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lustbile · 3 years

Text

The Journal

TenxReader

Word Count: 7.3k+

Summary/Warnings: Smut with plot, semi public, a lot of biting, mentions of supernatural and just general weirdness, and small amount of blood play

Apart of the Club X series: Masterlist (can be read alone or within the series, but unlike others it might just be the slightest amount confusing)

“So that’s what you’re into now,” your best friend’s voice is bored and distant, her task of wiping down the bar that stretched out in front of her taking a majority of her attention away from the babbling you’ve tried to subject her to since you entered the empty restaurant only about 20 minutes before, “weird demon sex clubs?”

—

“Ah ah, I never said they were demons,” you correct quickly, the thought of defending yourself never crossing your mind as you petulantly slap your hands against the polished wood, “I just said it was…. weird.”

“Weird is an understatement,” she scoffs quietly as she turns to dip her dirtied rag back into the bleach water and ring it out, “I mean look, I’ve always been supportive in the witchy stuff you’ve been into but this…. is a bit much.”

“I don’t see how this is any different than any other thing I’ve read into.”

“Oh you don’t see?” you finally manage to pull her attention towards you as she harshly slaps the rag back onto the wood with a stern glare pulled on her pretty features, “you’re talking about vulnerability and abandoned warehouses and public sex. That last one is definitely new.”

You fully expected this type of response, only hoping she’d be busy enough that you would dodge the motherly scolding she liked to give you when you pitched your schemes to her with your eyes wild and wide, but nevertheless, she was completely right.

It came from an old book, tattered and torn from being flipped through one too many times, that you found at your favorite antique store. The store itself was already notorious with your tight inner circle of friends as the creepy shop that was corrupting your brain, a constant taunt being that the little old woman that ran it was the actual devil and she was just waiting for the right time to jump you and eat you whole, but this did nothing to stop you from visiting at least once a week.

But the book, it was different from any other you had found. It was completely handwritten, including amazingly done sketches in a deep unfading ink, and spoke of outlandish things.

Some were easily brushed off, like a murder that happened in the 50’s that was known to stay in the mouths of the older folks, both to them and the book it was widely believed to be the doing of some long tongued and wild eyed creature, until a local sweet old man admitted on his deathbed that it was instead his one crime of passion.

He had been a young soldier that snuck into his lover’s room one night, and upon learning that she was to marry a nice lawyer the day after he was meant to deploy, his mind went blank and his hands were carving out her heart. He luckily escaped any questioning after being shipped off, and once he returned home he captured the heart of a pretty young girl and lived out a long life sitting on top of a horrid truth.

So yeah, stories of those sorts, having been solved in your lifetime, meant very little to you, but the one you were going on about now, meant the world.

The writing looked like it had been put down by a panicked chicken rather than the woman who’s name was written neatly in the front. It lived in some of the pages towards the back of the small book and spoke of a dark club. Club X.

She went on and on about stumbling across the club purely by accident, and meeting another woman with glittering eyes. Graphic details of being taken in the middle of the dance floor with a million eyes looking but not fully seeing her as she fell apart against a dancing and eager tongue made your heart thump lodged in your throat. But the more and more she visited the club, the more incoherent her words became, but towards the end the writing had become stained and obscured by a deep brown stain, before it stopped altogether.

Thankfully, the details of where the building was was completely visible regardless of being the thoughts of a mad woman, and with a lot of thinking and staring at the town map, you’ve come to believe that you knew exactly where the mysterious club stood.

Only a street down from the restaurant you sit in now.

“Listen, I know it sounds ridiculous, and it probably is, but what’s the problem with just going to check right?” you scramble to pull the delicate book from the bag that sits in the stool beside you as your friend moves closer and closer to where you sit, laying it flat to show her the page you’ve had bookmarked since you read it, “and look at the name she puts, I think it’s the man who ran it and it’s a long shot, but maybe he’s still alive, or if not maybe some family is! Right here, Asm-“

“Don’t say it again,” she’s quick to interrupt, sliding her free hand to hover above the page you’ve glued your eyes to, “I don’t wanna hear any old man names, especially that one it gives me the ick.”

“It’s just a name,” murmur to yourself, but move to put the book away regardless, “but anyways, I have something that most people who were going to the club didn’t, knowledge of what exactly I’m walking into. I can just go and look around, worst things worst its still a freaky sex club and I just go home, but I’m willing to bet this lady was just off the shits and its just an empty building with some funky vintage beer bottles that you can add to your collection.”

You feel like you’ve won an award you weren’t even trying to compete for when she finally breaks out into a soft smile. The huff that leaves her chest is endeared, and you swear your heart began to vibrate when she reached to run a gentle thumb across the swell from your cheekbone.

“Fine, do what you want, but if the bottle isn’t completely intact when you find it I don’t want it.”

“So you’re not coming with me?” your head tilts to the side in confusion as with things of this nature in the past, she’s always followed along to ensure that you didn’t do anything to stupid. You never felt like the company was fully necessary, but it was appreciated regardless.

“Baby, as much as I’ve enjoyed your info dumping you’ve done tonight, the other person that was meant to clean with me had to leave early with a stomach bug so I’m busy pulling a clean up job that’s truly a job for about five people. But you seem to really believe in this little adventure of yours,” she leaves the rag in a damp mass next to the stack of dirty glasses beside you to take your hands in her’s, her slightly wrinkled fingers are still warm and the way they lace with yours makes you feel like nothing in the world could hurt you, “besides, you’re as smart as a whip and I know you have me on speed dial. I trust you.”

——

You no longer love the feeling of being trusted.

When your friend had given you the heartfelt speech only a little over half an hour ago, you felt like you had been put on a nice pedestal before she handed you a cookie with a pat on the head.

Now the “cookie” had turned to rot in your belly and you were faced with your own perfectly dreamed up reality.

It was already late by the time you had walked into the restaurant your friend works at, the sun already setting and the last few customers gathering their things and paying the bills, so once you got her stamp of approval and we’re heading out the door, the only light left was a bright and full moon, and flickering street lights.

You took your time walking in the direction that your book and personal sleuthing had pointed you in, the closer and closer you got to the one warehouse in town that seemed to never be bought back from the city, the knots in your belly pulled tighter and tighter.

But regardless of the almost painful twist in your gut, you surprisingly almost missed the building in its entirety.

It was as if your entire being blocked out the thumping bass that shook the sidewalk and the blinding red light that spilled from beneath the entrance and out the fractured windows. Your brain trying to force itself from entering the building you spent so many weeks trying to locate.

But the way your heart thuds in your chest when you stand in front of the entrance is something you couldn't even pretend you didn’t feel.

Your tongue digs into the side of your jaw, and you're confused at the feeling of warm tears burning at your waterlines. It’s exactly the way the owner of the journal described it in her manic writings, weirdly exact considering the other stories that surrounded it that dated it back far before you were even born.

You want to go in, the shaking steps your legs take is evident to that, but the tense muscles of your shoulders and stomach makes you hesitate and even grumble out into the air.

You almost jump out of your skin when you hear a shuffling to your side, your throat tensing when you look over, and are put slightly at ease when you see two men who you assume are acting as some type of security. You almost expect them to look up and ask you for some type of ID when you’re being very weird and blatant about your presence, but they seem too preoccupied with the dim screens of their phones and the way they lean forward at different times as if they’re waiting for someone.

Your hands are shaking slightly as they scramble down to grab for your bag, desperately looking for something to occupy you to walk by them without being even more weird, and when your fingers wrap around the flaking leather that binds the book, you grab it like a lifeline.

Your fingers flip through the pages with perfect muscle memory as you trip up the few steps that lead to the door, the tabs you carefully placed on the first page mentioning the club not even necessary with the way you could find the page even in your sleep.

You subconsciously hold your breath when you walk past the two men, almost as if the book is instead something wildly illegal and you're trying to sneak past your parents, and your washed with a temporary wave of relief when you pass through the doors without even a glance from the two.

Though the relief is stolen from your bones the second your feet touch the floor of the club.

It’s as if you’ve entered a place you’ve known your whole life, and from the amazing descriptions from the woman in the past, its not a completely surprising feeling.

But another part of you feels like this is the first time you’ve seen human beings in the flesh.

You can't help but to feel like you must look like an absolute nerd as you pull the book up to your face as you start to survey the club, but thankfully the book told at least one truth, and many of the club goers are too busy grouping and grinding against one another to even acknowledge your existence.

More truths come to light as you flick your eyes between the pages and the walls.

The bar is still tucked in the same far corner as she described, the flittering red and blue lights making it feel like a beacon of calm regardless of it being surrounded by drunken forms and its intimidatingly pretty bartender.

The dj is just a stoic and unimpressed looking as the one from so many years ago as he subconsciously bobs to the beat that he creates as he messes with the nobs and switches in front of him. He’s actually so similar, you wonder if you were right and the owner did have family floating around, and maybe the dj is one of them.

You stumble further into the room as you pick out small details she wrote about so lovingly. Your legs carry you to the back of the building as you smile at the sight of the wine stain the writer claimed to have created when her lover shocked her with a playful bite to the neck.

You almost feel like the universe is gifting you everything you could have possibly asked for when you see the loose board that she said a friend of hers would always trip over, and electricity zips up your spine in excitement when you spots the large painting that still hangs over the booth she claimed as her favorite, and she meticulously sketched out next to a paragraph about what she thought the artist was feeling.

All these things though, lead to the things that make your jaw hang slightly open.

The large balcony above you is larger than you ever imagined. The hundreds of bright red carnations she loved to sketch drip from the golden bars like water, and the black velvet curtains that hang over the room it leads to look heavy enough that they suffocate someone if they fell.

She seemed so intensely in love with the place you stand in, and the woman she met there, and those emotions were more than evident from the way the recreated the energy of the club with her words and art. Which only tips you towards the part that caught your attention perhaps the most.

It was exactly where it was meant to be. Just below the balcony that hangs high on the wall, gaping wide and dark like the mouth of a hungry monster coaxing you to enter its throat. The only issue that you can see being the hanging rope that blocks you from entering, but with only shining bright clasps holding it onto hooks on the walls, you don’t think you're above sneaking past it with little guilt.

The hall was the one thing that taunted you the most about the story the woman spun in the little worn book. The empty and dark vass space being something that coaxed her as well, but unfortunately for you, and maybe her as well, the parts of her journal that began the tale of her passing the temping rope, was the exact spot that was stained with bleeding ink and a suspicious brown color.

You survey the space around you, looking for anyone that could possibly be a worker or just a stickler for the rules, but seeing as everyone in your range of vision was attached by the mouth on someone’s neck or sloppy lips, you figured you were in the clear.

You drop the book gently back into your bag before you step slowly forward. Your heart feels like a wild animal trying to break out of the cavity of your chest, and it feels like your intestines have been successfully replaced with writhing worms that are desperately trying to reach your gut. You feel heat traveling up your chest and neck, and as you get within a few feet of what feels like the end of your life, your body begins to shake.

If you had the ability, you would have screamed, and if you had the strength, you would have fought back. But right when you're about to reach the threshold of the hall, and right when you feel like your legs are about to collapse from underneath you, strong fingers clasp over your trembling mouth, and an arm wraps tightly around your waist.

You’re turned faster than you can blink, the sudden motion making your brain swirl in your skull and making you go lightheaded and dizzy. And while keeping their hand clasped tightly over your mouth, the person that cages you in slams your back into the cold wall and knocks the air from your lungs.

The eyes that meet you are cat-like and dancing wildly, the grin the man you're faced with now smiles at you wickedly, and when your hands dart up until your nails dig harshly into the skin of his forearms, his smile only widens.

“Now,” he starts, the remains of a chuckle shaking his chest and his words slightly, “what exactly are you up to?”

You wait for a moment for him to release you from his hold, and when after a minute or so he still hasn’t budged, all you can offer in response is an annoyed arched brow.

“What?” he has the audacity to ask with taunting sincerity, “you thought you were smart enough to go wandering around, so you should be smart enough to figure out a way to talk around my hand right?”

It’s with immense irritation that you realize the two possibilities you’re faced with.

From the book you know about the weird concept of soul mates or whatever they were meant to be. The woman and the mysterious dancing girl she met so many years ago, and similar stories from the friends she met during her many visits to the club who had almost identical tales that she had to recount.

So with that information you know the possibility of this grinning man being your person is high, but your person or not, he was lighting a fire in your chest regardless.

You don’t think or even weigh the negatives before you send him a hard glare, and you show very little hesitation when you push forward to sink your teeth into the first finger you can catch.

His yelp is covered by the blaring music, but you hear it loud and clear before he reaches his free hand up to pinch at the bridge of your nose to pull you off like a rabid kitten.

“You know what I’m up to,” you huff petulantly as you lean back into the wall with your arms folding over your chest, “or at least I’d assume you’d be smart enough to use your context clues right?”

His lip curls when he glances back up to you as he pets at his now bruising finger, but even with the thin veil of irritation on his pretty features, you can tell he enjoys the sarcastic tone you’ve adopted.

“Yeah you’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” he bites back as he steps closer, crowding your personal space and pushing his chest tightly against yours, “you’re lucky I’m who caught you and not boss man.”

“Boss man?” you ask, trying not to show you excitement over him spilling the treasured information about the club that you want so desperately.

He doesn’t answer you verbally, and the sly wink he throws at you shocks you more than you would like to admit, but when he tilts his head back quickly you don’t hesitate to follow his line of sight to the edge of the balcony.

If it weren’t for the thin wires of light that create hatching over his eyes and mouth, you probably would have missed the masked figure that leers at you from over the railing. His hands and shoulders are covered by the masses of flowers, and the hollow black where he hides his eyes stares down at you two with a look that you assume is annoyance and possible curiosity.

The moment you two look up, the figure jerks back. Your eyes flick quickly between him and the man in front of you, and from the bratty grin he wears as he looks up, you feel as if the masked man didn’t have any intention at being caught.

You get lost slightly in staring at the man pressed against you, his teeth that look sharper in the red lighting and his eyes twinkle in mischief, and even with the obnoxious start to your interaction, you’d be lying to say you don’t find him beautiful.

It takes you a second to regain your senses, tearing your eyes away from the fascinating side profile of the man, but when you glance back up to the balcony, the mask man has retreated back.

“He doesn’t like much when we take people back there before they’re ready,” he attempts at an explanation as he turns back to you, and seems unfazed when he misses the mark and just confuses you further, “he let the two goons outside have a little exception, but that's because they don’t know how to go easy y‘know.”

“No,” you shake your head at him with a quiet scoff, “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I think you know more than you think,” his voice drops as he speaks now, and as he speaks he reaches out his hand to hold himself propped against the wall next to your head while his other hand moves to run gently up the side of your neck, “I mean, you know who I am at least right?”

“I have an idea,” you admit with a huff, but you also admit to yourself that this probably means you won't be getting into the hall. You do mentally jot that down as a loss, but decide to take the man pressed against you as a win and you reach to grab at his shirt in retaliation, “but you could at least give me a name to work with.”

“Hm, I didn’t expect you to be one for such formalities,” his head tilts in amusement at his own words, and the action nudges the tip of his nose into yours and makes your heart flutter up into your throat, “but you might as well know the name of the man you’ll be destined to fall in love with.”

You roll your eyes hard enough for them to start to ache, and he quietly laughs and moves to press his nose into the soft flesh of your cheek as he feeds off your annoyance.

“Ten,” he answers quietly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he moves to whisper the syllable in your ear, and you never thought that with just one word he’d have a shiver rushing up your spine.

You respond quietly with your name, but the word comes out strained and rushed when he begins to nibble on the lobe of your ear and pushes his knee harshly between your thighs.

Both your hands now hold tightly onto the sides of his shirt, and when his lips move to trail against the side of your neck that isn't enveloped by his hand, you tug roughly at the fabric and your back arches slightly away from the wall.

His tongue is hot when he lays it flat on the center of your throat, and when he swipes it up until it flicks against the end of your chin, you can't help but cringe slightly at the feeling regardless of the way it makes heat pool in between your thighs.

The wicked grin on his face never falters, it only grows wider and more hungry when your eyes meet again, and with his staring so deep that you fear he may be collecting every ounce of your soul, you two have a silent agreement on the unnatural waves of electricity that connect you.

When his lips finally land on yours, it's the roughest and clumsiest kiss you’ve experienced. Both of you fight each other with hungry and eager tongues and the way your teeth gently knock together has your skull rattling in a way that, if you weren’t so hell bent of devouring each other whole, you’d probably have to take a breather.

Your hands reluctantly release the wrinkled fabric of his shirt, and in a desperate attempt to stay occupied, they shoot up the tangle tightly into his hair. You admit, you probably tug harsher on the strands than you probably should, but the groans he pours into your mouth, and the way his hips rock roughly into yours, has you tugging again and again.

He presses you further and further into the wall, and without thinking your hips begin to kick and tilt down until you're grinding harshly and sloppily against his tense thigh.

You let out a quiet whine that's muffled and garbled by his moving at the feeling of him pressing his thumb gently into the dip beneath your jaw, and pressing into your jugular. The sound is followed almost immediately by a small yelp when he latches his teeth to your bottom lip and gives you a stinging bite.

You’re frustrated almost immediately with the lack of friction you can feel from the layers of clothing between you, and now the slight shooting pain from the tensing skin between his teeth, you can feel the impatience in your belly crawling up and invading your chest and throat.

He’s quick to pull away when you retaliate with your own nipping bite to his top lip, your teeth still sinking down when he does and making his sting probably just as much as yours. And when he eyes you as his eyelids droop down into an accusatory squint, you assume he’s not used to getting a taste of his own medicine.

He mutters something to himself about your feistiness, and a sly comment about how he shouldn’t be surprised as he was expecting to get a handful, but he gives you no time to make a snide comment or even question about any of the words, before his fingers are closing firmly but loosely around your neck.

He keeps you rooted in the spot that you stand, the only change in your posture he allows is pulling you slightly away from the wall, just wide enough for him to slink behind you and tug you roughly back into his chest.

“You like poking around into business that isn’t yours?” he asks rhetorically as his free hand reaches around your shoulder to push past the neckline of your shirt, and right as he pressed down the center of your chest and his fingers brush the bottom of your rib cage, his fingers curl and he starts to drag his blunt nails up your sternum as he continues, “need to know and see every single little thing right? So… what’s the harm of being on the other side of it for once?”

“What are you on about?” you as sharply as you try to turn your face towards him the best you can, but his hand tilts under the bottom of your chin until your head is forced to lean on his shoulder and he’s nothing but thrilled at the way it makes you struggle.

“To be seen, or not?” he presses his lips back against the shell of your ear, and the way he whispers roughly makes you shiver again as your thighs press tightly together, “you know what I mean, and you know the answer I want, but its all up to you in the end.”

The electric and slightly humiliating buzz of being seen in a mass of bodies committing the same sins as you was something the woman in the book went on about frequently. She mentioned that there were a few times where she and her lover snuck off to get alone time of course, but the almost blinding pleasure that came from being worshiped by not only one person, but the eyes of an entire room, was addictive. And you wanted just a taste.

You grumble in response, the idea of admitting to the already confident man that you did indeed wanted the same amount of attention as he did made your chest burn even more than it already was, and you’d rather take your chance with his terrifying looking boss than to give him the satisfaction of your verbal confession.

He seems unaffected by your nonverbal confirmation, the way you press into him as his hand wraps around your waist again and creeps down to the button of your shorts, and your own hand grabbing onto the sleeve of his rolled up long sleeve shirt to guide him to undo the clasp or just dip below the waistband, is enough of an answer for him to know.

He chooses to pop the button, and once he has the zipper pulled down enough that he can work with, he begins to shove the worn denim down your hips along with your underwear until they are wrapped around your knees and he can push his fingers roughly between your thighs.

You try to clear the fog that he creates in your mind from his teasing fingers long enough to reach your free hand back to give the same treatment to the dark jeans that wrap tightly around his hips and thighs in a way that had you mentally drooling from the moment you got to get a full look at him, after he ambushed you of course.

You’re not sure how he undid your shorts so quickly without being able to see, but as you fumble and scratch your nails against the sensitive skin of his hip, you give yourself the benefit of the doubt seeing as your trying to work while his middle and ring fingers tease over your entrance and the heel of his hand presses clumsily into your neglected clit.

He, on the other hand, doesn’t give you any benefit of the doubt. He at least has the decency to press his lips across your cheekbone and temple to muffle his quiet laughs, but to make your task even more difficult, his fingers shallowly curl up into you just enough to make you twist and curl.

Once the button of his jeans finally releases, you instinctively let out a huff and sink your shoulders back into his chest as you reach past the fabric to wrap your hand around his stiff length and pull it from the confines until you can press it against his lower belly. And you get just one tally on your side of the boards you’ve created in your mind when his amused laughs devolves into pleased grunts and tilting hips.

“Please,” you start quietly, trying to rock more against the parts of his hand that press against you while running your palm up and down the length of him and smearing him with his own pre come, “I can tell you’re just as impatient as me.”

He swears in your ear, using his hold on you with both hands to shift your hips up and pull you closer before he clears his throat to speak, “well could you imagine, looks like we are a match made in heaven.”

“More like hell,” you retaliate, digging the heel of your own palm into the skin just below the tip of him to egg him on even further, “but either way, that's the point isn't it?”

“I should have expected you to be just a little bit of a smart ass,” he mutters a half hearted complaint, but he only contradicts his own words when he pushes your hips away enough for you to guide him between your thighs and to glide against the arousal that spilled from your body and his hands spread messy along any available inch of skin.

He thrusts smoothly against your back a few times, bringing his arm down to guide him towards your entrance painfully slow, but when you let out a gravely moan of his name, he cant deny himself for any longer, and he’s sinking into you until your eyes start to gently flutter.

Once he’s seated inside you, his hand tenses slightly tighter around your neck, and when you both start pushing towards each other to meet in the middle of your thrusts, his other hand takes the opportunity to map any inch of you he can reach.

He gropes almost painfully at your chest, traveling over your stomach and up your shirt to dig his fingers into your skin until you swear he’s tattooed his finger prints onto you, all while nipping and lapping at the skin of your jaw and neck.

No one immediately in front of you is watching, they’re all in their own worlds of flesh and saliva, but you can still feel eyes of someone on you. His first and foremost as they burn holes into the side of your skull and glance to watch where you push back against him desperately, but there’s another feeling you get of being seen and studied thats so intense that you’re a little shocked when you chance a glance up and see that whoever the masked person was from earlier wasn’t there at all.

So no, you have no idea who, or what is watching you right now, but you can feel the unusual heat it stirs in you as your body flutters around him as he fucks you sloppily. You feel a deeper relation to the woman that owned the book that still rests in the bag that feel unceremoniously from your shoulder when he first put his hands on you, and you hope that maybe you’ll eventually slip into the life of bliss that she meticulously wrote about and possibly learn what happened that demolished the stories that lived in the back of the journal.

You could feel the pleasure crawling up your spine like a monster out creature, your panting breaths tipping the man that works you over off to this even though you’re sure he was already aware before you were, and you think your legs are back to the edge of collapsing when his creeping fingers dance along the expanse of your stomach to find their place back between your thighs.

Your back stiffens at the first touch of his rolling finger on your clit, and your head tilts even farther back onto his shoulder than he already had it. He doesn’t seem interested in coaxing you to your finish slowly, at a pace that would have mercy on your melting mind and shaking form, but he instead abuses your clit until your whimpering out and stumbling and stepping slightly on his toes.

You feel like you’re waiting out the suspense of a horror film that’s score is too obvious to the incoming jump scare. You tilt your neck in a way that seems normal to him, but in reality your trying to feel the many rings that decorate his fingers with the delicate skin of your throat to test if any of them could possibly be sharp enough to cut you and draw blood. You know what blood means to him, and you know it's something he’ll have to do soon if he truly can feel how close you are to the edge.

