#or when he DOES give us ONE suggestion its always something that takes SO MUCH prepwork and cook time like chicken and dumplings

[newtkive]

confectionary clash - carmen berzatto

pairing: carmen berzatto x afab!reader (established relationship)

summary: carmy's girl is the human embodiment of a sweetheart. that is, unless it's that time of the month and richie provokes her.

wordcount: 3.2k

warnings: swearing, fighting, weaponized incompetence from richie but we still love him.

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble but turned into 3k words. so it's written kinda like a drabble?? (hence the lowercase i can't be arsed to change) but just... long. idk hopefully its entertaining. also, i don't mean to demonize richie, he's my favorite character i think,, i just love writing him as problematic lmao cuz he's so funny. anyways, enjoy!

as carmy’s confidant and girlfriend, you were always the voice of reason. with just a string of words, you’d be calming him down after a hectic work day, giving him a fresh perspective on his work dilemmas since you were outside of the restaurant circle. in the time he’s known you, he hadn’t seen you do as much as barely raise your voice. maybe the occasional snap, but you always follow it up with swift apologies and big watery eyes.

that is, unless you’re in pain. specifically cramps. the sight of you 180ing from a sweet girl with a bright smile and even sweeter words, to an evil sorceress with spells rolling off your tongue, inflicting curses onto anyone who irritates you is jarring. a bit dramatic, sure, but that’s what you were during that time of the month—dramatic.

carmy tries best to dote on you. you would never ask him to go out of his way for something, unless it’s grabbing a heating pad or water, but carmy wants you to. it takes prying to hear your desires and cravings after asking a million times, and you begrudgingly give in with no expectations. nevertheless, you end up with exactly what you asked for, or something close to it, and you’re endlessly grateful.

on days when you stop into the restaurant when you’re feeling down, carmy enacts this same routine. if it’s food, he’ll cook it for you; desserts, he’ll grab any extras marcus has (or marcus happily makes it from scratch if they're not busy, claiming he needs the practice). if you want snacks, he sends his right hand man richie out to grab them despite your protests.

richie does it often whenever you stop into the store, and he acts like it’s a chore sometimes, but everyone has a hunch that he really loves it. come on, twenty dollars to get a few items for you and pocket the rest for himself? plus a break from work? done deal.

richie wouldn’t admit it, but he liked taking care of you too. you were always a sweetheart to him, but it wasn’t in his personality to be as sincere as you, so this was a little act of service to show his love. besides, the year and a half you’ve known him has definitely earned you the title of a friend, and you’d agree.

now, you don’t ever want to seem ungrateful, but when you ask for a specific treat, you get disappointed when you don’t really get it. maybe it’s the fluctuating mood talking, but you always end up snapping at richie due to his poor choices. if you ask for one thing, he’ll get you the next, and you even suspect he does it on purpose sometimes. pulling reactions from people is his specialty.

it’s not like you’re a complete bitch about it, because he took his time out to go get you something, but richie has a problem with weaponized competence even with his new and improved attitude. you know he can get you the jolly ranchers you suggested, but he chooses to grab goldfish because it’s closer to checkout. it was annoying, but you never really brought it up to carmy. it's not like you needed to, it wasn't a huge deal. you figured richie could use the little break, and you don’t hate the snacks he brings.

except on days like this.

you were at the restaurant on a slow day, dragged yourself out of bed despite your cramps just to see your little grumpy boyfriend and hide in his office. even as you entered the establishment through the back you glared at richie (who sweetly waved) in passing, side eyeing a few of the newbies who ran in front of you despite their apologies. none of your usual bright smiles and cheery greetings. the bee line straight to the office was a clear enough explanation for how you were feeling.

upon entering, carmy looked up in a panic, which quickly melted into a soft smile at the sight of his girlfriend. “hey, baby.” he cooed softly, immediately scooting back from his desk to reach out to grasp at your waist. you let him, but pushed down the irritation, not favoring touch at the moment. however, his rough hands sliding a little under your shirt to grasp at the flesh of your hips calmed you down, earning a small quirk of the lips from you.

“whatcha doin’ here, love?” he asks, bringing one of your hands to his lips to kiss softly, still looking up at you.

you shrug, squeezing his hand, face a bit stoic. you’d been like this for a couple of days so he wasn’t surprised by your lack of friendliness. knowing you this long, carmy became accustomed to your monthly mood swings, and he felt privileged that you didn’t feel the need to put up an act for him.

“missed you.” you finally sighed, scooting closer so you stood between his knees. palms found both sides of carmy’s face and tilted it upwards a bit so you could study his appearance. stressed and tired. however, he seemed to glow at the mere admission of you missing him. it took a few seconds for his brain to rewire, looking up at you like you created the cosmos. the only reason you heard his soft, shy, ‘missed you too’ was because of the stagnant silence.

“hungry?” carmy asked, beaming from the attention. you shrugged again, allowing him to tighten his grip on your sides and tug you onto his lap. whining a bit in protest, you reposition yourself, legs falling over his lap and arms around his neck. your faces were closer now, and carmy looked at your sad eyes with a little pang in his chest. brows furrowing, he tilted his head and snuck a hand under your chin. long, tattooed fingers tickled at your chin, and before you knew it you were giggling and grinning while batting his hand away.

“cmon, i know you must want somethin’.” your grin was infectious and laced in his soft words. you hummed, already cheered up, and tapped a finger against your chin to make a thinking face. carmy chuckled, brushing a lock of hair away from your eyes and patiently waited.

a thought crossed your mind and you met gazes again. “i might go grab some little debbie snacks from around the corner.” you decided and nodded to yourself as if solidifying your decision.

as you started sitting up more, carmy’s grip tightened on your waist. “ah, ah, no. stay here.” he protested. soon enough he was calling out ‘cousin!’ and richie came bounding over, opening the office door.

richie’s face used to contort in disgust at any visual sign of affection exchanged between you and carmy, but he was used to it now. “what’s up, cousin?” he asked, almost seeming out of breath, eyes flickering between the both of you.

a short exchange between the two occurred: carmy asking richie to run to the corner store, handing richie a twenty, and richie asking you precisely what you wanted. you made it simple and easy, something he could remember: oreos and ho-hos, a midwestern's guilty pleasure.

“ight, cap’n, i’ll be back.” richie says, saluting you two before heading out. both you and carmy exchanged an amused smirk, knowing the only reason richie went was to get himself some cigarettes and hot fries he would scarf down on the walk back.

__

in the twenty minutes richie was gone, the kitchen had gone to shit. the newbies had been running the wrong food to tables, online orders were filling the tablet nonstop due to a discount glitch, and carmy was close to losing it. sitting in the office, now alone with the muffled sound of your boyfriend yelling, you were more grumpy than before. arms crossed, you snapped your head to the side once the door creaked open. in walked richie with a plastic bag, inside of it holding your hope for a better day.

"what took you so long?" you frowned up at him, but sat up straighter in anticipation. you eyes almost shone as you looked at corner store logo on the bag.

"went the long way." he mumbled, digging in the plasic. the skeptical look on your face didn't leave as he pulled out an item and set it on the table. your frown deepened further as you noticed there was nothing at all you asked for, only met with a crushed sleeve of crackers.

“where are the oreos?” you sighed out, lips pursed in a bit of a pout.

“didn’t find any, so i got you some peanut butter crackers.” he mumbled, digging around the bag again, as if he didn’t just break your heart. if it was anyone else you'd believe them, but with richie you figured he just got bored of looking.

your jaw fell slack and you gaped like a fish for a moment, waiting for him to pull out more treats from his bag. but that time didn’t come, as he fished a pack of cigarettes out instead. “and the ho-ho’s?” your voice was hopeful.

richie perked up at that, putting the cigarettes down next to the crackers. the next second he presented you with a smushed mountain of brown and white concealed in a plastic wrapper sitting atop the palm of his hand. eyes flicking between the disappointment before you and his face, you frowned in disbelief.

richie only managed to emote as much as a ‘yikes’ face before placing it on the desk. “got smushed in transit, but tastes the same!” he gave his best attempt at a smile. your brows grew taut together and anger bubbled up in your chest. you were sure your face was quickly turning red.

“carmy gave you twenty dollars, and you come back with this?!” you hiss out, daring to look at the dry crackers and smushed up dream of a ho-ho. the sight only made you become angrier. this was something a senile old person would give you, not a competent 40-something-year-old man. his lack of care was clear, and you were boiling.

richie just scoffed—he had the nerve to scoff.

“no, not just that! i got a sprite and a few pack of cigs for myself and the guy.” he waved around one of them to prove his point. if you thought you were mad before, you reached a new level of anger. usually, you’d deal with the disappointment and thank richie for even going—aside from a smart alec remark.

however, the demon conducting your period for this month did not make your rational decisions seem clear nor enticing. as you shot up from carmy’s chair, you only knew you wanted to make richie as upset as you were in this moment.

with one finger poking his chest, you began raising your voice. as soon as you started talking, richie's eyes turned wide as saucers, exactly like a deer in headlights. a string of curses snuck into your tirade, between phrases such as “you always fucking do this richie!” and “are you fuckin’ dumb?! did you get dropped on your head?!”. you only figured he didn't fire back right away because he was so stunned.

outside of the office, the kitchen was calmer now. things were finally falling into order but still required carmy’s supervision until the sudden rush ended. the only disturbance was you. now, it was your voice yelling behind closed doors and not carmy’s.

the chef—in the middle of helping sydney plate a dish—just about gave himself whiplash with how fast he turned around to look at the barely cracked door of the office. there was the telltale muffled yelling, but what shocked him was it was clearly you yelling.

turning back around, carmy gawked at sydney who silently shared the same look of surprise. it was only until they heard richie start yelling back that sydney silently pushed him toward the door. it didn’t take more than a second for carmy to snap out of his surprise and march over to the office.

throwing the hand towel he was using over his shoulder, he yanked the heavy door open before all but body slamming his way into the room and slamming the door closed. the yelling was suddenly clear, as if carmy was being pulled out from underwater.

“YOU GET ME WHAT I ASKED YOU, OR GET ME NOTHING AT ALL!”

“THEN YOU’D BITCH ABOUT THAT TOO—“

“OR NOTHING AT ALL!”

“hey, hey, HEY!” the two of you were too busy at each others throats to even hear carmy enter, until his voice brought you both to a halt, heads turning towards him.

carmy’s eyes were immediately glued to you, not paying the least bit of attention to richie. your arms were stiff as boards to your sides, fists and jaw clenched, brows taut, and race beet red. the man had never seen you look like this before, and his instinct to comfort you took over. turning to richie with a look that could kill, carmy finally spoke. “what did you do?”

“what did i do?! except take precious time to get your girl shit she didn’t even want?!”

an offended gasp left your mouth, and you retorted instantly. “oh please! because a crushed up sleeve of crackers and a mountain of mushed up cake is just what i asked for!”

“you’re ungrateful.” richie pointed a finger at you now. carmy launched forward and slapped it down. he knew richie would never hurt you, and you knew it too, as you just rolled your eyes in response, but carmy’s instinct’s took over. richie didn’t even look phased, just irritated. carmy stood in front of you and forcefully turned richie around by his shoulders to send him to the door. if carmy didn't have half of a sane mind, he would’ve kicked richie's bottom with his shoe for good measure.

“go take a break chef! or do whatever the fuck, i don’t care.” carmy shouted after richie, and the man left with a slam of the door.

you simply watched the scene unfold with arms crossed and that same deep set frown. carmy turned around to face you as the air settled, a hand running through his hair. blue eyes raked over your tense form and carmy decided he would give you a little space to calm down. however, the second he saw your bottom lip wobbling and eyes grow watery he threw that thought to the wind

“hey, no, no, don’t cry.” carmy extended his arms and collected you into them. the tense posture you held relaxed into his slouched form as he held you close; one hand in your hair, and the other rubbing circles on your back as you sniffled.

a pit of guilt burned in your stomach and spurred you into attempting to bury yourself into carmy. blue straps of his apron rubbed against your cheek as you shuffled impossibly closer. usually, carmy would love this, but right now he'd do anything to not see you so out of it. shushing you, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

there were a few beats of you hiding away before you decided to pull back a bit to face him again—and boy did you look pitiful.

the same cheeks previously bright with anger were now flush with embarrassment and stained with tears. a tattooed hand found itself sitting on your cheek, thumb rubbing under your eye to collect a fallen tear. at the touch, your eyes fluttered closed, and carmy’s heart broke at the sight.

“you gonna tell me what happened?” your boyfriend asked, trying not to make you feel even more guilty. his full attention was on you. exhaling slowly, your eyes fluttered back open and were met with those bright blue ones that always calmed you down.

“i dunno, i just-“ you shook your head and carmy waited patiently, “it wasn’t even a big deal, but richie just really set me off for some reason.”

“yeah, may as well join the club.” carmen’s words were light, not at all sarcastic, but aiming to ease you and bring out a smile. it worked, your lips turning upwards and carmy mimicking the half smile. he looked down at you with such love, head tilted to follow every time yours moved, and thumb caressing your cheek as he took in every expression.

your smile finally faltered as you glanced back at the office desk. “i feel so awful. he went out and got me stuff and i just yelled at him.” you sputter out.

carmy followed your gaze over his shoulder to finally see what started all of this. at the sight of the crackers and ball of what looked like mush, carmy scoffs in both disbelief and amusement, because of course richie would bring you that. turning back towards you, the chef finally gets it.

“baby, if someone brought me that shit while my insides were shedding i’d kill them.” he chuckled.

“really?” you asked hopefully, smile forming again.

“yes, really. even if i wasn’t goin’ through that i’d actually kick his ass.” carmy mirrored your smile.

nodding, you let yourself chuckle along with him. strong arms found you again and you were wrapped in a tight hug, allowing his squeezes to take away some guilt you were feeling. a moment passed and you knew carmy had to get back to work. with a sigh, you pulled back.

it was your turn to reach up and cup his cheek. guiding his face close, you met him halfway and pressed your lips to his in a kiss. lips moving against his, your noses brushed, and after a moment you let the kiss dissipate; lips slowly falling away from where they were molded together. one last peck was placed on carmy’s lips, as if saying, ‘thank you for being so attentive’. that earned an appreciate hum.

you both beamed, faces still close as you came back down to earth. “you gotta get back to work, and i gotta apologize.” you murmured and carmy nodded obediently.

with apprehension, carmy let you go, arms floating in the air for half a second as he walked backwards towards the door. “don’t go easy on him, though. richie lives for a fight. that was probably his anger management for the day.” carmy smirked, grasping the doorknob.

you just shook your head, eyes narrowed teasingly. before he turned to leave, you called out to him. “thank you, carmy.”

the man just gave you a confused look, chuckling. “don’t thank me, you're my girl.” with that he was back to work and you were left to your own devices. with one more glance at the monstrosity on the office desk, you left the room and went on a search for richie.

thirty minutes later, carmy was due for a smoke break and approached the back door. he slowed his tracks, lighter and cigarette in hand as he cracked the door and heard giggling. the sight before him was drastically different than before: you and richie sitting on a ledge next to each other, giggling and bumping shoulders. carmy breathed out a laugh at the sight and fully walked out. this caught both of your attention, grinning ear to ear as you clearly made up.

“hey, cousin!” richie grinned, and you both waved. figures.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #the bear #the bear imagine #carmy berzatto imagine #x reader #carmen berzatto imagine

[thedreamlessnights]

Since requests are open, here's my suggestion: I recently revisited my old mythology book and found one of the myths about aphrodite bathing in a lake and blinds some pervs that sneaked up to watch her. Now, the reader might not have the powers of a goddess but you know what she does have? A dagger-happy vampire boyfriend more than willing to shank unwanted peeping toms (in his defense, he actually asked if he could be there, so no harm done here). Idk, I just like the idea of the reader having scary dog privileges and Astarion not minding looking menacing/scary while doing so

Thank you so, so much for this request, anon. It's an absolutely incredible concept, and it fits Astarion so well! I had such a fun time writing it, and I really hope you enjoy the result!

For Your Eyes Only

Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW

Content warnings: Mentions of brief, non-consensual voyeurism. Somewhat graphic violence, as well as mentions of blood, degrading terms, and the description of an injury and death. Explicit sexual content, including: oral sex (receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, blood drinking, and ear play. Tags: Takes place post-Cazador, some point in Act 3. Includes mild spoilers. Established relationship, a bit of emotional hurt/comfort, and tender smut.

Word Count: 5.8k

After the darkness and chill of the Shadowlands, the heat in the city feels suffocating.

You missed the warmth dearly back then, trudging through despair and gloom, thinking of nothing but the inevitable relief of the city. Your bones always ached something awful in that foul place, never warm enough to ward away the icy air. Now, though, it occurs to you that you hadn’t fully appreciated the cold when you had it. 

The sun that streams down from the skies is blistering - scorching, even - and without reprieve or relief. Sweat courses down your neck, soaking the collar of your shirt. Your socks are damp inside your boots, and where the leather meets your calves, they’re chafing. 

Gods, what you wouldn’t give for a bit of that chill again. Even with the achy bones.

What’s worse is the mud, somehow. One would think that Baldur’s Gate would be scarce on its share of the stuff, but it’s everywhere. Tracked up from Rivington, puddling in the streets, clinging to the bottom of boots.

Granted, your boots have seen more than their fair share of mud since the nautiloid: sticky, wet, warm. It’s seeped into socks and splattered across new armor, stained some of your favorite nightwear. Sometimes, when you’ve finally settled down for dinner, you’ve been able to taste it. No amount of scrubbing rids you of the earthy, bitter taste for long. 

The mud in front of you is different, though. By all accounts, the heat should have baked everything at least somewhat dry, but this puddle remains. If it can even be called a puddle, really. The gloppy, wet mess looks more like a pond, and completely blocks the only path ahead. Even the edges of it remain entirely liquid. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it’d just rained.

A quick glance at your map confirms what you’d feared; this is the only nearby route to your destination. You’re on the outskirts of the city. Rock walls line either side of the path, too steep to climb. You know for a fact that Shadowheart had recently used your last Potion of Flying. Either you lose hours of progress to get Gale from camp so you can cross, or you’ll have to proceed through this stupid pond.

Astarion watches you eye the mess with a dramatic flick of his wrist. “Oh, by all means, darling, you go first!” he exclaims, raising a brow. “It won’t be me jumping in that slop.”

Karlach frowns at the mud’s appearance, tapping the toe of her boot against the surface. It ripples at the movement, brown waves gently sloshing against the surface of the nearby stone. “Can’t be that deep, right?”

“I don’t know,” you reply. You’re aching for a stick or loose branch, something to measure it, but there’s nothing around. Just grass and stone, the scalding sun on the back of your neck, and the muddy pond directly in the middle of the path. 

“I say we go back,” Shadowheart urges. “I don’t know about any of you, but I’m not keen on dirtying myself.”

“We’d have to backtrack through hours of traveling,” you point out. “There’s no other way forward. I’ve checked the map.”

“Fine,” she relents, crossing her arms across her chest. “You go first, and we’ll follow behind you. Once we’ve seen it’s safe, that is.”

And, hells, you do not want to step foot in there. Not one bit. Still, do you have much of a choice? Your feet are already aching from the day’s walk. It would be devastating to lose all your progress. So, no - you really don’t have a choice, not if you want to get those Netherstones and stop the Absolute in time. The quakes in the city have only been getting worse.

“Alright,” you finally reply, your voice stronger than you feel. 

You step forward, pressing your right boot against the mud, then apply your weight. Your heel breaks the surface with a terrifying rush of movement, and your leg instantly slides down into the muck - much deeper than you’d thought, deeper than it should be. When your foot hits the bottom, sticky, cold mud splatters up, painting your shirt, neck, and parts of your face. 

Suddenly, the day isn’t quite so warm.

When you finally muster the courage to look down, your right leg is submerged up to the knee, soaking through your trousers. You can practically hear the sick squelch of it making its way into your socks, squishing between your toes.

“Urgh,” you mutter, wrinkling your nose as you attempt to pull your leg up. “Disgusting.” But it won’t budge. In fact, your squirming seems to be making you sink down even further. You try to shift your weight, but your balance is uneven with one leg in and one leg out. You’re dangerously close to losing your footing, and every bit you struggle threatens to tilt you face-first into the makeshift mud pond. In a prime moment of idiocy, you plant your other foot in the mud for support, and find your bottom half completely unable to move.

“What a brilliant idea,” Shadowheart says. “Now you’re stuck.”

“Thank you, Shadowheart,” you grit out, sweat dripping down your neck as you attempt to twist yourself around. “I had no idea!”

Karlach steps behind you, laughing a little. “Come on. Up you go, soldier,” she says, leveraging her arms under yours and giving a quick tug. You’re expecting the mud to release you, but it doesn’t. Your legs don’t budge - not even an inch. 

“What in the…?” she mutters, giving another pull. This one has more force behind it; when she tries to haul you up, white-hot pain sears up through your ribs, ripping an agonized cry from your lips. No matter how hard she yanks, the mud’s grip only tightens around you. It’s beginning to feel like you’re a brittle piece of rope in a vicious game of tug-of-war. 

