would be all over you. wade likes to think of himself as a murderous teddy bear that only really cares about you.
{✰} wade doesn't like arguing with you unless it's playfully and not about anything serious but if it's a serious argument then he will start to get anxious and unconsciously start to self-sabotage.
{✰} wade gets emotional over chick flicks and when you ask if he's crying he'll say, "of course not...it's just a little dusty in here."
{✰} wade likes bringing you souvenirs from the countries he's visited for work and he brings you random trinkets that you will never use but he lights up when he brings them to you so you put them on display around your shared apartment.
{✰} nsfw ::
{✰} wade loves kissing, he likes the feel of your lips on his. he likes to suck on your bottom lip making you whine into his mouth.
{✰} wade is possessive and jealous, he will mark your neck just so everyone could see that you're taken and no one else could have your attention. he wouldn't blame you for being ogled but he would take it out on you, fucking into you so roughly and so deeply while you cry into the sheets, "fuck, you're mine. this pussy is mine. say it, say it's mine." you couldn't do anything but moan loudly and say exactly that, "fuck, daddy! it's yours, i'm yours!
{✰} wade is into thigh riding. he will watch you chase your release on his thigh before fucking the way you want him to, he ultimately wants to see you beg him to fuck you.
{✰} wade is 100% into praise and degradation, he wants to make you're okay with it before he says something that triggers you in bed.
{✰} on occasion, wade likes to be restrained. he likes when you have some type of power over him, makes him cum harder and he likes when you tease him. he keeps handcuffs by the bed just for this specific moment, you're in his lap and taking your time riding him - slowly grinding your hips just to make him beg you, "please, baby.. let me fuck you, please."
{✰} wade is into choking, he loves to see his hand wrapped around your throat while he has you in a mating press, pushing all his weight onto you and fucking you deep enough to make you cum over and over.
{✰} sometimes when wade is feeling very needy, he just needs you. times like this, he'll take his time with you, fingering for a long time to make sure you can take him, eating your pussy like he's starving before he fucks you nice and slow saying how much he loves you. "i love you so much, baby. so good for me, taking all of me so well."
{✰} speaking of... wade is a munch. he will happily lap at your slick, sit you on his face, and grip your thighs while you ride his face, using him for your own pleasure. he would also take the opportunity to overstimulate you, your thighs wrapped around his head trying to push him away having already cum twice but he wants more from you.
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© 𝐥𝐮𝐱𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧 | all rights reserved to me. please do not steal, copy, or repost to other websites.
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