You feel like you’re floundering a bit, confused from the possible deviation from the story you’ve committed to memory. Was there any chance in this world that this wasn’t your person?

You push this thought away as soon as your panicked mind can construct it though, because there’s no way the spell that it feels has been placed on you would be there if that was the truth, and your body is heated almost like a furnace, but you suddenly love the idea of being burned by him.

You pull in a gasping breath of air that pierces through the music and grunting that rattles in your ears, the taste of your orgasms dancing on the back of your tongue and your back arching so harshly you fear that one of your muscles might seize up and cramp. And right when you feel his hips start to stutter in tandem with yours, and when you’re only seconds from blabbering out mixed syllables that you could only hope would come out as a coherent question, you feel it.

His teeth latch onto you again, his canines not sharp enough to make a clean cut as they dig into the muscle of your shoulder, but his determination is strong enough.

It burns painfully, and makes hot tears well up in your eyes, but almost embarrassingly, is the exact thing that pushes you scrambling over the edge.

You feel like it hurts to breathe, your lungs so focused on letting out puffs of air and broken moans that they can't seem to remember how to bring oxygen in, and your eyes roll for a completely new reason for the man and much more painfully.

It’s when you feel him start to suck the rushing blood from your newly christened wound that you also feel the rumble of his groans against your skin and feel him start to come inside of you. His fist tightens again around your neck as he pushes aftershocks through your nerves with his own orgasm, and with flying hands you grab at both of his wrists, not to ask in any way for him to ease up, but from a sudden wash and need to hold onto him possibly until you die.

He lets you collapse to the floor once he pulls out, but he follows your sinking form and sits alongside you and partially underneath you as you both try to catch your breath.

The club scene in front of you is now blurs of flashing lights and abstract writhing forms, and if it wasn’t for the zaps of energy you feel from every brush of his finger tips, your brain would probably be too muddled to register him fixing both your clothes and his.

You become just slightly more aware when he shifts your body against him enough to grab at the strap of your bag with the heel of his shoe, and you try to sit up faster than necessary and give yourself a small head rush when he pulls it to himself and flips it open.

“You seemed a little weirdly unaffected by the whole,” he flails his hands in front of you for a second as he speaks, and your lagging mind takes a second to catch up with his attempts at implication, “not the fucking part clearly,” he teases, “but the leading up to it. The meeting part and all.”

“I know what this place is,” you admit, and if your legs had gained just a bit more strength you probably would have stood and requested a glass of water just from how gravely your voice had become, “I knew I was probably going to run into you.”

“But you weren’t looking for me,” he tries, and fails, at hiding the slight edge of offense his voice shows, “if you knew I was here why didn’t you look for me?”

“I didn’t worry about it,” you say, warming up a bit again in the fear that it may have come off slightly rude, “or, like, I mean I knew you’d be able to find me easier than I could find you. I was more interested in finding answers.”

“Answers to what? You said you knew this place, or at least what it is?”

“Well I only know the basics,” you shift in his hold, knocking his hands away as they sift through your bag, and grabbing blindly until you can pull out the book, “I found this journal and it-“

“A journal?” he asks in a volume that could have been obnoxiously loud if it weren’t for the thumping bass that shook the floor beneath you, and pulls the small book from your hands.

“It was written by a woman who came here a long time ago,” you explain, deciding to not take offense to his rough and grabbing hands, “I found it and tracked the club down, I needed to see if it was real.”

“Oh it's real alright,” he laughs as he starts to flip through the pages, stopping for a moment to smile at a simple sketch she had done of a cat that she said lived in the back alley, “hey wait I think I know this name, and these people.”

“What are you on about?” you ask with a scoff as you tug the book from his grubby fingers, “you can’t possibly know these people, this was written in like the fifties. Stop pulling my leg.”

“Oh I see,” he smacks your thigh playfully as he leans over your shoulder to glance at the first page that mentioned anything about the date, the ink clear enough to read 1953 in the swirling handwriting, “you think you know everything.”

“I do know everything, fuck you,” you glare playfully at him over your shoulder, “or I would know, if you’d let me go into that weirdo hall.”

“No hall, for now at least,” he sighs, the gears in his head turning as he thinks of the next thing to say, “but you know, time doesn’t exist the same way here, the woman who wrote this probably didn’t know that at the time, so I’m not surprised you don’t either.”

“What do you mean time doesn’t exist?” you look at him as if he’s grown a second head, but do you really have the nerve to question him like that? Considering that entire concept of the club you are very aware of its existence now, a time situation shouldn’t be the most shocking should it?

“Well, it's hard to explai-“

“Then don’t explain it,” you almost jump fully out of his lap at the deep voice that rattles above you, and both him and you look up at the figure that looms over you now.

The man is tall, his black hoodie looking weird in contrast to the clothes of the other club goers, and with a squinting observation and a familiar and annoyed sigh from the man seated behind you, you realize you’re being stared down by the mysterious entity that is the DJ, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pocket in annoyance.

“Huh?” Ten lets out more in the form of a noise than a word, as his arms wind tightly around your form.

“I said don’t explain shit,” the man begins to tap his foot in irritation as he speaks, and you wonder if he’s aware that he’s in rhythm with the song that surrounds you, “you need to chill out with the loose tongue, its bad enough we have the big mouths outside.”

“I wasn’t gonna go that far,” Ten sounds reminiscent of a scolded toddler, and considering the man is hindering you from getting information that you wanted so badly, you can feel yourself mirroring the pout he wears, “I know what I’m doing alright man? Why are you over here anyways, shouldn’t you be at your little booth minding your business.”

“No one minds their business over at that booth, and you should know that better than anyone pervert,” the words are sharp, but the curl to his lips and the underlying playfulness to his tone tells you the likeliness of them being friends is high, “anyways, I know we don’t follow any regulations or anything here, but I’m still gonna take a fuckin’ break or two.”

“Well breaks over,” Ten reaches out a hand to playfully swat the man away, “I didn’t wait this long for you to just interrupt my bonding time with my person alright?”

“Alright, alright,” he finally starts to shuffle away, throwing one last comment about Ten being bitter his person showed up first over his shoulder with a grin.

“What a loser,” Ten starts, looking at you playfully and rolling his eyes, “too bad he’s like my best friend or whatever.”

“You seem to have a lot of fun around here don’t you?” you take a shot at voicing your observations, your heart fluttering in a completely new way at the warm smile he shoots you.

“Just wait a see, my love. Just wait and see.”

#nct smut #ten smut #chittaphon smut #nct imagine #nct series #nct fic #ten imagines #ten oneshot #nct oneshot #kpop smut #wayv smut #wayv imagine #wayv oneshot

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lettrespromises · 3 years

Text

#LettresPromises informs you : You have one notification.

──➤ Roronoa Zoro sent you a love letter to celebrate +400 followers, would you like to read it?

@newfriendjen sent a letter : ❝Hi Friend! Congrats again on your 400!! You definitely deserve many more! If you still have a spot open for you event (ignore if you filled them!), can I request: Smut Prompt #15 with Zoro 😏 please and thank you so much!❞ the author sent a letter : ❝dear jen, to say i got a bit carried while writing this is a bit of an understatement! but i hope you’ll like it as much as i liked writing it, all while cackling like a villain as i was writing this. thank you tons for the sweet words, you are such a sweetheart and i’m so lucky to know you! sending you lots of love! sealed with a kiss, nikki.❞

──➤ Prompt used : #15 “Look at what you’re doing to me.” ─➤ Genre : Smut. ➤ Warnings : MINORS DO NOT READ THIS, 18+ ONLY. Sexual intercourse, jealous sex, mild degradation, choking, biting, cunninlingus, penetration, spanking (once), sir kink.

The weather of the New World was often unforgiving, unpredictable, and at times, untamable. Sometimes, Mother Nature showed she was capable of crossing the limit of Nami’s extended knowledge regarding climate (and God knows her brain was severely infused with every secrets regarding the different kinds of weather, rendering her as a living, walking encyclopedia.) But alas, sometimes the rage of Mother Nature would be thrown upon any poor ship unready to face her wrath in the forms of undying tornados and waves that could reach the sky.

Hence why, every morning, Nami’s prediction on today’s weather was awaited by all, very much like a prophecy which was often set to come true— and if said prophecy announced any kind of weather gravitating around the lexical field of a natural catastrophe, one wouldn’t be surprised to perceive Usopp down on his knees in a praying position, diverse and unintelligible wishes to survive Mother Nature’s anger.

Much to the crew’s collective joy, the navigator had announced the most ideal weather— sunshine, a slight breeze and no cloud in sight, what appeared to be a regular weather in heaven. And, why of course, such a hot weather meant that both Nami and the local archeologist, Nico Robin, would bathe under the sun and relieve any kind of tension which had settled in after several fights (or just the exhaustion of having to deal with Luffy on a daily basis.)

And there you were, standing like a mannequin in the girls’ room in company of Nami and Robin, the latter throwing you an amused look at the way Nami was comparing which bikini would look better on you— the red one, an appeal for passion, or the black one, a statement of boldness? Her brows furrowed in unison at her poor attempt to make a decision, comparing how the colors married the shade of your skin.

« Robin, how are we feeling about the red bikini? It’s so cute, but I have a feeling something is missing… » The navigator wondered, her gaze falling on the taller woman next to her.

Robin couldn’t refrain from allowing a giggle from leaving her lips, surely it meant that she had her idea, an ill-intentioned one, that is. And, oh well, to say she had just a mere idea was an understatement : as she remained still, Robin summoned a couple of limbs to look for a green-colored bikini hidden in the drawers only to bring it to Nami’s attention. The two women shared a teasing glance, as if they communicated intentions filled with mischief through their eyes alone.

« I do believe something was missing, too. » Robin trailed off, bringing an index under her chin. « Something that might appeal to a certain swordsman. »

The evil cackle falling from Nami’s lips announced nothing good, and the sweet tone of her voice only deepened that sentiment. « You know how the saying goes : great minds think alike. »

« Hold on, what are you—… » You began, only to be cut off by the navigator, « Yeah, yeah, whatever you have to say, Y/N. We’re not fools, you know? You’re going to look like a real stunner with this bikini on, and I know that a certain someone won’t be able to resist. » She concluded her sentence with a wink sent your way, boy, sometimes you did understand why Zoro called her a witch at times.

« Join us when you’re ready, Y/N. I’m intrigued to see how this will go. » Concluded Robin, accompanying Nami towards the door to let you some privacy so you could change into the bikini, not that you have never changed in front of them and vice versa, but oh well.

You were now all alone, still haven’t moved an inch. Your thumb was brushing against the green fabric of the bikini over and over again until it had become some kind of obsession. But the more the motions continued, the more you realized that perhaps there was no other way to get out of this trap glamorously set by Robin and Nami. A sigh of despair left your lips, swearing to yourself that you’d have your payback sooner than later.

The door of the girls’ bedrooms slammed open, allowing your figure sculpted by the finest hands of the muses of beauty to be exposed to the kisses of the sun. The first sound to rip apart your thoughts was a squeal which left Nami’s mouth, the latter shaking Robin’s forearm with urgency to bring her attention onto you. « Robin, Robin! Look at her, isn’t she to die for? I’d bet all my money that Zoro is going to throw himself on her. I mean, just look at her! »

The same amused smile graced Robin’s facial traits, lowering her shades just a bit to have a good glance at how the oh so awaited green bikini embraced your body. « I must confess that it’s impossible to resist her. »

The words leaving her lips became clearer and clearer the more you approached them, a palette of rosy tones sitting proudly on top of your cheekbones at their compliments. « We saved you a seat, Miss I’m-too-sexy-for-my-own-good. Come with us! » Nami said, patting the empty spot next to her to which you wordlessly replied with a nod, sitting between her and Robin.

« You’re so evil, I kinda hate you for it. » A smile plastered upon your lips as the words died on your tongue.

« You love us and you know it. » Nami replied, letting her hand lingering on your forearm. « Ooh, would you look at that, Robin? The show is about to begin. » She concluded, taking a sip out of her cocktail with a gleam of mischief shining in her eyes.

And by show, the navigator undoubtedly meant the sudden appearance of the Sunny’s resident lover who had stormed out of the kitchen with a plate of different kinds of treats and cocktails for his ladies, spoiling them rotten on sunny days if it meant he could allow his eyes to linger a bit on your bodies in bikinis.

The first act of the show had begun in a flashy manner, as soon as Sanji closed the door leading to the kitchen behind him, the plate he was holding had fell onto the floor, a loud echo reasoning into the swordsman’s ears who was stuck in a deep state of slumber… Until now.

« I must have saved a country in my previous life to be worthy of such a privilege. » Sanji sobbed, falling onto his knees, « Y/N, you’re a goddess amongst us, we’re not worthy, I’m not worthy of your beauty. I will worship you everyday, I will cover you in love until my very last breath! » The cook continued, more and more praises falling from his lips in a continuous cascade as your cheeks were getting more and more red by the second. Alas, the more the blonde sang your praises, the more the swordsman was stirring awake— and if there was one thing Zoro hated with passion besides Sanji, it was waking up to loud noises.

Sanji had approached you, on one knee, the back of your hand pressed against his lips as the tears falling from his lips mixed with the blood leaking from his nose. « Thank you, my goddess, thank you for blessing my sore eyes. Words can’t describe how—… » And he went on and on again, his lips still traveling from the back of your hand to your forearm under Nami’s disgusted stare who yanked you away from him.

« My goddess—… »

« Oi! Do you ever shut up, stupid cook? » And despite the numerous occasions on which Zoro and Sanji have fought, Zoro’s words seemed intensely more acerbic, as sharp as the swords laying to his side, which even surprised Sanji.

« Were you talking to me, mosshead? » Sanji taunted.

« I don’t see anyone else here acting like a damn fool. » Zoro began, his sole eye conveying so much anger you could feel it. « Know your place. »

Nami elbowed Robin once more, the latter having long forgotten about the book sitting on her lap at this point. Sanji stepped towards the swordsman, dangerously reducing the space between the both of them until their foreheads were touching. There was no frown noticeable on Zoro’s face, but a blank expression which let through a pure anger. « She belongs to me, hands off what’s mine. » The swordsman spat, his shoulder hitting Sanji’s as he walked past him, leaving the cook in a stupor.

« Oi! You. » He said, pointing at your frame with his index. « Follow me. You and I are gonna’ have a word. »

He cursed himself for allowing his gaze to fall on your form, knowing damn well that with each second he spent looking at you in this green bikini (this damn color, he thought), the more he was falling under the spells casted by the muses of lust.

« Go get some! » Nami whispered, her tongue gracing her bottom lip.

« We expect all the details afterwards, my dear Y/N. » Robin giggled.

You had barely enough time to form any kind of response that you felt the foreign presence of Zoro’s digits snaking around your wrists and yanking you towards him. « Hey, I’m sure we can talk about this calmly, right? We can chat about it over a drink, I’ll ask Sanji to—… » Alas, your sentence never found its end, your mind going numb at the death glare Zoro sent your way as you mentioned Sanji’s name. But, paradoxically enough, it only fueled your arousal even more.

Zoro led you to the crow’s nest, trapping you and him both inside the same room. And as the silence grew heavier and heavier, until becoming asphyxiating, Zoro’s snicker broke the silence in the most mischievous way. A look of confusion was painted on your face, and you were quick to point at it. « W-What are you laughing at? »

« Do you think I’m fucking stupid? » Zoro half-asked.

You tilted your head to the side, slowly backing away until your back met the unforgiving surface of the wooden wall. « Answer me. » He demanded, one of his hand grabbing both of your wrists in one hold pinned above your head whilst his other hand cradled your jaw so you had no choice but devote your attention onto him.

« I don’t know what you’re talking about. » You pleaded, cheeks burning under the rosy tone as you felt his uneven breaths crashing against the column of your neck.

Wrong answer, Zoro shoved his knee between your already trembling legs. « You like the attention, hah? You love it when that pervert of a cook was throwing himself on you, is that it? Tch. » He was feeding his lust off of the scared expression on your face, blood rushing in the tightest space possible by the second.

« No answer, huh? ‘Guess I’m gonna have to teach you some manners, because it looks like you forgot who you belong to. » And with that, he dug his teeth into the skin of your neck, alternating between biting and sucking motions to form the most ravishing love bite— a symbol of belonging if you will. You squealed at the sudden sensation of his pearly whites inking his name into your skin, giving him exactly the reaction he was anticipating.

You rocked your hips against the thigh settled between your legs, a desperate attempt at getting some friction for your poor and aching core in need for attention. Zoro clicked his tongue once more at your antics, choosing to hush you by continuing the trail of hickeys adorning your martyr of a neck. « Care to explain what you’re doing? Throwing yourself on my thigh because you couldn’t get the shit cook, hah? You’re so fucking desperate, it makes me want to leave you there all alone. »

« Zoro! Please don’t, don’t leave me! I just need you, I don’t need anyone else but you! I promise I’ll be good but please, please, don’t leave me. » You pleaded, a clear veil of despair covering your eyes under his impassible expression.

The façade worn off soon, letting a smirk throne amongst his facial features instead. « Who do you belong to? » Zoro demanded, gliding the hand that was under your chin to your throat and applied just enough pressure to make sure to earn absolute submissiveness out of you.

« Y-You… » You choked out, the lack of oxygen marrying so well with your growing arousal.

His smirk only grew wider, a real testimony of the sick thoughts implanted in his brain that would make a demon blush. Both of his hand retreated to his side, gaze falling on the unmissable erection showing through his dark pants. His eyes alternated between you and the bulge in his pants, your mouth going dry at the wordless order. « If you want to be a whore, then be a good whore and suck me off, yeah? Don’t give me those eyes, you want it. »

You sunk to your knees, tongue wetting your lips in anticipation for what was bound to come. And whilst your eyes were stuck on his form, your fingers were busy tugging down at his pants to reveal his grey underwear stained with pre-cum. The sight of this alone was enough to send yet another wave of arousal down to your core. And as his cock sprung free from the constriction of his boxers, his girth slapping against his exposed abdomen and the tip rouge from anticipation, you were convinced you could’ve come undone from the sight of this alone.

« Suck. » He ordered, grabbing a fistful of your hair to force your towards his aching cock and the veil of pre-cum coating the tip.

And thus it began. You flattened your tongue, drawing a large lick from the base of his cock all the way to the tip where you finished with a few kitten licks, knowing damn well the head was where all the nerves devoted to pleasure were hidden. « Don’t tease and put your mouth to good use, whore. » Zoro said, almost betrayed by the groan threatening to be released.

Following the rules of performative language, you began to rock your head back and forth around his cock, making sure that your tongue was coating in a lustful love each inch of his girth whilst hums of pleasure were leaving your lips as you went. The hold of your hair in Zoro’s fist grew tighter and so did the metaphorical knots in his stomach as you went along, until the tip of his cock reached the back of your throat— such enticing sensation earned a growl out of him. Fuck.

« F-Fuck. Look at what you’re doing to me… Ah! Shit. Enough! » He ordered, yanking your head away from his cock, and the sight of the corners of your mouth dripping with the sweet marriage of his pre-cum and your drool could have provoked an orgasm out of him at this very moment.

« It’s too soon, and it’d be giving you what you want, huh? Too fucking bad, I’m going to cum in that sweet pussy of yours and you’re gonna love it. Ya’ hear me? » He asked without really asking, and taken by a rush of lust, you could only nod in return. « Y-Yes. » You stuttered. « You’re missing something. » Zoro added. You swallowed thickly before adding « Yes, yes, sir. » Your response caused an ill-intentioned snicker to fall from his lips. « That’s right. Now get on your back, and make sure to be as loud as you can, I want everyone on this damn ship to hear how I can make you scream. »

Zoro’s glorious height forced you to lay back until your spine touched the mattress where all the sins would soon break free. The smirk on his face never left, a pure testimony of what all the sinful deeds he was bound to accomplish. You were now trapped between his forearms, hips circled by his knees— bending under his dominance. « Did you wear that for me? » Zoro asked, slapping the string of the bikini top against your skin.

« I d-did, it’s all for you because I’m all yours. » Your response caused a chuckle to break from his lips, sweet words feeding his ego some more. And in a flash, his fingers had ripped said bikini top in half (you made a mental note that you now owed a serious debt to Nami), and there you were, (almost) in all you bare glory. « Fuck, if only you knew the things you do to me. »

Zoro wasted no time and threw all caution out of the window as his mouth latched onto your breasts, the motions of his tongue around your bud causing your spine to pay homage to the moon from how arched it was. His pink muscle flickered around your nipple before he swallowed your breast whole, his drool covering your flesh in a sinful veil. And because he was such a giver for his pretty girl, he gave the same treatment to the other breast whilst gasps left your lips over and over again at the methodical motions of his tongue, your anatomy held no secret for him.

« Are you going shy on me now? Did you forget what I said? » He trailed off, reducing the space between his lips and your ear, « I said I want you to be fucking loud. »

And with that, he left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your stomach before tearing apart (once more) your poor martyr of a bikini bottom under your desperate attempts to keep it intact. Were you challenging him? Oh well… Zoro has always been the type to face any challenge thrown his way. « Zoro—… Sir, please! » You pleaded, not knowing really why.

« You’re such a desperate little thing, huh? » He leaned down to face your core, glistening in its lustful glory for him and him only. Zoro pressed a finger against your folds, dragging it vertically to obtain a finger pad covered in your slicks. « So fucking wet for me already? ‘Bet that shit cook can’t make you as wet as me. » He stated, confidence embedded in his every word. « Only you can make me feel this way, sir. » You replied before he crashed his lips onto yours in an uncharacteristically sweet manner to cut you off. « And why’s that? » The swordsman asked, already knowing the answer. « Because… Because I belong to you. » He pressed yet another kiss against your lips for having given the answer that had been lingering on his mind. « Good girl. »

Your reward came in the form of his tongue brushing your folds, flickering motions against your sensitive bud sending you in overdrive as continuous waves of pleasure washed over you ceaselessly, the knots in your stomach tightening each time his tongue touched you. Two of his digits poked your entrance, teasing you to let your torture last before they penetrated you. The sudden sensation caused you to let out a dragged whimper accompanied by his name coated in a sinful tone. « S-Sir please, please just fuck me— I can’t take the teasing, ahh, fuck, fuck! Please, please! » You begged, eyelids shutting close under the pleasure.

But your pleas fell in deaf ears as he kept pumping his fingers in and out of you, sucking onto your sensitive bud to build an orgasm within you that he was bound to deny. He knew you were close by the way you were holding his green hair, tugging him ever closer to your core to amplify the inferno burning within you. But alas, to your greatest displeasure, all the motions ceased in one go under the hint of mischief glowing in his eye.

« You’re gonna cum on my terms, and when I say so. Got it? » He seethed, knowing damn well that his own end was going to arrive soon. He gave his girth a few experimental pumps, allowing the pre-cum to cover his length before shoving the entirety of his cock in one go inside you, barely leaving enough time for your cunt to stretch correctly— and saying that a elongated moan left your lips was an euphemism, the sick grin plastered upon his face grew more and more as the sounds of pleasure drowned in his eardrums. « You’re so fucking tight, shit! » He breathed out, « Look at your pretty cunt swallowing me whole. »

The rhythm of his hips followed the scheme of a crescendo, each slam of his hips against your derrière drew a clearer portrait of both Zoro’s end and your own climax. The nature of the rhythm itself indicated that he was chasing after his own end, and with his head thrown back and his irises dilated under the hunger to satiate the raging fires breaking loose in his abdomen by the second. « S-Sir, it feels— Ah! It feels so good! »

The tip of his cock kissed ever so precisely the roof of your cervix where a panel of nerves designed to draw a lustful reaction out of you every time he thrusted into you. Your vision became more and more blurry until a liquid veil covered your eyes as pearls of tears gathered at the corners of your eyes. Under the pressure of each of Zoro’s thrusts, your body bent to his will and soon you had no longer control over your legs that used to be around his waist, only to be picked up by the swordsman who threw your legs over his shoulder, thus allowing him to reach a deeper part in you and the cries leaving your lips were just the proof of how good he made you feel.