“Shit! I’m sorry!” she exclaims. “So, so, sorry!”

“What are you doing?” Astarion asks, his voice suddenly sharp. “You’re hurting her! Put her down!”

“So she can get sucked further into the mud?” Shadowheart asks. Her voice is lined with fear now, which is scaring you more than anything else about this miserable situation. “We have to get her out!”

But it quickly becomes clear that no matter how hard Karlach pulls, it’s useless. Every yank is agony, and you only sink further and further. Tears stream down your cheeks from the pain, and your spine feels like it’s gained a good two inches from being stretched, but still nothing. No give at all.

Eventually, Karlach lets you go. Your body plops down in relief, but the mud is somehow deeper than it was before. It’s up to the bottom of your ribs now. 

“Fuck me,” she pants, wiping her forehead. “What should we do?”

“How should I know?” Astarion’s face is drawn, more pallid than usual. His lips are pinched into a line. He should be telling you I told you so, making jokes - and you know he would be, if he were anything but absolutely terrified. Your panic is bad enough with the heaviness of the mud on your chest and lower body, but the look on his face? That tells you it’s even worse than it feels.

 “Step back,” Shadowheart instructs quietly. “I have an idea.” 

Once the two of them are out of the way, she steps forward. Stretching out her hands, she mutters an incantation into the air. In seconds, the slight chill of the mud surrounding you becomes sharp, painful ice that burns against every exposed inch of skin it touches. A very muddy shade of ice, but ice all the same. 

Karlach’s axe crashes through the surface and it shatters, breaking around you. After another hit and a moment of digging, she finally has you out: freezing, still covered in mud, and very sore - but alive.

“Thank you,” you manage, choking out the words between your shivering.

“Never say I didn’t do anything for you,” Shadowheart says, smiling a little. She lets out a breath of relief, the tension bleeding from her shoulders. “Now. Turning around, are we?”

By the time you get back to camp, you’re the most uncomfortable you’ve ever been in your life. You’re wet and cold and exhausted, caked with dried mud that pulls at your skin when you move. It’s in your hair, on your face, and in your shoes, squelching with every step. The feeling makes you want to crawl out of your skin. Your ribs are sore and achy, and - on top of all of that - you’ve lost a good day’s worth of travel. 

The only thing you want is to fall into Astarion’s arms, but he wrinkles his nose when you come near, holding out a finger to stop you. “Oh, no you don't,” he says. “Bath first. Then you can talk to me, darling.”

It seems no amount of persuasion is going to change his mind, so you head back to your tent and grab a number of supplies - soap, sponges, a towel, and a change of clothes. Your trusty knife for protection. The river is bound to be freezing, but it’s better than sponging yourself down and hoping for the best. 

Thank the gods you’d found a decent pair of boots in an abandoned house today, because the ones that are currently plastered to your feet will take days to dry out, even in the hot sun. When you get to the nearby river, you don’t even bother to take them off before you plunge them into icy water, sufficiently drenching them until you can furiously loosen the mud enough to slip them off and toss them onto the riverbank.

The rest of your clothing gets the same treatment: the trousers which slowly pull away from your skin, the shirt that’s splattered with mud and covered in it up to the waist. Your hair will no doubt be a disaster, too. 

You’re still sitting in the soaking-wet clothes when you hear the sound of a twig snapping behind you. Your hand instantly grabs for your knife, ready to throw it at whatever threat might be in the woods as your eyes sweep along the trees. 

Nothing. You find nothing.

“Darling,” comes Astarion’s voice. He slips out from the shadows, immaculately clean, gazing down at the weapon in your hand with a lifted brow. “Planning to render me dead twice-over?”

“You scared the living hells out of me, Astarion!” you snap, sucking in a shaky breath. The blade drops from your loosened fingers, softly thumping against the dirt. “What are you doing out here?” 

He steps closer, taking a seat on a nearby log. “You were taking ages to get clean,” he whines, sprawling out his legs in front of him. “And, unfortunately, our companions haven’t had an argument all night. How else am I meant to entertain myself? So here I am. Trudging through the woods for your company.”

“You could give me a warning next time,” you reply, still a little jarred. “I thought you were someone hoping to catch an eyeful.”

A smirk flickers across his lips. “Oh, but I am,” he says. “Do you mind terribly?”

Against your will, your cheeks heat, and his smile widens. “I don’t mind,” you say. “Not if you behave, that is. Hands to yourself.” 

“I’ll be on my very best behavior,” he promises. Leaning forward, he prods your boots, wrinkling his nose at the sight. “Gods below. Those disgusting things should be burned.”

“I have an extra pair.” You move to tug your shirt off, but it’s clinging to you. “Gods damn that stupid mud pile. I should have asked Gale to use a cleaning spell.”

“Oh, please,” Astarion says. “He’s been sulking in his tent all evening. Apparently, being asked to blow yourself up by an old flame doesn’t do much in the way of socializing.”

The shirt finally pulls free, and it’s clear that your smallclothes have received the same treatment as the rest of your garments. Gods, you really should have asked for that cleaning spell. This mud is going to take ages to get out.

“Hand that here,” Astarion says, motioning for your shirt. You toss it to him, and he inspects it closely before setting aside.

“What?” you ask. “What were you looking for?”

“Oh, darling, nothing,” he says. “That’s my ‘to be burned’ pile. We’ll get you a new one.”

You’d argue, but you aren’t very attached to your current outfit - and besides, after weeks of trekking through wilderness and Shadowlands alike, it’s falling apart even without the mud. 

“Do what you want with it,” you grumble, finally pulling off your smallclothes. “That shirt was barely surviving anyway.”

You glance over your shoulder and find him observing with a raised brow, slowly taking the sight of you in. You must look like a mess, but you’d never know it from the glint in the eye, or the complacent smile that plays upon his lips. Heat stirs low in your belly, simmering under your skin. Later, you tell yourself. When you aren’t covered in filth.

You lather up the soap on your sponge, scrubbing away the mud the best you can, but the damned stuff takes ages to get off. By the time you’re finally clean, the silvery moon is high in the sky, and your skin is beginning to prune.

Astarion makes a small comment or two, but mostly seems content to watch you in silence. His gaze burns over every inch of exposed skin, leaving phantom heat wherever it stalls. All you want is to get out of this damned river and touch him, but you’re determined to get every bit of the mud off before you do, and it’s taking much longer than you’d hoped.

When you’re finally presentable, you start on cleaning your filthy smallclothes. The soap is slippery, making it difficult to do much scrubbing, and the water alone is doing hardly anything. 

Astarion watches you struggling, huffing as you nearly drop the soap bar in the river. After a moment, he lets out an exasperated sigh. “Dearest, you do realize that it would be much easier if you-”

But his words suddenly cut off. His head snaps toward the woods, and every nerve in your body burns with fear. In the span of seconds, he’s lunged forward, grabbed your knife, and darted after the sound. 

Not a moment later, there’s a loud crash - some form of impact as he tackles whatever it was that he heard. You instantly push yourself out of the water without thinking, numb, your heart pounding in your chest as you stumble into the forest after him. It only takes a few steps in before you see it: a man on the ground, Astarion’s knife to his throat.

Your stomach churns, and your skin prickles in the air’s chill. How much had he seen? How long had he been standing there?

Astarion is shouting something at him, and the stranger is struggling against his hold, but it’s useless. He’s a scrawny, weak little thing, no match for Astarion’s lithe, nimble strength. No amount of twisting or fighting dislodges Astarion’s grip. After a moment, he finally gives up, cackling like an old hag as his head plops down against the dirt.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you here and now,” Astarion hisses, anger contorting his features.

In response, the man spits in his face. “She’s your bitch, is she?” he croaks. “You can take a turn after I’m done with her.”

Astarion snarls in response, gripping the man’s collar and pressing the blade deeper into the skin until it draws blood. 

“Wait,” you call, stepping closer. “Don’t.”

Astarion blinks in disbelief, sitting up, careful to keep his weight on the stranger underneath. “My love, you can’t be serious,” he says. “You want to spare this-”

“Spare?” you echo, cutting off his words. “Who said anything about sparing him?” 

Something glints in his gaze as he takes in your words. “Darling,” he drawls, his tone admirational. “By all means.”

He hands you the knife, and you kneel down next to him. It’s heavy in your hand, cold and smooth as you run your finger over the flat edge of the blade. You stare at the shimmer of it for a moment, entranced, somehow calm in the midst of this chaos. Then you slam the bottom of the hilt into the man’s nose.

There’s a sickening crunch before he screams, blood streaming over his mouth and spilling down his chin. Even after last night’s feeding, Astarion tenses up at the smell of it, but the curl of his lip tells you that he won’t be drinking from this piece of absolute refuse.

When the stranger reaches over and grabs at your arm, you almost don’t even realize - you’re so caught up in your own mind, in the weight of the knife in your hand. Then his nails dig into your skin, and everything hits you at once.

The freezing night air. The stinging, throbbing pain that flares through your skin as he claws at you, unable to do much more. The feel of Astarion’s hand, gentle but firm, prying the knife from your grip. It happens before you can even react - a swift slice of the blade, slitting the man’s throat. Dark blood, gushing from the wound and onto the dirt below.

For a moment, there is nothing but the sound of your breathing. Sharp but shallow, straining in your chest. Jagged air that flows in and out, but it does nothing to stop the increasing amount of black in your vision. 

You’ve fought and killed more people than you can count so… why does this feel different? Why here, why now? You’ve nearly died before, so why does the scrape on your arm feel like it’s much more than that?

Then Astarion’s hands envelop your cheeks, blissfully cool, and the panic and pain seep out all at once.

“Darling,” he’s saying, half-breathless, “are you alright?”

You manage to nod, and some of the concern leaves his eyes. He runs his fingers over the scrape on your arm, and you wince. “We need to get you patched up,” he murmurs, his brows pinching together.

“Don’t take me to Shadowheart,” you choke out. She’s already done you enough favors, and you won’t be able to stand her disapproving gaze if you disturb her rest after today’s fiasco.

He huffs. “Stubborn little thing,” he mutters, but he doesn’t argue. 

Instead, he heads back to your supplies by the river. When he returns, he wraps a towel over your shoulders, and it���s only then that you realize you’re naked. Completely, utterly naked. It had been bold of you to break that bastard’s nose in the nude, but… well, it hadn’t been your intention.

He’s dead now, though. He’ll never look at you again.

Astarion sweeps you up into his arms and carries you out of the woods along with your clean change of clothes, holding you tight against his chest and leaving your soiled clothing behind. 

You can’t find it in you to care at the moment. You’ve scrounged up plenty of clothing along the journey; those torn, stained things won’t be missed. Not to mention, if you ever need more, Astarion will gladly steal you some new ones.

He takes you to your tent, and you’re grateful to see that everyone else has turned in for the night. Anyone awake to see you would inevitably have questions, and this only affirms your decision to avoid Shadowheart - if you woke her up to heal a minor scrape on your arm, she’d be seething. 

And though she’d undoubtedly be sympathetic after hearing the cause, you don’t think you can muster up the words to tell her what’d happened.

After he’s carefully set you down on your bedroll, Astarion yanks the flap of your tent closed and reaches for your pack, digging through the contents until he’s found some bandages. His grip is gentle as he takes your arm and swipes some remnants of a healing potion over it. You’ve been through this dozens of times, but you can never seem to shake the urge to wince as it sets in - the potion stings just a bit before it soothes, a sharp tingling that fades into a sweet, balming relief. 

You’ve calmed down some, warming up in your tent with him, but Astarion’s hands are shaking as he wraps the wound. His brows are pinched together, his swallows are thick and strained, and he can’t seem to meet your eyes, even when he’s done bandaging you up.

“Astarion,” you murmur. “He’s dead.”

He stills in place, jaw clenching as he inhales sharply, still not meeting your gaze. Instead, he glowers down at the tent’s floor, his hands balling into fists. “He deserved so much worse than that,” he snaps. 

You don’t argue with him. Instead, you let him fuss over you, taking the time to smooth through your wet hair, plucking out remaining leaves and twigs from the woods. He gets you into a warm, fluffy robe - only the gods know where he’d managed to find something like that - then pulls you close, his thumb stroking over your cheek. You rest your head against his chest and close your eyes, listening to the soft sounds of his body working under his skin. No heartbeat, of course, just the quiet churn of his movements, the rise and fall of his ribs that’s become habit to him. 

After a moment, he takes your face in his hands, just as he had in the woods - but when you meet his gaze, there’s a sharp intensity in his eyes rather than fear. He takes you in little by little, tilting your head up to brush his fingers over the fading marks on your neck. 

Then he leans in, and you catch the smell of him you know so well, lingering on his skin like soap. Bergamot, rosemary, brandy. It’s what you associate most with him, that sweet, sharp scent that bathes over you. When his lips finally meet yours, the kiss is rough and desperate, heated and aching. His fangs scrape over your lip, grazing the delicate skin but not breaking it. His tongue slides into your mouth, and his hand returns to the back of your neck, tightening his grip.

One of your hands fix into his shirt as you lean into him, nipping at his lip. You shift your free hand up into his hair, tousling through the soft, silky curls before gently tugging. He groans and pulls you closer, and - gods, it’s incredible. Warmth drags down your spine like a hot coal, searing and addictive. You squirm a little in his grasp, shifting until you’re straddling his hips, and he pulls away to kiss down your jaw, murmuring soft words into the skin.

When he gets to your chest, you let him untie the robe and spread his hands underneath, peeling the fabric off your shoulders, fingers slowly warming as they trail down your back. His hands settle on your waist as he kisses you again, mouth soft against yours.

Gods, you need him. You’re already soaked, and he’s barely even touched you.

You can feel him hardening underneath you, his movements growing desperate, his breathing labored. You grind your hips against him and he lets out a strained noise against your lips, shuddering. He pulls away, examining your expression as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. 

The movement is tender and incredibly sweet, but you’re hardly patient. You’ve been wanting him ever since he sat on that log in the forest, gaze roaming over every inch of you. You let out a soft whine, attempting to tug off his shirt. He does absolutely nothing to help you.

“Astarion,” you breathe. “Please.”

“Hm? Did you want something, darling?” he asks, the desire in his voice betraying his otherwise casual tone.

“I want you,” you tell him, rolling your hips again in search of the friction you so desperately need. “Please. I want you.”

“Easy, love. You have me,” he replies, brushing his thumb against your lips. Your heart swells with a fondness that would threaten to make you cry if you weren’t so ridiculously needy.

And finally, thank the gods, he takes off his godsdamned shirt.

You run a hand up his shoulder, then into his hair. You’d once thought that he was using a special shampoo - his hair was so soft, it seemed the only explanation. Then you’d seen him with the same shampoo you were using, and you’d practically wept with envy over his ridiculously perfect genes. Even now, as you run your hands through the silk-soft curls, you don’t understand it. 

Then you trace up the line of his ear, and he shudders, leaning into your touch. When you gently massage the tip of his helix, he lets out a soft, seeking noise and his eyes flutter shut. Hells, you swear that you can feel him growing even harder beneath you. Another roll of your hips and his eyes slowly open again, half-lidded and glazed with desire. His hands firmly grip your waist, and there’s the briefest sensation of falling as he rolls you back onto your bedroll, tucking the pillow under your head.

He kisses along your clavicle, nosing down your ribs, humming against your skin. Feather-light brushes of his lips meet your ribs, then your breast, pausing to swipe his tongue over your nipple before he proceeds downward. When he arrives at your navel, your legs automatically spread open for him, and he lets out a hum of approval. He takes a leg in his hand and kisses up the thigh, warm, sharp kisses that trail up to the place you want him most.

He starts off slowly - a long lick over your clit, a quick swipe of his tongue before he settles between your legs, propping your thigh over his shoulder and starting a maddening rhythm. After all this time, you really should know how much pleasure to expect - but after everything, after his confession in the Shadowlands and the fear with Cazador, this still feels… new.

And Astarion is very, very good at what he does. He seems to know exactly what you want before you do, before your mind can put it into tangible thought, and before your body can even search for it. He works a finger into you, then two, and you’re left gasping and squirming as he sets an agonizingly slow pace. After a moment, he speeds up, just where you want him, perfect, perfect-

And then he pulls away, and the look on his face practically shouts that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. Of course he does. He’s always been a tease. His fingers continue their work, languidly dragging in and out of you as he speaks.

“You know,” he says, pressing a kiss to your thigh, “back at the river, this was all I could think about. Getting my mouth on you. Watching you come apart piece by piece.”

Gods, he’s been direct before, but never that direct. Frankly, you’re surprised you don’t come then and there. Instead, you clench hard around his fingers and whimper, rolling your hips in time with his movements.

“Astarion,” you pant, unable to coax your mind into forming a coherent reply. “Gods, Astarion.”

He hums in response, flashing you a wicked grin. “That’s it, darling,” he encourages, shifting his fingers until they’re brushing against a spot that makes your vision black out. “Say my name. Let everyone hear you.”

You manage a laugh that quickly fades into a soft moan. “The entire camp will kill me if I wake them up.”

He nips at your thigh. “Let them try,” he muses. “They’ll have to get through me.”

He lowers his mouth between your legs again, and your head falls back against the pillow. It’s an embarrassingly short time before your muscles start to tense up, wiring you with pleasure from head to toe. One of your hands fixes in his hair, pulling tightly as white-hot pleasure sparks through your abdomen, and oh, gods, you’re coming-

Your vision cuts out again. Your mind fuzzes over, drunk with pleasure, leaving you shuddering, clenching around his fingers, moaning into your free hand. 

You know he’d prefer to hear you, but if you actually disturb any of the others, you’ll die of embarrassment. One day, the two of you will have your own house with a real bed, and you’ll be as loud as you want. For now, you muffle your cries into your fingers and tremble through your climax.

Your body floats weightlessly for a moment in what must be Elysium, until you finally rejoin yourself and find your limbs heavy and uncoordinated. Astarion huffs, placing a final kiss on you until he crawls upward, kissing up your chest again. 

He’s still holding himself back - you can see it in the way he moves, in the tension of his muscles and the coil of his shoulders. There’s a fire in his eyes, a hunger that you recognize so well. When he reaches your neck, you instinctively tilt your head, allowing him access to his usual spot. 

For a moment, he hesitates, his warm breath fanning over the skin as your pulse hammers in your throat. Then he groans, grinding himself into your leg as he bites down, chasing his pleasure against your thigh as your blood spills into his mouth.

You know this routine so very well by now. The sting of the bite, and the numbness that follows. The ebb and flow of your blood, filling his mouth. The slight dizziness that comes before he pulls away, swiping his tongue over the bite for one final taste.

“Gods,” he pants, gripping your shoulder. Then, to your utter disappointment and confusion, he pulls away. “Wait here, my sweet. I need to - I’ll be right back. I promise.”

And before you can protest, he’s scrambling out the tent. For a long, numb moment, you stare at the tent opening, wondering if you’re dreaming. The silence of the tent grates on your ears, echoing the sound of your breathing until you can barely stand it. Then he’s pushing inside again, a scroll in hand as he closes the tent.

“Do I want to know what that is?” you ask.

“A scroll of Silence, darling. I’ve been saving it.” He flashes you a grin, murmuring the incantation as the scroll shimmers in his hand. Pure Weave, confined into parchment. 

You don’t hear the spell take effect, but you feel it. It’s a thickness in the air, a heaviness in your movements. 

Astarion doesn’t waste another second. He pushes up to kiss you, and it’s messy - your tongue against his, the sting of sharp teeth, your hand in his hair and his hand on the nape of your neck. There’s the taste of metal and herbs: your blood mixed with the remnants of a healing potion. He spreads your legs with his knee, then sits back on his heels and reaches down to undo his trousers.

You study him for a moment. The crease of his brow. The alabaster of his skin, sculpted out like a statue from marble. 

If you were an artist, you’d make him your life’s work. You’d chip out his every feature little by little, painstakingly working away at the stone to define the look in his eyes when he tells you he loves you. You’d spend ages carving every wrinkle, every line, every perfect imperfection. The touch of it would be cold, like him, but it could never compare to how he looks as he settles over you, eyes blown dark with desire. 

He inches closer, still on his knees, and takes hold of your thighs, lifting them up to meet his hips before gently easing inside of you. He lets out a sharp exhale as he slowly presses deeper, his grip shifting to your waist.

Nothing could compare to the way it feels as he fills you up inch by inch, murmuring praise, telling you how beautiful you are for him. “Darling,” he bites out, gritting his teeth at the pleasure. “If anyone ever tries anything like that with you again, I’ll tear them to shreds.”

You laugh a little, breathless, delirious in the delicious stretch of him inside you. “I won’t stop you. I just might ask to break their nose first.”

He shakes his head, but a small smile plays on his lips before he straightens and starts his rhythm. Slow, even thrusts that leave you grasping at the blankets beneath you, trying to steady yourself in the waves of sensation. He stares down at you, half-drunk on your blood, lips parted and his cheeks flushed.

“You feel incredible,” he breathes. “Gods. You’re incredible.”