More and more cries echoed against the wooden walls of the room, your sounds of pleasure marrying the groans falling from his lips in a cascade. « Ah, fuck, fuck! R-Right there, please! Shit…! » You pleaded to fuel him some more. His nails were digging into the luscious flesh of your thighs, drawing rouge crescents in his wake.

« Who do you belong to? » He groaned out, his eye admiring the lustful look on your face.

« Y-You! I belong to you, fuck, you a-and no one else! » You attempted to reply mid-moan.

But as much as Zoro knew your anatomy, you also happened to be an expert of his— and the way he planted his nails into your skin, the raw groans loosing their chains to be set free and the way his thighs were shaking… Everything announced the beginning of his own end.

« Cum with me… Now! » He ordered, letting his hand crash against your buttcheek in the process. And there it was, the marriage of two lovers under the spell of lust. The rhythm of his thrusts reached their apex, all whilst he painted your walls with the white color of passion. His own cum was mixing with your own elixir of pleasure leaking from your throbbing core as your cunt was clenching around his cock in despair. The sounds of his hips slamming against yours were long gone now, the room was solely filled with heavy breaths and his name falling from your lips over and over again like a forbidden prayer.

Although Zoro’s stamina knew no bounds, he felt like the oxygen had been knocked off of his lungs. But perhaps it was the price to pay if it meant he could observe you in all your post-orgasm glory after holding it inside you for so long. God, he was so proud of you, proud of every mark he had left onto your skin, proud of the way your skin gleamed under the sweat, proud of being your lover.

« ’S alright, ’s alright. I’m going to pull out, breathe. » Zoro demanded, the sweet tone reserved for you only finding its way back around his words. His digits snaked around his girth to pull out of you, only to witness the satisfying marriage of your cum and his own. You were so good to him.

And whilst you remained unable to move, Zoro fell to your side, his arms quick to lock you into an embrace as your head rested on his chest, his frenetics heartbeats echoing in your eardrums. You loved the peace of the aftermath of any sexual activity involving Zoro, you loved how peace seemed to bend his facial features in the most enticing way.

He was the first one to break the silence, pressing his lips against your forehead whilst he tugged you impossibly closer to him like a reminder that you were indeed here, and would always be. « So whose plan was this, hah? » He asked, earning a giggle out of you in response. « It was Nami’s, although Robin helped too. She said I would one hundred percent ‘get laid’ if I wore this. » You answered, head tilting towards the poor green bikini torn in pieces.

« That witch can go to hell. » Zoro groaned, but the raw tone of his voice was betrayed by the sweet caresses of his digits down your forearm.

« I mean, her plan did happen so I think it’s a win for her. It’s not like you regret what happened, mhm? » Alas, nothing but silence in return. « Zoro? » You called him, but an angel passed. « Zoro! » You repeated more sternly, and this time you were met with the sound of his snores— of course, typical Zoro fashion.

Well, you knew who you were going to thank now.

#zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa #one piece x reader #one piece smut #zoro one piece #zoro smut #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #Pirate Hunter Zoro #one piece zoro #zoro imagine #zoro one shot

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hanatiny · 3 years

Text

Cry For Your King

gif by @barnesbabee ♡

a/n: ‘tis finally done, part two of Bow To Your King - read that first if you haven’t yet! hope CFYK lives up to the quality of its predecessor~

pairing: demon king!Hongjoong x f!reader

genre: smut

word count: 2469

warnings: sir kink, pet names, teasing, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), edging/orgasm denial, overstimulation is mentioned, dacryphilia, extremely vaguely implied exhibitionism, implied breeding kink, implied corruption kink, very slight possessive undertones, reader acts like a brat for a solid 0.5 seconds, Joong has piercings & tattoos (the latter are only briefly mentioned), brief mention of unconventional toys, strong language

-----

You officially married Hongjoong and were crowned as the queen of the underworld not too long after the 'incident' in the throne room. That must've been nearly two years ago now, you mused.

In human years, anyway - you were quick to be told that time flowed differently, much slower, in the underworld. And you felt it too, because while two years weren't much, you did notice that days and nights both felt much longer than they used to.

You certainly weren't complaining about it, in any case, because it meant more time to spent with your demon lover, whom you've been trying to find for a good while.

He had adamantly been avoiding you for the past week and if you did run into him outside of your shared bed late at night, he'd be pressing his lips together tightly and making up nonsensical excuses to not kiss you on top of that.

You figured he was just extra busy but you were still fed up, to say the least.

Your husband has been avoiding you and, as his closest confidant next to you, so has Seonghwa, and nobody you asked could give you anything more than a shrug as an answer as to why this was the case.

With a pout on your face, you huffed as you sat down on your large bed.

If Hongjoong wasn't going to spend time with you, a nap seemed like the most logical thing to do considering you didn't really have anything else to occupy yourself with presently.

You rolled over on the mattress, pulling the blanket up to cover your body as you curled up into a ball. You tossed and turned but you weren’t able to catch much rest, especially not once you felt the mattress dip behind you before a calloused hand ghosted over your hip.

You knew who the hand belonged to, body going rigid as you inhaled sharply.

"I know you're awake, darling...~" Your husband's sultry voice whispered near your ear, coaxing a soft whine from you in response.

Your refusal to react, even if you failed in your endeavor, amused him greatly. After all, it was only a matter of time.

Hongjoong knew you better than you knew yourself; he knew which buttons to push to make you break, to make you tremble beneath his touch and moan his name loud enough for everyone in the castle to hear.

He leaned in and allowed his lips to brush over the exposed skin of your shoulder near the demon mark on your collarbone, letting them curve into a grin when he felt you jolt and shiver from the brief contact.

“Easy there, honey. It’s just me~” He purred into your ear and you whined once more, louder this time.

“It’s not just you, Hongjoongie,” you pouted with a huff, his expression softening momentarily at the nickname as he nudged you to turn onto your back, compliance almost immediate, “You’ve been avoiding me for the past week and a half, why-”

Hongjoong hushed you with a finger to your lips, his eyes widening before he regained his composure when you kitten licked at his digit.

“All in due time, love. You shall find out about my motives soon, very soon as a matter of fact~” You could practically hear smugness and sadism both dripping from his voice, and it sent another shiver through your body while he pulled his finger back before replacing it with his lips briefly, but not long enough for you to be able to distinguish the foreign sensation that clung to your husband’s lips.

When he pulled the blanket away from you and let it fall off the bed, he licked his lips and his eyes flashed their signature red as he shifted himself to kneel between your instinctively spread legs.

Suddenly, you understood. You understood why Hongjoong kept avoiding you while he smirked knowingly, pausing his actions to allow you to process

Thanks to the passionate glow of his irises, you were able to clearly see the jewelry surrounding your husband’s mouth.

In hindsight, you mentally chastised yourself for neither seeing nor putting two and two together beforehand - it should’ve been clear to you that the reason you and your lips were being avoided for so long was that Hongjoong had gotten a variety of piercings and was allowing them to heal.

Snake bites, a lip ring as well as a stud decorating his tongue that you spotted when the organ darted out to moisten his lips.

"Like what you see, princess~?" Your surprise must have been palpable, if the gallivant edge in his tone was anything to go by.

“I like what I’m seeing immensely, but I thought my title was queen~?” You teased, although immediate regret settled deep in your gut when Hongjoong tilted his head to the side slightly and gave a crooked smirk.

“Not when you act like a spoiled brat entitled to me and my attention, it isn’t. Now part those pretty legs for me more, like I know you want to...~”

You shuddered, but stubbornly refused to budge.

“Ah, I see how it is. Precious little brat thinks she’s in charge hm~?” He growled savagely, the red hue of his eyes darkening dramatically as he clicked his tongue.

“Stupid mistake... Do you even deserve to get what has been prepared for you specifically? Or would you rather just have me watch you fuck yourself on my sceptre, which I’m aware you’ve been wanting to do when I’m not around~?”

Mouth agape, you were left stunned at Hongjoong's words while his lips curled into a triumphant grin.

From the very first day on you had been told to tread carefully, that he had eyes and ears anywhere even if you weren't aware of them till the moment of truth came, that he'd know your every secret eventually.

You didn't believe in that at the time but you definitely did now and you knew there was no point in denial, so you drew your bottom lip in between your teeth and wordlessly, finally, did as told.

Hongjoong purred in approval, his hands ghosting over the skin of your already trembling thighs. He had one more ace of his sleeve, a literal one at that, but he’d save that for another time.

“So you can follow the orders you’re given... My good little kitten wants only Sir, doesn’t she? Wants him more than anything and anyone else hm~?” His voice sounded taunting and deep near your ear.

You didn’t even realize you had closed your eyes until they shot open moments later in surprise when you felt Hongjoong’s hot breath fanning over your ear. “Well~?”

You nodded frantically with a small whimper, growing needier for him as the seconds ticked by, and you knew he could tell. He always could. “Y-yes! Only want Sir, nothing and noone could satisfy me like him~”

Hongjoong chuckled endearingly, amused by how your voice betrayed you, “Sir’s the only one for you my darling, the only one worthy of having you like this.”

You enjoyed the possessive growl that followed as it sent a shiver down your spine, your husband’s eyes flickering with mischief in response while he shuffled downwards to settle between your legs, his face close to your throbbing core this time.

His fingers carefully pushed up the hem of your nightdress and hooked into the waistband of your panties before pulling them off with ease, his eyes twinkling in amusement as they rose to meet yours.

“So cute how wet you are for me already... This worked up about just a few piercings~”

You whined, feeling caught as your cheeks flushed in half embarassment and half arousal while he let a finger glide smoothly over your slick folds with featherlight touches.

"My darling wants me to make her feel good, doesn't she?" You could essentially hear the taunting grin in his words, your reply coming out more high-pitched than intended.

"I-I do~!"

"'I-I do' what, baby?" His tone was mocking and it felt like your face had figuratively caught on fire.

You had to actively swallow your pride to answer; while it wasn't particularly unusual for you to beg for his touch, Hongjoong hardly ever forced you to do it like this.

"I want Sir to make me feel good, please it's been so long...!"

Although meek and breathy, the way you pleaded appeased Hongjoong. He brushed his thumb over your swollen clit, and you jerked in reaction as he chuckled lowly.

“So sensitive...~”

“Only f-for Sir...~” Came your weak reply, and Hongjoong’s expression softened deceivingly before you felt his plush lips press lightly against your nub, the cold feeling of the metal contrasting the warmth of his skin and sending a shiver rushing down your spine.

Based on your reactions so far he knew you weren’t ready for what was to come, his lips curling into a sadistic grin while he trailed gentle kisses down your slit before stopping right at your entrance.

At times like this you cursed the fact that he let his hair grow out a bit over the years, as it tickled your inner thighs teasingly and it took every ounce of self control you had within you to not squirm violently from how sensitive you were.

You dared to tentatively lift your head to see why Hongjoong appeared to be hesitating, only for it to drop back to where it was onto the pillow underneath as your lips trembled before finally parting in a vulnerable mewl when his tongue slipped inside of your entrance.

It amazed you time and time again how he had become such an expert in pleasuring you with just his tongue or fingers, sometimes with both at the same time.

He lapped at your sex as if he was a starved man, moaning exaggeratedly at your taste for good measure, and it brought you to a sort of bliss you rarely felt so intensely.

Your soft cries grew louder every time his tongue dipped in between your dripping folds, and when he then paused to look at you, right before you could come undone for him, Hongjoong swore he almost came in his pants at the sight.

Your chest heaving with ragged breaths, your lips parted in sinful whines caused by the sudden lack of stimulation and your hair was sprawled out messily around your head. But to Hongjoong, the most beautiful part of it all was the tears that welled up in your hazy eyes. He knew you well enough to know they were tears of pleasure, and knowing that he caused them was enough to make his dick twitch as you begged for him.

His previously innocent, soft-spoken darling had become someone who'd ask for the pleasure he provided for you and the way he filled you up so often he might as well think you were addicted.

Your sobs only served to fuel his thoughts more, "P-please Sir, need to cum so bad! Please~!"

"God..." He groaned, willing his instinct to just go ahead and fuck you into the mattress until your voice became hoarse from screaming to take a backseat in his mind.

"You're so gorgeous, angel. I could do this to you all goddamn night...~" Hongjoong's purr both unsettled and excited you, causing a gasp to sound in your throat as he went back to working on your aching heat.

You didn't know what the foreign sensation was this time until you felt Hongjoong smirk against you and slip his tongue as deep inside of you as he possibly could.

You didn't know how it worked, or where he hid the remote if there even was one, but didn't care in the slightest - his tongue piercing could vibrate.

He proceeded to bring you right to the edge with it, to the point of needing a single touch to hit your orgasm, back down only to build you up again with his expertly technique.

Two or three times, you weren't exactly sure how many times he repeated the process. All you knew was that tears were now streaming down your face unhindered, your body trembling and writhing in pleasure.

"That's right, baby... I want you to cry only for me, cry for your king..~!" Hongjoong's voice sounded so breathy and borderline erotic, it made you believe he was getting off on the sight of your tears alone.

And he did get off on it. So much so in fact that he pulled away from your pulsing core, afraid he would be unable to control himself much longer and wouldn’t be able to cum inside of you like he wanted to.

You whimpered, starting to get fed up with the amount of edging your lover had already done that night. “Sir-”

“Hush, kitten.” He interrupted you with a growl, although you frankly couldn’t say that you minded, “You’ll be allowed to cum soon~ But not on Sir’s tongue...”

You tilted your head at his words as he trailed off, your bottom lip jutting out in a mildly confused pout. He groaned under his breath, muttering about how you’d be the death of him sooner or later while he busied himself with freeing his painfully hard cock from his pants, thankful that your shared bedroom was dark enough for you to not see the black ink peeking out from underneath his sleeve, even with the faint moonlight shining through the window.

It was something for you to get excited about later, he mused, before positioning himself above you and lining his tip up with your entrance. Your hands balled into fists in anticipation, bunching up the sheets in the process.

Before Hongjoong could finally enter you and give both you and himself the relief you so desperately craved, however, the door creaked open. Your husband didn’t have to turn around to know who intruded, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“I’m sorry, I just heard y/n crying and thought-”

“Well I think you should leave, Seonghwa.” Hongjoong bit back, clearly annoyed at the older man’s intrusion of such an intimate moment.

“I-”

“I told you to get the fuck out if you want to keep your head on your shoulders past tonight...” Afraid he would be in genuine trouble if he didn’t obey, Seonghwa slammed the door shut again.

“Now, where were we-”

You swore you could see Hongjoong’s form shaking with rage at the comment he heard next, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t serve to fuel your arousal even more.

“Oh by the way, he got his dick pierced too.”

You blinked up at your husband with wide eyes while his cheeks flushed, the man once again grateful for the darkness of the room hindering your ability to see.

“You what?!”

----- Taglist:

@barnesbabee @cometoceantrenches @ddeonghwva @galaxteez @illicit-roses @latte-fairytaekwoon @little-precious-baby @moonlit-lixie @multidreams-and-desires @nightqueennyx @truebluejoong @vocalyunho @yunhoes-twancings-nsfw @yunhoiseyecandy

Network tag:

@8makes1teamnet

#8makes1teamnet #ateez smut #ateez hongjoong smut #hongjoong smut #kim hongjoong smut #demon au #and my taglist keeps growing.... not that I'm complaining #here's just to hoping everyone actually gets tagged fshjfs #hanatiny writes

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mrsgiovanna · 3 years

Text

Buon Compleanno (Don Giorno x Fem! Reader)

It's as the name says... This fic is close to my heart and I really enjoyed writing it for our Golden king's birthday. Mostly fluff, it does contain mentions of alcohol consumption though. I hope you all enjoy. ❤️🎊🎉😘🐞💭

P. S. Let the fluff ensue 💐

Word count: 2.5k

“So Mista... Fugo, are things ready on your end? I’ve got confirmation from North Island that everything is ready for us on their end. We have to stagger our arrivals so that Giorno doesn’t actually see you guys there until the party. All our villas are ready for our arrival and his presents are being safe guarded there until we arrive,” you beamed as you secretly went over the final checklist for Giorno’s birthday get away with the team and Trish.

Your friends had ever so thoughtfully come over to see you and Giorno off… well more so to iron out the last details of your master plan, but your boyfriend didn’t need to know that. Attempting to keep your plans for his birthday hidden from him was a near impossible feat. Trying to get him to take some time off and just live for himself was an even bigger task, but being who you are, you managed to plan everything down to the finest detail.

Trying to get the entire island to yourselves and plan the party of a century for your closest allies was a mammoth task, but it was what you felt Giorno deserved. In the years that he’s spent running Passione, he had always placed his own needs secondary to the needs of the organization, which is why you resolved to give him the best experience imaginable for his 21st birthday.

“Hi Giorno! We were just talking about you,” piped up Trish in a voice loud enough to alert everyone to the young don’s looming presence. Eyes widening for a split second, you manage to compose yourself without him catching on and flashed him a pleasant smile. You were taken aback by how handsome he looked dressed down in an azure linen Armani suit, hair braided loosely and cascading down his shoulder. He took his place at your side, casually circling his arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Morning everyone, what’s this about me?”

“Oh, we’re just discussing what we’re going to be doing when you’re away… you know, cats and mice and the like,” joked Fugo, earning him a worried look from Giorno.

“Gosh, relax my love… come on, we have to go, it’s a pretty long flight,”

“Alright, alright, let’s go bella. Well, I’ll see you all in a few days’ time,” leaving to the collective goodbye wishes of your friends you set off to catch the private jet which would take you to the little piece of heaven in the Seychelles.

Upon landing at the airport, you were just one short helicopter flight away from your destination. Giorno’s demeanor was akin to that of a child on Christmas eve, taking in his beautiful surroundings on the helicopter. Stepping onto the helipad, you were greeted by the wonderful fresh scents of the salty sea air, clear blue seas and white sandy beaches for as far as the eye could see. After the welcome, you were lead to the main villa, given your golf cart and allowed yourselves to get settled in for the rest of the night, choosing to spend a quiet night lounging on the balcony overlooking the ocean.

Giorno couldn’t help but stare at your beautiful form. The way the moonlight bounced off the ocean behind you and illuminated your skin mesmerized him. He had known you ever since he had taken over Passione. You served as a valuable ally when it came to weeding out the members who were still unwilling to adopt his ideals. As the years marched on, he started seeking out your company more and more, until it became apparent that he was at his happiest when he was around you… and once the realization had dawned on him, he wasted no time in making you his. You fell hard, and fast, and it was so easy fall into step with each other’s lives, as if you had been created just for each other.

“Bella, this is incredible, I know I put up a bit of a fight but I’m so glad you did this…” he uttered with a dreamy look on his face.

“I’m glad you think so my love, you’re going to love the day I have planned for us tomorrow… Ah! Actually, later on today," you say, glancing at your watch, "it’s just past midnight! Happy birthday my love! I hope you know how much I love you, and I’m incredibly proud of you and all you have managed to accomplish at such a young age… you’re… you’re pretty amazing you know,” the emotions swirled around in Giorno’s eyes while listening to your heartfelt speech.

“(y/n) … I… you’re… I just love you so much tesoro, you’re everything I could ever want,”

“I love you too Gio… come on, it’s late, let’s get some rest,” you say while leading him to bed.

You rose early, just as the sun made its glorious appearance over the ocean. As early as you had woken up though, Giorno was already awake, nursing a cup of coffee as he stared pensively at the brilliant blue water.

“Good morning handsome, penny for your thoughts?” you greeted your lover, wrapping your arms lovingly around his shoulders and nuzzling into his soft hair.

“Good morning principessa… I’m just thinking about how much I love you…”

“Oh? Is that so, Mr. Giovanna? Well prepare to love me even more, go get ready, we have lots to do today,” you say, a lovely light, lilt coloring your voice.

“Any hints?”

“Wear something comfortable, something that we can walk around in,”

With that, your day had started with a guided hike through the island. Between Giorno’s life-imbuing ability and your affinity for adventure, you were both mesmerized by the flora and fauna you encountered on the hike. Once that was over you looked forward to coming back to a special couple’s massage which eased your sore muscles and relaxed you both into a dreamlike state. Finally, after your last treatments, you could get ready for your “dinner” at the piazza. Feeling a sense of pride as you put on the last of your accessories, you smiled at your reflection in the mirror while inspecting your stunning outfit, and grew even happier when you saw Giorno walking out in a casual charcoal grey Dior suit which matched your dress, but not his expression unfortunately.

“What’s the matter my love? You look great by the way…”

“Thank you tesoro… you’re quite the vision yourself,” standing behind you, sharing the mirror, he raked his fingers through his uncooperative hair, sighing in annoyance.

“Gio, stop- here, sit down, I’ll help you,” you say as you gently brush out the tangles and scrunch the wave back into his lovely golden hair. You carefully braid the length of his mane but leave his signature triad of ringlets out, admiring how beautifully the shorter sections of his hair framed his face.

“There…” you leaned back to admire your efforts, acknowledging the fact that you had a particularly exquisite model as well.

“Are you sure this is fine my love?” there was a hint of doubt in Giorno’s voice, but you made sure to banish any such thoughts.

“Of course, I love your hair like this,”

“Well, that’s good enough for me. Shall we leave my princess?”

“Yes… but can I drive the golf cart?” you ask, extending your arm to him, gesturing for the keys.

Speeding past the rest of the villas, you just wanted to make sure that everyone was already at the piazza ready to surprise the young don.

“Are you sure we’re at the right place my love? Or should we be at a different entrance, this looks like it’s closed,”

“Yes caro, come on, I’m sure the staff are inside… I’ve picked up on your habit of wanting to dine in solitude,” you explain as you walk towards the entrance hand in hand. Stepping into the restaurant, the lights dipped and instantly got brighter revealing your closest friends jumping out of their hiding spots with a collective, rambunctious yell of “surprise”, startling your unsuspecting boyfriend.

“Happy birthday my love,” you softly say once again, as the lively music started to play in the background.

“You… did all of this? For me?”

“Of course bello mio, well, I did have help though” you gestured behind Giorno, pointing out Mista, Trish and Fugo walking towards you both.

“Oi, happy birthday Giogio, haha, you look like you need a drink, I’ll be right back,” said Fugo as he went to order the first round of drinks for your little group. Between flitting amongst your guests, dancing with your handsome beau, and stealing moments away to be alone him, you almost forgot to give him his gifts, which were safely stored in the wine cellar of the establishment.

“Well, what do you think my love?” Giorno’s eyes widened when he saw the glass-encased, white Fender Stratocaster signed by just about every rock star, most importantly, his favorite guitarist, Jeff Beck.

“I’ve been looking for this for the longest time… how did you find it tesoro?”

“I also know some people… that’s not all, look next to it…” you motioned towards 5 Morocco solander boxes that housed a rare first edition of the complete 10 volumes of Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables.

“I thought that might look quite beautiful in your study… adding something especially meaningful to your collection,”

“I’m speechless (y/n) … you’ve gone to such great lengths…” you hush him with a passionate kiss preventing him from gushing about your efforts as you were determined to make this night about him.

“I’m sure we’ve been gone for too long, lets rejoin our guests my love,” you started to walk towards the staircase exiting the wine cellar, but you were pulled back against Giorno’s broad chest, grasping your face in his hand, he kissed you with so much fervor this time, leaving you flustered and battling to calm your racing heart. Noticing the effect, he managed to have on you, he gently coaxed you back upstairs with a wicked smirk.

“Hey, you’re back, we’ve been looking all over for you two. We have one more person who wants to say hello,” with a soft smile, Trish reaches behind her to pull out coco jumbo, which meant only one thing…

“Signore Polnareff! Even you…”

“You know I’ve always had a soft spot for pretty girls Giorno… Joyeux anniversaire! You’re a brave young man with a good head on your shoulders and integrity in your heart, always hold on to that,”

“Thank you signore Polnareff, it means a lot coming from you, considering…” cutting him off before Giorno could complete his sentence, Polnareff attempted to lighten the mood.

“Non non non, no sad thoughts tonight, get this man a drink someone, you’re all slacking here,” he said looking at you as you mouthed a small thank you in his direction.

“(y/n), you’ve really outdone yourself. Giogio, you’re a lucky man,” said Mista as he brought a special bottle of champagne for you all to raise a toast with. “Alright, while we’re all here in the same place, I just want to say that you’re all important to me…”

“Mista’s drunk guys, prepare yourselves,” Trish says with an eye roll resulting in hushed giggles as the gunslinger tried to (unsuccessfully) arrange his sentimental thoughts.

Unable to stand it any longer, Trish takes over and pays homage to Giorno, as well as the special people who had given everything in order for them to live, enabling them to carry on their will.

As the party raged on, you took a small break in a dim corner of the piazza, and took a moment to marvel at the fruits of your labor. Everybody was having the best time, including Giorno. After being called away by one of his associates, it filled your heart with fluttery sensations watching the man you loved finally able to act his age for once.

“May I sit with you, carina?” startled out of your musings, you find an old friend standing over you.

“Lorenzo, of course, please, have a seat,” you offer emphatically.

“So, how is one half of Passione’s power couple doing?” his question earning a loud giggle from you. You continued to make conversation with Lorenzo, until Trish came to inform you that one of the service providers needed to confirm a few details with you, so you politely excused yourself and followed Trish. You were confused as she lead you to a secluded part of the beach, where you find Giorno standing alone, staring broodingly at the ocean for the second time that day. You realized that she just made an excuse draw you away to check on Giorno, being slightly concerned yourself after seeing the expression on his face.

“Gio? My love, what’s the matter? Did you just need some fresh air?” he turned to faced you with the softest smile.

“You know bella, I’ve loved you so deeply for years now… you always know what I need… even before I do. I never really feel complete anymore unless you’re with me… which is strange because I’ve always been content on my own. And then it hit me, you will always hold a part of me, and I’ll always seek you out because of it… You’ve given me probably the best experience of my life tonight, but, there’s just one more thing I would like from you to make the day perfect…” you felt light-headed when you saw Giorno moving to kneel down on one knee, pulling out a little trinket box, opening it to reveal the most beautiful ring.

“(y/n), would you give me the greatest gift and agree to spend the rest of your life with me as my wife?”

Emotions tugged at your pretty features, as you whispered a breathy affirmation, while nodding excitedly. Exhaling sharply with a stunning smile, Giorno got back to his feet and placed the elegant ring on your finger, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss thereafter. You threw your arms around his neck, and held him tightly, before the realization dawned on you.

“Wait! How long have you been planning this, Gio? Your question was met with his soft, exasperated laugh.

“Oh! For the longest time amore, I’ll admit though, your plans had forced me to adapt my own, but I had some help in achieving all of this… Trish is a lifesaver,” explained your new fiancé with a hint of pride in his voice.

“I love you Gio, but you managed to hijack your own celebration… I don’t know what to do with you!” the mock exasperation dripping from your voice drew a small laugh from Giorno.

“That’s your problem now tesoro, you already agreed to marry me, no take backs,” with that, you both decide to return to the festivities. Intertwining your fingers with his as you slowly walked back, you both stole loving glances at each other, communicating your intense affections for each other through your eyes alone… perhaps it was as he said, you mused… that a part of your soul resided with him also, and so you always sought him out to feel complete too, just as he did with you.

#giorno giovanna x reader #giorno x reader #giorno x y/n #jojo x reader #jjba x reader #giorno #giorno giovanna #don giorno #don giovanna #vento aureo #jjba #golden wind #jojo's bizarre adventure #giogio #jojo no kimyou na bouken #Happy birthday Giorno #jjba fanfic #jjba fluff #my writing

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lemonysharkbait · 3 years

Text

Love Potion - Revisited

Mo Guan Shan x He Tian 19 Days fic

Read on AO3

There's a witch in the woods. He doesn't make love potions. Not anymore.

“I need a love potion.”

“I don’t make those anymore.”

Whatever herb the redhead was picking smelled divine. He Tian watches the sweat bead on his neck. “But you are a witch?”

Guan Shan pauses for a second, then picks up his basket and brushes past He Tian. It was a long way to this little cottage in the forest and He Tian didn’t have much time to sneak away from the watchful eye of his family. But he was enchanted as soon as he walked past the threshold and onto the land. And he didn’t care how long he spent out here. He’d deal with the consequences later.

“I don’t have time to be giving rich city boys spells they don’t even know how to use.”

He Tian smiles, “It’s not for me.”

“Well of course it’s not for you, that’s how most people assume love spells work. You give it to the person you’re infatuated with and whether they want it or not, they fall madly in love with you. But love is ugly business and I don’t meddle with it.” The red head scowls. “Not any more.”

“Been scorned before?” He Tian asks the question teasingly but the witch blushes, pink dusting the freckles on his cheeks. They’re both inside the cabin now, which is impossibly larger on the inside than it is on the outside.

Bundles of drying herbs hang from the ceiling and hundreds of glass vials and bottles line floor-to-ceiling shelves. He Tian runs his fingertips over the spines of books crammed amongst ingredients. A grey cat with piercing green eyes materializes out of some sleeping nook and purrs as it rubs against He Tian’s leg.

“Take a seat.” Guan Shan snaps He Tian out of his reverie with a brisk motion at a cluttered table. Two cups of hot tea send up steam.

“Tell me the details of your need for a love potion and I’ll see what I can do.”

“He is beautiful and smart and kind.”

“Of course he is, they all are.”

Not a start or a stutter or a mention of the unspeakable. No raised eyebrows at the mention of He Tian’s preferences. Red tongue, pink lips, honey tea. His brash reply is a relief.

“And rude.”

That gets a raised eyebrow. “That ones new. Where’d you meet? Or are you one of those creeps who just looks?”

“We met during a bar brawl.” He Tian says.

“Did you talk? To him.”

“Yes. And he even talked back.”

“What did he tell you?”

“Things.” He Tian lifts a shoulder, easily noncommittal.

“You fucked.”

He Tian chokes on his tea. “We were drinking. And strangers.” Guan Shan shifts and a floorboard squeaks. He Tian relents. “We kissed.”

There’s a bold scent like a night without the moon or being in a cathedral when no one else is there. A glare from the sun makes He Tian squint. It shouldn’t be slanting through the windows at this time of day. When had he come here?

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“There’s a lot I’m not telling you.”

The witch’s jaw slides. “Then get out.”

He Tian leans forward and it shifts the sun’s glare out of his eyes. Something behind Guan Shan clatters. He Tian opens his mouth. Bird bones in a bowl. The cat licks its lips.

“You fix broken things. Your love potions do. And they,” He Tian drops his voice, he doesn’t know why. The room is all cool blue, right on the teetering edge of night. It bleaches the color from the witch’s features and He Tian wonders if there was a fire in the hearth at some point, tries to conjure the layout of the little cottage in his head but the thought drops like a stone. “They don’t have to be taken by the other person, the beloved.”

He reaches for his tea and it's perfectly hot. That bothers him for some reason and he frowns.

“Who told you that I fix broken things?”

He Tian blinks. “I did.”

Guan Shan rolls his eyes and stands up, arms uncrossing, legs graceful but it’s all perfunctory and sharp. He Tian notes the edge of the full moon outside. It makes sense that the cabin groans. It’s settling. Because it’s night.

It makes sense that the floors creak and the walls pop as they walk through a library, then a greenhouse, a circular room with no pattern, a place where the books feel like they have eyes and they’re watching from the shelves. Finally, they stop in a room of white statues. With the blue light, He Tian can’t tell if their mouths are twisted open in ecstasy or pain.

Guan Shan sits on the large base of one, crosses one leg over the other and leans back on his hands. A single dangling earring glints from his ear.

He Tian falls to his knees like rapture. “Yes.” Bows his head to the floor and wonders which of them has spoken. The tile is cool and smells like dirt.

“You’ve been seeking relief.”

“Yes.”

“Have you found it.”

He Tian pulls himself up from the floor, flushing and knowing the witch can see his cheeks heat in the stark white light of this cloudless day. He feels like he’s just done something embarrassing, something he shouldn’t have done. A fantasy of falling to his knees in a dark room flashes through his mind. He feels foolish. Thoughts like that aren’t for the bright light of day.

“You have good taste.” He Tian brushes off his cheek. The room is dusty.

“How would you know?”

He Tian snorts. The statue Guan Shan is perched on is, from this angle, is unmistakable in its passion. Toned legs are positioned so one man is seated in the lap of the other, who is prone beneath him. As He Tian rounds to see their faces, the statue unfolds like a neat trick. Combat-locked arms wrap in a deadly hold. Neither man has a look of triumph.

“So will you make it for me?”

“Make what.”

“The love potion.”

“I don’t make those anymore.”

“Just tell him you love him.”

He Tian sighs, leans against the counter.

The witch nudges him back. “You’ll get blood on your shirt.”

He Tian doesn’t care. The rabbit on the counter is skinned clean except for the back feet. Those sit in a bowl, fur and all.

“But your potion, when someone takes it, doesn’t force the other person to love them.”

Guan Shan grunts.

“So, it won’t really, I’m already, it’s already,” words feel like the slick thick of guts squeezed during an episode of sick. “It won’t change anything.”

“Then you don’t need a potion.”

He Tian frowns. “But he doesn’t know.”

“Then tell him.” Each word is punctuated and slow. The rabbit is stuffed with garlic and rosemary.

“I can’t.”

The metal knife clatters on the counter, a frustrated toss. “Why not?”

There’s a large meal waiting on the table and a beautiful sunset outside the window. He Tian lifts the fork to his mouth and wonders that he has never had something so good.

“Because. I wasn’t myself.”

“You lied to him.”

He Tian carefully wipes his mouth. “I. I know you’re stringent but your work, your potion. It fixes broken things.”

“Like you.”

The early morning light sets Guan Shan in pinks. He Tian feels pleasantly full. He palms the tablecloth of the empty table. “I tried to lie to him, but he saw right through me. So if, if I could just have the potion and fix this.”

“What do you think the potion does?”

“Makes you feel loved.”

When the witch shoves up from his seat, He Tian thinks it’s all fury. But it’s just to swat a cat off the table.

“Why won’t you tell me his name? The man you love.”

He Tian shrugs. “He might not want to be,” He Tian chooses the word carefully “revealed.”

He follows Guan Shan into the cabin’s interior, into quiet nooks and crannies carefully stacked with the mundane. Candles of thick wax spilling over window seats, vines growing in a room with no light, two hallways forming a perfect crossroad. The floorboards in that particular spot thump with something rhythmic but Guan Shan just thunks back at the sound with his heel and He Tian stares at the floor, feeling like there’s something that interested him a second ago but he can’t quite remember what it was.

When the witch stops it’s in a room of mirrors covered in dust and peeking out from poorly thrown drapes. He Tian peers into one but can’t see his eyes. He rubs them, looks again, still can’t see in the shadowed blue light that fills the room. It’s just slightly too dark.

Guan Shan murmurs behind him. In the reflection of the mirror, he appears in front of He Tian, bright and clear, stooped and eyes sharp, peering directly into the reflection or rather, He Tian realizes calmly, the reflection is gazing out at them.

“Ah,” The voice issues from behind He Tian, but the reflection in front of him moves its lips. “You don’t want to see it.”

“See it?”

The reflection tilts sideways and He Tian sees himself, fuzzy and impermanent, cozied up to a witch with fire-flame hair. They are closer than he remembers. Is that what I sound like? He Tian wonders dumbly as the memory plays and flickers. They talk, they drink, they kiss. It disgusts He Tian.

His shape in the memory is that of another man, a different person, a cloak he slips on when he no longer wants to be himself, when he no longer wants to be the son of a rich lord. His lies fall slick from his lips, and the Guan Shan from this memory is sweet. The memory shifts and He Tian tries to close his eyes. But he can see them. All the times he slipped away to escape. Into pale arms dotted with freckles. Into a soft throat that arches with a moan. Into copper eyes and the smell of sage and butchered rabbit. In all of them, he is not himself, not his true shape. He’s a nameless lover with simple clothes and soft brown hair and green eyes.

The mirror cracks and He Tian can see his eyes in one of the shards, clear and dark.

“See it.”

He Tian whips around. The room is dark as night.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You knew? I’m sorry. I just wanted,” He Tian stretches out, falls to his knees, the grass he hits is soft and smells like fresh summer rain. “I just, you don’t have to love it back.” And he is. He is an “it”, a thing that can change its shape however it wants. A thing of slick lies. “I just, if I could just have the potion. I could. It would.”

You could love yourself.

There is a witch in the woods. He doesn’t make love potions, not anymore. He made one and it worked.

#19 days #19 days fanfiction #he tian #mo guan shan #tianshan #witch!moguanshan #dark #dark magic #alternate universe #love potion

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iwanthermidnightz · 3 years

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*As usual, below I’m sharing excerpts from this article that are noteworthy*

What may come as a surprise to the band’s fans is the news that T.J., 36, is gay. This isn’t a recent revelation for him; he’s known since he was young, and he’s been out to family and friends in his tight-knit Nashville community for years. In some respects, he says, coming out publicly is no big deal. “I’m very comfortable being gay,” he says later, in a quiet room at the office of his management company. “I find myself being guarded for not wanting to talk about something that I personally don’t have a problem with. That feels so strange.”

But his reservations are understandable, given that country music remains a bastion of mainstream conservatism in American arts and culture. If liberal Hollywood is notorious for pushing a progressive agenda, country has historically been its counterpoint—a safe haven for traditional “family values.” Never mind that many country artists, like Nashville as a city, lean blue: They know that their primary market, like the state of Tennessee itself, skews red. The country music business is lucrative, generating $5.5 billion to Nashville’s economy alone, according to RIAA; if artists speak out, they run the risk of alienating listeners, particularly in an era when even anodyne statements of support for a cause can be misconstrued. The tale of the Chicks, formerly the Dixie Chicks, who were exiled after criticizing the Iraq War, looms large over country music. Taylor Swift even cited the band’s ouster as a reason she remained publicly apolitical for so long: “You’re always one comment away from being done,” she told Variety in a 2020 interview.

With this news, T.J. becomes the only openly gay artist signed to a major country label—a historic moment for the genre. He’s had predecessors, of course: Other openly queer artists, from Grammy-winning singer-songwriter Brandi Carlile to masked cowboy Orville Peck to viral hitmaker Lil Nas X, have found success by integrating country influences into their genre-defying music, and country artists including Chely Wright and Billy Gilman have passionate fanbases. But T.J. may be the first to come out with his feet so firmly planted in both the sound and machinery of mainstream country, in the full bloom of his career.

He is worried that coming out will look opportunistic, or attention-seeking. “People will ask, ‘Why does this even need to be talked about?’ and personally, I agree with that,” he says. “But for me to show up at an awards show with a man would be jaw-dropping to people. It wouldn’t be like, ‘Oh, cool!”

What happens next remains to be seen. “I don’t think I’m going to get run off the stage in Chicago,” he says. “But in a rural town playing a county fair? I’m curious how this will go.” The professional risks he’s taking in coming out feel worth it, both for his own happiness and because, well, it’s time. Country music is about storytelling, and that means T.J.’s identity is inextricable from his music. Maybe, T.J. says, country isn’t the most popular genre among gay people. “But is that just because they’ve never had the opportunity to relate to it?”

But being closeted was painful. “It was so lonely and isolating,” T.J. says. “It made me resent people.” A first heartbreak in his early twenties crushed him all the more because he felt like he couldn’t tell anyone. “I was mad that no one knew why I was hurting,” he says. He channeled that anguish into his music. One song he wrote about that relationship, called “21 Summer,” has become a fan favorite, and you can see why: It’s a big, nostalgic singalong with lyrics about cutoff jeans and hair blowing in the breeze. It’s still tender for him—not just heartbreak, but how alone he was going through it. “There are so many times I’ve sung that song and wanted to cry,” he says. “People love that song, but the emotion of it is deeper than they even realize.”

As Brothers Osborne’s career grew, they made gestures toward inclusion, starting with the video for single “Stay a Little Longer,” which featured gay and interracial couples. For the most part, the response was overwhelmingly positive. “And then,” T.J. says, “there were people who were like, ‘Faggot lovers!’” This kind of reaction was especially discouraging for T.J., even amid the affirmation he had received from his family and friends. But staying publicly closeted was suffocating too—not only for him, but for the guys he dated. “Saying, ‘Hey, don’t hold my hand. Someone I know is in here, so can you wait in the car?’” he says. “Rightfully, they would feel unwanted by me.”

The months spent in lockdown due to the pandemic forced some introspection, and he realized the perfect moment to come out would never arrive; he had to create it for himself. “I want to get to the height of my career being completely who I am,” he says, then stops. “I mean, I am who I am, but I’ve kept a part of me muted, and it’s been stifling.”

But there’s also a chance that T.J.’s openness will widen the field for new fans to feel welcome. “Others will now feel invited to the country music party for the first time,” says T.J.’s close friend Kacey Musgraves, the singer-songwriter whose progressive-minded storytelling has helped earn her a mainstream fanbase. “Country music deserves a future even more honest than its past.”

When Ellen DeGeneres came out on the cover of this magazine in 1997, it was shocking to many—both the act of coming out, and how visible she made herself with it. Now, the tides have turned toward quieter declarations of identity, particularly as young people embrace more fluid expressions of sexuality and gender. For high-profile people, a high-profile coming-out has mostly fallen out of favor; a public figure might be as likely now to mention their queerness offhandedly on social media as they are to make a formal announcement. It’s a way of both controlling the message, and also, maybe, of minimizing it.

Even amid calls for greater inclusion, the homogeneity of the top artists in the genre is still striking. “Any steps that have been taken have been purposefully kept small enough to not ruffle feathers at country radio,” says Musgraves.

So I ask T.J. a question, which is: What if there is nothing to move on from? What if being gay is a gift, and your gayness is not something to be tolerated but something to be celebrated, and even if untangling the shame and confusion of growing up gay in a straight world takes a long time, it’s worth doing so you can use your voice, not only to sing songs about cutoff jeans and hair blowing in the breeze but to say, clearly and unapologetically, that this is who you are? What if there are a lot of gay boys in small towns who haven’t figured it out yet and feel overwhelmed by snarky TV sidekicks and glittery pop stars bellowing self-empowerment anthems, and what if those gay boys in small towns got to have an avatar of their own—if they knew that someone like them was singing that song about cutoff jeans and hair blowing in the breeze on the radio? Isn’t that why we spend so much time talking about representation, because as much as it’s a burden, it’s also the only antidote to the loneliness of being different? And—not to tell him how to feel, which is, of course, exactly what I’m doing—but isn’t this occasion, of owning who he is in a place where some people might prefer he didn’t exist, something to embrace instead of something to endure?

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strrwbrrryjam · 3 years

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001 zukka, if youd like.

hi! okay, first ask, thank you for asking.

when I started shipping it if I did: ...im going to be completely honest, im new to atla, but not new to tumblr. i actually had a large tumblr that i made when i was fourteen that was dedicated to hetalia. but over the years i got bored of it, so i stopped updating it, i only looked at the blogs i followed and then one day, someone reblogged some zukka fanart, and i loved it. i knew nothing of the characters, but from the looks of each of them and how it followed the classic red-blue gays and representation that i craved as a young lesbian i decided to give it a watch, still in love with a ship i knew nothing about, so imagine my whiplash that i got when they were two people who weren't even friends until the final season, but i never got discoaurged because of all the tension and the parellels and how if either of them were female-male i definitely felt that zukka would be canon and have so much more hype.

my thoughts: im not the best at describing why i love them, but ill try. i love zukka for a lot of reasons, but mostly because... for me relationships are a partnership, you both get benefits from it where you can rely on eachother, where there is a mutual understanding between each other to the point where you know exactly what your lover needs to hear... and sometimes, no matter the mood your in, they are the only ones who can truly make you happy, and thats what i get from zukka. sokka is very much the older sibling, he goes so underappreciated for so long that when piandao tells him he should be proud of who he is and what he can do... he just doesn't believe him. now, this isnt the fault of katara, aang or anyone else, maybe a little bit hakodas fault i mean he literally left a kid with such high expectations of himself to protect the village by himself with what limited training that he had. even when they listen to his ideas, some of which are very much right but have failed to no fault of sokka like walking because appa is too noticable, katara or someone else pokes fun to these ideas for failing miserable, which they may mean in jest, but can still really hurt, so he needs someone to encourage him that sure, maybe this idea has failed, but its just a learning experience. zuko... my god he has trauma. zuko was this sweet and kind and passionate kid born into an environment where he didnt belong and he was abused for everything that he was. ursa while was a safe haven didnt do enough to protect him, as she too was powerless. his sister turned from this sweet and kind sister to someone who quickly realised that being that way makes it impossible to survive so she began to tease and taunt and turn into a mirror of their abuser. while id like to think lu ten was there for the both of them, iroh and lu ten where getting ready for the siege so they were rather busy... and azulon actively wished that ozai kill him, and ozai, fucking ozai man, is there anything else left to be said? once ursa left... everything when down and he was burned and banished for his wish to protect his people. iroh... for all my love of iroh, he doesnt understand zukos intentions or actions, he thinks hes lost his way but... he doesnt see that zuko doesnt want to hunt the avatar, he doesnt want to stay at the tea shop, what he wants is to be home. hes not safe in the watertribes, not safe in the earth kingdom and while he isnt truly safe at home, its his nostalgia(?) and how everything hes used to is at home, its where his mother memory lives... its where his the remnants of his past relationship with azula and where his baby sister is... its as safe as a home they could get. he knows people doesnt like him and he while isnt okay with it, nothing matters more than getting home. which isnt a good reason for his literally capturing of a twelve year olds, fourteen year old and fifteen year olds, but... it is for him, hes sixteen, still a kid, like the one hes chasing and he doesnt realize that the home he hopes for isnt what he thinks it is, at least not anymore. that his father doesnt love him, that his sister is no longer the sweet kid that she used to be and she too was abused, that his mum is no longer around anymore and he doesnt have a happy life or a happy family. he repeatedly doesnt listen to iroh because iroh doesnt get it. iroh grew up loved and cherished and praise while zuko doesnt, he grows up hated with no chance of change, he... is very much an asshole and doesnt listen to anyone, but hes trying in season 3. and then... the boiling rock happens. my god, its... like my favourite episodes. sokka feels like he has to go alone because he felt like he failed, its his responsiblity, it was his mistake despite the fact that it wasnt, that there were many, many adults who it the fault could fall onto, and the fact that the odds were stacked against them completely, but sokka being who he is, still feels responsible, but wants to go alone. except, zuko wont let him, he understands sokka, because thats what hes felt like his whole life. hes

always felt like a failure, not being able to protect his sister, not being able to protect himself so he knows what sokka is going to do, and, forces himself onto the journey. its awkward, at first, because of course it is i mean this is the guy who was chasing you for half a year and was inadvertidely responsible to two of your closest friends deaths/near-deaths. but once they get past this awkwardness, the banter very much starts when they land. and zuko. zuko who never asked for someones opinion, looks to sokka for guidance and listens and encourages sokka. for me boiling rock is peak sokka for how well he plans. sokka is able to express himself and talk and give advice and when his plan fails, zuko is there to help him through it and see it with a different perspective, and they just... the trust, its there. its already there despite how much it shouldnt be. it just works so well and then sokka defends zuko to hakoda and finally hakoda tells him what he should of and... its up from there. they are just there for each other and its... wonderful. they are both absolutely miserable people but... they make each other happy. it happens so fastly too and its just absolutely wonderful.