Your eyes don’t quite know where to land. They never do. Now, they flutter over his abdomen, taking in the sight of the muscles that ripple and contract with the rolling of his hips. The droplets of sweat that slowly build on his skin, glimmering like crystals. 

His jaw clenches, and his pace starts to quicken, and the feeling of him inside of your aching cunt is just so godsdamned good. His cock stretches you out like it was made for you, and soon your lungs are hardly filling with air. You can’t think, and you can scarcely breathe. All you know is that you’re not going to last much longer.

You tug at the blankets and shut your eyes, and he lets out another soft, aching noise as he thrusts deeper, faster, filling you up, the slick sound of your arousal echoing through the tent and mixing with the heaving of your breaths. You clench around him and he groans, shifting the angle of your hips, rhythm frantic.

“That’s it,” he pants. “Come for me, darling.”

And you do. Your body clenches around him as you cry out, back arching, pleasure overtaking every thought but one: Astarion. Astarion, Astarion, Astarion. Your breaths scrape shallowly through your chest and ecstasy burns through every inch of you, every nerve - until you feel paralyzed. Content, thoroughly fucked and sated, but paralyzed.

 You’ve just started to come back to your senses when Astarion follows you over the edge, a moan tumbling from his lips that sounds remarkably like your name. His hips thrust a few more times, chasing after his pleasure, clumsy movements that slow to a halt as he shuts his eyes. He shudders, then slackens, carefully pulling out of you before he wraps his hands around your thighs and gently lowers them back to the bedroll.

You can barely move, still lost in the aftershocks of pleasure as he cleans you up, smoothing the hair out of your face as he lays next to you.

“You know,” he says, “I think I’m going to ask Gale to make us another one of those scrolls.”

And, gods, all you can do is laugh.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion fic #astarion smut #bg3 x reader #mywriting

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku

TW: NSFW, dubcon, captive darling, abuse of power, coercion, deepthroating, penetration v, threesome, degradation

fem reader

Thinking of pro-heroes Dynamight and Deku finally capturing the villain they’ve long been seeking, only to offer her a get-out-of-jail-free card if she gives them a little something in return…

You’re on your knees between them.

“Aww, now that’s a pretty sight~ ain’t it, Deku?”

“Agree, Kachan~ who’d've known the little felon could be so sweet~”

It’s but a small favor in regard to what they’re giving you in exchange. Suck their cocks, and you go free. You’ve done worse for less before. Being a criminal has never come without costs.

Still… the whole thing is so embarrassing. Mouth wide open with their leaky cockheads hugging for space inside it. They’re way too big to both have room, but they don’t seem all that concerned by it.

“C’mere,” The blonde groans, taking your head for himself – angling your plump lips back and forth on his shaft, sucking his teeth as you suckle on the fat veins found there. “That’s it, street scum- earn that freedom…”

Another weighty palm drapes your head, and you’re steered over to the other throbbing member. He nudges his tip inside your mouth and has the plush head fuck the pocket of your cheek, eerily smiling down at the sight. “Street scum is a bit harsh, isn’t it? I mean, look at that face~” He purrs, petting the abused cheek he was bulging.

Your hair is pulled in the other direction again, and you pop off the one in your mouth only to be invaded by the other again – this time deeper – and deeper again. He uses both hands to hold you down. 

“Still only useful for one thing-” He growls, and you gag, spit bubbles frothing around the shaft as your throat tightens up.

When he lets go, you jerk back with a cough – both your palms splayed flat on the ground, spluttering with hiccups, spit drooping down your chin while sipping sharp breaths that burn in your lungs.

“Aw- where’d all that confidence go, hm?” His hand tangles back in your hair and angles your face up again – now riddled with pretty deep-throat tears. Lips bloated and shivering with short shuddering inhales and exhales.

“’Think the poor thing bit off a little more than she could swallow…” The other man muses, grabbing your jaw and angling you his way again, pushing his slicken cockhead passed your lips. 

He drives just as deep as the former one did, aided by all four of their hands pushing you down until your nose pressed into the stiff muscles of his pelvis, buried in the ticklish green curls there – feeling his cock bend down the gorge of your throat. It does an excited jump each time you gag.

He pulls out slowly – but not all the way – looking down at you as you suck in breaths around the chub of his grith.

“We can always test ‘nother of yer’ holes if it gets too much for yah?” The blonde husks, tapping the weight of himself against your forehead, resting his balls in your hair.

“Don’t patronize her- I think a hardened criminal can handle this much...” The one taking space in your mouth says – beginning to slide himself all the way back down again, hitting your uvula like a punching bag with his balls slapping wetly against the slobber on your chin.

Your hands brace themselves against the stiff muscles on his thighs, feeling them flex through the spandex of his tight uniform. You close your eyes, squeezing them tight as he bores down your jugular again. Spluttering up spit and taking desperate breaths once you’re released.

You’re not given much time before another fist finds your hair again – though this time, your own hands come up to protect you – keeping yourself at arms-length by bracing against the oncoming hips.

“Wah-wait- break- just-” You blub, and the cock slides up your face instead, tapping its hefty weight against your cheek and temple.

“Hm, maybe you were right, Kachan. Maybe I was overestimating her…” The green-haired one mused, his voice sounding suggestive – followed by a soft scoff from the one resting his cock on your face.

“Okay then, up we go, lil’ crook-” He leaned down and grabbed you by the arm, lifting you from the floor. “Wouldn’t wanna make yah pass out, after all...”

He spun you around so your ass was pressed against his crotch, making you rest palms-first against the other man’s swole chest – standing tightly between them while the blonde behind you balled your dress up around your waist.

“No, wait- you’ll still let me go, right?” You stutter, reeling from the feel of his fat shaft, wet with your drool where it slid up between your crack while he softly humped his hips into your rear.

The one in front took your chin. “Oh- don’t worry~ let us have our fun, and we promise no prison.”

The cock is tapped on your asscheek whilst its owner places wet hot kisses up your neck. “Still up for it, hm?” He gruffs hotly at your ear, holding you steady by the hip whilst stroking himself in the other.

You bite your lips, brows doing little tremoring motions as you quickly try and mull it over in your head. Ending up with giving them a little nod.

He bites your earlobe with a rusty chuckle. “That’s a smart cookie.” Ushering you up to stand atop the other man’s shoes, making you just the right height for him to send his shaft down the cleft of your butt. Sliding it in between your thighs, rubbing himself against the puff of your cunt through the lacy silk of your panties.

He’s kind enough to get you a little warmed up first before peeling them aside and lightly slapping his manhood up against the slit. But the way you gasp is just way too cute for him to hold back – making him run his fat cockhead through your lips, back and forth to slick you up, rubbing over your clit – forcing an involuntary buck of your hips. 

He hums at the movement, finding your hole and kissing it with his tip, groaning out a “Yer’ way too pretty for prison…” against your ear – playing with your entrance without pushing in just yet, giving the ill-prepped thing a warning of what to handle. “Poor doll would be everyone’s favorite lil’ jailbird.”

You croon with a whimper when he splits you open, even as he does so slowly – and the other guy takes the opportunity to catch your mouth with his. 

“Wouldn’t stand a chance against the other inmates…” He moans, sliding his hand from your chin to your neck, holding it just tight enough to encourage you to keep your head up – as he slips his own thickness between the doughy fat of your inner thighs, rubbing over your clit on its way.

It makes you ache around the member bottoming out inside you. “Not to mention the guards…” He continued. “They’d all have a ball with fresh ‘n’ tight meat like you.” 

You moan into the mouth in front of you, panting on his lips when he speaks. “It would be too cruel of us to send you to a place like that…”

“Despite it bein’ where all you wrongdoers belong.” The hands placed on your hips keep you planted as he pulls out and lolls forward again.

Your thighs shudder from the feel of it, squeezing the one caught between them tightly. “Poor thing would get passed around from morning to lights out.” His words pour into your mouth where it gapes open – feeling his ridges and veins catch your clit – making your lower belly coil like an adder – clawing your nails into his chest in order to pursue it.

“Tied to the bars of yer’ cell for everyone to have a go.” The one behind grunted, kneading himself into your womb – fucking you deep and slow enough to feel you flutter on his length. “We’ll be a lot nicer with yah.”

 “Promise, sweet thing.” The one in front chuckles when you cum – shaking on both their cocks – weak in their hands – resting your sweet face against his chest with blank eyes glossed over from pleasure.

You’re not going to prison, but you’ll soon find out if you agree that staying locked up in their house as their personal pet is much different or better…

#yandere bakugo x reader #yandere bakugou #yandere bnha #yandere bakugou katsuki #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere bakugo #yandere katsuki x reader #yandere katsuki bakugou #yandere katsuki #yandere mha #yandere my hero academia #bakugou smut #katsuki smut #bakugo smut #yandere bakugou smut #yandere midoriya x reader #yandere midoriya #yandere midoriya izuku #yandere deku x reader #yandere deku #yandere izuku #yandere deku x y/n #daddy deku #deku x reader #deku x you #yandere izuku x reader #yandere izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #izuku midoria x reader

[another-lost-mc]

When MC is Quiet in Bed Headcanons | THE DEMON BROTHERS + THE DATEABLES/SIDE CHARACTERS 1.7k words | NSFW | gn!Reader | Smut & Fluff Content warnings: They're all so in love, its cavity-inducing. Suggestive and sexual content, some pet names, teasing/dirty talk, cursing, body worship.

THEY'RE DETERMINED TO DRAW MORE NOISES FROM YOU

LUCIFER, ASMODEUS, BELPHEGOR, DIAVOLO, SOLOMON, MEPHISTOPHELES

Lucifer appreciates you exactly for who you are, but he’s the Avatar of Pride for a reason. When he tries to draw more noises from your kiss-swollen lips, he wants to prove to you (and he wants anyone else who might be listening to know) that no one else can ever satisfy you the way he can. By the time he’s finished, all you’ll be able to whisper or moan or feel is him. He can’t be with you every night, but whenever he fucks his fist thinking of you, he comes to the memory of the night you finally cried out his name. 

Asmodeus won’t stop until he knows your body as intimately as his own. When he gives you a massage after a long day, he knows where and how to touch you to draw relieved sighs from you. He knows what temperature to run your bath so you hum with contentment. In the bedroom, your pleasure is his pleasure, and there’s nothing more gratifying than seeing your head thrown back in ecstasy when he finally pulls a sweet moan or whimper from you. Hearing you sing for him, your body and voice together in perfect harmony, makes him even more desperately in love with you.

Belphegor sees your quietness as a challenge. He wants your noises to fill the attic to hide his own desperate, needy sounds. If he notices that you’re trying to be quiet, it only makes him even more determined to see how loud you can be. He wants to hear you beg for him, just to prove that he always gets what he wants - and you’re happy to do that for him, aren’t you? He might tease you about it just to see how you respond—

You’re so desperate for my cock, do you even hear yourself? Fuck, let’s see if you can moan like that again—

But that’s because he wants you to feel as vulnerable as he does.

Diavolo wants to know how well he satisfies you. He wants to erase all your previous lovers and replace them with memories of him and him alone. He wants you to guide him and support him, and love him and accept him for who he is. In return, he’ll be a leader you can be proud of, and a demon you can love wholeheartedly, and the only lover you’ll want beside you or on top of you or inside you. He’s the future demon king that kneels at your feet and worships you with his hands and mouth and cock. The only thing he’ll ever ask is that you never hide how he makes you feel. 

Solomon wants to know you better than anyone else ever will. That means his touches are gentle and exploratory at first, and once he finds something that causes you to moan or whine for more, his smile turns sharp. He does it over and over and over again, so he can see how loud you can be, and how desperate your sounds are, and the types of words you use when you beg him so prettily to let you come. He rewards you for your patience and for being so good for him, and when he fucks you after, you’ll have your chance to learn the desperate noises you drag from him too.

Mephistopheles resisted you for so long, but as much as your human nature irritated him at first, now he’s enamored by it. There’s nothing he wants more than to prove to you that you won’t ever regret choosing him over any of those other demons who pursued you (especially that arrogant bastard Lucifer). Nothing makes him happier (or harder, or hornier) than hearing you whimper his name when you’re caged beneath his arms on his dark, silk sheets. He’ll do anything to hear you say his name like that again (and again and again).

THEY DON’T MIND IF YOU'RE QUIET or THEY’RE QUIET, JUST LIKE YOU

SATAN, BEELZEBUB, BARBATOS, RAPHAEL

If Satan is in one of his calm, happy moods, his lovemaking is sweet and quiet and unhurried. He takes his time exploring your body, mapping the smooth expanse of your skin with his hands and mouth. The soft shuffle of sheets and the creak of his bedframe, and perhaps the quietest of sighs, is more than enough to set his nerves alight.

If Satan is channeling his rage into a more pleasurable outlet, then he’s going to be noisier. You might be too, or you might not be - it doesn’t matter. He can tell by the way your thighs shake around his waist, or the way your fingernails scrape his scalp when you pull him down into a frenzied kiss, that he’s giving you something that no one else ever will.

Beelzebub doesn’t care how loud or quiet you are as long as he can have you as much as he wants. There’s an endless hunger for you that churns deep within him. When he covers your body with his and fucks you with slow but powerful movements, his own quiet noises in your ear are barely noticeable over the sound of the headboard banging against the wall or the mattress springs squeaking beneath you. He growls your name into the crook of your neck when he comes, and he’s more focused on the sound of your heartbeat close to his than anything else.

Barbatos is used to being a silent shadow for his young master, and your quiet manners in bed don't disappoint him or surprise him; he can be very much the same. He sighs at your first hesitant touch, and he murmurs loving praise into your ear when he coaxes both of you towards the precipice of pleasure. He appreciates the other ways you respond to his loving caresses. He places more value in your hot breath against his skin when you pant into his shoulder, or your hands scrambling for purchase along his back or in his hair. (Your soft noises also make it easier to get away with scandalous midday dalliances when he feels especially daring.)

Raphael is not loud or boisterous at the best of times, and when he’s making love to you, it’s no different. He drags his mouth along your skin while he moves inside you, and the quiet grunts or moans that slip past his otherwise occupied lips are muffled against you. He likes to feel the vibrations of your shaky breaths and erratic sighs when his body is pressed flush against your own. When he reaches between your bodies and touches you so you both come together, you can sometimes hear the softest whispers as he chants your name under his breath.

THEY'RE LOUD ENOUGH FOR BOTH OF YOU

MAMMON, LEVIATHAN, SIMEON, THIRTEEN

Mammon is greedy for you - all of you. Every breathy moan or broken cry, every whimper or groan you make. The way your body shakes or trembles or moves with him, or for him, he wants it all. It doesn’t matter how loud or quiet you are, because he knows everything you do in his bed (or in the shower, or in his car, or on any other flat surface) is all for him. It also doesn’t matter how loud or quiet you are because he is sinfully loud. The endless stream of sweet praise that he babbles into your skin or the honeyed filth he growls against your ear is enough to drown you out anyway. You quickly learn that all the noises you make are his, just as all the noises he makes are yours.

Leviathan sometimes wishes you were louder in bed because he gets embarrassed by his own needy, desperate noises. It bothers him at first, and his face is flushed red and he’s sweating and trembling beneath your hands, but eventually he's too overcome with desire to care anymore. When you’re in your room, or in his tub, or laid flat on his desk, he babbles about how good you feel and begs you to tell him how much you want him and he’s desperate for you to tell him you’re his and only his. When he’s close, or when he knows you’re close, his breath hitches and he whimpers and whines because you feel so good, it’s too good, please don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop—

Simeon isn’t necessarily loud, but he’s noisy. He whispers your name with such reverence that it takes your breath away, and he praises you so unabashedly that you’d be embarrassed if you weren’t too cock drunk to care. His sweet words are punctuated by the sounds he makes when you feel too good and he can’t form coherent thoughts anymore. He groans his pleasure into your skin and moans into your kisses, and his breath hitches when your hand or mouth or greedy walls clench around him just right. The noises your bodies make are a constant distraction too - the way his hands brush over your skin, the wet glide of his tongue and mouth against yours, and the soft slapping sounds as his hips move faster and with more desperation against your body. When you’re close, the bed creaks louder when your body moves in sync with his, and it spurs him on even more. He thinks all the noises of your lovemaking are just as lovely as the quiet words or gentle moans you do - or don't - make for him. 

Thirteen isn’t quiet. When she’s not cooing about how cute you are trying to fuck yourself on her fingers, or when she’s not murmuring how good you taste on her tongue, she’s constantly in awe of you. She explores your body so eagerly, and she’s always finding new things to love about it. When she does, she tells you with so much giddy excitement how she found another little secret of yours. She finds all your little birthmarks and moles and scars and everything else that makes you unique. She maps them with her hands and her tongue so she never forgets them, and so that you never forget how much she adores them. She finds the oddest ways to compliment you, usually when you’re half-delirious from pleasure. She grins down at you, or smirks up at you, and she says the sweetest things when she knows you’re too tongue-tied to argue with her about it. 

#obey me demon brothers #obey me dateables #obey me undateables #obey me side characters #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader #diavolo x reader #barbatos x reader #simeon x reader #solomon x reader #mephistopheles x reader #raphael x reader #thirteen x reader #obey me x reader #obey me smut #obey me fanfic #omswd fanfic #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #x reader #gn!reader

[matryosika]

Recording Sessions

Pairing — 3racha and Reader

Wordcount — 3,485 words

Genre — Smut

Warnings — Dom!Chan and Changbin, Switch(sub lean)!Jisung, consensual voice recording. Dirty talk, use of petnames (slut), mild humiliation, oral sex (m. receiving), brief spanking, unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, mild cum play, sex in a recording booth.

Autor's note — Wrote this a while ago for a commission, but as I was lurking through my google drive I found this again. I think its fun and I've been meaning to post something for a while now, but I can't get anything done sadly. I think I wrote this back in may or june? I am not too sure, but I hope you like it! I've been writing for NCT these days and I have 2 wips for them. I'm also working on something with Lee Know as a character. I hope I can get any of that finished soon! Hope you enjoy this, and I apologize for any grammar/spelling mistakes in advance 🤍

“Do any of you even know what a real moan sounds like?”

The look on their faces is amusing. Hadn't you been inside the recording booth, you're sure Changbin would have already headlocked you in a playful manner for running your mouth. 

But you are inside the recording booth, the three of them sitting in the studio with frustration written all over their faces.

“This sounds so fake,” you continue, taking off the headset. “What did you type in youtube to get this sample? Women moaning ASMR?”

“You’re not being helpful at all, you know that?” Changbin asks, trying to keep a serious demeanor but failing almost miserably every time he remembers the audio samples that are currently as background vocals in their upcoming song. They do sound awful, but he isn't as straight-forward as you are.

“Well, you asked for my opinion and I’m giving it to you,” the smug look on your face pisses off Chan just a little, but it is nothing new —the endless bickering between the both of you has happened ever since you two met. It's always light-hearted and friendly, but it surely does bring some tension into your friendship with him.

“Any ideas on how we can improve this?” 

“For once, get rid of all the fake moaning and get something that actually sounds like a woman being pleasured,” you instruct them, and smile when you see the three of them paying attention to your words. They have such abilities when it comes to music and producing, but they often look for constructive criticism outside their small group of three just to see things from different perspectives. “We don’t sound like that, it’s more like gasping for air and deep sighs accompanied with mostly quiet moans. This sounds like someone shouting exaggeratedly”.

“I’ve tried,” Chan murmurs, leaning back on his studio chair that he spins slightly. “But nothing sounds right. It’s a bit too much, maybe”.

“No, I do think the song calls for background sounds like these,” you encourage the trio. “It’s just- you need something more raw and real”.

There’s a quick moment of silence in which the four of you exchange glances, without exactly saying anything in particular.

Changbin and Chan look too deep into their own thoughts, probably trying to come up with another idea or alternative for that sound sample you all hate so much. Jisung, on the other hand, is staring right into you through the glass barrier that separates you from them, with an idea in mind he’s not quite sure how to deliver, but that he ends up doing it anyway. 

“What if we record you?” Jisung asks, drawing the scowling glances of the other two. “I mean, you can obviously fake them since you're a woman, right?” 

The suggestion has you cackling quietly, but even Chan and Changbin are considering it —you can tell by how they're looking at you as if they're expecting your verdict.

“Right,” you scoff, crossing both of your arms in front of your chest, “because what better way to spend my Saturday afternoon than faking moans inside a recording booth”. 

“It’s not going to take you long,” It’s Chan who speaks this time. The one you thought was going to be the least to be on board with such a crazy idea. “We all know this isn’t going to be the first time you fake them”. 

Your mouth opens in awe and you curse them mentally when they all laugh under their breaths. It was just one time, with a guy you didn’t even like, and you told them about it because you wanted to get the embarrassing memory out of your system. You were too bored, and desperate to go, that you ended up faking a series of moans that tricked him into thinking you were finished. 

“Very funny, Christopher,” you spit, resentful. “I thought you promised not to bring that shit up, ever again”.

“And I thought you promised you’d help us,” Chan attacks, “so what is it going to be?”

You look at them for a couple of seconds, pondering the situation. You can help them, you really have nothing better to do —yet a better idea comes to mind. 

“Why faking it if you can have the real deal?” you ask, nibbling at the skin against your fingernails. You’re trying to appear collected, but even suggesting such a crazy idea it’s making you feel uneasy. Unless you've gotten the signals wrong, you know they won't turn down such a proposal. “You’re all just sitting there, when one of you could help me”.

It’s Jisung who leans down over the console, clicking a red button to open the microphone.

“What exactly are you proposing?”

“Well, you were the one who pinned this on me, Han,” judging by their facial expressions, you know they understood exactly what you meant. They just want to make sure you are all on the same page. “Why don’t you come here and help me, so we can get this over with?”

“Why him?” Changbin immediately asks, offended even because you didn't consider him as your first option.

“Do you want to help me too?” you chuckle, “because I wouldn’t mind if you joined”.

“Han,” Chan’s cold voice interrupts the silence, catching the attention of the younger. He doesn’t say anything else, but rather signals for him to get inside the recording booth with a tilt of his head.

Jisung doesn’t say anything either, but his eyes flutter between you and Chan, almost begging for further instructions. He hesitates, perplexed. Not because he doesn’t want this, but because he really can’t begin to comprehend this is really happening.

“If you don’t want to, Changbin can do it,” the older speaks again.

“N-no, I mean- I can do it,” Jisung stands up from his studio chair abruptly and hastily, like he is in a rush. To be honest, he kind of is —he has been daydreaming of this moment ever since he met you, so he isn't going to waste it. Even if that means there are going to be other people watching or involved. “I just- what do I do?”

Chan and Changbin scoff quietly, teasing him. “You should ask her that question,” the former replies, crossing both of his arms and leaning back on his chair, “not us”.

“Yeah, okay”. 

Jisung walks inside the booth, swallowing thickly. Is he really about to do this? Is he dreaming? Or is this some sort of a sick joke?

He can’t help but overthink the situation, but every single one of his thoughts goes away when you welcome him into your embrace, holding him tightly against your body with his half-hard cock pressing against your lower abdomen and your tits against his toned chest. The other two are watching, and that only riles him up a lot more.

“Have you ever been this shy?” You tease him, wrapping your arms around his neck and brushing your lips against his. “You’re always so cocky, always running your mouth. But right now you aren’t. I wonder why”. 

“We don’t have that much time,” Chan warns you through the speakers, and you can feel the despair in his voice. Like Changbin, he’s anticipating something and you’re edging them, just like you are to Jisung. 

“Then I’m going to need more help,” you hum, latching your fingers against Jisung’s dark hair while pulling him closer to the crook of your neck. He loses no time and starts kissing and licking the sensitive flesh, hiding his face there. You, on the other hand, look through the glass barrier proudly to the other two who are out. “From the both of you”. 

“One isn’t enough for you? Do you need the three of us?” Chan asks, poking his cheek with his tongue. Changbin, on the other hand, observes the scene in awe, with both excitement and impatience. You don't reply, but shoot an accomplice glance at the older. “I always knew you were some of a slut, I just didn’t think this much”.

“Well, now you know,” you smile, biting your lower lip when Jisung sucks on a sensitive spot a bit too harshly, “so start recording”. 

The following moments are blurry, perhaps because of how nervous you are. You try to act in control, like you're the one calling the shots. But when you feel the three of them near you, with their hands all over you, it's hard to. 

“You’re not that bold now, are you?” Chan whispers in your ear, pressing your arse against his crotch. To your sides, there’s Jisung and Changbin, who grope and kiss your body as much as the other allows them to.

“I’m doing this for you,” you sigh, kicking your head back until it meets Chan’s shoulder. 

“Right,” he scoffs, grabbing a fistful of your hair and forcing you to kneel in front of Changbin and Jisung. “We just wanted your advice, but somehow we ended up like this”.

“I wonder why,” you tease him looking up to him while your hands tease the men in front of you.

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that she’s such a filthy slut,” Changbin murmurs, caressing your hair back. 

You can feel them through their sweatpants —you can feel how hard and ready they are for you, how desperate they are for your touch. You wish to take your sweet time with them, to suck the three of until they come in your mouth only to fuck you afterwards. 

You want more than just a quick fuck. But this will have to do for now.

“Suck them off,” Chan orders, pleased with the sight of you on your knees. 

Good thing you’re wearing such accessible clothes today —you’re making his job ten times easier.

“Get us nice and wet, baby,” Changbin proceeds, pulling your head against his crotch while he lowers his sweatpants just enough to release his throbbing cock. “We’re going to fuck you with it, so it’s up to you how easy you’re going to make this for yourself”.

“Don’t forget Jisung too,” the one behind you murmurs into your ear, practically kneeling right beside you while he pulls up your dress, revealing a shameful piece of clothing that he can barely name as underwear. The sight makes Chan’s cock throb even harder. “See how much he’s leaking? I know he has been dreaming of this for a while now”. 

“Fucker,” Jisung hisses through gritted teeth, feeling betrayed by his friend. Truth is, he isn’t telling any lies.

“Aw, you have?” He has been infatuated with you for quite some time now, and he is too awkward to be discreet about it. You have caught him checking you out shamelessly, and it has always been a turn on for you. 

“We all have,” Changbin says, nibbling at his lower lip when you wrap your hand around his cock. You squeeze both of them hard, staring up at them with a mischievous smile. “If only you knew what we talk about when you’re not around”. 

“Mh, I feel a little excluded now,” you pout. “Why don’t you guys just show me?”

You spent another ten minutes on your knees, being throat fucked by your dearest friends Changbin and Jisung. They take turns in burying their cocks inside your warm mouth, using your hair as leverage to let you know which one of them to suck next.

In the meantime, Chan just watches. 

You’re drooling all over yourself by now, your shirt ruined with a mixture of spit, precum and sweat. Your skin feels sticky, your mouth feels full and your pussy feels wet —you really wouldn’t be surprised if the floor was stained with your arousal.

“C’me here,” Chan tells you, grabbing you by your arm and helping you get in a different position. Your knees are bruised and red, but you don’t really care —tomorrow it will be a fun reminder of what happened today. “Now let’s really start recording”. 

You lay on the floor on all fours, with your ass up and your hands and knees supporting your body weight. It's an uncomfortable position, but you can only do much in a recording booth with no bed or couches.

The first one to take a spot right behind you is Changbin. Out of the three, it’s the one who seems more desperate to get his release and you kind of understand him —you’re desperate to feel something too, anything.

“I don’t have-” his voice is strangled, almost panicking. You can feel his hands gripping your hips, and the tip of his cock brushing against your slit. 

“I don’t care,” you encourage him, whimpering when Chan forces your head to face his throbbing dick that he has his fist wrapped around. “Just fuck me”.

It’s the heat of the moment that's getting the best out of you, but you can’t begin to regret it when you feel Changbin’s cock burying itself little by little inside your aching pussy. You try to hold back your moans, worrying that someone outside the hall might hear you, but you know it’s practically impossible.

Plus, that’s the reason why you’re there, anyways.

 So you start enjoying the moment, being as vocal as possible. If anything, the lewd sounds escaping through your lips are only pushing Changbin towards the edge, hips snapping at yours roughly enough to get a series of strained moans immersed in both pleasure and pain.

“You sound so g-good,” Changbin grunts, biting his lower lip to stop himself from being too loud. “Had I known your moans were this pretty, I've would've fucked you before”.

“Fuck, Changbin”. The way his name falls from your lips boosts his ego, and he’s glad everything is being recorded. He makes a mental note to go back to the recording later today, just in case he needs to unwind.

“Jisung will fuck you after him,” Chan demands your attention yet again, brushing the tip of his cock against your lips. He’s kneeling in front of you while Changbin is pounding your pussy from behind. Jisung, on the other hand, is stroking himself while he witnesses the scene; too shy to actually make a move himself, like the rest of them. “And then I will go next, how does that sound?”

“How many seconds- of the sample do you even need?” you chuckle, but the laugh is soon muffled by another whimper caused by Changbin’s ministrations. 

“Just a couple,” he replies, smearing his precum along your lips. “But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to leave this studio without being fucked by Jisung and me, right?”

You love his cockiness, and how he is always almost right. So you nod frantically, clenching around Changbin at the idea of being filled with the both of them in just a couple of seconds.

It doesn’t take him long to come inside you, especially not with how much your pussy is clenching around him. He does so shamelessly, grunting your name and gripping your hips too harshly you’re sure it will leave a mark tomorrow.

When he pulls out, commanded by Jisung who is too desperate to wait another second, you feel his sticky arousal leaking out of you. It’s a weird sensation, and it makes you feel dirty, but you can’t deny you like it. 

And you like it even more when you feel the tip of Jisung’s cock gathering all of his friend’s cum, fucking it back into you little by little, making sure it doesn’t go to waste.

“Who would’ve thought, hm?” You whimper, feeling a bit sore from Changbin’s aggressive care. “You’re not as innocent as I thought, Jisungie”.

He doesn’t say anything, but gives you a sharp thrust in response. One that makes your whole body jolt and tremble, one that earns you one of the prettiest moans the three of them have ever heard.

Chan is sure the recording is good to be used by now, but he doesn’t want to stop just yet. Or at least not until he also gets his fun.

“S-so tight,” Jisung murmurs, holding you more delicately than Changbin did. You love the contrast, though, and they’re both a good fuck. “And warm, all filled up with cum”.

“You’re going to fill me up too, Jisungie?” On any other occasion, the nickname would’ve earned you a killer gaze and a couple of curses from him. But right now, Jisung doesn’t mind. In fact, he likes it. There’s something enticing about you acting like the one in control.

“Can- I?” He asks with a shakily breath. His sloppy movements tell you he is close, and you take it as a compliment. A minute is definitely a record, but you’re really not mad about it. 

“That depends,” you tease him, crying out loud when his cock starts hitting sensitive spots inside your walls. “Are you going to come a lot for me?” 

“Ngh, y-yes,” Jisung whimpers. “Please, I’m- close, just let- say yes, please”.

“Go on,” you order him, arching your ass even more for him. “Give it to me”. 

Not even a couple of seconds later, you feel a now familiar sensation warming up your lower tummy, leaking through your pussy and onto your thighs. 

“Shit,” Changbin scoffs, checking the scene out. “You made a fucking mess”. 

You want to look at what he did, know how much he came for you, but Chan reinforces your initial position yet again by arching your ass even more.

“Be a good slut for me,” he tells you, landing a sharp spank on one of your ass cheeks. The sudden action makes you cry out in pain, but you don’t hate the sensation completely. “And I’ll be good to you”.

You’re not quite sure what he means, and you don’t get time to ask before he’s bottoming out inside of you. 

“Fuck!” you moan, suddenly losing the strength on your arms and your upper body threatening to plop down onto the floor. “C-chan!”

“C’me here,” he groans, sneaking a hand underneath your tummy looking for your clit. Again, the position isn’t the best but he somehow makes it work. And when you feel his digits rubbing your nerves just at the same pace of his thrusts, you start clenching around him even harder.

“Oh my g-god,” that stimulation is exactly what you need to come undone. Jisung and Changbin did a hell of a job getting you closer to your orgasm, but this is exactly what you needed to reach your climax.

And a well deserved one.

“Come,” Chan grunts through gritted teeth, biting his lower lip while furrowing his eyebrows. The sight of your ass bouncing against his cock is enough to get him to come, but he needs you to come first. “I’ll come with you”.

“Ngh- Chan,” and just like some magic words, you’re coming right after his order. He can feel you tightening around him, trying to milk his cock just as badly as you did with the other two. And he can’t resist that feeling, so he sticks up to his word and comes inside you almost at the same time. 

“Such- a good- little fucking slut,” his words are strained and painful. But his voice only contributes more to your own orgasm, just like the feeling of his cum filling you up. 

It takes the two of you a few moments to actually stop —even after coming, he kept on fucking you slowly until he made sure to fuck all of their cum inside of you. The last thing he wanted was to make a mess inside the recording booth, but it was inevitable. 

The floor is stained with all sorts of fluids, ones that are dripping out of your swollen pussy and others that no one knows how they got there. 

“Jisung,” Chan sighs, caressing your hips while fixing his clothes. “Stay with her, I’ll go get something to clean her up. Make sure she’s alright, and take her to the sofa in the studio, ‘kay?”

Jisung nods, attentive, and he helps you get up off the floor with ease. He wraps his arm around you, and fixes the top part of your dress to which you mutter a quick and soft thank you. 

“Changbin’s going to get you something to eat or drink, and I’ll take care of this. Alright?” 

You nod, still supporting your whole weight on Jisung. Your sore legs can only do much.

“He’s going to be with you in the meantime, but we will all be right back,” Chan’s soft gaze is the opposite to what he showed inside the recording booth, but you absolutely adore the contrast. 

“Yeah, ‘s okay,” you smile. 

“You did good, yeah?” Chan smiles, caressing your hair, “sounded so pretty for us”.

You offer them a weak, yet satisfied smile, “my pleasure”. 

#stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #bang chan smut #changbin smut #han smut #jisung smut #bangchan smut

[princessbrunette]

jj is so funny because he doesn’t even pick up on half the looks you’re giving him.

he’s always oblivious for a little while, tugging you around with him on a pogue mission only a few hours after he made you cream on his dick so hard you cried. you’re quiet, uncharacteristically so — not even intervening like you usually would when he pipes up with a dumb idea. you physically can’t. you can’t see any of his faults like this, only latching on harder to his charisma and the way he can command the groups attention at the drop of a hat.

you’ll take any excuse to touch him, giving him the big doe eyes as you cling to his bicep listening to him ramble. “look, i’m tellin’ you guys — it’s a solid idea. we got nothin’ else so i suggest y’all listen to me, honestly.” he clucks in that slightly southern accent that makes your tummy get warm. john b sighs, turning his attention to you.

“you allowing this?” he asks and you simply nod, unable to offer anything but a hazy smile.

when arriving to the abandoned building you were meant to be investigating, you get separated for a little bit — much to your devastation. you wait outside on look out with kie and sarah, whilst the boys check out the inside. jj flips a torch in his hand, chipper as ever as he strolls through the building, looking around.

his two friends eye eachother before speaking up.

“so, uh… jayj, i hate to be the one to tell you that you’re totally blind, but i think your little fangirl out there has been craving a little something from you.” john b arrives at his side, addressing the elephant in the room that the blonde seemed unaware of.

“what are you yappin’ about, dude?” jj is distracted, lifting a cover off some old tools lying around on the floor, making a mental note of how they might help them in a jam.

“your girlfriend looks like she’s constantly about to jump your bones.” pope calls bluntly from behind, a few strides back. jj’s attention is captured and he blinks at the two boys who stare at him with knowing smiles. he glances between the two of them before shaking his head.

“oh, nah — gave it to her real good this morning. had her cryin’ on it n’shit. ain’t no way she’s goin’ again, atleast until tomorrow.” he converses casually as they continue down the creaky path. john b and pope look at eachother with clear realisation on their faces, and the brunette slaps his shoulder.

“so that’s what that face is about… okay. she’s uh… dickmatised, man.” he presses his lips together in a smug smile and jj raises an eyebrow.

“cant just make up words, dude. its not fair. some of us struggle with regular words let alone that bullshit.”

“look, all we’re saying is we are proud of you jj. you’ve clearly been putting in the work.” pope teases making john b chuckle, nudging his arm against your boyfriends.

“y’all are so weird. but yes, for a matter of fact, i have.”

once reunited with you, he can’t hold back his own smirk, tonguing at the healing cut on his lip at the way you agree with just about anything he says, constantly reaching to run your hands along his skin. he finds fun in teasing you, purposely flustering you because he can, turning his whole body to face you and imposing in your space.

“damn, lil’ bitta’ dick and you get shy on me? thats actually very cute. i’m flattered.”

maybe you could go again, after all.

#jj maybank prompt #it’s this gif…… it does things to me

[angelltheninth]

Can I ask for a make-out session with the genshin boys until you're interrupted by your kids knocking on your bedroom door asking if they can sleep with you two? Something fluffy and... a little NSFW maybe? Love your writing.

xoxo<3

Oh lol, that's such a movie thing to do.

Pairing: Kaeya, Diluc, Itto, Thoma, Childe, Pantalone, Dottore, Tighnari, Zhongli x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, slightly suggestive, making out, interruptions, cuddles, new relationship, Reader has a kid

A/N: Sorry for the lack of content lately, turns out I needed a rest from my vacation lol.

Kaeya doesn't mind being with a woman who has a kid he gets to tell them all his stories. But when he's with you, when his hands are on you and he's half naked and needs you its a different story. He will still greet your kid with a smile but ask them to wait a few minutes, then he'll tell them another exciting story.

Diluc loves your kid but can't deny that he feels awkward around them sometimes. Especially when they catch the two of you in a compromising position on the couch, his hands drifting up your bare legs and his lips kn your neck. Just kill him now. He would honestly run and hide but you're laughing so the situation must not be that bad.

Itto can't explain why the kids love him so much, your kid most of all. Maybe cause he lets them climb all over him and plays so many games with his endless stamina? There are better ways for him to put that stamina to use. Having you on your back his pants nearly down his legs, that's much better. The knocking and the small voice is like cold ice to him and he almost growls but composes himself enough when you go and open the door, picking your kid up and bringing them over, giggling away.

Thoma doesn't know where to hide when your kid knocks at the door. He needs to explain how he's in your room. Usually he always says hi to your kid when he's in the house. And why doues he have your lipstick all over his lips? Uh... he thinks your mom looks real pretty with it, so he wanted to try too. Yeah... he dropped it so now its down his abs too, how embaressing. Let him wash up, stop laughing at him and then your kid can come in and sleep between you two.

Childe kisses you like its his last day to do so. So of course when its interrupted he'll feel really grumpy about it. When he sees your kid is at the door he softens up a little but he pouts almost the same way when your kid doesn't think he can sleel over with you two. He can but then you have to give your boyfriend extra attention later.

Pantalone has an icy calm demenor when he opens the door for your kid. He's not angy exactly, he wants them to explain. But of course you're the one babying them and picking them up immedietly so they don't cry. Its sweet zo see but one of these days you'll have to toughen up on them you know? Oh whatever, he can't say no to both of you giving him that puppydog look.

Dottore was almost between your legs when the knocking scared you enough to almost knee him in the face. Thankfully he's faster then that, grabbing your ankle in warning. He thought you had the place all to yourselves tonight. A shame he was going to reward you for being good for him today. Looks like its gonna have to wait, after all, kids take priority right? Thst's what you always tell him.

Tighnari almost books it out the window, only stopped by you grabbing his tail. He doesn't have to hide, your kid loves him, loves how cute he looks. He does not look cute, but... fine for your kid he'll stay. As soon as he picks them up they go for his ears, tugging at them but not hard enough to hurt. It's fine he... he doesn't mind, strangely enough.

Zhongli hears your kid walking towards the door and sits up to wipe his mouth before the knocking comes. You need a little bit to get dressed, the knocking getting louder before you open the door and ask what's wrong. Oh. Zhongli is already hugging you, offering his hand to the kid with a gentle smile. Let them sleep over if they want. He has all the time in the world for you two.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kaeya x reader #diluc x reader #itto x reader #thoma x reader #childe x reader #pantalone x reader #dottore x reader #tighnari x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact x female reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff #genshin x female reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #kaeya fluff #diluc fluff #itto fluff #thoma fluff #childe fluff #pantalone fluff #dottore fluff #tighnari fluff #zhongli fluff

[cauliflowercounty]

Mornings in the Mirror

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

Summary: a little vignette about getting dressed in the morning with Feyd. Established relationship.

Same universe as Knives Dance based on some of the exposition from part 3 because I’m having trouble saying goodbye to Knives Dance. You don’t have to have already read the series to understand, but there are some spoilers to the series. Set between parts 2 and 3.

Warnings: some suggestive content

Word Count: 2.1k

Written on mobile cause I’m on a bus

You step out of the bathroom attached to the bedroom you share with Feyd, using a towel to gently blot the last of the water off your hair to finish drying it. As you do so, you look outside the window to observe Giedi Prime’s cityscape with its dark, expansive architecture filled with imposing, black structures.

The city is already humming with morning activity. Ships fly through the air, taking people where they need to be like clockwork. You hear the beat of the Harkonnen armies marching on the ground far below your quarters. The sound has become a comfort to you since coming to Giedi Prime. Without fail, the marching would start at the same time each day, ringing in a new day as the black sun shone on the city. Just like all those times before, you feel the aura of Giedi Prime wash over you. Everything is in perfect order, which puts your mind at ease.

Looking over to the large bed behind you, you see Feyd has gotten up since you’ve been in the shower, leaving the sheets untidy over the mattress. You smile. You’ve come to learn his habits over the weeks, and he always does this, knowing the servants will come and replace them with fresh sheets later once you’ve both left. He’s always said that he has more important duties than making his own bed. Now that you’re living together, you know he’s right, especially since he’s Baron Harkonnen now. His daily meetings with advisors in the Harkonnen War Room or diplomats on his throne with you by his side often keep him occupied. His time is precious, as is yours.