What makes me happy about them: honestly, i just wrote what makes me happy about them and how much i love them in the above question.

What makes me sad about them: god. how complicated it will be in the actual universe and how they will have to spend most of their lives seperate from each other. ive mentioned before that im a romantic at heart and it hurts, because despite how realistic it will be to have them seperated for most of their early religion, i mean... zuko will have to stay in the firenation despite how much it isnt home for him anymore and sokka is able to move from the southern watertribe to the northern air temple and to the firenation... so id like to think that when izumi comes around, the soon travel together, as by the time izumi is around, things are getting settled and zuko doesnt need such a close eye on everything.

things done in fanfic that annoys me: listen... i dont have anything that really annoys me, except when they play into babified(?) versions of each other, (zuko beng too soft-boy and sokka... being to "daddy" if thats the correct word.) but what bothers me is the lack of sokka-comfort, all of them have trauma. sokka, too. i love zuko. hes... just my favourite/comfort character and someone who i relate to so much, hes just... ive never related to someone more than zuko, but zukka is a more mutual relationship than anything, and i wish we had more fics dealing with sokkas trauma too.

things I look for in fanfic:

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: okay, okay, okay, for zuko, i have many, i just think zuko and sokka both have extreme pretty boy privilege, and while zuko doesnt realize the effortless charm and how pretty he is, sokka most definitely does and uses it to his advantage. so... maiko, jinko, (platonic/relationship) zutara, jetko and sukka. listen. i love yue and sokkas relationship, but they had such a short time together that i could never really ship them. i think sokka mourns her and it is very valid for doing so but i always felt that he mourned his friend and what their relationship could of grown into. also i am a diehard yueki fan.

My happily ever after for them: that they grow hold together, and are able to see their children, (yes, i said children, as in izumi, varrick and senna with trans!zuko) grow and change the world and have their own families.

who is the big spoon/little spoon: dude. dude i dont know. i want them both to be held. i want both little spoon zukka and big spoon zukka. weighted blanket zukka. all zukka sleeping positions. i like to think that like me the both of them cannot stay still while they sleep, they wake up in each others arms but end up at the foot of the bed or something.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: god... everything, picnics, roadtrips, reading together, stargazing, sharing letters... just as long as they are their together everything is their favourite activity as they spent most of their youth and twenties and possibliy early thirties separate from each other.

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elle-smells · 4 years

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Did someone say, a fic of Robbe going home to Sander tonight looking all upset because of today? Yeah...I may or may not have whipped something up really quick-

He felt good.

Sander used to hate that word. It didn’t mean he was down, but it also didn't mean he was at his best. It's always been all or nothing for him. That is, until he met Robbe and realised that good is just enough, more than enough actually. As long as he has the right person holding his hand, the stage of simply feeling good was a promise of not drowning but it also meant things could still get better.

So that's what he felt tonight. Good. He had spent the evening sketching after finishing his big project earlier than he expected and his parents were gone on some sort of second honeymoon they had to reschedule due to the pandemic. The house was quiet and peaceful. The blankets wrapped around his legs was soft and warm….the blanket was also Robbe’s. In fact, the hoodie he wore was also his boyfriend’s. They had so many of each other’s things in their rooms that at times it felt like they lived together. Sander smiled at the thought of never having to let go of Robbe late at night when he really had to get home or having the guarantee of never waking up alone. One day, he thought, it honestly could not come fast enough.

Sander was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of someone knocking on the door. That was weird, he wasn't expecting anybody and Robbe wouldn't knock, especially since Sander got him a copy of his house keys for the week. Yes, Robbe is staying with him while his parents are away. Yes, Robbe complained about receiving a key, saying it felt like he was intruding. And no, Sander did not pout and whine like a baby until Robbe finally took the key….and if he did no one has to know. Anyway, it couldn’t be him, but he was wrong because when Sander opened the door he was greeted with the most beautiful and yet heartbreaking sight. It was indeed his boyfriend, looking as handsome as ever but with a slight frown on his face.

“You know how keys work right? It means you don't have to knock because my house is your home too, remember?” Sander tried with a teasing tone and Robbe looked up at him with a small smile forming on his lips.

“Shush I’m tired” Robe moved past him into the small hallway and made his way to the living room where he pretty much threw himself onto the couch where Sander had been sketching moments earlier. Sander picked the camera equipment left forgotten on the floor and placed it on the small table in the middle of the room before positioning himself right behind Robbe so his boyfriend could lay with his back facing him. Speaking of his boyfriend, he should really know better by now. See, being together with someone for a while and being as infatuated with them as Sander is with Robbe means you learn to pick up on a few things. little details that the untrained eye would miss, but not Sander. Nope, he knew Robbe wasn't just tired, and if the way he kept looking down and playing with his hands told the older boy anything, it was that his lover was thinking hard about something.

“So are you going to tell me what happened or are we going to forget about it and watch a movie?” Robbe huffed out a chuckle, as if saying he should’ve known his boyfriend would notice. They stayed silent for a moment, Sander would wait for hours if he had to, as long as Robbe told him when he felt comfortable saying it.

“It’s just- “ Robbe tried “It’s kinda silly, I mean it was my fault anyways for being late, I should’ve checked my tires before hopping on it for 45 minutes, I-...I just really wanted it to go well, I didn’t mean to make her upset and I checked the footage...it's not as good as I hoped, they probably won't even want o use it and I I know she wants it to be perfect-”

“Hey hey hey, breath, it's okay. Its okay”

Robbe had told him about the dance video he was going to film with Moyo and his new girlfriend. He didn't really get what it was for but seeing Robbe so excited when talking about it filled Sander up with joy to last a lifetime. His boyfriend had been through so much and seeing him finding something that brings him so much happiness and fulfillment is truly the most amazing sight Sander had ever had the pleasure of seeing from the front row. He recognised the look on Robbe’s face whenever he finished editing a Broerra video, it’s the same look Sander sees whenever he looks in the mirror after finishing a drawing he is really proud of. It’s beautiful to see really, someone being so passionate about something, truly wonderful, especially if it's the person Sander loves most in the world.

It's not fair, he thought, that a few mishaps turned something Robbe was so excited about into whatever happened that is now making him sad and slightly frustrated. To be honest, he's not exactly sure about what happened, Robbe is not exactly the most eloquent person when he's rambling. But Sander understood enoughEnough to gently kiss the top of the brown curls he loves so much.

“We’ve talked about this, if it upsets you, it's not silly. It won't ever be silly, not to me.”

“Yes, but-”

“No buts” Sander tightened his gripped around Robbe’s waist “It's not your fault you had a flat tire and I’m sure Moyo will appreciate the footage you got, which I’m 100% ceratin is amazing, no questions asked”

Robbe turned his head to look at him. “You don’t know that….its not my best”

“It may not be your best but it's good. Good means good, Robbe. You are only going to get better from here.” This time, Robbe turned his entire body around so they laid there, chest to chest with brown eyes looking up to meet green. Then, a smile, and Sander knew he had gotten something right.

“I love you so much you know that” It wasn’t a question, Sander simply snorted and slowly kissed his boyfriend on the lips, running his hands through what he was sure was the softest hair in the world. He no longer needed Robbe’s blanket or hoodie to keep him warm, Sander had something much better now.

“You know...that movie night thing you mentioned doesn’t sound half bad. Want to order in? I promise not to mke you watch a horror movie this time, I wouldn't want you bothering the neighbors with your screams” Sander playfully hit Robbe’s arm “Hey! That was ONE time, and I told you, they got me when I wasn’t paying attention, anyone would scream if caught off guard”

Robbe giggled, oh how Sander loved that sound. “Yeah, okay One time out of fifty-” Sander didn’t let him finish the sentence as tackled him on the couch before peppering his lover’s face with endless kisses.

Yes, Sander felt good tonight. Maybe even better than good, he felt at home.

#finishes this but doesnt write chapter 3 of her multi chapter fic?#couldnt be me no-#wtfock #wtfam #robbe x sander #sobbe #sobbe fic

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fieryfantasybooklover · 4 years

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Forged In Flame And Stars - An analogical fic

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Logan already felt himself relaxing as he slipped quietly through the front doors of the massive stone library. This building was a permanent fixture in his memory and had been since he learned to read. Logan couldn’t care less about the interests of the other teenagers, he would gladly spend his days buried in books. As Logan hefted his backpack over his shoulder, he set course for his favorite room in the library - “The Room Of Myth”. It was the hidden gem of the book heaven, a place of ancient tomes of mystery and legend. And best of all, hardly anybody knew where to find it.

Logan arrived at the room, already euphoric from expectation. “Maybe I will read about the myths of ancient African cultures. Or what about the lore of Native Americans? There are far too many books here and I am perfectly alright with it.” Logan silently opened the door, and was shocked at the sight that greeted him. A boy, dark haired and mysterious looking, had parked himself in the armchair by the fire. The fireplace was crackling away merrily, and Logan felt an unexpected smile flit across his face and a warmth fill his being. A fellow book lover, a boy his age surrounded by stacks of books as tall as him. And this mystery reader was so engrossed in his story he was completely oblivious to Logan’s presence.

Logan was almost afraid to speak, reluctant to break a moment that felt as fragile as spun crystal and just as priceless. Finally, working up the nerve to push past the flames roaring in his soul and the stars exploding in his brain, Logan spoke up, hoping for a positive outcome. “Ummm… Hello?” Logan whispered. The other boy went rigid, sitting up straight and giving Logan an annoyed gaze that didn’t earn the wanted response - Logan was much to focused on not losing himself in the boy’s eyes. They were hazel, but with nearly undetectable golden flecks. Logan, unused to feelings similar to this, couldn’t muster a reply. “Yeah? What do you want? I hope you’re not going to try to kick me out. It’s a public library.” the other boy snarked. “N-n-o. that’s not what I was going to say. I just wanted to ask you what you were reading.”

“Oh. Ok then. I guess I have time to talk a little.”

The pair sat by the fire for several more dreamlike hours. The fire warmed them against the fall chill, and there were plenty of books to discuss. It was a novel experience for both of them - neither had a friend in school who was even remotely interested in this type of literature. However, they also learned about themselves. The other boy introduced himself to Logan as “Virgil… but you can call me Virge.” Logan introduced himself and with that they were off. Neither had an explanation for the force compelling them to talk and talk and never stop. The force compelling them to share the random little things about themselves that never seemed important before this. However, neither really cared. Something new was blossoming, something that seemed to overshadow all other thoughts.

When the day finally ended, they parted ways, but not before exchanging numbers. With that, Logan hopped on his bike, doing his best to balance the truckload of books he just HAD to read. Looking back to see where Virgil was headed, Logan found out that the other boy had vanished. Vanished into the wind without leaving a trace behind. Had vanished like one of the wraiths of ancient legends. Shaking his head in wonder, Logan pedaled home, ever-pursued by thoughts of the boy in the library.

Weeks flew by and little changed in Logan’s life. Logan and Virgil fell into a groove of meeting at the library and talking the day away, often bringing books to share and recommend. Logan kept his grades up and conveniently forgot to mention where he spent his Saturday’s to his parents. He did mention that he had a new friend he met through a book club, of which Logan was a member of many. There would also be the nights that Logan stayed up all night messaging Virgil, falling asleep to the stars sparkling over his head and an increasingly common feeling of warmth and comfort. It wasn’t until Virgil messaged him asking if Logan wanted to come over that Logan realized how little he knew of Virgil’s life.

Logan fought down the nervousness as he walked up the gravel path to Virgil’s front door. “It’s ok Logan. It’s ok. This isn’t a big deal, you're just hanging out.” knocking on the door, Logan fought the urge to hop from foot to foot. The door was opened by Virgil, who was looking unfairly good in a sweatshirt and jeans. Virgil ushered Logan through the house quickly, allowing Logan to only catch a few glimpses - a worn-looking couch sitting in front of a TV, a lamp casting a warm glow from underneath a closed door, a cute little kitchen with a window looking out to the woods. Virgil shut the door to his bedroom, turned to Logan, and began to talk. A lot and very quickly.

“Ok, so here’s the deal. My parents are extremely good at putting on a good show, but that’s all it is. A show. My dad’s addicted to alcohol and my Mom is stressed constantly because she’s the one keeping our family together. That’s why I use the library - I can’t afford bookstores. That’s why I’m a loner at school - I can’t trust anybody to let them close enough to find out. I get it if you don’t want to talk anymore it’s fine, I’m sure your parents won’t want you around me-” Logan cut him off, feeling strangely outspoken and passionate around this hurricane in human form.

“Virgil! Virge. Listen to me please. I don’t care if my parents don’t want me around you. I don’t care and I never will. That’s because… you...you…” Logan struggled to find words to do justice to what he wanted to express. Finding none, he went with what felt the best. “Because I have come to truly care for you and I don’t care what the world thinks. I believe you are a good person and one that deserves everything good this world has to offer- Oh god what am I saying? I’m so sorry Virgil. I have to go… I’ll message you sometime soon.” With that, Logan grabbed his bag and bolted out the door, without looking back, afraid of what he would see.

A few days past of Logan not hearing a peep from Virgil, and with each day that past Logan sunk deeper into self guilt. “Why did I have to leave? Oh god that was so stupid I am an idiot. I can’t message him. I have no idea what to say! Should I try and meet up with him again or…” All of these thoughts and more made their home in Logan’s head as time ticked bye unbearably slowly and then too fast for comfort.

Logan was however, not expecting for his phone to buzz at midnight with a desperate text from Virgil - “Lo. Please. I know I fucked up. But can you please come to the library.” Logan didn’t hesitate a minute, and pushed all doubts down and away. He cobbled together an outfit and biked to the library like the world was about to be swept away and he was running from the wave. Logan dropped his bike, uncaring, as he sped up the steps, into the library, and then through its halls to the Room of Myth. He spotted Virgil, shaking and trembling by the fire. Logan rushed to him and enveloped the other boy in his arms. “Oh my god Virgil what happened?” Logan asked while making soothing circles on the other boy’s back. Virgil, trembling violently, managed to give a shaky explanation.

“My mom and dad are fighting. I tried to stop them but my dad… he’s d-drunk. My mom told me to get out of the house so I came here. I’m so sorry for bothering you oh my god…” Virgil rambled on and on, but Logan was smart enough and knew Virgil well enough at this point to recognize the talking for what it really was - a defense mechanism and a way of expressing self-guilt. “Well now, I simply won’t allow that.” Logan thought. “I’ll be damned if I don’t at least try to do something.” Wrapping his arms even more tightly around Virgil, Logan began talking, not stopping to acknowledge his fear.

“Virgil. You are the most wonderful and breathtaking person I have ever met. You are not the cause of this and you never have been. I can tell you for a fact my life would be dark and empty if you weren’t in it. You’re amazing you’re smart you’re kind you shatter me to pieces in the best way. You make me weak and vulnerable and I don’t regret it a bit. From the moment I saw you I was head over heels for you but afraid to admit it. You haunted my thoughts like a ghost, never leaving, never sleeping. I stormed out of your bedroom because I was scared. Because I’ve never felt anything like this and I don’t want to screw it up. You are forged in flame and stars and this world does not deserve you.”

Virgil raised his eyes, beautiful and shining with emotion, to Logan’s. “Logan… You’re the one person in my life who makes me feel safe, makes me feel happy. You’re the one who snatched my heart and decided to keep it and never give it back. You’re the one who makes me feel like me. You’re the one that makes me feel love.” And with that, their lips met in a kiss seemingly too tender to exist. It spoke of late nights gazing up into the sky, dreaming. It spoke of laughter and smiles and gentle touches. It spoke of cool summer nights and pristine winter days. It spoke of love and affection and an infinity of both. It spoke of everything good and then some more.

The next day, Logan sleepily opened his eyes to golden sunlight and to find out that he had fallen asleep in Virgil’s arms. He had willingly spent a good portion of the night with Virgil, showering him in affection and positivity and encouragement. A fond smile spread across Logan’s face as he saw Virgil was still sleeping soundly. His hair was messed and he was snoring softly. Logan grinned as he expertly extracted himself from Virgil’s grip. Scribbling a quick note and leaving it on the library’s table, Logan strode out the door. Mounting his bike, Logan grinned and allowed his mind to linger on the boy who stole his heart as he biked home into the golden unknown.

#sanders sides #ts virgil #virgil sanders #logan sanders #logic sanders #cute #fluff #sweet #analogical #megans writing

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waywardodysseys · 4 years

Text

Unconditionally - Chapter Three

Warnings: mentions of cheating, cussing, SMUT, oral receiving (m & f)

Word count: 4.2+k

Author’s note: because everyone deserves to be loved unconditionally; part 3 of ?; sorry not sorry for this either; enjoy!!!

Unconditionally: Chp. 1, Chp. 2

Pedro finds you in the kitchen making omelets. He walks up behind you and wraps his arms around you. He brushes your hair aside then nuzzles your neck.

“Smells delicious,” Pedro whispers.

You shrug and smile. “Fair warning, I don’t cook often.”

Pedro’s quiet as he licks a sweet spot.

You sigh contently. You could get used to this. Mornings with Pedro. You frown down at the skillet on the stove – were you really thinking about the future so soon?

You turn around in his embrace. You swallow as you realize he’s shirtless. You bite your lip at seeing his chest in the morning light shining through the kitchen windows.

“See something you like?”

“Yes,” you half whisper, half squeak.

Pedro brushes his lips against yours as he touches your cheek and sweeps his hand through your hair.

You return the kiss as your free hand travels up his chest. His skin is warm, soft. You reach Pedro’s long neck and glide your thumb up it then trace his jawline and feel the prickliness of fuzzy hairs along the strong bone.

The food begins to sizzle in the skillet, but Pedro keeps moving his mouth against yours, his tongue dipping in for more. You give into him, not wanting to let go. Both of you aren’t giving a care to the world around you until the smoke alarm starts blaring its annoying beeps.

You jump back and face the stove, moving the skillet from the flame. You then walk over to the window and open it widely. Trying to move the smoke out of the apartment with a dishtowel.

After the alarm is off and the smoke nearly cleared, Pedro grins, “I want to set more alarms off with you Y/N.”

You turn and face him; you blush as you smile.

Pedro walks over to you and pulls you into his strong arms. “I’ve become a greedy man with you. I don’t know if I can wait a couple of days to see you again.”

“A second date? Tonight?”

Pedro smiles and presses his forehead against yours. He loves the intimate contact between your skin and his, no matter where that contact takes place. “Yes. Tonight,” he pulls away but cups your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. “Unless you don’t—”

You nod. “I do. I want another date. Tonight. Please.”

Pedro smiles widely. “Good.” He kisses you loudly on the mouth. “How about I pick you up at seven?”

“What about breakfast?” You shrug.

“I’ve had my breakfast,” he says as he places a kiss against your lips.

You blush again, smiling down at the floor.

Pedro places a finger under your chin, raising your head up. “Never be embarrassed mi querida. You’re beautiful.”

“Pedro,” you sigh.

He glides his thumb over your lips. “Remember if I am moving too fast for you, let me know.”

You didn’t want him to slow down. This was still overwhelming, but you wanted him, you needed him in your life. You nod and smile. “I’ll let you know.”

“Good,” Pedro grabs his shirt, which he had to have placed on the counter when he walked in.

You watch him put it on, already missing him and his skin against yours. You follow him to the front door, and he turns to look at you while he puts his coat on.

“Seven?”

“Yes,” you say quietly.

“We’ll go somewhere fun.”

You raise your eyebrows.

Pedro pulls you in for a light kiss. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

You kiss him back then say, “alright.”

“See you tonight, Y/N.”

You rest yourself against the doorjamb as you watch him walk down the hallway towards the elevator. Once he is out of your sight, you turn back into your apartment and close the door, spending the rest of the day gleefully and patiently waiting for seven o’clock.

-------

Pedro walks into his Brooklyn apartment, shrugs off his jacket and hangs it up in the hall closet. You are the only thing running through his mind as he walks towards his bedroom and undresses. He recalls the way you blush at his words, respond to his touches, his kisses. He seared into his memory the way you looked at him with your Y/E/C eyes when he revealed his intentions, revealed he wanted you and only you for the rest of life. No one mattered after he laid his eyes upon you, no one other women could compare to you after he and you shared that passionate kiss under the mistletoe. If he hadn’t restrained himself, he would’ve pulled you away from the party, brought you back to his apartment and had you then.

Pedro doesn’t want to think about the past, but it creeps into his mind. He had loved deeply once and she turned his back on him by leaving him suddenly, with no explanation, no thought about his feelings. Then he learned she was pregnant with another man’s child. She’d been cheating on him, and Pedro had no clue. He had even been planning on proposing because he wanted to marry her.

After that, he closed his heart off to love. He remained focus on his career, his friendships, his family. He eventually came to terms he was going to be alone for the rest of his life until you walked in with your kind eyes, open heart, and gentle soul. You are the answer to the question which plagued him most of his life – will I ever love again?

Pedro knew he was taking an enormous chance, an even greater risk when he told you he couldn’t wait a couple of days for the next date. He needed to see you again, even if it meant the same night, only hours apart. He wanted you to know he needed you, he wanted you.

-------

You are being led into Spin in the Flatiron District at eight by your hand inside of Pedro’s. The ping pong venue is packed with people wanting to get out of their cramped apartments and have a fun night with friends or their significant others. You had visited this place a few times with Kendrick and Will. You push Will from your mind, all you want to think about is the man in front of you and the way he’s beginning to make you feel.

You’d spent most of the day writing after Pedro left. He had become your muse regarding the main male character in your book. You had poured your feelings onto the page and realized those feelings were for Pedro.

You had felt like a closed book your entire life. Not opening for anyone except those you trusted and loved. You had held yourself back when you were younger because growing up you thought you’d never find someone till Will. You had experience with sex but with love that didn’t happen till Will walked in and showed you what love could be and what could happen when you open yourself to having love and being loved. Then Will threw it all away because of a lie he has told and that hurt you even more. It broke you, it crippled you. It nearly ended you…then Pedro appeared, and all seemed right with the world. One touch of his strong hand grasping yours and you felt calm, peace, at ease. You felt the world was giving you a second chance when you had decided it wasn’t going to give you one and let you live out the rest of your days alone.

“Played ping pong before?” Pedro’s smooth voice cuts through the quietness between the two of you.

You laugh, “not since I was in middle school.”

Pedro raises an eyebrow, “then prepare to be taken down.”

You tease, “wanna do a bet?”

Pedro gathers you in his arms. “What kind of bet?”

“I don’t know,” you say as you place your hand on his t-shirt. “How dirty are you willing to get?”

“Mi querida, a tease.”

You shrug, “if you don’t wanna bet…”

“Oh, I do.” Pedro growls lightly before kissing you.

You swallow, “winner gets to pick their choice of room for doing the loser in.” Because this morning, you could’ve taken him in the kitchen, and he probably would have let you.

Pedro runs his hand down your back, “the loser?”

“Loser still gets sex. I mean, technically, it’s a win-win,” you laugh.

“Now I have a serious question.” Pedro states.

Uh, oh. “What?”

“When can the winner claim this prize?”

“Tonight,” you breathlessly say before bringing his mouth down to yours.

Pedro playfully smacks your ass before letting go, “we should get a table before I change my mind and just take you home.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” you say without any warning. Yeah, you wanted him, needed him. He was going to be your demise, and you didn’t mind at all.