Making your way over to the closet, you see your husband through the crack in the doorway. His back is to you, allowing you to see his muscled shoulder blades and admire his slim waist. He’s standing in front of his side of the closet, running his fingers along the series of clothes on hangers. You slip into the closet and approach him from behind. You know he’s already heard you approach when you see his shoulders relax. He turns to you, his Baroness. When he does so, you can see how his eyes soften, a small smile on his lips as he looks at you. He extends his palm outward to you and you gladly walk over and slide your hand into his.

“Good morning, my love,” he says to you before pulling you closer by your hand and wrapping his other hand around your waist before dragging it up your body and cupping your cheek. He brushes his thumb across your skin, sending shivers down your spine

As you look at him, your heart fills with pride, knowing you’re the only one who gets to be with him in this way. You get to see him for more than his reputation. Anyone would scorn the idea that Feyd-Rautha, the psychotic nephew of Vladimir Harkonnen, may he rest in peace, who slays countless slaves in a gladiatorial arena and kills servants at will, would be able to do something so tender. However, here you are, the only one to behold his love and affection.

“Good morning, Feyd,” you whisper back to him against his lips, and he gives your hand another firm squeeze. “I hope you slept well.” You both break reluctantly, knowing you both have to get ready now. “What are we doing today?” you ask him, turning to his closet and thumbing through his clothes yourself.

“We have another meeting with our generals today in the War Room,” he says as he stands back to watch you at work. He was surprised the first time you went to pick out what he wore for the day, but he quickly grew to appreciate the ritual because of how much thought you invested in it every day. “We also have to meet with our Directors of Commerce concerning spice on Arrakis. We should also be receiving news about the status of spice production.”

“I hope Rabban has gotten his act together,” you say, pulling one of his outfits from the hanger and taking an undershirt of his out of a drawer beside you. It’s a deep blue almost black pair of pants with a matching jacket with a high neckline. You hand it to him, and he immediately puts each item on.

You bring your arms to his shoulders to smooth the fabric of the jacket over his body. You grab the seams at the shoulders, lining them up with the edges of his body so that it hangs perfectly on him. The clean lines accentuate the broadness of his torso and bolster his imposing stature. He really looks like a Baron now. You make a mental note to have the seamstresses make more outfits like this for him.

“...And I hope Rabban has figured out how to acquire a brain,” Feyd mumbles, savoring your touch on him.

“Whatever will we do with him…” you sigh in return as you kneel down to smooth out his pant legs.

“Thank you,” Feyd says as you rise to your feet again when you finish.

“Of course,” you reply, starting to make your way over to your side of the closet. He follows you and brings a hand to your shoulder from behind. You twist around to look at him with your brows knit. Why did he stop you?

“May I… return the favor today, my darling?” He asks, his voice wavering for a moment. Your lips part in surprise. He’s never asked to do this before, but his nervousness that he’s trying to conceal makes your heart swell. From that small moment of hesitation, you can tell he’s been wanting to ask this of you for some time.

You step back to allow him access, and Feyd raises his gaze up to the exposed rack of clothes. He starts at one end, pushing the outfits on the rod one by one to take a close look at each one. As he moves down the line, you can tell he’s deep in concentration. Should he pick a Harkonnen gown, or one you’ve brought from Youra? He’s taking great care in this task, which makes you sigh in appreciation.

He finally decides after many moments of consideration. He pulls down a floor length Harkonnen gown with a Queen Anne neckline and cap sleeves. It’s made of layers of fabric that seem to swallow all light that touches it, creating a rich obsidian black. The bodice is an intricately detailed corset adorned with elegant lace and prominent ribbing atop fine mesh. As he turns it around, he drags his gaze up and down the dress. The back is also beautiful, the design stretching all the way around.

“I haven’t seen you wear this one before,” he says, as he admires the open upper back, the edges of which are lined with the same lace as the bodice.

“It has a lace-up corset. It takes longer and requires another person to get into,” you explain, which makes Feyd’s eyes glimmer with excitement.

“What am I here for then?” he asks with a grin.

“Ruling Giedi Prime perhaps?” you jest. He scoffs and brings the dress over.

“Other than that,” he says, taking it off the hanger.

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you, Feyd.”

“It really isn’t any trouble, my love. Please? May I help you?” You see a hint of longing in his eyes and you nod at him, abandoning your towel as Feyd loosens the laces of the corset. He helps you by gathering the dress, giving you the ability to dive head first into the gown. As you pull down the dress over your body and put your arms through the armholes, you immediately notice how luxurious the fabric is against your skin. Even though the corset has not been tightened, you know that it will be a perfect fit by just feeling it on yourself. Turning your back to Feyd and holding yourself straight, you silently signal to Feyd that you’re ready.

“Let me know if it’s too tight,” he whispers in your ear from behind. His breath on your neck makes your skin tingle, and you try to resist turning around, grabbing his head and kissing him. At your motion he begins to tug on the laces little by little, causing the corset to perfectly conform to your figure. His touch is precise and the way he pulls at the strands is decisive and firm. To your surprise, he’s rather good at this and seems to know exactly what to do. Once he is done tightening it, he uses his fingers to gently tie a knot then a bow at the back of your dress with the excess ribbon. As you move around a little to settle into the dress, you feel how the corset isn’t too loose on you, and you don’t feel like you’re being suffocated either.

Before you can thank him for a job well done, he’s already at your feet, placing a pair of strapless patent leather shoes in front of you. He takes your hand in his. You use your free hand to grab your skirt as you slip the shoes on one by one. Feyd beckons you to follow him and takes you both over to the mirror in the closet. He positions you in front of him in the center of the mirror.

“Look at you, darling,” he whispers to you, his eyes wandering up and down the portrait of you in front of him. Feyd could look at this image all day. The bodice fits your body perfectly and the dress flares out from your waist beautifully, making you look like a goddess descended from above. He brings his arms around you and smooths his hands over your front, feeling the lace pass under his fingertips. The look of you together is truly gratifying for Feyd with him in his clean cut ensemble and you in your gown. You both look powerful next to each other. Together you are Baron and Baroness of House Harkonnen and you look the part. “You’re exquisite, my love.”

He dips his head down and brings his lips to your neck, pressing small kisses over the area. Feeling the heat within you rising, you turn around in his embrace and bring your arms up around his neck. Capturing his lips in yours, you kiss him fervently. He brings one hand up and combs his fingers through your hair, which makes you feel like a surge of electricity has shot through your veins. As you kiss him back, all of your surroundings seem to melt away into nothingness. All of it is insignificant compared to your husband. You can tell he’s also lost in the sensation of you against his body and in his hands as he rakes his hands through your hair. His grip on your waist tightens as his kiss becomes hungrier, and you feel him tug at your bottom lip with his teeth.

Breaking away from him, you see how heavy his lids are now, his firm grip on you not letting up. You smile at him and give him another quick kiss, this one much lighter. You didn’t want to stop, but you must attend to your duties. “Later, darling,” you sigh into his ear. “I just got dressed, after all. I wouldn’t want to undo your expert work.”

He lets out an amused huff and nods in agreement. You go over to the mirror and realize your hair is completely disheveled. Your dress is still beautiful, but you can’t say the same thing about your hair now that Feyd’s had his hands on it.

“I bet none of the Harkonnen women you’ve had in the past had to deal with this issue when leaving your quarters,” you joke as you open a different drawer near you, which contains all of your hair care tools that you’d brought with you to Giedi Prime. You take a moment to make the necessary adjustments to your hair, trying to salvage it.

“You need not mention them,” Feyd says, his jaw tightening. “They are of no concern to you or me anymore.”

“I know,” you smile, turning back to him and extending your arm. “I’m only teasing. Let’s go.”

He relaxes and gladly takes your hand, allowing you to lead him out of your quarters. With that, you begin your day side by side as Baron and Baroness of House Harkonnen.

—

Thanks for reading! 💛

Let me know if you’d like to be part of my Feyd taglist

#feyd rautha #dune part 2 #dune part two #feyd rautha x reader #x reader #dune #austin butler

[kisseobie]

Hello🫣🫣 may I request p1harmony reaction to you wearing something short/revealing when going out clubbing? Thank youuu☺️☺️

p1harmony reacting to you wearing revealing clothes

pairings: ot6 p1harmony x reader

warnings: suggestive

tags: established relationships, clingy piwon, the boys are.. boys, clubbing, drinking (aged up for seobsoul), non idol au

a/n: it’s funny bc i was JUST reading an exact post like this a few minutes ago so anon if u were the same person who sent @ntoniac a request for the same thing i hope i can do it justice bc hers had me giggling and kicking my feet .. ANYWAYS! once again i apologize for slow updates i unfortunately am a student amidst a depressive episode soooooo it takes me a bit longer to write :( i hope u all can understand

𖧷 keeho

is honestly so cheesed. the type to insist to take pictures of you on his phone before you two actually make your way out, already mentally planning out which photo he’s gonna use in his next photo dump. is always super grabby with his hands, but its somehow amplified tonight. constantly has his arm lazily perched on your shoulder, and he often whispers cute little compliments into your ear every now and then. doesn’t really mind when people approach you to talk to you, doesn’t even necessarily care when said people make quick glances at your cleavage and the short length of your skirt. you two have an immense level of trust in your relationship, so he’s not one to feel insecure when people admire his girl. i can see kyo as the type to drag you onto the dance floor too, just so he can spin you around and feel your ass rub against the frontside of his jeans. eventually does end up posting those photos he took of you earlier on instagram, but not without captioning it something like “that’s all me”

𖧷 theo

doesn’t care about how short and tight your mini dress is, just wants it off of you by the end of the night. when you first skipped into the living room, beaming as you showed off your outfit of choice to him, theo had to hold himself back from kissing you silly. just like keeho, the simple concept of his girlfriend wearing a revealing outfit doesn’t make him super possessive, but he does make himself known to onlookers as your boyfriend in other ways, whether that be holding your drink and purse for you without you even asking him to, or sneaking up behind you to pepper kisses along your neck when your in the middle of conversation with someone. he makes his presence known but also wants to ensure that you have a carefree, enjoyable night without feeling like you have to tend to your boyfriend the entire time. taeyang definitely does admire your cleavage when he gets the chance too though, shamelessly stares at your chest and just giggles in reply when you scold him for doing so… loves to flirt with you even more than he usually does tbh

𖧷 jiung

is the overly possessive boyfriend that will whine and beg you to change. in reality, he doesn’t actually expect you to change your outfit, but lets you know (whilst pouting) that although you look hot and he wants to devour you, he also is very nervous about the unwanted attention you might get. it’s not a bad thing really! jiung just wants to be the only man that gets to see you in such a tiny top. although he might complain at first, you don’t miss the obvious blush on his face, silently signaling to you that he secretly loves when you dress this way. he’s not a very touchy person, but that doesn’t mean that he won’t interlock your fingers the entire night, even giving your hand gentle squeezes when you give someone else a little too much attention for his liking. glares at anyone who might whistle at you or even just look in your general vicinity for a bit too long. quickly shuts down offers himself from other guys that have the balls to ask you to dance. yeah, your not being let out of his sight looking that good. he’s just obsessed with you and wants you all to himself, sorry!

𖧷 intak

actually is the one who helps you pick out your outfit! tak himself wants to spend the night out showing off his beautiful girlfriend so he purposely convinces you to wear the shortest denim skirt you own, paired with an equally revealing spaghetti strap crop top. comes up behind you when your adjusting your outfit in the mirror to wrap his arms around your waist and perch his chin on your right shoulder, shooting down any concerns you might have about your outfit being kind of “whorish” (your words, not his!). is your personal hype man. you look good and he’s gonna make you feel good. loves to watch you on the dance floor from a nearby barstool, having the time of your life with your friends. after you’ve tired yourself out, you walk towards him to join him at the bar and he doesn’t miss the opportunity to eye your entire body from top to bottom and let out an obnoxious whistle. he’s sooooo sweet frat boy coded… definitely asks if he can take a body shot off of you whilst winking and you just roll your eyes in response. when he ends up drunk out of his mind and you have to drag him inside your shared cab, he’s mumbling the sweetest praises to you before he falls asleep against your shoulder

𖧷 soul

doesn’t really have much to say, but his body language speaks for itself. like most of piwon, his possessiveness is at a minimum, and like intak, he loves when you feel confident enough to dress this way. maybe it’s the introvert in him, but he lives vicariously through your bold outfit choices. loves to give you kisses on your exposed collarbone as he smoothens out a crease on your silk skirt. he also loves the way your stomach peeks out of your cropped top, and he holds onto your waist when kissing you to circle his thumbs on the area. stares at you lovingly the entire night, and doesn’t falter when your eyes meet every now and then. he comes up to you towards the end of the night and whispers into your ear about how he thinks you look so pretty and that he loves this outfit. you definitely end up seeing a more vocal side of him when the alcohol kicks in, and you swoon at how lovey dovey his words are. he just wants you to feel pretty and confident and he ends up succeeding in proving that to you! makes really bad attempts at flirting which ends up in the pair of you laughing your asses off. overall shota makes you feel beautiful and you make mental notes to bring him out wearing revealing clothes more often

𖧷 jongseob

djsjdkajdjsj i have to write my boyfriend as clingy as possible. he’s definitely the type of boyfriend to sit on the end of your bed, aimlessly scrolling on his phone and taking little peeks at you every now and then while your doing your makeup on your vanity. when you finish your makeup and go to your closet to change into the tiny little dress you’ve chosen for the evening, you’re honestly a bit nervous as to how your boyfriend will react to how bodycon and short the attire is, but you look and feel hot and that encourages you to step out in front of him. he notices your presence right away and looks up at your face, then chest, then thighs, and then turns off and tucks his phone into his back pocket and grabs at you to sit on his lap. gives you the sweetest kiss imaginable and pulls away to look at you with disbelief. asks you something along the lines of “how did i get so lucky?” and his hands run all over the material of your dress. his boldness is new but very welcome and he spends a good while complimenting you, asking you where you bought this dress, and playing with your hair with a smug grin on his face. gets soooo excited to take you out and wastes no time in calling an uber so he can show you off to the world. feels like he’s on cloud 9!

taglist: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @t3ssamoodboard @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @vivienne-sim @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @theyluvsosa @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror

© kisseobie, please do not repost my writing!

𖧷 ₊ ° .

#p1h #p1harmony #kpop writers #p1harmony x reader #piwon #p1harmony drabbles #jongseob x reader #p1h jongseob #kim jongseob #jongseob #yoon keeho #keeho x reader #p1harmony reactions #p1harmony scenarios #hwang intak #intak x reader #choi jiung #jiung x reader #theo x reader #choi taeyang #haku shota #soul x reader #p1h soul #p1h intak #p1h jiung #p1h keeho #p1h theo

[ohnococo]

JJK Men react to Reader on their Period

Gojo, Ijichi, & Sukuna

Gojo’s kisses start so light and teasing that you can never know when they’ll last one minute or twenty. If you knew you’d have warned him outright of what to expect, but you didn’t. So here you are, pressed to him and panting as he slides one thigh between your legs, tugging at your hips to guide you into riding it.

But he’s ultimately focused on something else, and he asks outright as always, “Wanna ride me?”

He says it like he’s pleading, and it only makes it harder to turn him down.

“I’m on my period, Satoru…”

He pouts, “C’mon, that doesn’t mean I can’t take care of you right?”

His cute whines have blood rushing to your face, and you turn away smiling, “I dunno, I don’t want to make a mess.”

Gojo's long fingers grasp your chin gently and turn you right back to lock eyes with him, wanting his face to have its full effect as he makes a compromise. “At least let me play with your clit, huh? You can jerk me off too.”

It’s a valid suggestion, and by the way you bite your lip he knows you’re keen on the idea. He gives you another kiss, already sliding his hand into your pants.

Ijichi’s had his head on your lap for ages, looking up at you, listening keenly as you talk while you both relax on the couch. You see that change in him eventually though, blush on his cheeks, eyes getting glassy as he starts looking more and more lovesick just from being so close to you and hearing your voice.

It’s not exactly subtle with the way he’s been tightly clutching a cushion over his lap to hide the erection you very much knew was there.

“Can we…” he doesn’t need to finish the question, sliding the cushion away and revealing that he’s been hard in his pants for some time, thanks to the wet patch giving him away.

“Ijichi, honey, I’ve got my period.”

“Oh…” he looks away for a moment, considering his words, before his soft brown eyes are back on yours, “I don’t mind if you don’t?”

You think about it, smiling down at him, but the silence has him worried as he sits up and takes your hand in his. “It’s okay, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No,” you squeeze his hand, reassuring him, “I’m glad you asked. I’d like to do it.”

You place a hand on his cheek, and he leans into your touch, lashes fluttering as he looks into your eyes. You kiss him softly, and when your tongue meets his he lets a little moan slip out of his mouth and into yours.

“I’d like it a lot, actually.”

Sukuna is kissing you, groping at your body hungrily in his usual path downward as teeth and tongue keep you from any gentle protests when he nears your pussy. When his hand finally reaches into your panties you push a little harder to stop him, clenching your thighs together and turning your face away from his barrage of kisses to speak.

“Hold on, I’ve got my period.”

“Oh?” There’s that wicked sparkle in his eye that lets you know you’re in for it now. He retracts his hand, to your surprise, settling it on your abdomen and rubbing firmly. “Does it hurt?”

His brows are raised, lower lip sticking out slightly in a pout meant only to mock you, “Shall I kiss it better?”

You aren’t given a chance to respond as he pulls your panties off of you forcefully, using his full weight on your thighs to keep them spread wide as he lowers his mouth to your cunt.

#reminder minors and ageless blogs get blocked #my writing #jjk smut #gojo x reader #ijichi x reader #sukuna x reader #satoru gojo x reader #kiyotaka ijichi x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #reader insert

[aizawas-dryeye]

➭kissing headcanons (baldur’s gate)

content: smoochin, slightly suggestive, fluff, astarion, wyll, lae’zel, gale, shadowheart, halsin, karlach

words: 1.3k

oh to kiss these lil guys

• • •

❊ Astarion:

You have your first kiss during yall lil date at the tiefling party. You can't deny the way it takes your breath away, but there's something in the way he does it. The way his lips move and the way his tongue grazes yours, it feels rehearsed. After many dark nights, he perfected the most addicting kiss to lure in prey— he knows what makes people tremble— and he uses it to his advantage. It makes you feel so flustered and desired, and it works as promised, from that point on you're whipped.

But, as your relationship grows, and Astarion becomes more trusting, the kisses are tender. Almost shy. It makes your heart absolutely swell, knowing that he's slowly figuring out what he's ok with. And he always has a furious blush on his face after he places a sweet kiss to your lips. And when he's comfortable, he's giving you kisses every chance he can. Not to seduce you or lure you into vulnerability, but just to kiss you. To be close on his terms. He'll even welcome you initiating, and lovesss a cheek kiss.

❊ Wyll:

(I started writing this before the new kisses dropped andddddd its exactly what I had in mind) Have you ever wanted to kiss a disney prince? Yea yea that's what it's like. It's so romantic every time, his strong arms always wrapped around your waist to hold you close. You very nearly lose yourself every time he kisses you, like ugh he knows exactly what he's doing. Always kissing your knuckles with a bow like a prince, always pulling you in and smiling against your lips. He's definitely the type to make out for hours while you snuggle.

He never does short kisses either. If he gets the opportunity, he's leaving a long, passionate kiss on your lips every single time. It also makes him laugh how the other camp members yell about 'getting a room' or making gagging faces. I could totally see him kissing you during battle, think that one scene in pirates of the caribbean. Ugh he's such a hopeless romantic it's so so hard not to fall in love all over again whenever his lips touch yours. (Also if you kiss His knuckles it makes him blush soooo fucking hard like he's adorable).

❊ Lae'zel:

Very short kisses and never in front of the others. At least at first. When the two of you first start getting close, kisses are somewhat rare, and they're quick little pecks if anything. HOOOOWWWEVER get a little alcohol in her and bring her to a secluded spot? and she's on you like white on rice bitch. Deep passionate kisses with plenty of bites, and her claws digging into your clothes type shit. I feel like once she gets closer and more comfortable she'll give you longer kisses in front of others but they are still pretty rare. Lae'zell likes her privacy and PDA is still pretty much a no no, unless you're in danger if that makes sense. Like if you get into trouble and are badly hurt she'll rush over and tend to your wounds and offer little kisses on your face.

Also if you ever kiss her head she'll just sit there completely shocked for like a minute straight, with that cute lil confused puppy expression. If you try and kiss her nose though? Death LOLLLL.

❊ Gale:

The first kiss with Gale is sweet and only a little awkward. Gale probably says some dumb shit like "Ah, forgive me. It's been more than a while since I've kissed a material being," and it makes you laugh. He's a fast learner though and soon has you swooning over every kiss he has to offer. Loves to laze around in bed with you while he reads so he can leave sweet, almost mindless kisses to your head and cheek. The easiest way to pull that nerd from a book is to lay on his belly and kiss him all over. He might complain at first but if you kiss his neck it's over with. Motherfucker is sooooo ticklish there that it immediately breaks down any resistance. EW and his laugh is so fucking cute, he definitely snorts.