“I promised a date Y/N. You are getting one.” Pedro says before pulling you further into Spin.

Sounds of chatter, music, and ping pong balls fill your ears as you make your way through the club. Pedro eventually finds a table tucked away in the corner. You both sit down, and he wraps an arm around you.

“Just got to wait our turn.” Pedro says as he glances at you.

“Drinks? Food?” A waitress asks as she appears.

“Whiskey neat,” Pedro answers.

“Blue Hawaiian.” You reply.

After the waitress returns with your drinks, you order food and settle in to watch the crowd of people milling about in the vibrant, art deco space.

“Tell me more about you.” Pedro whispers against your ear.

“Like what?”

“Your interests, hobbies.”

You take a sip of your mixed drink. It’s your favorite. The alcohol in it seems to give you courage as you say, “big animal lover, love to travel, still take time to read when I can, watch movies and TV shows. Should I say I’ve never seen any of your shows?” You laugh with a tease.

Pedro laughs, “please tell me that isn’t true!?”

You shrug, “I’ve seen Game of Thrones, Narcos, The Mandalorian, If Beale Street Could Talk, Kingsman 2, Equalizer 2, Triple Frontier.”

“You do know Kendrick and I worked on Equalizer 2 together?”

“I do. I would’ve gone to the premiere, but I was stuck down in Australia for a movie I was working on.” You reply.

“Kendrick talked about you that night. First time I heard your name.”

You inwardly groan. “I hope he didn’t paint me in a bad light.”

Pedro shakes his head, takes a sip of his whiskey. “No. He was saying how much of an ass your boss was. And he knew you wouldn’t retaliate; you’d keep to yourself and not push the boss’ buttons. Didn’t want to cause drama so you stayed and finished working.”

Yeah, Kendrick knew you well. You shrug, “I like to keep to myself and mind my own business.”

“Tell me what the ideal night for you would be.”

“Date wise or just by my lonesome?”

“Both. Start with the date.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “Probably dinner at home, a night in. Watching a movie or just being in each other’s presence. Me reading, writing. You reading or,” you pause as you look at him. “or you just looking at me like that.”

Pedro smiles widely, his eye crinkle. His hand reaches out and brushes some of your Y/H/C hair behind your ear. “Nice to know I’m already in your mind for your ideal date.”

He was?, you think. He is.

Pedro places a soft kiss on your lips and as he begins to pull away, you pull him back in. Tasting him, tasting the whiskey. Your mind wonders off to thinking if you were both not here and back at your apartment, or his, you’d devour him. You wanted him badly, needed him badly. He was beginning to become the air you needed to breathe, to survive. He was becoming your world.

You pull back, a little too quickly. Your heart is racing inside of your chest. You had never felt a wave of emotion hit this quickly with anyone. Not even Will – with him it was gradual but with Pedro it’s a spinning nosedive.

Pedro palms your cheek, concern in his eyes and voice. “Are you okay?”

You swallow, take a drink. “Yes.”

“I told you if this is too fast—”

Was it?, you think. Your heart is twisting inside of your chest. You close your eyes, trying to clear your mind. You and Pedro were on a second date. Second! Yet this felt more like the fifth, or tenth. Like you two had been together for more than just 24 hours.

“Talk to me. Please.” Pedro whispers against your ear.

You open your eyes and sigh, “I’ve never felt…,” you hesitate, “you’re doing something to me Pedro. I can’t explain it. Yet. But I want to feel it more than anything else. I want you, need you. Yes, this has been overwhelming but with you it’s something I want to experience. Something I want to last.”

Pedro palms both of your cheeks, lifting your face up to his. “You are my answer Y/N,” Pedro grins as you raise your eyebrows, “I’ll explain it one day. I have no intention of letting you go, of letting anyone else have you. I want to be yours and yours alone. I want you to be mine and mine alone. We’ve been given a chance to find someone again and I know my someone is you.”

Here Pedro is bearing his heart, his intentions to you again. You had done the same you realize. You told him you wanted to feel what was happening between you and him. You told him it was something you wanted to experience; you told him you wanted it to last. You look into his coffee colored eyes, notice the crinkles around them. You see the kindness and sincerity in them again, you also see a flicker of love in them. This man is falling for you. Were you falling for him too?

You are once again rendered speechless. Oh, boy. What this man has done to you, is doing to you. He is yours, your heart pumps inside your chest. He. Is. Yours. Now if only you two were in a more private location because you want nothing more than be with him, whether having sex or just holding onto one another. You just want, need to be in his presence. It soothes you; it calms you. Nothing else matters, no one else matters but him.

“Pascal?” A voice cuts through the club and through the intimate moment you two are having.

Pedro brushes your lips with his thumb, “come on mi querida. I want to take you down and have you where I desire tonight.”

You blush and grab his hand, heading towards the section of ping pong tables.

-------

A couple of more hours and drinks later, a giggling you and Pedro are walking out of Spin, not giving a care to other people walking on the sidewalk. Pedro pulls you towards the curb and into his arms.

He hails a cab and gets you in the backseat. He climbs in and gives the driver his address then pulls you into his arms again. He rests his head atop yours. “Where shall I have you tonight?”

“You’re just lucky! I would’ve won if it wasn’t for those damn frat boys.” You giggle.

Pedro laughs as he snakes a hand under your coat, then under your shirt.

“Pedro,” you ground out at his touch. He drums his fingers lightly against your skin, causing goosebumps. You close your eyes and hum, then say, “don’t stop.”

He tips your chin up with a finger then glides his mouth over yours. “Never.”

You loop an arm around his neck, your fingers thread themselves through his hair. Keeping his mouth on yours for the duration of the cab ride back to his place.

Once Pedro has you inside his apartment, he pulls you to him, shrugging you out of your jacket quickly. He pulls you up against as his mouth kisses you soundly then his mouth moves down over your jawline to your neck. He finds your sweet spot and suckles at it.

“Pedro,” you say as you make the soft, gasping moan sound Pedro can’t get enough, will never get enough of.

He growls at the sound. “Eres mia.”

Your hands are fumbling at his jacket and pushing it off him. You aren’t sure exactly what he said but you do know mio is mine. “Only yours.”

Pedro removes his mouth from your neck, strokes your cheek. “You are mine Y/N. Eres mia.”

“Yours Pedro. All yours.” You kiss his mouth. “Eres mio Pedro.”

“The only room, only place I want you tonight is in my bedroom, in my bed.” Pedro breathlessly says as he grabs your hand and walks you through his apartment towards his bedroom.

When inside his bedroom you capture Pedro’s mouth with yours, kissing him deeply. Your tongue presses against his mouth and he lets you in. Your tongues dance together as you reach down and lift his shirt up. You part for a brief second as he finishes taking it off. He pulls you close as his lips finds yours again. His hand cups your cheek before he weaves his fingers into your Y/H/C hair.

You hook your arms around his back, your hands landing on his shoulder blades. You move your hands down slowly against his back. Feeling his soft, warm skin against your fingers.

You had wanted to get lost back in kiss since the Christmas party, and now you get lost in it every time he presses his mouth against yours. His mouth fused to yours is a feeling you never want to lose, a feeling you want to experience day after day.

Pedro reaches under your shirt and touches your skin. He wants to give you the same sensations you are giving him with your touch – featherlight which causes shivers to roll across the flesh as the touch sets the body on fire.

He lifts your shirt up; you pull faintly away and help him remove it. He dips his head as he kisses you along your neck. His fingers dance lightly across the edges of your beige bra, his fingers graze your nipples through the material causing you to let out a soft, gasping moan as well as arching your back, pushing yourself up against him.

“Pedro,” you whisper.

He lifts his head and smiles as he glides his thumb over your lips. “Y/N.”

Your hands travel down his chest and stomach as you keep your gaze on his coffee colored eyes. Your hands unbutton and unzip his jeans. You push them down over his ass, revealing his hard cock. You stroke his cock once, your thumb swirling over the tip. You lick your lips as you lean forward and whisper, “I want to taste you Pedro.”

Pedro half hisses, half growls before crushing his mouth to yours.

You pull away slightly and lick his lips before you kiss down his neck. You slowly move your mouth against and down his chest and stomach. You finally kneel in front of him. Your eyes on his hard, thick cock. You inwardly moan as you wrap both of your hands around him comfortably before leaning down and swirling your tongue around the tip.

“Fu—fuck,” Pedro hisses at the touch of your tongue on his cock. He rocks back on his heels as he feels your mouth engulf his entire length slowly. He looks down at you and brushes your hair away from your face as his entire length is inside of your mouth and the tip hitting the back of your throat.

You begin moving up and down his cock slowly. Your tongue swirling around his cock, from the bottom over the top back to bottom. You repeat this motion over and over until you reach the tip, when you do you swirl your tongue around the tip.

“Y/N,” Pedro grounds out as his hands tighten in your hair.

You keep moving your head up and down, your tongue back and forth. Swirling the tip with your tongue.

“Y/N!” Pedro hisses.

You smile as you release his cock from your mouth. As you stand Pedro pulls you against him and reaches behind you, unhooking your bra.

“On the bed,” Pedro moans as he backs you up against it.

You fall back, throwing your bra aside, and Pedro scrambles to undo your pants. He pulls them off, along with your panties, in a hurry. He pushes down his own pants and briefs, kicking them off before kneeling on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight.

Pedro kisses you down your neck and across your collarbone. He leans up and looks down at you. “I want to taste you too mi querida.”

You moan at the mere thought of his tongue on your clit. Fuck! “Yes.”

Pedro kisses his way down your chest, he pauses to flick each of your nipples with his tongue, causing you to arch your back and your fingers to run through his hair. He palms your core. You’re hot, wet, ready. Pedro moans as he continues moving down across your stomach. He settles himself between your legs as his fingers open your folds, exposing your pink pussy to his eyes. He runs one finger along the folds before dipping his head.

He runs his tongue up and finds your clit. Nothing tastes like you, he thinks. You’re sweet like honey and sugar, nothing else tastes better than you.

“Pedro,” you moan as you finally feel his tongue against your clit. You suck in a breath as his tongue begins swirling around your clit. The orgasm inside of you climbing higher and higher as seconds tick by. “Oh—mmm,” you lustfully moan out. Pedro’s tongue works overtime as he brings you to the peak of pure ecstasy. “Fuck…,” you ground out as your toes curl and you arch your back as your orgasm seeps through you.

You run your fingers through Pedro’s hair as he travels back up your body, kissing your stomach, chest, flicking your nipples. Pedro nuzzles and nips at your neck as he positions his cock against your pussy.

You moan, “yes,” as you feel him enter, then protection for him crosses your mind, “Pedro…”

“I want to feel you around me. Please tell me you are…”

You nod, you are on the pill. “Yes.”

Pedro enters his cock slowly into your soaked pussy. He growls lustfully at feeling your slick walls around his cock instead of the latex of a condom being a barrier between him feeling you around him.

“Eres mia, Y/N,” Pedro whispers as he begins slowly thrusting in and out of you.

Your hands travel up his chest and then to his back where your fingers press into his skin as he begins thrusting faster and harder into you. You’re rolling your hips up, meeting his thrusts, trying to figure out his movements and when you finally do, when you finally become one, you’re on the brink of another orgasm.

“Pedro,” you pant as your fingers keeping applying pressure on his back. You look up and into his coffee colored eyes.

Pedro has kept his eyes looking down at you. Taking in the way you strain your neck and moan lowly at him inside of you. He takes pleasure in knowing he is the one making you cum, giving you endless amounts of pleasure with his cock, his mouth, his hands.

You reach up and touch his cheek, you stroke it lightly with your thumb. Looking at him with lust, looking at him with love. Looking at him and seeing only him, thinking of only him. Thinking he is the one for you. You swallow as you travel your thumb over his lips. He is becoming your world, the air you need to survive.

Pedro slows his thrusts to take in the look you are giving him. That look is for him and him alone. He captures your hand in his and strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. He then kisses your inner wrist, he feels you shiver at the intimate gesture, at feeling his fuzz against the delicate skin along your inner wrist.

“Y/N,” Pedro breathlessly whispers.

“Pedro,” you whisper back before pulling him down for a light kiss.

Pedro smiles as he pulls back and thrusts into you and explodes inside of your pussy. He feels you orgasm as well, feels your pussy milking him as your orgasm around his cock.

Pedro wraps his arms around you as he moves to his side. He pulls you up against him as he nuzzles your neck and inhales your scent. He can smell a hint of coconut and vanilla along with his sandalwood cologne. Pedro’s possessive as he captures your mouth with his.

You kiss him in return, one hand running through his hair while the other is pressed against his chest. You’re able to feel his heart under your palm. His heart is steady whereas yours is still coming down from the pleasures you and Pedro had shared.

Pedro pulls faintly away, runs a finger over your soft and swollen lips. “Y/N.”

You hum and raise your eyebrows as you look at him.

“If someone told me to choose what’s the most beautiful being in the universe it would be you. The sun, our planet, the billions of dazzling stars could never compare to you.”

You heart swells at his words. You’ve fallen headfirst into the deepest ravine, and there’s no chance of you ever wanting to climb out.

#unconditionally #unconditionally chapter 3 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #multichapter #smut #when you meet your soul mate everything is calm

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revolutionary-demosthenes · 4 years

Note

Two unrelated questions—1: Do you support the theory that John Laurens’s (and possibly Alexander Hamilton’s) death was assisted suicide? 2: What do you think life would be like if Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens could’ve gotten married? I love your blog, and I am totally going to never ever bored in House #7.

These are great questions! This is going to be a pretty very extremely long post, particularly the bit about your first question, so I added sub-sections to make it easier to read. I hope this is helpful!

TW: Mentions of possible suicidal and self-hating thoughts and feelings. If anyone reading this has had these sort of feelings, please reach out to someone and get help. Do not give up. You are loved. You are needed. You are worthy.

1: John Laurens and possible assisted suicide

This first question is difficult to answer, and there are lots of theories on it. It can also a very painful topic to discuss. Please take note of the TW. If this post is going to be triggering or upsetting to you, take care of yourself and skip it.

Let’s review the facts and circumstances around Laurens’s death to start.

After assisting Hamilton with taking redoubt 10 during the battle of Yorktown, John Laurens traveled back to South Carolina to again try and pitch the South Carolinian delegates for his black battalion. This was his third attempt, I believe. Again, his idea was quickly shot down, and it may have made it worse that that was what everyone was expecting. A letter from George Washington written July 10th, 1782 states, in a somewhat cynical tone perhaps more reminiscent of Hamilton’s worldview,

“I must confess that I am not at all astonished at the failure of your Plans.That Spirit of Freedom which at the commencement of this contest would have gladly sacrificed every thing to the attainment of its object has long since subsided, and every selfish Passion has taken its place—it is not the public but the private Interest which influences the generality of Mankind nor can the Americans any longer boast an exception—under these circumstances it would rather have been surprizing if you had succeeded nor will you I fear succeed better in Georgia.”

John Laurens was also collecting intelligence for General Greene, his commander at the time.

It is worth noting that most of Laurens’s time down south after Yorktown was spent trying to find military glory, which he did not achieve. He led several unsuccessful or insignificant skirmishes with the few remaining British soldiers.

Laurens also had just heard of the death of his wife, Martha.

He was confined to his bed with malaria, but heard that there was going to be a fight by the Combahee river on August 27, so he literally got up off his sickbed to fight in what has since been dubbed a ‘small skirmish.’

The British soldiers had been tipped off about the continentals coming. Laurens, who was leading a small detachment of soldiers, knew this. He could wait for more soldiers to arrive, or he and his men could start fighting.

Three guesses as to what he chose.

John Laurens had visited the Stock family the past night, and “enjoyed the company of Mrs. Stock and her daughters.” (John Laurens and the American Revolution, by Gregory Massey)

Now, I know there are many theories on this, but in this post I’m going to be examining two main ones. Firstly, that John Laurens’s death was not suicide, but instead another desperate grasp for glory, and alternately, that his death was to some degree planned and/or expected.

Theory A: John Laurens’s death was not assisted suicide/planned/intentional:

In very simple terms, this theory is mainly supported by the fact that John Laurens (and Hamilton, for that matter) were honor-obsessed and both had a thirst for military glory. Both were needlessly reckless in battle from the very start. Lafayette observed of Laurens at the battle of Brandywine, “It was not his fault he was not killed or wounded, he did everything that was necessary to procure one or t’other.”

Some evidence that also supports this is that Laurens’s battalion idea failed several times. He may have wanted to prove himself by becoming a famed fighter like the warriors of Greece and Rome that he admired.

His dash to the Combahee can be seen as in line with this. Opportunities for fame in battle were running scarce and Laurens didn’t want to miss any possible opportunity. You can also apply this to why he went ahead instead of waiting for the rest of the men during the battle. It would have been seen as more courageous to face them head on, outnumbered.

John Laurens was often overshadowed by his father, Henry Laurens. Military fame of the right amount could’ve possibly elevated John his father’s social status.

Also important to note, what Laurens did on August 27th was not out of character. So one could make a compelling argument that even if Laurens was not planning to survive the war, the battle at the Combahee was not necessarily the one he wanted to go out on. Especially because it was such a small action, not a glorious stroke of military genius.

So I do think that it isn’t unreasonable to read John Laurens’s death as accidental, however, if you are asking for my specific opinion I do think this next possibility is more likely.

Scenario/evidence in which John Laurens’s death was assisted suicide/planned/intentional:

(This is where the TW applies most heavily, just one last warning.)

John Laurens had a privileged life in some ways, certainly. He was the son of an extremely rich man, got part of his education abroad, and generally had all the inherent advantages to being a rich white man who was the eldest son of an even richer white man.

But his life (much like his friend Lafayette’s,) though seemingly tranquil and privileged, was filled with grief and loss from a young age. John Laurens’s mother, Eleanor Ball Laurens gave birth 11-13 times. Of these children, only five lived past early childhood. When John was about three, one of his closest playmates, his older brother Henry, died. And this was only one of many times (the exact number unknown because of the disputes of how many children Eleanor actually had) that John lived through the death of a sibling.

And there is one sibling death in particular that almost certainly hit John the hardest. His 10 year old brother Jemmy, while they were in Europe, and while John was technically in charge of him, fell and fractured his skull. Much like the Hamilton’s spending the night with a dying Philip, all John could do was try and comfort Jemmy while waiting for the inevitable.

Then of course there was the Francis Kinloch break-up. Obviously horrible. Then (possibly as a result of that breakup) getting a girl pregnant and being forced to marry her.

America. War. Alexander Hamilton. Love. Keeping the love hidden. France. Yorktown. The last attempts to become a war hero.

It is fact that Laurens and Hamilton based their relationship off Ancient Greek, Roman, etc. gay relationships. In this tradition it was traditional to be reckless in battle to impress your lover. So maybe it makes sense for Laurens to act insanely reckless when he and Hamilton are fighting together. But why would he keep acting that way after Hamilton goes home?

While on the subject of Hamilton, some of the most compelling evidence for John Laurens’s death being a suicide is that he clearly struggled with self-hate, likely because of his sexuality, for a long time. Think about it; he lived in a society that was not just unaccepting of same-sex love, and particularly acting on same-sex love, but it was literally a crime and being caught could result in extreme punishment.

Furthermore, John Laurens, as namesake, eldest son, etc, was under massive amounts of pressure to be perfect. To not bring shame to the family.

When John was in SC towards the end of his life, he had been away from Hamilton for more than a year. It is possible that without the gratification of the relationship (i.e., they are together, interacting on a day-to-day basis) John began to feel more unsure of their relationship? We do see that when John was away from his lovers, the relationships grew more distant and even unraveled. Yes I’m talking about Francis Kinloch now. But also as more time went by and Hamilton was back home in Albany and John was still in SC, their letters become less frequent. (Or more frequent but destroyed or lost. Honestly though JCH why???)

I also think that Laurens may have been worried that he and Hamilton’s distance was the only reason they could keep up a romantic relationship. Could Laurens have felt that once he “put on the toga” or joined congress, he and Hamilton would have to be just friends because of Hamilton’s wife and child? Judging by this line from a letter from Hamilton to Laurens, “Your impatience to have me married is misplaced, a strange cure by the way, as if after matrimony I was to be less devoted than I am now,” we can infer that Laurens may have at first have been supportive of the idea of Hamilton having a wife, perhaps because he thought that Hamilton was just using her to appear straight. In this letter, Hamilton also does allude to suicide. He tells Laurens, “For your own sake, for my sake, for the public sake, I shall pray for the success of the attempt you mention; that you may have it in your power to act with us. But if you should be disappointed, bear it like a man; and have recourse, neither to the dagger, nor to the poisoned bowl, nor to the rope.” I think it is extremely interesting that this comes in the same letter as the one where Hamilton tells Laurens he is getting a wife. The attempt Hamilton refers to in this passage is the attempt to free Laurens from being a prisoner of war, but I wonder if it has some sort of double meaning.

I also believe it significant that Henry Laurens seemed to get very anxious when John sent him a letter from Geneva at mentions suicide. From John Laurens and the American Revolution: “John’s haste perhaps explains an ambiguous passage that slipped into one of his letters. He referred to ‘two people the most addicted of any in the World to Suicide.’ Alarmed by these words, Henry sent an emotional reply: ‘What can be meant by addicted, to an Act, which can be perpetuated but once & no Man’s devotion to it can possibly be determined from anything short of the Commission? But, my Dear Son, I trust that your opinion on that Question is So firm, that you are armed with Such irrefragable proofs of the Impiety as well as Cowardice of Self Murther, as puts you out of danger of being made a Convert to Error, by any Man be his “Rank and distinction” ever So great, or by the finest thread of declamation tickling the ears and & fatally Captivating the Hearts of Giddy & inexperienced youth’”

The context of the passage from John’s letter is unknown, but his father acts so defensive and seems to be reassuring himself that John would never do that in his letter that I wonder if it was already a topic that Henry worried about. If this is the case, this suggests that John knew was queer from a young age, not just when he met Francis Kinloch, (and that letter is from around that time, just as a side note.) and/or that John had had mental health issues before this time.

Also significant: moving forward to August 1782, John was sick. He was bed-ridden. And he knew the fight at Combahee river was not going to be big. It was a small foraging party. All the redcoats were going to do was basically steal some flour. But still, he dragged himself over there.

He led his men forward even though they knew the redcoats were ready.

Then he immediately was shot down.

So, --dear anon who is probably horrified with the length and long-windedness of my reply--, here is the theory that makes most sense to me:

John Laurens had been having mental issues like depression for a long time. When he was with Francis Kinloch they alleviated slightly, but when Jemmy died and Francis Kinloch broke up with him, they came back full force. Since being with Kinloch had made John happier for a time, he decided to seek out more love. Wait a minute, John thought, if I can love a woman, that’d be killing two birds with one stone... the love will make me feel better, and it may cure me of my forbidden love for men.

But when John got Martha pregnant and was forced to marry her, I doubt that made him feel better. So he wanted to go to America and fight in the war. He believed in his countries independence, and this would be a way to go out with easy glory on the battlefield, should he want to.

He met Alexander Hamilton. Hamilton managed to convince John that their love wasn’t a sin or a sickness, and they were happy together.

Then Hamilton told Laurens he was getting a wife. He knew that this would be hard news for his Laurens, so in his next letter he made sure to make clear that they could still love each other.

But Laurens did not think that would be possible, once he realized that Hamilton really did love his wife, and was not just using her to appear straight. Laurens also knew that even if they did continue their relationship after the war, both he and Hamilton would feel guilty for what they were doing, especially considering that Hamilton really did love Eliza so much.

When the black battalion plan failed for the last time, it brought feelings of failure and hopelessness to Laurens.

When Laurens heard of the death of his wife, it brought back the guilty feelings for getting her pregnant, especially because she had fallen ill trying to bring Fanny to meet her dad in France.

When Laurens visited the Stock family the daughters again reminded him of his inability to have love for women. They also perhaps reminded him of his own wife and daughter who he had essentially abandoned in Europe.

With the war nearly over, Laurens decided if he wasn’t going to survive this war, he had to fight in some battles. So he got off his sickbed to go fight.

He knew it would be risky to go ahead without waiting for the main army during the small action at the Combahee, but he had done things that reckless before. And if he was going to die in battle, this would likely be one of the last opportunities.

To conclude this answer: I do support the theory that Laurens’s death was to some degree suicide, with assisted suicide being the closest label to what I believe it was. However I do think it was a complicated death that doesn’t necessarily fit perfectly within any label. I believe it was a combination of mental issues partly borne of being queer in a time that was unaccepting of same-sex love, the failure of his plans for abolition, being reckless in battle regardless, and, if he was going to die, wanting to die a war hero.

I think these factors together led to a premature death that was not planned exactly, but probably pre-mediated upon. What I mean is, Laurens wasn’t going to try and get killed, but he wouldn’t be cautious or try particularly hard to not get killed.

As for Hamilton, I honestly think it could go either way. Though I tend to lean toward Chernow’s answer, which is that it was not suicide, just stupid. (Like, Hamilton, your son literally died by shooting at the sky in a duel you are taking your own advice that failed horribly??) The main reason I believe this is that Hamilton had something Laurens lacked; a family whom he loved very much. Even though his political standing was slipping, I don’t think Hamilton would’ve wanted to leave his wife and kids.

Anyway, I hope this answers your question. Now for the much less depressing answer to the question,

2: What do you think life would be like if Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens could’ve gotten married?

I’m slightly unclear on whether you mean if they could’ve gotten married back in the 1700s or whether you’re asking for the modern AU I think is most accurate.

Assuming you mean if they could’ve gotten married in the 1700s, I think that they would have as long as it was main-stream and socially acceptable. I think they would’ve been very happy together, and I like to indulge in the fantasy of President Laurens and VP Hamilton.

I think John Laurens would not have died. I think he and Hamilton would have worked in the government together. I also do not think Hamilton would have would’ve dueled Burr.

John Laurens and Hamilton would’ve written together about 1,000,000,000 pamphlets against Jefferson and Madison.

The only duel would be Laurens vs Jefferson.

And they would’ve lived to a lovely old age together, adopted some kids, and lived happily ever after.

Never mind this is also depressing.

Thank you for the kind words about my blog and the great questions! Yes, if you are bored, house 7 is the answer.

If anyone has other asks for me, feel free to, well, ask them! And if you would prefer a short answer just tell me so, I won’t be offended!

#John Laurens #sad #death #Alexander Hamilton #Francis Kinloch #Henry Laurens #married #ask #anonymous #awesome questions

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nad-zeta · 4 years

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Matchup! ( ﾟヮﾟ)

hiya! I only just found your amazing blog and I was wondering if I could get a ship for IkeSen?

Basics~ I’m a straight Australian/scottish female (also huffelpuff) with longish brown wavy hair, green eyes, freckles and dimples. I’m somewhat average weight but with more of an athletic build. People are always trying to hug me even though I hate hugs and also squish my cheeks. Im very ticklish and if someone tickles me I will fight back.

Personality~ I have an INFP personality type which really explains a lot about me. I hate talking about how I feel with people and tend to just ignore feeling like sadness or anger, but then I love it when people rant to me about their own problems since I like giving advice. So I guess im quite reserved, which I think annoys people who don’t know me to well. For me, being reserved means a lot of awkwardness, and when at school I tend to just stare out the window (if I have no friends in that class) If I am comfortable about someone I love deep conversations. Like, not necessarily about proper issues more about dumb stuff like how we are our soulmate from a past live (idk me and my friend talked about that one for ages) I also have a weird laugh but oh well…

I’ve always been quite spiritual I guess, and would always see and hear things that my family wouldn’t. I used to be really quite when I was younger, not really because I was that shy or anything but more because I had a very active mind. That got better as I grew older, but im still really into tarot reading and all that squiz! Aries is my zodiac and im very passionate about research and trying to figure out strangers zodiacs.

My hobbies include: field hockey, swimming, reading (ASOIAF over and over) binge watching shows, drawing, collecting stones and making stone pets, sewing and making clothes, stargazing, researching the biology of strange insects, journalling, baking, gardening, going on rides with friends and being in my hammock for hours.

Things I dislike are: sleeping in (im an early bird), when people ask personal questions and I hardly know them, when my friends fight (im usually not apart of that), getting chilblains on my toes, when my neighbours dog won’t stop barking, tarragon (ew!), throne of glass book series (sorry, just can’t, nothing against the author), randomly judgmental people (like if you smile at them and they scoff, arggghh im already socially awkward safe me!) and the character Hannah from dark on Netflix.

- Thanks so much, I may go stalk your account now. ღ ღ

@ophelias-flower-bed

Hi hi dear! ❤🦊Thank you so much for the request! I’m sorry for taking sooo freaken long with this!🦋🥰 Hehe, hope you have a super good day! And I hope you enjoy this, love! ❤🌻🦋

I match you with……………… Yoshimoto

After having arrived back in the past and saving Nobunaga’s life you were settling in rather nicely. The warlords had gotten used to their new reserved princess, who, low key kept to herself. It had taken you a while to get Hideyoshi to trust you, mainly cause when you did communicate with him, you would awkwardly stumble over your words. Although after some time, he had come to realize that you were just a reserved little cinnaroll.

You worked extremely hard for the castle and its people, and you were starting to wear thin

As an apology for suspecting you of being an assassin, Hideyoshi showered you with gifts and turned into a big brother figure. He noticed pretty early on that you never really talked about your feelings, but the exhaustion from working hard was painted clear as day across your face. He shooed you to the markets with a bag of coins and told you to treat yourself.

You walked around the market aimlessly when a fabric stall caught your attention. The fabrics were dyed bright colours and incredibly soft. Your fingertips danced across each of the blots until you found one that you liked. You hadn’t sewn or made any clothes since arriving in the past, and you low key missed it. As you went to pay for the fabric and a few sewing notions, a loud voice boomed behind you, “What a beautiful design.” You tuned back to find a beautiful man dressed in a rather extravagant kimono. You gave a small smile, not really knowing what to say in these situations and left.

A few days later, you had successfully made your first kimono of the past and decided to test it out by going to a teahouse, to peacefully sit and sip on some tea. You sat outside, enjoying the warm sun as you looked out onto the beautiful scene before you. The teahouse had a beautiful garden, and you couldn’t help but feel inspired to draw it.

Yoshimoto had just finished spying on the Oda forces, when he spotted you sketching in the summer sun. He curiously made his way up to your table and sat down. He was low key thankful for the fact that the teahouse was packed. The only open seats to chose from was the one opposite you and one on the other far corner of the tea-house.

Your eyes shot up curiously at the new presence at your table. He simply gave you a kind smile, “Wow did you make that from the fabric, it’s absolutely stunning! You are a very talented seamstress little bird.” You gave a weary laugh in your usual awkward way, and told him that you were no seamstress, rather that you enjoyed making clothes for fun. He smiled as he sipped on his tea and watched you draw.

A light conversation flowed between the two of you, and you found yourself actually enjoying is company. In the weeks to follow, you had run into the man more and more. These run-ins would usually take place in fabric shops, and end with the two of you sitting down to have tea together.

He honestly loved your accent, and that you would listen to him rant about all his problems. He loved the way your eyes would light up whenever he would ask your opinion on a matter. He especially loved that unusual laugh you would do, whenever he complained about one of his travelling companions always wanting to pick a fight with him. As the two of you got to know each other better you found yourself opening up more and more to him

He found your love for zodiac and tarot extremely amusing. He would ask you all about it, even wanting to know what his sign was and the traits that would go along with it. Definitely asked you more than once to read his cards. He even low key wanted to try his hand at reading your cards for you. It was also at this point when you low key told him you loved to collect rocks.

He wasn’t sure exactly when it happened, but Yoshimoto found himself completely in love with you. You had honestly been the first person to see him for him and not as some extravagant man or the head of his clan. He would often take you on horse riding trips outside of the town. His favourite spot to take you was the beach, cause you would always get that excited glint in your eyes at the idea of finding some cool new rocks for your collection.

The two of you would walk together for hours looking at and showing off cool rocks you had found on the sand or in a nearby cave. Sometime you cuties would have a competition as to who could make the best stone pet. Yoshi has had a hard life having to burden the responsibility of being the head of his clan, but during time like this with you, he felt completely relaxed and at ease.

One day Yoshi found a bright red ruby during one of your dates on the beach. He carefully tucked it away before you could spot it. He gave the stone to Shingen and asked him to turn it into a dainty necklace for you, setting his plan in action. He had planned out the perfect date to give it to you and confess his love. After a week of reporting back to Kenshin and Shingen, he made his way back to Azuchi to spend some more time with you.

At this point, both of you knew of each other’s secret identities. You knew he was an enemy spy and the head of an enemy clan and he knew you were an Oda princess, but that never stop the two of you from hanging out with each other. You always missed him when he would go home to report back. So much so that even the Oda forces suspected that you had a special someone in your life. TBH when yoshi was away he would write the most beautiful poems and letters to you. They were never too romantic as the two of you had only been friends, but they did speak of how much he missed you.

On his way back, he spotted you in the forest with a notebook in hand sketching out strange little bugs that you had found. No matter how long he has known you, every time he saw you, you managed to surprise him. He walked his way up to you and glanced down at your notebook, you low key smacked his chest for scaring you. He spent the afternoon with you looking at strange bugs and telling you about the biology of the ones he knew. He was slightly surprised, as he never realized how many different types of bugs actually existed and inhibited the forest.

As evening fell, he took your hand and helped you onto his horse to take you to a surprise destination. You rode until the sun was well beneath the horizon and finally arrived on the hop of a big hill. He carefully helped you down and lead you to a little picnic that he had set out for the two of you.

He remembered that you had mentioned during your various conversations that you also loved stargazing and it just so happened that he too was a lover of the stars. He had told you that on that particular evening there would be a meteor shower.

The two of you sat and chatted in deep conversation about soul mates and past lives as you waited for the meteor shower to start. The two of you sat and looked up at the heavens as the meteor shower started. After the last star shot across the sky, Yoshimoto presented you with the ruby necklace and a small little ruby rock pet. He smiled as he told you that a friend of his *cough Sasuke cough* had told him the significance of giving someone a ruby and that he thought it was rather fitting for this situation.

After that, you decided to move to Kasugayama castle with Yoshi to get to know him better. You weren’t even there two days and you were named as the official castle seamstress by Kenshin due to the beautiful clothes you made. The bunny lord loved your kimonos so much that he commissioned you to make a few tiny ones for his beloved bunnies

Yoshi couldn't helps but smiles as you would sit in the council room, silently looking out of the window. He loved watching the shocked expressions that would play across his friends’ faces whenever you would instantly open up whenever he walked into the room.

He was absolutely over the moon when he found out the two of you had a hobby in common, that being gardening. He legit loves to spend hours with you outdoors as the two of you dig in the dirt and plant some beautiful flowers. Sometimes if he is feeling playful, he will try and tickle you, which usually ends up in a bit of a tickle/mud fight.

Because Yoshi is a warlord, he needs to stay fit and keep up with his training so when you tell him about your favourite sports he absolutely wants to include them in his training regimen, as a way to stay fit and spend time with you. He 100% drags his Kasugayama friends out to the open field so that all of you can play a match of field hockey. Thanks to Sasuke’s amazing ninja skills, he managed to construct a makeshift goal and hokey equipment for everyone.

Usually in the summer when it is scorching hot, Yoshi would take you to a nearby waterfall or beautiful lake to swim to your heart’s content and to cool down from the scorching sun.

He absolutely loves, loves, loves it when you surprise him with baked goods, and will 9/10 time go and brag about your fantastic baking skills to his cousin.

His all-time favourite thing is to lay in a hammock with you in his arms as you read. He would usually just sit and watch you read occasionally falling asleep while gently holding you.

Yoshi knows you hate hugs so he will keep them to a minimum, but he honestly can’t help but want to warp you up in his arms or pinch those cute cheeks of yours. His favorite thing in the world is to drop a small kiss on your dimples, as he finds them incredibly cute.

Often the two of you will be out on some fun adventure together, collecting rocks or having a blast. Quiet times between the two of you would usually involve merely enjoying each other company in random deep conversations.

Other potential matches……………. Kennyo

I hope you have a super good day!❤🦋🥰

#matchups #match ups #ikesen matchup #matches #ikesen yoshimoto #yoshimoto imagawa #yoshimoto matchup #ikemen sengoku yoshimoto #submission

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wonjaekook · 5 years

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The Perfect Man

A/N: We’re starting off with one of the most cliche of cliche tropes - best friends to lovers, with this particular plot. You’ll see :)

21 Tropes: 1. Best friends-to-lovers + lavender w/Johnny (ft. Jaehyun)

Description: You’ve spent the last few years trying to find the perfect man. After a lot of first dates and not many second, you finally find him. You also find that, maybe, he’d been there the entire time.

Word Count: 5.2k

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: none

“I enjoyed our date, it’s just,” he clears his throat to try to reduce the awkward air between you, “it didn’t seem like your heart was in it. No spark, you know? Um, thanks anyways and maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Thanks... I enjoyed it-” The streetlight illuminates his figure as he turns his back and begins to walk away, “-too.”

Truthfully, you didn’t even remember his name. He was good-looking enough and remained polite through the entire evening, putting up with all of your lame attempts at jokes, but there was nothing impactful about him. He was right that there wasn’t a spark - but that didn’t make the rejection hurt any less. As you let yourself back into your empty apartment, flicking on the lights and mulling over the failed date, you remember that you owe Johnny a text. Right on cue, your phone buzzes in your pocket.

Johnny: how’d it go?

Johnny: unless it’s going reaaally well… then don’t answer this text ;)

Y/N: no luck. he didn’t want a second date.

Johnny: damn

Johnny: call me?

Kicking off your shoes at the door, you slump down on your sofa and press on his contact. The instant you hear his voice on the other end of the phone, you relax a little.

“So, what happened?”

You frown, though the man on the other end can’t see your expression. “He said it didn’t seem like my heart was in it. What does that even mean?”

At this point, he would normally crack a dumb joke, saying something like ‘it means your heart wasn’t in it,’ but he seems to sense your dejection through the phone and bites back any insensitive comments. “Don’t get caught up on this one guy, Y/N. He just didn’t really see what you have to offer, and that’s his loss. He’s just one guy. One dumb guy.”

“But, the thing is, it’s not just one guy! Every date I’ve been on for the last god-knows how long has ended like this. I haven’t had a stable boyfriend since high school!” The last part comes out as a whine. “I just don’t get it, Johnny. What’s wrong with me? Do I lack passion? Do I need new hobbies? Is there something wrong with my face?” You rant to him, getting slightly more bitter with every question. He sighs into the phone.

“Listen, how about I set you up with my friend? He’s the perfect guy and you’ll love him. If you don’t get a second date, next round of drinks is on me.”

“Not that I doubt your matchmaking skills, Seo, but you’d better be prepared to pay for drinks.”

“Does that mean you agree to the date?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” In your mind’s eye, you see him celebrating his small victory, grinning into his phone. The image has a genuine smile tugging at your lips for the first time since you had left for your date earlier that night. Except, even as he had suggested the date, he feels a tugging in his chest and a slight frown making its way onto his face. He almost wants to take back the offer, but if it has a chance at making you happy…

Even though you know almost for a fact that the date Johnny is planning is going to fail, just like the rest of them, it wouldn’t kill you to make him happy and go on it. Yeah, maybe a part of your heart would hurt, but it wouldn’t kill you. Before he can say anything else, you remember that you need to return the favor and ask about his day. “How was practice, John?”

“Long. Tiring. So, the usual.” You chuckle at his comment. “I miss you. We should hang out soon.” “You’re the one living the idol life with a full schedule all the time. Still, let me know when you’re free. I miss you, too.” Glancing at the clock on your wall, you frown. It’s almost half past eleven. “It’s getting late. What time do you have to wake up?” “We have a schedule in the morning so, maybe… 4:30?”

You nearly scream, but you suppress it. Your neighbors would not have liked the noise at this time of night. “You idiot! Get off the phone and go to sleep!”

“Are you sure I have to? I have the energy of Donghyuck on three cups of coffee right now!” Hearing him whine almost makes you laugh and give in. However, as much as you’re enjoying talking to him, you know he tends to let his health rest on the backburner sometimes and you couldn’t let him be even more sleep-deprived than he already is, especially with his early schedule tomorrow.

“Yes, I’m sure. Sleep well! Now, go.”

“Alright, mom, I’m going. I’ll let you know when your date is! Goodnight!” After forcing some cheer into his voice, he hangs up and you stare at your blank phone screen, smiling softly and mumbling to yourself. Unbeknownst to you, on the other side of the black mirror, he does the same.

“Goodnight, Johnny.”

The next morning, you wake up to a text from your best friend.

Johnny: date’s this friday at 3, i’ll send you more details later xoxo

Though he wants to keep it a surprise, you try to grill him on who his friend is. You only manage to get out of him that, no, he is not as tall as Johnny, and, yes, he’s trustworthy.

By the time Friday rolls around, you’re nervous. This is Johnny’s friend - how much does he know about you? Did Johnny tell him about the incident from freshman year of high school? Does he already know your full name and your birthday and all about your parents? Has Johnny even mentioned you to him before? Your feet nearly drag as you walk to a familiar cafe, one you frequent with Johnny whenever he has time. And, outside of the cafe, you see a somewhat friendly face leaning against the building. “Jaehyun?” You say. There’s no way…

“Y/N!” His smile is sweet, a slight sparkle glimmering in his eyes when he notices you.

Though you don’t know him too well, you know that he’s a nice guy. You’d been to your fair share of small NCT 127 gatherings with Johnny, but you never had many opportunities to chat with Jaehyun in particular. With the short exchanges you did have with him, he came off as polite and funny, and you do find him attractive. Perhaps this wouldn’t be the most disastrous date ever.

His hair is a lavender color, faded from what used to be a more vibrant purple, and his dress is relatively casual, just a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, which makes you feel slightly more relieved when you notice. You’re glad you didn’t completely underdress on the first date.

“So, are you the friend that Johnny pressured into going on a date with me?” You start, standing in front of him. He straightens up from his leaning position and moves to pull the door to the cafe open, gesturing for you to enter first.

“Yes,” he says, a smile resting on his lips, “though I wouldn’t say there was much pressure involved. I’ve always thought you were cute.”

Your eyes widen and your lips part in surprise. “Really?” You can’t help saying.

“Yes, really.”

The atmosphere of the cafe has always leaned on the romantic side with its warm air and cozy furniture. Each hanging light fixture glows a soft amber and the windows let in a good amount of daylight. You prefer the vibe at night, but it’s just as nice to come during the day, especially with a handsome guy at your side. That is, a different handsome guy than usual. Thankfully, the cafe also keeps its mouth shut about idols visiting.

Ever the gentleman, he pays for your coffee, pulls out your chair, and does everything right. If you’re being perfectly honest, a date hasn’t gone this well in ages and you’ve only been together for fifteen minutes. As time progresses, you find yourself laughing along with him and smiling wider than you have in a while. When your time together starts to come to a close after what feels like the blink of an eye later, he offers to walk you back to your apartment, which you quickly agree to.

As you walk with him, you prepare yourself for the worst. Though you felt like it had gone really well, did he feel the same? You’d led yourself to think dates that had gone poorly actually went well before. What if it was another case of that? So, his first words when you stop in front of your apartment building surprise you. “I’d really like to see you again.”

“I-” You find yourself flustered, stumbling over a response to something you never thought you would hear. His eyes crinkle up in amusement at your reaction and you work to pull yourself together. “I’d like that, too.”

“Great!” His smile begins to melt the barrier of insecurity you’d put up around your heart. “This might sound kind of weird, but Johnny actually already gave me your number. I’ll text you?” At the mention of your best friend, your lips quirk up. You’d have to thank him later.

“Ah, yeah! Don’t worry too much about it, though. I know you have a busy schedule.”

“You’re worth making time for, Y/N.”

The sudden comment has your face heating up, a pleasant blush coloring your cheeks. It feels nice to be appreciated like that. It is nice to be appreciated like that. Saying a shy goodbye, you part ways with Jaehyun. As soon as you’re away from prying eyes, you can’t help but do a little happy-dance. Finishing up your celebrating, you pull out your phone and tap on your text conversation with Johnny. Except, before you start texting him, you stop. A nagging feeling pulls at your heart that you can’t quite place. You shake your head to try and clear it of the strange feeling. What is wrong with you?

Y/N: you didn’t tell me you were sending one of your group members!!

Johnny: oh? pleasantly surprised?

Y/N: better than surprised

Y/N: we had a really great time and he wants a second date!

Johnny: and you doubted my matchmaking skills

Johnny: you’re perfect, he’s perfect, how could it not have worked out?

Your eyes catch at that text. Johnny thinks you’re perfect? Before you can overthink it too much, you tap out a response.

Y/N: shut up johnny, it’s only been one date

Johnny: it always starts with the first date ;)

When Jaehyun returns to the dorms that day, Johnny congratulates him, giving him a friendly slap on the back. He had left the dorm that day looking great, lavender hair perfectly styled, not a thread out of place in his outfit, every piece of him as put together as could be, and he had come back looking just as great. After he returns, Johnny finds that the stewing ball of jealousy in his heart had turned lavender, just like his friend’s hair.

“I really like her, John,” he says, glowing in a way that Johnny hadn’t seen in a while. The thread of envy tugging at his heart pulls taut, but he pushes the feeling back. He wouldn’t sabotage his member’s or his best friend’s potential happiness for the sake of his dumb pining. However, perceptive as always, the younger boy notices his slight shift in expression. “Are you really okay with this?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? I set you guys up.” He isn’t okay with it, but he would force himself to be.

The second date goes just as well. You can’t help but love being around Jaehyun. He’s naturally charming and funny and you understand why he and Johnny get along so well. You actually see a bit of your best friend in him, which puts you even more at ease. On your ice cream and park date, you spend hours just talking to him, learning about each other, until the sun has long gone down and you’ve walked past the same tree five times. When he offers you his arm, you hook your own through it, enjoying the close proximity. Once you’re in front of your apartment building once again, he drops his arm and turns to face you.

“So,” he starts, “we’re having a movie night at our dorm on Saturday. Johnny and all the other guys will be there, and I was wondering if you wanted to come?”

“I would love to, Jaehyun,” you tell him, your eyes lighting up at the opportunity. He seems excited by your response and, reluctantly, you both part ways. You choose not to bring up the topic of your date with Johnny, but he texts you an hour later anyways.

Johnny: movie night. this saturday. you coming?

Y/N: hell yeah! Jaehyun already invited me ^^

Johnny: oh

Johnny: well bring snacks or you’re uninvited

So, on Saturday, you pull up to the dorm, snacks in hand. Having grown up together in the States, you two share similar tastes and not-so-coincidentally have the same favorite chips. When you knock, you hear muffled shouting from the other side of the door before Johnny opens it, the sight of his bare face and floppy brown hair making you instantly light up.

“Y/N!”

“Johnny!”

He picks you up and spins you in the most cliche way possible, triggering you to drop your bag of snacks in the process and making you laugh and hit his chest to put you down. “Put me down or I’m taking my snacks back!”

A second after you say that, he drops you back onto your feet, grabbing the bag and walking to the kitchen. Once he puts you down, you notice Jaehyun leaning against the wall behind him, watching the entire exchange with an amused smile on his face. His lavender hair falls in his eyes and you can’t help but think that he looks particularly good today.