Sometimes his beard hairs tickle you if y'all are like Really kissing and he always feels so bad lmao. Like immediately trimming his shit every time it happens even though you reassure time and time again him that you literally do not care. It's not like you mind the beard burn in other places after all wink wink.

❊ Shadowheart:

She definitely gives the sweetest kisses. You can always tell when she wants a kiss because she'll start smiling and leaning against you. I don't think she would initiate a kiss at first, but they are always welcome. She especially loves forehead kisses or kisses against her hair. Makes her feel like a precious little doll and the blush that comes afterwards is to die for. Kiss the hand that Shar shocks and she'll cry, truly. From anyone else she'd find it almost corny, but she has a soft spot for you hehe.

Also she gets sooo giggly when you kiss attack her, like all over her face, ears, neck. It honestly surprises you the first time it happens, but her laughter is so sweet so you continue to do so (when the moment strikes of course). Whenever she gets more comfortable she might even start initiating kisses by coming up to you and puckering her lips wordlessly. ACK she's so fucking cute I can't.

❊ Halsin:

*trembling* b big daddy halsin... He loves loves loves kisses!! Anytime any place bitch. I don't know why but the voices tell me he likes his ears, and the part of his jaw just below his earlobe, being kissed. He's a big ol boy so it's not often someone can even reach that part of him so it's like extra special.

Definitely the most passionate kisser behind Wyll, but they're nearly neck and neck when it comes to romance. It's something about being wrapped up in his fuckin tree trunk arms that makes you melt into a squishy puddle every time. You're like clay in his hands, and you feel it even more so when he massages you lol. Always leaves kisses (maybe more) on your shoulders and spine when he does. He could get you to do almost anything if he offered you a kiss after. Oh and he also loves when you kiss his nose while he's in his wildshape. Plus who doesn't wanna smooch a real life teddy bear?

❊ Karlach:

The first time you FINALLY get to kiss her, she's honestly terrified and so excited she could totally puke. She just squeezes her eyes shut, bends down a little, and lets you peck her on the lips. The gasp she lets out is so fucking cute!! And she almost immediately scoops you up in a bone-crushing hug and smooshes your lips together. It's not the most elegant or gentle kiss in the world but it's full of passion and love and it makes her so giddy she's shaking. Thank the fucking gods her heart is better because even if you would have been able to touch her at first, her chest would most likely explode from nerves.

Definitely the most needy companion when it comes to kisses, like she needs them constantly. Waking up? Kisses. Going to sleep? Kisses. Before and after a battle? Leaving to pee? Eating dinner? Getting ready in the morning? KISSES!!! If you exist in her space her lips are on you more often than not, but like you can't blame her.

#cant sleep so im back on my headcanon bullshit #baldurs gate #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 fluff #baldurs gate headcanons #astarion #wyll ravengard #lae’zel #gale dekarios #shadowheart #halsin #karlach

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook kisses you for the first time.

> fluff, lowkey suggestive ig / wc: 1.5k

> warnings: kissing <3 ?

note: something short and sweet. but also think i had like three heart attacks writing this.

—

“i’m bored now. do you want to kiss?”

power interruption at midnight. too small of a kitchen. your chair at the end of the table, infront of the fridge. jungkook on your left, behind him- the sink. a laptop that died in the middle of a ‘the good place’ episode you had downloaded the night prior, few inches away from the candle light illuminating your wide eyes looking at him innocently.

you dip the popsticle stick in the jar of honey yet again, smearing the sweetness across your lips. it seaps in between the crack, and you swallow it down unwittingly, your tongue almost numb from the past fifteen minutes of dipping the stick and sucking the honey from it.

jungkook is rendered speechless, following your seemingly sinless actions with an awe-struck expression on his face. his breath hitches when your thumb swipes under your bottom lip and you suck on it as you feign naivety.

but boy, does he know better.

you frown at him in impatience, tapping your cold foot against the leg of your chair. “mkay. guess not. no hard feelings.”

the more time jungkook spent with you, the bigger of a fascinating enigma you became. your tongue rises without much ado to speak out whatever’s on your mind, and you ask him if he wants to kiss the same way one asks another about the weather. you make either the corniest or dirtiest jokes then hit him on the arm or thigh before hiding your face. you never not cry when watching a pixar movie, and you bawled your eyes out once over the phone ranting about the bad day you had and its correlation to murphy’s law.

at the same time, it doesn’t take much to make you smile. cat videos. tulips. remembering that your favorite flower is tulips. tteokbokki. chewy boba balls. good morning and good night texts. butterfly-shaped things. cloudy sky. holding hands. touching his hair. his voice. nostalgia-inducing songs. the show he’s been watching with you for the past week— the good place.

oh my god. he hasn’t kissed you yet. he knows all these things, and he hasn’t kissed you yet. how does he know you’re ticklish above the curves of your waist but not the feeling of your lips against his?

cracks form on your little facade of nonchalance when you lose feeling in your hands all the way to your fingertips, the jar of honey slipping away from your weakened grip. it doesn’t break but rolls on the ground, a steady stream of the sticky liquid spreads on the oak flooring, saturating its rather light color.

because you learn that jungkook is the type to hold your neck when he’s kissing you, and his hand moves to back of your head to grip your hair when he starts using tongue, almost as if he knows you’ll need to be tugged back into reality because oh my god, you can feel yourself drowning in him. you’ve always known he is a passionate lover, he has to be, but all the nights you spent imagining your first kiss did not prepare you for this. not rushed or slow, but addictingly sensual and sweet. coaxing you to fall deeply in love, to make him the center of the universe.

good heavens, his lips are so soft.

there is no oxygen in your lungs or coherent thoughts in your head. jungkook and honey. the only two things that make sense. the only two things you perceive.

but you will yourself to lean back, pushing away his shoulders lightly. his drunk eyes meet yours, tongue darting out to lick off the remaining honey on his cherry pink lips. he can only taste and smell honey. in fact, he even feels it seaping past the heels of his feet. uncomfortable. wet. sticky. but he can’t give two fucks because if he doesn’t taste more of it from your tongue he’s convinced he will die from the yearning of a broken heart.

“no, more. c’mere.” he murmurs in a daze, bending over to your level with his head tilted to the side, desperate to satiate his thirst, but you lean back again to avoid his lips.

“no ‘more’. the next person to kiss me has to be my boyfrie-”

you’re rudely interrupted by his voracity. he stubbornly cages your face in his big hands and connects his lips with yours. your hands close into fists, and you punch your thigh in frustration because you don’t have the strength it takes to pull away for the second time. not when you’re enjoying it this much.

it feels far too real to be a dream, but you’d hate to deprive yourself of an experience that feels as raw and heavenly.

he leaves a tender peck on your lips before completely pulling away, shaky and breathless as his heart races inside his chest. he anchors each of his hand on your chair and the table, leaving you trapped with nowhere to go. you look up at him with glossy eyes as you try and process what the fuck just happened.

this man made of dreams, tan skin kissed by the warm glow of a flickering flame, has made it his mission to mess with your head and to make a home in your heart.

“i am your boyfriend, baby.”

the pet name forces you to bite back a foolish smile, but god, you want to run laps across the street and scream at the edge of a cliff because why does it sound so sweet and loving coming from him?

fuck it being cliche. to you, he invented it.

you roll your eyes, unable to hide the giddy smile growing on your face. “well, you kissed me again so you have to take responsibility. i don’t just let anyone kiss me as much as they want, you know?”

jungkook chuckles in amusement. you never fail to sound so convincing. if you endorsed a rag as a luxury item, he would definitely buy it.

he actually needs one to clean off the spilled honey all over your kitchen floor. where do you keep those again?

he turns your chin to his direction, greeting you with a playful grin. “then that means i’m allowed to kiss you all i want from now on, right?”

—

“jungkook! the light is green!”

your familiar voice and the continuous honking from behind snaps out your boyfriend from watching the flashbacks of your first kiss playing inside his head like a movie scene. his car finally starts moving forward, and he glances at you briefly with a wince.

“you need to stop daydreaming on the road! what if i wasn’t here?” you scold him with a whine, the angry honking of the car from earlier still ringing in your ears.

this is why driving isn’t for you.

“sorry, baby. i swear it doesn’t happen often.”

you frown, glaring at him from the passenger seat. “better not. can’t have you in a car accident or i’ll go insane.”

jungkook smiles guiltily. “don’t worry. can’t have you going insane either.”

you don’t respond anymore, sinking back on your seat as you entertain yourself with watching the terrifyingly tall buildings of seoul fall behind you like dominoes.

that’s until your gaze falls on jungkook’s hand intertwined with yours on top of your thigh.

“i love you.”

“i love you too.” you reply softly, pressing a small kiss on the back of his hand.

meanwhile, jungkook finds himself oddly disappointed to see that the bee on his sideview mirror has flown away. when did his little winged friend leave?

as soon as he stops at another red light, he hastily removes his seatbelt to reach over for you. you watch in bewilderment as he almost hits his face with it.

“baby, may i have a kiss?”

you giggle, amused with your man pleading for you with his wide doe eyes. what kind of daydreaming was he so invested in back there, huh?

“you need it that bad?”

he nods eagerly.

you grant him a sweet smack, but he knows what he wants, and he gets it for himself. he pulls you back in by the neck for a deep kiss, slower than usual, almost as if he’s memorizing the feeling, burning it into memory. you get swayed by the intimate communication of his affection, and your nails unconsciously dig in on his forearm. he swallows down a hiss.

every kiss shared with you since four years ago tastes the same to jungkook. the honey lingers in his memory, in his mouth. and still, he finds himself craving more of it in his every waking moment. you truly did something life-changing back then, coating your lips with a lifetime’s worth of a love spell.

he settles down on the driver’s seat with a satisfied smirk painted across his face. you squint at him suspiciously as he fastens his seatbelt back on.

“what’s that smile for?”

“nothing.”

the cheeky raise of his eyebrow says otherwise, however. you got yourself a bratty boyfriend, you think to yourself with a sigh.

“yah, what’s that sigh for?!”

you teasingly exaggerate the shrug of your shoulders as you scrunch your nose.

“nothing.”

—

taglist! @alanniys @jjkeverlast @queenofdragonsandcats @yvesismywife @enhypenslay @cramseys @witchfqllen @virgogentlejk @rkie @jeonwiixard @monilyv @bermudaisy @ameliejeannelaurent @takochelle @the1921-monsters @investedreader @seagulljk @yeow6n @yoonqkiss @hopeworldjimin @lllucere @unnatae @zqynmlk @bxbyyyjocelyn @zkdlllin @koostarcandy @tswisal1 @fragmentof-indifference + send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenario #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut #jungkook angst

[simplyreveries]

Can I request dorm leaders x reader whos Sam's younger sibling and its just chaotic at times with them and their partner but its sweet and adorable yet they also see a protective sam nearby or his friends on the other side watching them

You can ignore this if you don't want to or its a bother,have a lovely day/night

thats so cute what😭

riddle rosehearts

he finds how sweat you are to be endearing — it truly is what won him over with you… even though you get into trouble and chaos with ace, grim, and deuce a lot even when you're at heartslabyul to see him you find yourself attracting some sort of crazy situation to occur. nevertheless… riddle is a little bit more lenient with you and he does give you special treatment that the heartslabyul students have a love-hate relationship with because that means riddle wont exactly be Harsh on them either.

he was in the gardens with you one day showing you the pretty flamingos and cute hedgehogs that live there. he thought it was sweet to see as you held them in your hands, he watches you with a loving gaze only to be like utterly surprised when he catches a little shadow friend come and just disappear??? and you didnt even bat an eye when that happened too, just placing a hand on his arm giving him a reassuring laugh of “classic sam”... SAM??

riddle is a bit nervous to talk to your brother now whenever he comes by his mystery shop for something, but he tries his best to look and act his absolute best! sam chuckles because it's clear that he's trying to be exceptionally better in his eyes. though he does appreciate it when riddle does come up to him and ask him for advice on things that you would like as he peers around his shop looking for the perfect gift for you and such.

leona kingscholar

imagine having a good relationship with your brother, leona doesn't seem like he minds or cares much of sam or his little protective tendencies he may have over you. he'll shrug it off, thinking it’s more of annoyance when he's catches his friend finding the two of you together, like can't he see it's his time to sleep and rest on your lap right now... his ears always quirk at the faint noises of the shadow, and he huffs in irritation.

he's already used to a lot of chaotic behavior from a lot of people in this school and his own rowdy dormmates as well, so he doesn't really bat an eye when that sometimes gets yourself into trouble to which you would just playfully shrug off with a grin.

leona does think you are cute; your attitude comes to be very surprising for an all-villains school. but you've got him impressed with some of your own talents you've learned with sam, heavily within the business world- whenever you drag him into his mystery shop to say 'hi' to sam when walking through the campus. he does catch glimpse and hear your own inputs and even crazy but helpful ideas.

azul ashengrotto

it's a bit tough considering sam is basically his business rival... they have their own "battles" if you will with their businesses, like in their dorm ssr vignette where azul successful got customers back from sam by getting rights of his "mystery drink". he may or may not try to get some info out of you in terms of what ideas sam has for his store, but you just shut that down quickly haha.

azul does try to convince you that working at the mostro lounge is so much better for you. he keeps it as just a mere lighthearted suggestion - but you can tell he means it. he can't help it, i mean, your personality would be just great for customers! your chaotic energy would only just match floyds. azul would much rather have you around him more anyways.

sam wouldn't be the most trusting of azul, especially when it comes to you for more obvious reasons. so, it's going to take a while for him to start liking the idea of azul or let alone any of those untrustworthy octavinelle students, he knows what they're mostly about— he's been working at this school for a looong time. he says that like he isn't as well though….

he internally freaked out though when he notices sams shadow come and leave to just check up on you?? during one time when he was sharing a meal, small dessert and a moment with you during the calm after hours in the mostro lounge. he kept a cool and collected look, but this guy was sweating BULLETS.

kalim al-asim

he loves your energy, as kalim can always match it. he is just like you in many ways- you two are a perfect pair. he also gets along great, (at least he thinks) with sam as well. i mean, sam really doesn't worry much about kalim anyways, because its kalim. if he happens to notice sams little shadow friend on the off chance he'll happily wave and call out "hey! look who it is (name)!".

kalim straight up goes to sam all the time whenever he wants to know something like what he thinks he should get you as a gift or what kind of activities and dates would you like... but that sometimes just ends with kalim rambling about you to your own brother hehe. but hey, he also does want to be on sams good side!!

sam gave his approval though when kalim came in worriedly during near closing hours of the shop and literally bought anything and everything treat, chocolate, jewelry— things he thought you’d like and what. when sam was asking him what's this all for he’ll exclaim something is wrong with you and that you're clearly upset about something! (you only hugged him twice that day).

vil schoenheit

he thinks your relationship with your brother is endearing… he always been an only child so he wouldn't completely understand but he does value family a lot, which in his case, his father who he has a good relationship with

he believed he had a pretty solid relationship with sam, he does work there as a part timer during the new year's event. so, surely sam does have a good idea on the kind of person vil seems to be and believes he's a diligent person. not to mention he does have a popular and famous rep so surely; he's heard people talking about vil.

vil lowkey takes it personally when he notices sams shadow friends…. like theres no way he doesnt trust him?! he’ll have his brows furrowed, his hands on his hips and huff, and like riddle he’ll put on the best and most charismatic side of him to gain that brother of yours trust. like he did with the mostro lounge drink once, he’ll do the same for sam and promote a something new in his shop on his magicam-! plus you’ll like that too so it's easily a win-win for him.

idia shroud

he and sam have an interesting relationship considering they've once made some secret deal so idia could lowkey cheat in the beanfest event. so, they're both kind of chill together- well, sam was definitely a little... unsure when you happily came up to him you were dating idia.

besides that, one instance he hardly sees idia unless it's during the night to buy instant meals and recently released manga. but even then, it's the quickest in and out interaction with him. sam will always tell you finds that boy so strange, but then again everyone is here at this school, he’ll shrug it off… for the most part.

idia probably gets more nervous around him too though knowing he's an older sibling, as idia is older sibling himself he knows how overly protective they can be. he does like your relationship together as he likes that you two have something to relate with by having siblinhs. but he nearly freaks out when he catches glimpse of one of sams shadow friends. his eyes go wide and you're just like “oh…! my brother is so silly” and he's so confused?? as you just brush it off used to your brother??

malleus draconia

sam would be a little surprised needless to say when you happily come to him one day and excitedly tell him that you've been confessed to, confessed to by the malleus draconia…! he is quite used to hearing other students from various dorms gossip and nasty rumors, talking mostly ill about him, but he doesn't feel as if there’s a real threat or anything with him even when it comes to you… like anyone can see from a mile away that he is the epitome of a “gentle giant” with you.

like during the off chance that sam did send out his shadow… merely out of slight concern once it was literally when you were just making malleus a flower crown and placing it on his head and gently around his horns… literally nothing to worry about.

whenever malleus catches your more mischievous side come out when with your brother, he thinks it is quite amusing. you seem to take a lot from him,,, and not to mention he finds your relationship with him to be sweet. he in fact appreciates sams watchful eye over you, because it just means you're extra safe, you know?

#twst #disney twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #twst wonderland #twst imagines #twisted wonderland #riddle x reader #leona x reader #azul x reader #kalim x reader #vil x reader #idia x reader #malleus x reader

[monicahar]

wanderer x reader, short oneshot, suggestive near the end although nothing truly explicit, scaramouche's insecurities about his vision, that's all.

the wanderer liked to think he deserved his vision.

much like a puzzle fitting in its respective place, it's only right for him to gain the recognition of celestia. after all, he did become an all-knowing god himself from nothing but the ugly being known as the discarded puppet—kunikuzushi. even if it was but a momentary lapse, he had achieved an admirable feat unheard of since the archon war. receiving a vision in place of the gnosis that didn't belong to him was nothing to get worked up about. he constantly tells himself that it's expected from someone ambitious like him—he shouldn't be surprised.

he takes the teal gem into his hands with careful movement.

it's nothing to be happy about at all.

yet as he clutches the glowing anemo vision in his grasp, he cannot help but let a small smile grow on his face, feeling a swell of emotions stir inside him.

he doesn't know what this feeling is, but he's certain he's felt this before during his time as a kabukimono.

gratitude.

much absorbed in admiring the way it fits just right in his hands, he doesn't notice you approaching him, eyes softening at the way he stared in awe at his own vision.

“i remember you always scoffing at the notion of freedom,” you start with a smile of your own, effectively taking him out of his trance as he snaps his gaze towards you, immediately letting go of the vision as it hangs on a blue sash over his shoulder, “now you're here admiring your anemo vision like how you'd admire me.”

ignoring your flirtatious comment, he quickly retorts. “don't jump into conclusions.” he clicks his tongue as he crosses his arms, side eyeing you from his peripherals. “i was just checking if it was some type of sick fraud. celestia has to be testing me if they granted me a vision after i became god out of immoral means.”

you blink at his cautious statement. “give yourself a break. gods don't just hand out visions to anyone,” tugging playfully at his tucked-in kimono, you grin as you reach up to pinch his cheek with your other hand. “i, for one, think that the power of anemo is perfect for you. the clash of teal and blue do wonders for this pretty face of yours.” you laugh at the way his face burns.

“you're insufferable.” he complains, but doesn't make a move to remove your hand from his cheek.

“look who's talking.” you reply nonchalantly as you ignore the way his eye twitches in annoyance, removing your hands as you take a step back to stare at him properly. “look, i know you're hesitant about your vision. no matter how many times you tell me that you do deserve it—i know that's not what you actually think deep down inside.”

“...”

you sigh at his silence. it's just confirmation that you hit the bullseye. gently taking his hand in yours, you speak up once more—“does it feel that much unreal to have something you'd finally call your own?”

he doesn't reply again, but the answer is evident in the way his eyes narrow at the ground. after having so many things taken away from me, i'm not sure if i could trust this just yet. it still feels like a dream.

“we eternally owe buer for this. any other archon probably wouldn't have tolerated your actions, so do everyone a favor and just believe in yourself.” your grasp on his hand tightens. “if you can't do it for anyone, then atleast do it for yourself. you're quite the selfish one after all.” you giggle at your own comment, causing him to pursue his lips as to stop himself from smiling like an idiot.

right. he'd never forget the amount of help nahida and the traveler provided just for him to finally be himself—free from the exhausting hatred and bitterness he held against his creator.

he sharply inhales. “okay. i'll try. for both of us.” his voice comes out small, much akin to a whisper that you probably would've missed if it weren't for your close proximity.

he shuts his eyes when you lift his hat to press a chaste kiss on his forehead, further reminding him that he wasn't alone in this world anymore. that he has someone to rely on once again.

he inwardly scoffs. he's selfish. incredibly selfish.

to think that he can have you and his vision in one seating—it's only a matter of time before fate takes it toll and takes one of his cherished possessions away once again in the name of karma.

he has sinned so much that even he's unsure if he deserves the peace bestowed by the god of wisdom. he could get you in more danger now that the fatui is in his trail—it'd really be better if you cut ties with him but he really doesn't want to.

simply because he's selfish.

and if it's his selfishness that's keeping you anchored by his side, then he doesn't mind it at all.

he'll stay selfish till the ends of time, as long as it means to have what he wants right where he wanted it.

the wanderer gazes at his vision once more, bringing it up to the moonlight pouring in from an open window, blinking his eyes at the way it reflects on the luminous glow of the moon.

glancing at the sleeping figure beside him, his eyes soften at the way your chest heaves back up and down, before he trails up on your neck—covered with the blotches of his bites. his eyes narrow at the sight.

you encouraged him to be selfish even after everything he's done.

after putting his precious vision atop the bedside table, the wanderer gently brings your head to tuck under his chin, a satisfied sigh leaving his lips as he caresses your back in comforting circles. his own eyelids fluttering to a close at the comforting beat of your chest, quietly inhaling the scent of your hair affectionately.

so he'll oblige.

he'll bask in this selfish peace, and he'll prolong it—no matter what it takes.

#scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin drabbles #genshin impact headcanons #har❗fiction #genshin impact x reader

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. iii

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter | gif credit

chapter summary: Somehow, you realize you've accidentally ended up spending almost every weekend for the last month and a half with either one, or all of the Millers. pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 8.7k chapter warnings: some angst, alcohol consumption, marijuana use, suggestive thoughts (but no smut), referenced parental neglect, implied age gap. reader has daddy issues (shocker!) & a fear of intimacy. a/n: this chapter is so disgustingly sweet it might give you a cavity. truly. but its also a little self-indulgent because joel is in my dream blunt rotation :/ please be patient with updates because i have a career/social life/apartment, and am a perfectionist! i promise i will always (try) to make the wait worth your while. Also, here's a link to the song Joel plays on guitar, since it's not on Spotify so I couldn't add it to the playlist.

-April 19, 2003- 

“Well, that was awkward.”

Obviously, Joel thinks to himself as Sarah turns to watch the retreating form of her teacher, while Joel stares straight ahead at the crowd in front of him. At first, he had thought she was just being polite. It was the right thing to do, to say hello to a parent and a student if you see them outside of class. But…they were seeing each other at a bar. And she’d asked him to dance. 

We just got here, maybe later? Joel can’t even remember what he had said, something along those lines. It wasn’t a flat-out refusal, but he had been acutely aware of Sarah’s eyes boring into the back of his head from where she sat beside him, and he sort of blacked out, couldn’t recall what had caused her to get the hint, to walk away. 

Joel grunts an affirmation to Sarah, and drums his fingers against the tabletop. There’s a dance floor full of people in front of him, all under various levels of intoxication, all of them dancing. 

“Do you believe me now?” Sarah asks. 

“I never said I didn’t believe you.”

How he had allowed Tommy and Sarah to talk him into coming here tonight, he’s not sure. Probably, it had something to do with how much he loved them both. How he would, ultimately, do whatever they asked if he knew it’d make that happy. But still, honky-tonking is the last thing he wants to be doing at the end of a long week. 

There was pretty much only one decent bar in town, so he wasn’t exactly shocked he had run into someone he knew. Everyone came here – to dance, to drink, to eat, or to drown their sorrows. To see their friends, or even to find someone to take home for the night. And over the years, as a frequent customer, Joel had used this place to do all those things.

Tonight was special though, a little more family friendly. It was swing night. It happened once a month, and Joel had always made a point to take Sarah a couple times a year. When he was young, his mother had taught him and Tommy to dance, and he felt it was only appropriate to pass the skill along, even if it was almost obsolete. He hoped Sarah would be able to do the same someday, if she ever had children of her own. 

“Will you dance with me, at least?” Sarah asks.

“Of course I will,” Joel answers.. “But let’s wait for Tommy, he’s ordering our drinks.”

“You mean your drinks.”

“No, you got a Shirley Temple.”

Sarah narrows her eyes. It’s the same expression that Joel has only seen her use recently, and he actually prefers it less to the eye roll. This time, he’s glad it hasn’t come with a question from her, because when it does, it’s always a little more frightening. “Come on, you know that’s not the same.”

Before Joel can respond, he’s cut off by Tommy’s voice. 

“Look who I found.”

This is what he and Sarah have been waiting on, and Joel turns to sees Tommy with all three of their drinks in hand. Over his shoulder, there’s a woman who looks vaguely familiar, wearing daisy dukes and a plaid shirt. After a second, he realizes it’s you.

Most of the time when Joel sees you – from across the street, of course – you’re in a power suit, a pencil skirt. Sometimes, it’s more casual – athletic clothes. There was also that black silk robe he can’t seem to shake from his memory. But this is so…different. It’s clear you’re trying to blend in with the crowd, but you don’t. Not because you’re not pulling it off – you definitely are, effortlessly – he’s just pretty sure if he walks into any room you’re in, his eyes will always be drawn in your direction. 

Joel doesn’t see, but rather feels – Sarah recognize that you’re in front of her, because when she does, she’s tapping him on the arm before he can utter a greeting. “Dad, can I get out and say hi?”

He’s standing to let her out just as you step closer to the table, and you come chest to chest. “Hey,” he says. 

“Hi, Joel,” you say, a soft smile on your face. Your eyes remain locked on his just a moment too long, before Sarah is wrapping you up in a hug, and you’re focused on her when she draws back. “How are you?” you ask. 

Joel doesn’t hear Sarah’s response, because his brother is pressing a drink into his hand - a Jack and Coke, same as what you and Tommy are drinking. 

“Sit down, please!” Tommy encourages.

“Are you sure?” you ask. “This looks like a family thing, I don’t want to-” 

“Please!” Sarah exclaims. 

“What she said,” Tommy seconds Sarah’s sentiments.

For a second, you seem to contemplate the offer, and then you accept the invitation, sliding into the booth across from where Sarah has settled back next to her father. Joel makes eye contact with his brother, sitting next to you. Tommy’s eyebrows are raised suggestively, and there’s a playful smirk on his face when he tilts his head in your direction. Joel gives him nothing, already irritated by his brother’s goading. 

“Is that a Shirley Temple?” you point to Sarah’s drink. When she nods, you continue. “I haven’t had one of those in forever,” you say. 

“Want a sip?”

“Sure,” Sarah slides the glass across to you, and you sip from the straw, pondering. “I should’ve gotten one of those instead. They were my favorite growing up.” 

“Can I have a sip of yours?”

“No,” you and Joel say at the same time. 

“You’re not gonna like it,” he adds.

“You always say that, but how can you know?”

Joel sighs. “Okay, fine. Try mine.”

Sarah seems pleased to get what she wants. When the bitterness of the whiskey registers, the triumphant expression leaves her face completely. 

“Told you,” he says. Sarah grimaces, accepting defeat, and returns to her beverage. 

Tommy leans forward, urging Joel to start making conversation as if this is a date and it’s his responsibility. But before he can think of anything, Sarah pipes up. 

“Guess what?” she asks you.

“What?”

“My teacher’s here.”

“Yeah?” you ask. Joel takes a long pull off his drink, hoping it’ll loosen him up a little. 

“Yeah, she tried to hit on my dad.”

Joel feels the cocktail of whiskey and soda get caught in his throat.

“Oh….” you sound intrigued, and you lean forward. He wonders if this is the dynamic between you and Sarah when he’s not around. Like you’re two friends, engaging in some harmless gossip. “Really?” Your gaze flickers between him and Sarah. 

Sarah bobs her head once. “She has a thing for him. I can tell.”

“What makes you think that?” his brother joins in, moving closer to Sarah, crowding you between himself and the wall and putting his elbows on the table. Joel feels a flash of envy when you shift your attention towards Tommy.

“She just asked him to dance.” Sarah looks over her shoulder, nods her head towards the woman in the corner of the bar who’s probably already focused on his table anyways. Joel already knows what you’re seeing. Miss Davis is pretty, bubbly, outgoing. Probably about your age, if he had to guess, though it’s hard to say how old you are. He imagines he has ten years on you, give or take a few. And for all intents and purposes, Sarah’s teacher is the type of woman he should be interested in. 

“She’s pretty,” you say it like you’re appeasing Sarah, but you’re looking directly at Joel. He’s not sure why you kind of frighten him a little. You’re sweet, he knows, even if you’ve tried to tell him otherwise. But there’s something else there, enigmatic and alluring, that continues to draw him in. 

Tommy chimes in. “So are you gonna dance with her, Joel?”

“Uncle Tommy,” Sarah says dramatically. Her face drops for a second, though, her shoulders slumping as she angles herself towards him, lowers her voice. “I mean, if you want to, that’s fine, I guess. But I….I don’t know.”

Joel is taken aback by how long this conversation has gone on with absolutely no input from himself. Not to mention how honest Sarah is being. She doesn’t usually have much to say about his choice in women – he can usually just tell what she thinks. For her to express something so directly makes him realize how serious she is. But at the moment, he can’t find words to assure her everything will be fine. 

It must be his lack of response that causes you to lean across the table and speak to Sarah. “You know, that’s valid,” there’s a tenderness to your tone. It dawns on him that you’re trying to comfort her. “It is kind of a conflict of interest.”

“Right?” Sarah perks up, just slightly, you’ve given her some support. “It’s one of those things you said you had going on at work the other day an….an ethical…” 

“An ethical dilemma?” you finish her thought.

“Ethical dilemma! That’s it.” Sarah turns back towards Joel. “I think it's an ethical dilemma.” 

For just a split second, he wonders why he’s been letting his already-precocious child hang out regularly with a lawyer. He’s accidentally creating a monster. But thankfully, Joel is finally able to find his voice. “There is no ethical dilemma, because I wouldn’t ever consider it.”

That seems to placate Sarah, and hopefully everyone will decide to drop it. Joel catches your eyes, and there’s something akin to wistfulness there, chin propped on your hand, before you blink once and focus back on Tommy, who's asking you a question. “So, are you here alone?”

“Is it that obvious?” 

“Not at all,” Tommy smirks, not dropping his eye contact with you. “...It’s just surprising, is all.”

Joel stiffens.

“Oh, well…” you smile a little. “I’m just trying to get to know the town a little better. Trying to engage in the community, I guess. But…I’m not sure if I am doing that great of a job fitting in.”

“You are,” Joel interjects, and maybe it’s a little forward, but he’d rather say it before Tommy does. “That’s a nice flannel.”

“Thanks,” You look down at your oversized plaid shirt – the sleeves rolled up to the elbows – that hangs open over a tight white tank top. Joel can see a sliver of the black lace bra you’re wearing that pokes out above the low neckline. He wonders what it might feel like to press his face there, to feel your fingers carding through his hair, but does not allow himself to entertain the idea for very long. Not the time. “I actually had to go and buy it because I didn’t own any plaid. And by the looks of it,” You gesture towards the dance floor. “I need to invest in some cowboy boots, too.”

“One thing at a time, right?” he asks, and you agree.

“So what are you all doing here? Family outing?”

“We actually had to drag this one kicking and screaming out the door,” Tommy points to Joel. 

“You did not,” Joel defends himself.

‘We kinda did,” Sarah says. “Do you know how to dance?”

You shake your head no, look at the people twirling and dipping and dancing in pairs. “Not like that.”

“It’s really easy! I can teach you. My dad taught me.”

“Cute.” Joel looks towards Sarah, and catches you staring instead. Your eyes flit back immediately to his daughters. “But I’m not sure I’ll be any good.”

“You’ll be fine,” Sarah says like it’s already settled. Joel knows he’s spoiled her, that she ultimately gets what she wants. He worries sometimes that others won’t find her quite as endearing. 

“Sarah,” he warns. “You’re making it sound like she doesn’t have a choice.”

You hide a smile behind the rim of your glass. “It’s okay. You can teach me. Might as well learn, if I’m trying to fit in.”

Sarah seems satisfied.

“Joel tells me you grew up in New York City.” Tommy says it, and Joel notices you raise your eyebrows at the implication. He’s talked to Tommy about you. And now you know. He’s pissed at himself for doing it, but at the time he’d been drunk, a little more chatty and vulnerable than usual, and had mentioned you more than once. Too much to be a coincidence. The issue was, Joel had never expected you would talk to Tommy again. If he’d known you would, he wouldn’t have said anything. He doesn’t want to imagine the damage he had done when it was just the two of you, alone at the bar. But even now, he’s completely at his brother’s mercy. 

“Yep,” you nod. 

“You don’t have much of an accent,” Tommy remarks. 

“Not everyone has them.” 

“That’s fair.”

“I did, uh, go to a boarding school in a different state, though, so I wasn’t around it too much.” 

“Boarding school?” Sarah turns to Joel.

“Basically you live at school,” you answer her question. ”Kind of like college, but earlier. I started going when I was nine.”

Sarah frowns. “Wouldn’t you miss your family?” 

“Yes, and I did.”

“So why would you go?”

“Well…” you trail off, shift your weight. “It wasn’t up to me. My dad worked a lot, so it made sense.”

“What’d he do for a living?” Asks Tommy. 

“He’s a criminal defense attorney....owns his own firm and it does pretty well, so…” you shrug. “He was very busy.”

“And that’s why you’re a lawyer? To work for your dad?”

“At one point, that was the plan, yes."

“What happened?”

The question appears to make you uncomfortable, you cross your legs and glance down at the table. “Uhm….pass.” Joel sees your face go blank for a split second before you look up with an easy smile. It’s like the desolate look you’d been wearing was never there, and you point to your drink. “I’ll need a few more of these if you want that story.”

“Might as well order another round,” Tommy flags down a waitress.

You have one more drink, but you don’t really touch it as the four of you continue to talk. Joel has two more, and Tommy has three, because he’s Tommy, and also not driving. Both you and Joel also have to vehemently refuse his request to do a round of tequila shots. 

After a while, Sarah gets bored, then insists on teaching you to dance. You agree, but seem awfully reluctant. Joel wants to pull you aside and let you know that you don’t have to entertain everything Sarah offers, but once you’ve stood up, and he watches her arm link through yours as you both walk to the dance floor, he can’t bring himself to intervene. 

He’s never seen Sarah be so taken with someone before, and he’s filled with a vague sense of regret. He always thought that she was content with just him and Tommy. Maybe she has always needed more. It’s partially his responsibility, Joel thinks –  what could he have done to stop her mother from leaving? Even if he could’ve stopped it, they would’ve been a miserable couple…which might have been more damaging to Sarah than her mother not being around at all.

Once you’re long gone, Joel can sense what Tommy is thinking before he even opens his mouth. 

“Shut it,” Joel says before he can even hear his brother's ribbing. 

“I wasn’t even gonna say anything about that!” Tommy raises his hands, but Joel knows he’s lying.

“We should go over there,” Joel says. He trusts you, but in a bar full of drunk people isn’t interested in being far away from Sarah for too long. Both he and Tommy abandon their booth to mosey their way towards the dance floor. 

Sarah has taken you into a back corner, far away from the band playing, where the crowd has thinned a little. There’s room for him and Tommy to lean up against the wall and watch you both. 

Both your hands are clasped with Sarah’s, and she’s teaching you the counts, the steps, while you study the way that your feet move.

Joel has a feeling that if it weren’t for his daughter, you wouldn’t have hung out with his family for so long. It’s just like the hike, and as usual, he feels more like a third wheel than anything else. You’re right that you do look a little out of place here. Maybe you don’t belong,  but he likes it. You’re wearing a pair of beat up hi-tops, which are a sharp contrast to Sarah’s baby blue cowboy boots that are covered in rhinestone butterflies. He’d gotten them for her for Christmas that past year, and she only wore them during special occasions like this.

Joel is doing the best he can not to think about the way your legs look in those fucking daisy dukes. All on display, and he wonders what it might feel like to drag his tongue up the soft skin of your inner thigh, feel you quiver and whimper as he works his mouth closer to– Enough. He’s disgusted with himself for thinking about you like that right now. 

“Dad, look!” Sarah says, and it seems you’re catching on all right, but none of it looks graceful. Sarah’s trying to lead – which she has never done – so she falters often, and also can’t quite reach all the way above your head when she tries to spin you around. “Oh no, look at his face!” Sarah points. You turn his direction, and Joel realizes he has to neutralize the grimace that has crept onto his visage. “We definitely aren’t doing good.”

“I’ll get the hang of it,” you turn back to Sarah, assure her. “You’re a good teacher.” You’re being nice. Too nice, humoring her and laughing it off, even if she’s making a fool of you both. But you don’t seem to mind, because it’s making her happy. 

All of the sudden, the toe of Sarah’s boot catches on the scuffed wood floor and she lurches forward. Joel immediately pushes himself off the wall as though he could close the space and catch her before she faceplants, but he can’t, and he can already see a vision of himself sitting in the emergency room at 2 a.m waiting, while Sarah holds an ice pack on her nose. But you reach out before the image is fully realized, arms wrapping around her shoulders. “Careful!” You warn. And even though you shuffle forward with the weight of her, you keep her from falling. Once she realizes she’s safe, Sarah giggles and throws her head back, her eyes catching your own. 

He’s not sure what makes him do it. It could be the liquor, the way you look, the unspoken pressure from Tommy. Or maybe he’s just been wanting an excuse to be closer to you. Most importantly, at this rate, he feels like Sarah is going to hurt herself and also you in the process. Regardless of what the reason is, Joel decides to step in. He walks onto the dance floor.

“Alright,” Joel says once he’s gotten closer, looking at Sarah. “I can’t watch this anymore.”

“What?”

He halts in front of his daughter, jerks his hand. “Move. I’m takin’ over.”

Sarah rolls her eyes, but smiles a little, and drops her hands from your shoulders. Joel offers you his hand. “You mind?” 

You look between Joel and Sarah, and she gives you an encouraging nod. “He taught me, he does know what he’s doing.”

“Well okay,” you take Joel’s hand. “You better not embarrass me,” and then you actually fucking wink at him. Already overwhelmed by the delicate weight of your hand in his palm, it almost sends him over the edge. He’s lucky he’s in public, with his family, because he doesn’t think he’d behave himself otherwise.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Joel answers. “Besides, I don’t think anything could be worse than what I was just watching.”

You giggle, and step forward when he tugs you just closer to dance, taking you fully in his arms. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sarah dragging Tommy onto the dance floor. Everyone is taken care of.

You’re smart. And because of it, you’re a fast learner. Even people who can’t really dance can usually figure this out, himself included. But in Joel’s opinion, it’s always been less about getting the steps right, and more about who’s keeping him company. 

And you’re great company. 

Eager, willing, gentle…soft. He’s embarrassed at how long it’s been since he’s been this close to an adult woman, and normally he might be a little nervous, but instead, he just feels…comfortable. 

But Joel is a selfish man. He always wants more. Wants the band to play a slower song, so then he’d have an excuse to pull you closer. Wind an arm around your waist, whisper things in your ear that no one else could hear, and feel your breath hitch when they register. But this isn’t really the dance for that, and the rest of his family is just steps away. He’ll have to compromise – which he doesn’t like. 

“I’m going to dip you,” Joel says, matter-of-factly.

“No you’re not.”

“I am,” he insists. “It’s essential.”

“I seriously doubt that.” 

“Look,” he tilts his head to Tommy and Sarah, and the latter is laughing as she pitches all her weight backwards into his arms. He nearly drops to one knee to catch her, she’s still so petit, but their form is actually pretty good. And they aren’t the only people in the room doing it. 

“Okay,” you say, and give him a warm smile for a split second before becoming stone-faced. “But if you drop me-”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Joel drawls.

He puts his arms around your waist, one of them catching the middle of your back, the other on a patch of exposed skin on your hip – your tank top has ridden up slightly with all the movement. You dig your fingers into his biceps, cling to him like he had hoped you would.

And even when he draws you back up, eyes locked with your own, your grip remains the same. You stay close. 

“My turn,” Tommy interjects, and Joel can’t help the dirty look he gives him over your shoulder. He’s playing the annoying little brother, doing everything he can to piss him off. His brother wants to see Joel break, but he’s not going to give him the satisfaction.

Plus, Joel is happy to dance with Sarah, which is the whole reason they came here in the first place. She’s so excited to be there, and he wonders if there will ever be a time when she’s too grown up for things like this. He hopes not. 

He ignores the sound of Tommy’s laugh mingled with your own. You were not laughing that much with him, and that causes a pang of jealousy. Joel doesn’t like acknowledging it, but he’s always resented Tommy for his ability to be the charismatic one, the charming one, the happy-go-lucky one. Even when they were kids. That’s what it’s like to be the oldest sibling. Never as fun, always more practical, more serious, the voice of reason. Always in service to their siblings, all in the name of love. 

Eventually, you and Sarah are back dancing together, and since you’ve had some practice separately, it’s not as sloppy as before. It allows Joel and Tommy to return to their post against the wall, just out of earshot.

Joel feels his brother’s eyes on him as he watches you and Sarah. “Dude,” he finally gives in, looks over at Tommy. “Just ask her out already.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Tommy-”

“You’re into her.” 