“Jae,” you grin, “I’m happy to see you.”

“Oh?” He says, standing up straight from his position against the wall, “I already get a nickname?”

“Well, if you don’t want one-” You start, biting the edge of your lip.

“I’m kidding. You can honestly call me whatever you want.” He leans in, surprising you by planting a quick kiss on your cheek and pulling away to see the blush making its way onto your face.

“Just don’t call him daddy!” You hear Johnny call from the kitchen in English, “He’d probably be into that!”

You and Jaehyun look at each other before bursting into laughter. “Funny coming from you, Seo!” You call back.

“Shut up!”

As you make your way deeper inside, Jaehyun’s hand brushing yours but never interlocking, you greet all of the other boys as you come across them. Out of the others, you’re closest to Mark, as he also speaks English, and he reminds you a lot of your own little brother. So, when Jaehyun sits next to you instead of Mark and Johnny, like they normally do, Donghyuck is confused for them. You quietly explain the situation between you and Jaehyun.

Donghyuck’s eyes shift towards the kitchen. “But, aren’t you-”

Mark nudges him and he shuts up, confusing you. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says, but leans in to whisper to Mark. You roll your eyes at their confusing behavior and settle closer to Jaehyun’s side, much to his satisfaction. When your best friend enters the room, however, they look up at him and Donghyuck opens his mouth to speak again. “Hyung, tell us an embarrassing story about Y/N.”

“Oh, god,” you say, eyes nervously darting between the maknae and your best friend, “Johnny, do not. Absolutely do not.”

He smiles deviously. He’d better not talk about-

“Freshman year of high school,” he starts and you glare at him.

“Johnny, I will hurt you,” you hiss in English, making Mark and Jaehyun laugh. You can feel his deep laugh rumble in his chest, but your focus remains on Johnny.

Johnny shushes you. “Shh, Y/N, I’m telling the kids a story.” He picks back up where he’d left off a moment before, much to your displeasure. “So, freshman year of high school, there was this guy. He really liked Y/N and, one beautiful autumn day, he asked her out during lunch while we were sitting at our lunch table.” He pauses, looking you in the eye, knowing the worst has yet to come. “But! She did not like him back, and, instead of rejecting him like a normal person, she just blurted out that I was her boyfriend.” You bury your face in your hands, groaning. “However, he didn’t believe her, so we had to pretend to be dating for a month until he left her alone.” The laughter of the others fills the room and you peer between your fingers to glare at him. You don’t notice that Jaehyun isn’t laughing as hard as the rest of them, instead watching the exchange between you and Johnny closely.

“Johnny, don’t make me pull out the pictures,” you threaten, hand reaching for your phone.

“I’m not afraid,” he retorts, smirking.

As the conversation continues, Jaehyun closely watches the two of you until, a moment later, his eyes soften. He should have known.

Eventually, the topic passes and one of the boys starts the movie, some action flick that they had previously agreed on, and you stay close by Jaehyun’s side for the entire thing. A few minutes into the film, you feel like something is off, but you can’t quite place it. That is, until it suddenly hits you. You’re not sitting next to Johnny. At this point, you’d normally be leaning in to whisper dumb comments to each other and, though Jaehyun occasionally provides some of his own, you find that it isn’t at all the same. You do appreciate the arm that he has around you, the closeness of being with someone you like, but a lingering feeling in your gut has you feeling strangely about the situation. Though you try to ignore it, the feeling doesn’t go away during the entire movie.

As you’re preparing to leave and all the boys file away to get ready for bed, Jaehyun trails after you, politely offering you an arm to lean on so you can slip your shoes on. When you’re about to turn around and leave, however, he stops you. “Y/N,” he says, “are you free tomorrow?”

“I should be, why?” You’re curious, knowing he wouldn’t normally ask you out so spontaneously.

“Do you want to go to the cafe with me?” Inexplicably, your stomach drops. You have a bad feeling about this. “My treat,” he adds, setting you slightly more at ease.

“Oh, sure. Text me a time?”

When he texts you later that night, he seems normal. When you arrive at the cafe, he seems normal, when he’s paying for your drinks, he seems normal, when he sits down at a table with you, everything seems perfectly normal. After some small talk, he clears his throat and your heart sinks.

“Y/N, I gotta level with you. I really like you, but,” he pauses and you begin to feel the disappointment and rejection that always follows those words. You lower your head, not really wanting to meet his eyes, the coffee cup in your hands held tight under white knuckles. “You’re in love with Johnny.”

“What?” Your head snaps up and you look him straight in the eye, your mouth slightly agape. That was certainly not what you were expecting to hear. “What?” You say again, absolutely dumbfounded.

“You’re in love with Johnny.” He quickly realizes that repeating the same thing isn’t getting rid of the confused expression on your face and he begins to explain. “I saw the way you look at him, Y/N. Tell me if I’m wrong, but is he the one person in the world you’re the most comfortable with, the one you look forward to seeing all the time, the one you compare everyone to without even trying?” When you don’t answer, he knows that he hit the nail on the head. He gives you a smile, a soft, sad smile that very nearly breaks your heart.

“I…” you start, trying to find the right words to deny him, “I… I’m not in love with him…” The words are quiet, like you’re trying not convince yourself more than convince him. You feel more at a loss about your feelings than you ever have in your life.

“It probably happened a long time ago and you didn’t even realize it,” he says quietly, his voice softer than ever. “Just think about it. I’m pretty sure that he feels the same way about you. And,” the pause he puts between his next words seems longer than the last, and your eyes drift from the table back up to his eyes, “No matter how you look at it, I’m not Johnny, Y/N. I wasn’t lying when I said that I really like you. But I know that our feelings aren’t the same.” He takes a deep breath in an attempt to settle the air between you. “I’d still like us to stay friends, though, even if we stop seeing each other,” he gestures around him, “like this.”

You take him in, his soft lavender hair, his dark clothes, his stature, everything, and you come to the realization that you had been comparing him to your best friend the entire time you’d been seeing each other. The slightly off feeling you’d had with him was because he wasn’t Johnny. Right now, you don’t want to draw any conclusions, to admit that you’re in love with your best friend, but you can at least face some of the facts.

So, from that day forward, you and Jaehyun begin to get to know each other as friends. You mull over your feelings for a long time, the pieces slowly coming together. Your supposed lack of interest on every new date. Your apprehension about texting him about your first successful date with his friend. Your eagerness to always make time for him, no matter how much your schedule clashed with his.

Then, one day, as you’re sitting in your desk at work, you remember the plans you had made with him that evening and you instantly brighten up, working hard to finish everything. As soon as you find your desk empty of tasks, your mind drifts back to him and it finally hits you.

You’re totally, completely, undeniably in love with your best friend. And you have been for a long, long time.

When the time for you to leave finally arrives, you leap out of your desk, bag in hand, and walk towards the door with a newfound purpose. You’re in love with your Johnny. You’re in love with him and you-

What are you going to do?

Your footsteps slow from their previously brisk pace and you stop at the entrance to the elevator. You can’t just profess your love for your best friend randomly. That would be insane. There’s no guarantee he even feels the same way about you. You figure that you might as well talk to the person who made you have this realization in the first place.

Y/N: you were right.

Jaehyun: do you want to talk about it?

Y/N: yeah… meet me at the cafe tomorrow?

You thank whatever possessed the owner of the cafe to decide to keep it open until 3 AM every day, because, when Jaehyun finally finishes practice, it’s past midnight. You know this issue has waited long enough, however, so you agree to the ridiculously late meet-up.

It takes you a moment to recognize him despite the sparse few patrons in the shop, as his hair is now a deep black instead of the lavender you were used to. “You changed your hair.” You can’t help the observation from slipping out when you sit down in front of him with your drink. The corners of his lips curl up.

“It was time for a change.” He watches you for a moment, waiting for you to speak.

“Thanks for meeting me so late,” you start, unsure of how exactly to proceed, “I… I figured it out. You were right. I met up with him yesterday and… I don’t feel that way around anyone else.”

Yesterday, your little hangout with Johnny was the most normal occurrence that possibly could have happened. He came over to your apartment and you just enjoyed each other’s company, chatting and watching videos over takeout. Yet, while the occurrence was not out of the ordinary, the way you felt was. For the first time, you looked at him and knew that how you saw him was not normal. It wasn’t how someone who was just friends with someone else viewed their friend. When he saw you staring at him weirdly, asking you “what’s wrong?” you wanted to pour out your entire heart to him, confess everything that you had held back for what felt like years at that point. Instead, you responded “Nothing,” even though everything was actually wrong. Everything was wrong because suddenly you wanted his casual touches and joking fliration to mean more and you still didn’t know how he felt about you.

Pulling yourself from your memories, you look at Jaehyun again. “You said that he feels the same way about me, but I don’t know. He’s still the same Johnny he’s always been.”

His phone buzzes in his pants and he frowns. “Sorry, just a second.” A moment later, after responding to whoever had texted him, he looks back at you, his phone returning to his pocket. “I’m not him, so I can’t prove that he feels the same way about you, but trust me. You should tell him.”

“I don’t want to ruin what we have,” you mumble, half to yourself.

“You know it would take a lot more than a confession to ruin your relationship.” He’s right. You know he’s right, but you’re still scared. He reaches out, setting a hand on yours. “You can do it. You won’t be over it under you do.”

Letting out a breath, you nod your head. “I’ll do it. Next time I see him, I’ll…” He squeezes your hand. “I’ll tell him.”

“Good.” He smiles brightly before standing up from his seat across from you. “Now, come on.”

“What?” As he tugs you by the hand out of your chair, you forget about your drinks on the table. You follow him out the door and he drops your hand. And, as you exit, you see him. You stop staring at him in confusion for a second.

“Good luck,” Jaehyun leans in and whispers, giving the small of your back a light push towards Johnny before he turns in the opposite direction and begins to walk away.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to see you here, but I think he planned this,” Johnny chuckles, beginning to turn in the opposite direction that his bandmate had gone. “Walk with me?”

“As long as you and your long legs don’t go too fast.”

After a minute of walking in silence, he breaks it. “Are you mad at me?” “What?” You say, brows furrowing, “No. Why would I be angry at you?”

“You seemed kind of off last night.” So, he had noticed.

“I just had a lot to think about.” He glances over at you when you answer vaguely. You know you’re just stalling at this point, not confessing, but the time isn’t right. Not yet.

“Is everything going alright with Jaehyun?” He speaks slowly, as if he’s afraid to broach the topic. You don’t have to think long about your response.

“Actually, we’ve stopped seeing each other.” He appears confused, opening his mouth to question you. “We’re just friends now,” you add on quickly. He closes his mouth before opening it again.

“I thought things were going well?”

“They were. Things were fine, he just, I just… he made me realize something.”

Johnny quirks an eyebrow. “Care to share with the class?”

You stop walking and he follows suit, turning to face you on the sidewalk. “I…” It’s now or never. A moment like this wouldn’t happen again. The world seems to stand still for that moment, holding its breath for you. Steeling your nerves, you begin. “Johnny, I realized that the reason guys always think I’m not interested in them is because I’m in love with you. And I know you don’t have to accept my feelings, but-”

“Yes.”

“What?” You stop, flustered. Did he really just interrupt your confession?

“I accept your undying love for me, Johnny Seo, because I might have been waiting for you this entire time.” It finally clicks - why he never went on dates while you continuously tried to find a boyfriend, why he always told you that you were perfect, why he was always there, despite everything. A swelling feeling of relief washes over you, followed with a wave of confusion and frustration at him.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Johnny? Johnny!” Your expression shifts from confusion to irritation when he just smiles at you. “We could’ve been over with this months ago, years ago!”

“Friendly reminder that you were the one who just figured out your feelings. I’ve known for years,” he replies smugly, as if holding back his feelings was some great accomplishment. You stand there, the streetlights creating long shadows around you, a baffled expression on your face.

“...for how long?” Your voice is soft, questioning. He couldn’t have-

“Since maybe junior year of high school?”

A gasp escapes your lips at his profession and all you can do is stare at him with wide eyes. With some further reflection, you could probably figure out that you felt that way about him for just as long, but this isn’t a competition. He loves you and he has loved you. “How? You really never…?”

He smiles, a deep genuine smile that reaches past his eyes and into his heart, which he had given you a long time ago anyways. “It’s easy when you gave me something to look forward to every day, after every practice, after every test.”

“Johnny… thank you.” It’s all you can say, years of repressed emotions welling up in your chest. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

“I would have waited forever for you, babe.” The teasing smile is back on his lips, but you know that there’s at least some truth to his words.

“Johnny Seo, the perfect man,” you giggle, fake-swooning at his attempt to be smooth.

“It’s time you stop thinking about me as just the perfect man and also start thinking about me as the perfect boyfriend.”

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wonwoosthetic · 5 years

Text

Welcome Home || Ari Levinson

MASTERLIST is linked in my bio!! :)

(A/N) IMPORTANT: ok, so… guys… this is my first time writing smut and… I don’t really know how this turned out… I also don’t know if I’m completely comfortable with writing smut yet, maybe I just have to write more? haha, we’ll see! But I would really appreciate some feedback and maybe critic on how I could write it better :) thank you in advance! Also, thank you for this request, I absolutely loved The Red Sea Diving Resort and of course, Chris in it… he was a gift to all of us! ;) <3

REQUEST by whitequeenasitbgan: Oh please could you write one where Ari comes home at the end of the mission, has a new companion that, his longtime girlfriend, she’s asleep while he has a shower, then they have sex, and pillow talk? And mention they wrote to each other while he was away away? His ex-wife hates her but Maya loves her cause she always brought her gifts and presents Ari asked her to give her on his behalf and she helped her to cope with the fact that she missed him, while his mother only threw shit at him? Thank you, I’d love it

Warnings: smut and cursing

Word Count: 2.373 words

Welcome Home

Ari was exhausted as he reached for the key in the right back pocket of his dirty jeans. Under his fingernails was still dirt from not being able to wash his hands ever since he helped the last few of Israelian refugees to flee. He opened the door and thanks to the candles you had forgotten to put out, he was immediately surrounded by the feeling of comfort as soon as he smelled the flowery scent. He recognized it as your favourite ever since he had bought you one of them for the first Valentine’s Day you had spent together.

After placing his backpack and heavy suitcase on the floor, right next to the door, he was able to straighten his back, it cracked and plopped in all the right places. Everything was dark, signalizing that you had already gone to bed and after not seeing you for almost a year, all he wanted to do was to cuddle up next to you. He decided to leave everything in the hallway and made his way to your shared bedroom he had missed desperately.

The door was still ajar, so he was able to notice the dim candlelight coming from the room and the smell that came from it. Trying to open the old wooden door quietly when he remembered how many times you had asked him to oil the hinges, which, he never did, he came to a sight, making his heart start beating a lot faster. There you were. Lying on your side of the bed, your back turned to him, and a pillow placed between your legs. This is why he came back. This is why he will always come back. You. You were the only reason he had to come back to this place after losing his ex-wife’s love and even his daughter’s a bit. Ari walked over to your side, finally getting to see the beautiful face he had only been able to see on a photograph that he had been keeping in his purse. He crouched down and caressed your cheek with his knuckles. A book was in an awkward place next to your face - you fell asleep as you were trying to stay awake to greet your longterm boyfriend with a welcome home surprise.

Ari stood back up, with a smile on his face he placed a kiss on the top of your head before exiting again and disappearing into the bathroom to take a much needed proper shower.

The first thing you heard as soon as you woke up was running water from the bathroom down the hall. A smile started to spread on your lips when the thought of your boyfriend being back crossed your mind. You noticed the book next to you and placed it back on the nightstand, where it belonged. A tingling feeling in your stomach started to spread, knowing that Ari was naked under the shower and had hopefully missed you just as much as you had. The water got turned off and footsteps came closer to the bedroom quickly. You turned around and came to a sight you had most definitely missed. Ari stood there in the glory you remembered, with a towel wrapped low around his hips.

(Start of Smut)

“Hey”, you greeted him in your silent ‘just-woke-up’ voice with a grin on your face. He smiled sheepishly and made his way over to the bed where he got on on his knees to tower over you. “I missed you”, he whispered before placing a long and desperate kiss on your lips. Your right hand found the back of his neck to pull him closer to you. You sat up slightly while Ari’s hands went to your hips, creeping underneath the shirt you were wearing to the feel the rim of your underwear. To feel his touch after such a long time alone felt like ecstasy to you and you got excited quicker than ever. His long hair felt different between your fingers, but you enjoyed it - you really liked the new look. Ari’s exhaustion from before was gone and filled with happiness and love instead. His rough hands travelled all over your body, similar to his lips, which were no longer on yours but on your cheeks, your neck, your arms, just everywhere. He wanted you to know how much he had missed you and oh boy was he showing it. You quickly lost the shirt, making it possible for your boyfriend to kiss your naked skin underneath.

Your left hand found its way down to his front where you decided it was time for the white towel to go. You grabbed it and threw it on the floor, next to where your shirt was lying. Ari suddenly grabbed and lifted you with one arm and held you closer as he got a hold of the covers and put it over the both of you. You could feel his hard member through the thin fabric of your underwear, making you moan while his mouth was on your neck. Slowly his hand crept to your back to open your bra, which even after a year, he managed to do quick and swiftly.

While he kept his right hand on your hip, his left went to your now free boobs, caressing them with love. Ari had never been a rough lover naturally, of course, you had experienced different things, positions, and places in the past, but if it was up to him, he would continue to cherish and cares you in bed during sex, all the time.

His lips were back on yours, long kisses with full tongue action, like this would be the last time he’d ever get to kiss you. While he was making his moves slowly, you weren’t as patient, you just wanted to feel him again. “Ari”, you moaned, “please.” Those two words were all it took for a grin to appear on his lips and seconds later he was moving downwards on your body, kissing every millimetre that he went down more. He quickly reached your underwear and pulled it off after kissing the wet patch that had formed. His lips replaced your panties by covering your sensitive area in kisses and licks. You started tugging on his hair, earning moans from him. Your left hand went up to your pillow, grabbing it so hard that your knuckles turned white, “Mmm, Jesus..”, you moaned out loud then biting your lip. His tongue made eights around your clit and his laughs gave it an extra kick. He noticed you getting closer to your climax, so he moved back up to kiss you - the taste on his lips turned you on more… if that was even possible.

“I almost forgot how beautiful you look like this”, he breathed in your ear, shortly followed by feeling him pushing his hard member inside of you. It had been a year since you had felt this sensation, explaining the pornographic moan that you gave as he slid in in such a slow way, making it almost painful not to feel him completely.

As soon as he sped up his pace, moans and grunts escaped from his lips. His right hand kept your body in place by keeping it on your hip while he held himself above you with his left next to your head. You wrapped your legs around his hips, giving him better excess. With kisses, he tried to keep his moans down, which didn’t really work as you had to separate since the two of you were moaning messes at that point.

Ari’s hands went to grab your legs by the back of your knees, bringing them up. In that new position, he was able to pound into you deeper than before, letting you get closer to the edge as well as himself. As he started to feel your walls tighten around him, he let out the loudest moan of the night, “Fuck!”, he shouted. You felt him cum inside of you, making you shake and moan out in ecstasy. You started seeing stars, not able to remember the last time you came so hard that you had to make him pull out since you couldn’t take it anymore.

He laid down next to you, holding you close by your waist. The both of you tried to calm your breaths down while one of his hands petted the top of your head and kissing your forehead.

“I missed you”, he told you, making you raise your head to look at him, “I missed you too”, you smiled, leaning closer to kiss him before standing up and making your way to the bathroom to clean yourself up a bit.

Back in the bedroom, Ari was already waiting for you as he lifted the covers for you to get under. You decided to put the t-shirt that was lying on the floor back on, making your boyfriend pout, “But I liked this sight.” You shook your head with a smile as an answer.

In the comfort of his arms again, he recollected everything that had happened and started telling you stories about the mission. Some of which you had never heard before and others that you had already read about in the letters he had sent you during your time apart, but you didn’t say anything as you were just happy to hear his voice again - especially how passionate he sounded was something you had missed. You were drawing patterns on his toned stomach when he suddenly came to a stop of his storytelling, “I wrote to you about that, didn’t I?”, he wanted to know. You giggled slightly, “Yeah, about most of it. Did you get my letters?” “Every single one”, he kissed the top of your head. You thought for a second about asking the next question, “And Maya’s drawing?” His chest rose and you heard a loud sigh followed by a quiet, “Yeah.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows to be able to look at him better, “You should go see her”, but he shook his head in disagreement, “No… I-I can’t…” “Yes you can”, you spoke in a slightly firmer tone, “she misses you, Ari. Do you know how many times she’s cried because she was worried you’d get killed.” Your words hit him, they hit him hard. “Did you give her the gifts I told you to buy?” Your head fell into your hands in desperation “Yes, but you can’t think that gifts will make her feel better. She’s old enough to know what’s going on, babe.”

— Flashback —

Much to Sarah’s dismay, you came over to bring Maya a few things Ari had asked you to buy for her. At first, she didn’t even want to let you in but as soon as the sweet little girl heard your voice, she ran into the hallway, over to the door, and dragged you to her room. Your boyfriend’s ex-wife and you didn’t have what you would call a good friendship, hell, not even any kind of friendship. She hated you and she hated the fact that her daughter loved you.

You were sitting on Maya’s bedroom floor watching her opening the toys and getting more excited with each one. The last one was a small aircraft, funnily enough, an exact replica of the one you remembered seeing Ari walk on. “Is daddy ok?”, her high voice was filled with worry. You frowned “Of course, sweetie. Why d'you ask?” “Just wanted to make sure”, she shrugged, “when grandma died I got a lot of toys too.” Her answer made your eyes water because, to be honest, her question was what was going through your head every single day. You didn’t know for sure Ari was still alive until you’d get a letter with his handwriting and the times in between waiting for each of them to arrive was killing you.

You reached out to put some strands of hair behind her ear, making her look up at you, tears threatening to spill out of her eyes, “No no no, don’t worry, everything’s alright. He’ll be back soon.” You wished you could believe your own words.

— End Of Flashback —

He knew you were right, yet he didn’t want to face the fact that ever since the divorce, he hadn’t been the best father and certainly hadn’t been there as much as he might would have liked to.

“Have you talked to my mum?”, Ari tried to change the subject but that certainly didn’t change your mood. “God no”, you shook your head, “Ari, I’m not going to talk to a woman who doesn’t even support her own son.” He nodded understandingly but still hestitantly “I know… maybe she’s changed her mind.”

You sat up properly and started playing with your fingers in your lap “No…”, you weren’t necessarily happy to deliver the news to your boyfriend, “she visited when you were gone.” You looked up into his eyes, seeing hope, “As soon as she noticed you were gone again, she started ranting about how you were throwing your life away and risking it without thinking about the consequences”, then you took a deep breath and continued, “then she went on about how… how I should… think about changing my life”, your voice got quieter towards the end. He looked at you in confusion, so you continued, “She wanted me to leave you. She”, tears were starting to leave your eyes, “she said I shouldn’t keep waiting because one day you won’t come back home to me.” You started sobbing, so Ari made you lie down again and comforted you in his strong arms. He tried to soothe you, “Shhh, stop, that’s not gonna happen. Don’t listen to her, she never liked my job.”

Because you didn’t want the night to take a different turn, you told yourself to get your shit back together and calm down to enjoy the return of your boyfriend and leave sulking for another time. Now, the only thing that mattered was that he was back in that bed, you were in his arms and the two of you were finally able to be a proper couple again.

----------------------------------------- Uuuuuh, so… my first smut. Well, I really don’t know how this turned out but I hope ok… please let me know! Thank you for the request, I hope everyone enjoyed reading this! :) Hope you have a great day/night! :) <3

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