“Maybe,” Joel says, because he knows it’s pointless to lie. “But she’s got a boyfriend.”

Tommy elbows him. “So what?”

“I know you’re alright bein’ a homewrecker but I-”

“It makes sense Joel. She’s fuckin’ smart, and funny, and pretty. And Sarah fucking loves her-”

In any other situation, he would’ve acted weeks ago. But he’s starting to understand why he’s dragging his feet. Tommy’s right. Sarah adores you. Joel will fuck something up, it’s inevitable. And when you decide you never want to speak to him again, Sarah will lose you too. He’s already let her down enough. 

“I should’ve never fuckin’ told you–”

“Take her to drinks, to the movies, dinner, show up at her house with a bottle of wine, hell, something. If you don’t ask her out already, then I will.”

Joel punches his brother on the shoulder. It’s not enough to incite an actual fight, but it’s definitely not playful. “Ow!” Tommy grips at his arm. “What?” When Joel doesn’t answer right away, he rolls his eyes. 

“Speaking from experience, I’m surprised you haven’t already,” he raises an eyebrow.

“Once, Joel. That was one time. Will I never hear the end of it?”

“No,” Joel says. “And I see what you were doing tonight, too. Don’t think you’re slick.” he hopes to change the subject, and it seems to be working. 

Tommy sets them back on track. “Well, I was just trying to get you to wake the fuck up and see what’s in front of you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What happens when Sarah grows up? Goes to school, leaves the house? Then, what are you gonna do? You’re just gonna be alone?”

“You are treadin’ on some mighty thin ice, Tommy,'' Joel hisses. ““You barely know this woman-”

“I’d like a family, too, Joel. When that happens I won’t be able to keep you company anymore. You might want someone else. And maybe it’s not her, fine. But there should be someone.”

For as much as he hates to admit it, Joel knows Tommy is right. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-April 25, 2003- 

It’s six at night. and you’re already in your pajamas. 

A couple years ago, you would’ve thought that was pretty sad. These days, it’s only a little sad. You prefer things this way. That’s the perk of being an adult living alone. If you want to put on pajamas before the sun sets on a Friday night, you can. If you want to get stoned on the back porch of the house you bought yourself, you can. If you want all those things to happen while you watch the sunset and listen to yacht rock, you can. And you’re going to. 

You’re toying with the new digital camera your brother bought for you. Vincent likes to argue with you, but he always feels guilty after a conversation gone wrong. Rather than use his words, however, he just buys you gifts. You had apologized over the phone a few days ago…this was his way of doing the same. The shutter clicks as you snap a photo of your backyard, and you look at it in the viewfinder before discarding the camera on your coffee table.

Martini is on the porch with you, doing that thing where he stands just out of reach but chirps at you until you pet him. When you reach out, he moves away. He’s not great at accepting what he wants. Maybe it’s why he’s sort of the perfect cat for you – you’re the same. 

You light your bowl, and you’re mid-inhale when you hear someone call your name. 

“Hey!” 

At this point, you’d recognize Joel Miller’s voice anywhere. You don’t want to admit it’s because you’ve tried to commit it to memory, daydreamed about how it might sound for his smooth lilt to read you a book until you fall asleep, or listen to him take a phone call in the other room. 

Realizing it’s him, you inhale sharply, forgetting what you’re in the middle of and taking a much bigger hit than you had intended. You begin choking violently on the smoke while simultaneously scrambling to hide your piece and the related paraphernalia sitting out, and manage to do so just in time for him to round the corner. 

You scramble to hide your bowl under the pillow of the outdoor couch you sit on, just in time for Joel to appear at the screen door. 

“Hey,” you say, covering your mouth. Your throat burns, and you cough again. Stay cool, stay calm. Everything is good. “What are you doing here?”

“Sorry, I tried your front door and you weren’t answering, so I thought I’d see if you were back here.” It’s hard to see him from here, through the door, and he’s backlit by the sun that’s shimmering behind his dark hair, catching it in a golden halo. 

You rise to open the door, and when you do, he continues. “I’m here to pick up Sarah’s soccer jersey.”

Right. Of course he was. She had left it a few days before, and you had assumed she’d come get it before her game on Saturday but it didn’t dawn on you until now that she ever had. 

“I would’ve sent her, but she’s at a sleepover tonight.”

“Oh yeah,” you nod, standing in place. You’re trying so desperately to act normal, words evade you.

Joel squints at you, a slight smirk on his face. “I didn’t catch you off guard or anything, did I?’

“No, no, not at all,” you lie. “Come on in.”

Joel steps over the tiny dish of cat food you’ve left on your back step for the stray you feed, and into the screened-in porch. Now that he’s under the dim light, you get a better look at him. A loose-fitting flannel hangs open over a worn green t-shirt that barely meets the top of his jeans. His hair is damp, like he’s just showered, and he smells clean. In any other situation, you’d want to climb him like a tree, and he’s not even trying. But right now, you’re just doing your best impression of a sober human that is definitely not doing anything illegal. The truth is, you should’ve made him wait outside.

“This is nice,” Joel says, looking around. And you really wish he wasn’t because you notice that you left the clear plastic baggie containing your weed out on the couch. It sort of blends in with the green floral pattern, so you hope for the best, because there’s no way for you to sneakily grab it without drawing his attention. “I didn't know this was back here.”

“The last owners added it on,” you say, because that was the type of thing the realtor had said to you about the features of this house. And you supposed a carpenter or contractor would probably be interested in it. It was a good distraction.

“I can tell. Looks new,” he looks up towards the wooden beams that span the ceiling. The top of the porch is still covered, so during the few times it’s rained, you always sit outside to listen.

“I’ve got her jersey in the kitchen,” you tell him. “Wait here.”

It doesn’t take long for you to pick out the bright blue athletic gear from your pile of dry cleaning. It stands out against all your neutral-colored pantsuits. Joel has his back to you when you return, one of his hands clenched into a fist. 

“Here,” you say, and he turns. 

“You had it dry cleaned? You didn’t have to do that.”

“I kind of wasn’t sure if it was safe to run through the machine,” you explain. “But now that I’m thinking about it….it wouldn’t make sense to give a bunch of 11-year-olds dry clean only jerseys.”

“It wouldn’t. But it’s probably more convenient than scrubbing the grass stains out yourself.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Unfortunately. But again…thank you.”

“Of course.”

This is where Joel should leave, walk across the street, and go home. And he does, well, at least, he starts to. He steps away, reaches for the handle to your back door, and then pauses. “You know,” he says, glancing over his shoulder. “The Watsons were tellin’ me the other day you’ve been complaining about a family of skunks living under your house?”

You freeze, recalling the lie you’d come up with on a whim when your sixty-year-old neighbors had started asking too many questions. 

“Well, it does smell a little over here.”

“Uh-huh,” you give him nothing.

“Something like that….you should really call animal control. Get rid of the problem,” Joel’s facing you now, eyebrow raised. 

“If I call animal control…they’ll just kill them,” you answer. “And I don’t want that. So…I think I’ll just have to live with it.” 

“That’s fair,” Joel says. “But you know, Sarah’s over here all the time, and I’ve never heard her mention it.”

At this point you know he’s just fucking with you. But years of remaining stone-faced through business negotiations and family dinners has prepared you for this, so even if you’re a little stoned, you’re not going to let him win. 

“Yeah, it sounds like a coincidence. But they’re never around when she’s here,” you say, in your own defense. “Ever,” you add for emphasis. 

“I guess that’s good.”

You both stare at each other for a second, and your blood buzzes slightly because even though this is just a playful standoff, you’ve never made such intense eye contact with him. It feels electric. After what feels like an eternity, Joel lifts his hand from his hip, and you see what he’d been holding in his fist, now pinched between his thumb and forefinger. He raises an eyebrow.

When you see the plastic baggie dangling in front of your face, you purse your lips. “Alright, you got me,” you lift up your hands, but snatch the bag from him. 

“And here I thought you were such a good girl.”

You don’t even want to acknowledge the full body chill that runs down your spine at the sound of those two words, coming from him. Snatching the bag back from him, he gives you a cheeky smile. “If you give me a hit, I won’t tell anyone.”

Your jaw drops, and you look up at him. “Oh, you’re trouble.”

“I’m not the one lyin’ to my neighbors.”

“And I’m not the one snooping through my neighbors' things.”

“It was right out in the open.”

Joel doesn’t seem bothered at all. But it’s Texas, so you can never be sure. “Okay, fine,” you say. “If you want….I could roll us a joint. Unless you have other plans.”

“The alternative is a house to myself for the evening and some chores, so…yeah. Whatever you’d like.”

“Great.”

Joel follows you to sit on the couch. As you settle on opposite ends, he speaks up. “So you think you could explain to me why my daughter keeps tellin’ me she wants to be a lawyer?”

You snicker. “Believe me, Joel. I’ve tried to talk her out of it already.”

He chuckles. “It’s okay. Probably a more lucrative career than what I’m doing. She’s really taken a liking to you, you know that? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her warm up to anyone so quick.”

“Well, I’m the first adult she knows that’s not an authority figure.”

“I’m sure there’s more to it than that.”

“I remember being that age,” you look down at your work. “It’s nice to have someone older to relate to, who you can talk to without being afraid of getting a lecture.”

“She probably needs it,” Joel says. “She told me you talk about girl stuff. I’m not so great at that.”

“I don’t know,” Your tongue darts out to wet the edge of the paper and finish rolling the joint. You put it between your lips, and rummage through the drawer of the coffee table to find your lighter, gesture between the both of you. “This is about ninety percent of how I spent my time with my friends at her age…and so far you’re doing alright.”

“Now you’ve got me worried about what’s going on at that sleepover.”

“Okay, well, I was maybe a little older. And with her? You’ve got nothing to worry about,” you shake your head. 

He rubs the back of his neck, and his eyes glow with the reflection of your lighter as it’s flicked on. “I don’t know.”

“She’s fine, Joel,” you say, bringing the lighter closer and shielding the flame from the calm breeze of the evening. “She’s great. Really.”

“She is,” he agrees. You inhale, let the smoke settle in your lungs for a moment, before exhaling. You take your time, feeling warm from the weed and the feeling of Joel’s eyes on you, and he accepts the joint when you pass it over.

“I really didn’t really expect this from you,” he exhales, studying your handiwork before taking another puff. “You’re pretty buttoned up.”

“This is hardly rebellious.” Instinctually, you like the idea that he thinks you’re buttoned up. Deep down, however, you don’t actually want him to.

He looks so dreamy, the smoke curling though his eyelashes, tracing along his defined jaw, and then up, up, where it settles and shifts under the porch light, before disappearing completely.

Martini, who has been in hiding, hops up on the couch, and Joel reaches out, your cat nuzzling its face into his palm. “Didn’t know you had a cat,” he mumbles. And then, like some sort of magic, the cat plops down on Joel’s lap. 

“I do…but…” you say out loud, then trail off because you’re in such shock. You glance up at Joel, who looks confused. “I’m sorry, I’ve just never seen him do this.”

He passes the joint back to you. “Do what?”

You take a final puff, and then put it out in an ashtray. It’s only about half smoked, but you can get into it later if either of you wants to. Plus, you’re more interested in what’s unfolding in front of you. “I kinda want a picture of this.”

“What?”

“I’ve had him for five years and he’s never sat on my lap like that,” you say, and you can’t keep the resentment from dripping into your tone. “What makes you so special? I’m a little jealous.”

“Of me? Or the cat?”

Something honey-thick drips down your spine at his words. You can’t conjure a witty response, opting instead for: “Shut up.”

You snap a couple photos while Joel’s still laughing, one hand on his chest, the other on Martini’s back, and then put the camera down, and lean against the back of the couch, curling your feet underneath you. 

“You’ve got a nice view of the sunset,” Joel says softly.

There’s a distant fear you might never get to see him like this again, and you want to take him in fully before you drag your eyes to see what he’s looking at. Your backyard slopes down into a small patch of woods, the sky opening even wider to let in the aureate light. 

“I know,” you agree. “It’s why I spend so much time back here.” The high continues to settle over you, strokes your shoulders, tugs at the corners of your lips.

“Surprised you like things that are so peaceful…being from the city and all…”

“The city is peaceful,” you say, thinking of the leaves swirling from the trees in the fall, and the snowflakes falling onto your family's porch in the winter, melting on the tip of your nose as you lean over the balcony to see the glittering lights below, car horns and engines and sirens piercing the darkness, white noise. “In its own way.”

“You miss it?”

“Everyday,” you say. 

“What do you miss the most?”  

“Uhm…probably the bagels,” you lie. Well it’s true. But it’s not what you miss the most. You think of your brother, flopping onto your bed on a Saturday night – a rare weekend when you visit home – and you’re trying to read A Tree Grows In Brooklyn for school but he’s begging to take you around the corner to get a milkshake. It’s the image of him you’ve so desperately tried to cling to and the recollections you share with him have only gotten more and more unpleasant as time goes on. “The bagels here suck.”

“Really?” Joel seems amused by that. 

“And uh…I don’t know. It’s part of me. I have a lot of friends there, a lot of good memories,” you smile to yourself, lean forward towards him. “I had this apartment before I graduated, right? It had the best view of this little Italian restaurant, and I’d sit and watch people through the windows, eating and talking. I was supposed to be studying, but…it was great. I loved it.”

“What’re you doing here, then?” Joel asks, and you look back at the sunset. Here you are, waxing poetic and you’re sure he can hear it in your voice. “You runnin’ from something?” You look over to find he’s staring at you. Like he knows you aren’t being honest, and he’s asking you to stop lying.

So you do the only thing you can think of, which is to ask him a question in response. “What makes you think I am?”

Joel considers this for a moment. “I don’t know. I grew up in Austin. All my friends are here, my family. If I ever moved someplace else….it’d have to be for a good reason. And even if I did, I’d be lonely.”

You stare down at the floor. “Maybe I am.” Lonely? Or running from something? The answer is both, you know, but you’re not going to clarify. “My family. Things are pretty fucked. I thought distance would help, and it does, a little. But….that shit still follows you anyways. They’re always with you, no matter what.”

Joel nods. 

“But… I have a life here. When I lived downtown, I definitely did. I don’t mind the quiet, and….I have friends.”

Joel looks at you. “You got a boyfriend, don’t you?”

Why would he think that-oh. You had tried to forget it, the morning he’d caught you still wrapped up in your robe – not the fluffy fleece one you liked the most, but the one you specifically only wore when you had guys over, cause they loved that shit.

“Oh, right,” you say. “Bradley. Yeah, uh. He’s…he’s….not my boyfriend. But…” you shake your head. “It’s a little complicated.”

“I’m sure it ain’t that hard to explain.”

“I mean…” you avoid his eyes. “He’s kind of an asshole, but we’re not really commited to each other in a meaningful way. Plus, he’s not around that much which is kind of perfect…for me.”

“Really?”

“Less to worry about,” you answer, purse your lips. “But…I don’t know. I sorta wish he got my heart rate up a little more.”

“He’s not your type?”

“I don’t really have a type,” you shake your head. “I like what I like.”

Joel rasps. “I feel the same,” and he’s made sure your eyes are on him when he says it.

You swallow, nod, smooth your hair back. “Anyways. Why’re you asking me all this?”

Joel doesn’t seem to find an answer right away. You narrow your eyes at him, studying his face, looking for something that will give him away. It’s a trick you’ve learned…silence…a bit of skepticism. It makes people uncomfortable. And Joel shifts his weight, squirming beneath your gaze. Until something in his face shifts, and he smiles….just a little. 

“So that’s where Sarah learned that.”

“Learned what?”

“That look you’re giving me.”

“What look?” 

“Like you can see right through me.”

“Can I?” You narrow your eyes further.

“You’re tryin’ to.” 

He’d done a good enough job of avoiding your question, and you’re not gonna ask him again, and instead opt for a different one. “So what about you, then?” you poke his knee with your foot.

“Oh, I’m not answerin’’ that.”

“What? I just told you, that’s not fair.”

Joel runs a hand along his jaw, ponders. “Most women don’t want to be with a man who already has a kid so…things on that front are not always easy.” 

“I have a hard time believing that. I mean, don’t you have an upcoming date with Sarah’s teacher or something?” you tease.

“That’s not happening,” he assures you. “But….I work so much these days I don’t have the capacity for much. So I get what you mean, sometimes it’s easy to not get emotionally involved but…I’ve never really been great at that.”

“You’re a relationship guy?”

“I mean, Tommy has been pestering me about this lately. Says at this rate, once Sarah’s grown, I’ll end up old and alone. Annoys me to hell, but he’s right. I wouldn’t mind…some kind of companionship. Someone to tell you you’ve done alright at the end of the day.” 

“You sound awfully romantic,” you at him blink slowly.

“I can be, when I want to.” Joel rolls his eyes. “But right now…I think I’m just stoned.” 

That makes you giggle. So he’s just being honest. “I didn’t really see much great come from settling down when I grew up, so I’ve always been a bit of a pessimist when it comes to love. What you’re saying….it’s a nicer way to think of things.”

You rarely connected with the men you dated. You chose to date douchebags, to date cheaters. It was better that way, to know up front what you were getting yourself into. The best ones didn’t ask for much, just the odd fuck here and there for a couple months, and you’d step away when things were no longer fun, if they evewere to begin with. 

Actually getting married, settling down, didn’t feel like a real possibility for you. So you’d never allowed yourself to indulge in what seemed like a fantasy. Some women aren’t meant to be a part of a family. Your father had told you once – during one of few times he’d attempted to comfort you after your mother didn’t call on your birthday – as if it excused his own neglect. 

“Yeah, and it hasn’t all been bad. I mean, I’ve had a couple good girlfriends over the years. They were sweet, fun. I enjoyed the time I spent with them, they just…never made it through the real litmus test.”

“Sarah?”

He nods. 

“It would be hard, I imagine. For her. Accepting someone new into her life.”

“Yeah.”

“You really care about her,” you say. “About how she feels. It’s nice.”

“I’m doin’ my best.”

The way he talks about Sarah makes you nauseated. It’s something pure, and you can’t help but feel bitterly nostalgic. 

“I wish my dad would have been like you.”

It slips out, and you immediately regret it. It’s been too long since you’ve gotten stoned with someone else, and you’ve forgotten your filter. And even though you’ve already divulged more to him about you than you normally would, this feels like too much all of the sudden. 

This isn’t something you can backpedal, and before you know it, Joel is leaning towards you. There’s concern written in his features, he wants to comfort, and you thank God for what happens next, or it all would’ve been too much.

His shift in weight causes Martini to jump off his lap and sprint to the door of the porch. He stares at you and then meows. 

Even though Joel isn’t touching you, you have to tear yourself away from the hold he’s got you in. ““I gotta let him in, or he’ll get annoyed.”

You move to open the door, and the cat slips inside.

“Is that a guitar in there?” Joel asks, catching a sliver of the gleaming body in the dim light.

“Yeah.” 

“You play?”  He questions, and you come to sit back on the couch. 

“Not anymore. It’s more of a decoration. How about you?” 

“A little.”

“A little?”

“A lot.” Joel smiles, looks at the ground like not sure why he’s telling you this. “I actually uh, used to want to be a singer.”

“What?” you ask. “You’re kidding.”

“No,” Joel shakes his head. 

“Joel, what?” you put a hand on his arm and lean forward, then look at the guitar.

“Why not?”

“I was…young when I had Sarah. And I had to do something that could actually help us get by.”

“Okay well, you have to play me something, then,” you rise to step inside and retrieve it off the wall. 

“No, no-”

“Come on, please?” you ask. “Don’t be a tease.”

Joel just stares as you bring the guitar out to him. 

“Although this might be out of tune…” you strum once, and wince at the tinny sound it makes. “Definitely it is.”

“Here,” Joel takes it from you. “I can do it.”

It takes him a moment, but he’s plucking the strings in a way that feels so instinctual, purposeful, you can already tell he knows what he’s doing. Once he’s finished, he strums a few chords, and everything is magically in tune. 

“Alright,” you prompt, when he hesitates. “What are you gonna play me?”

“You know any Neil Young?”

“Of course,” you answer. 

Joel nods once, looks down at the guitar, and starts playing. You’d recognize the opening chords to anywhere, but he somehow makes them sound even moodier, and bittersweet. 

Come a little bit closer, hear what I have to say…

He can sing. You’re taken aback. You’re not sure what you expected, but it’s definitely better than that. Deeper, raspier, and now you have new information about him that’s going to bounce around your brain when you’re bored during meetings at work, while you’re lying in bed at night, trying to sleep. 

Because I’m still in love with you, I want to see you dance again…

You shift your weight, sling your arm over the back of the couch, and rest your chin on your hand. Suddenly, you’re feeling a little tired. He’s all-but putting you to sleep and, somehow, that feels like the highest compliment you can give. It could be because you’re stoned, but you feel warm all over. You close your eyes, just listen, until he’s finished.

Even after he’s finished, you keep your eyes closed, settling. Until you feel something graze against the back of your hand. Joel’s. He’s matching your own pose, facing you, but reaching out…

“That was nice,” you say, earnestly. You’re good.”

Joel smiles bashfully, tugs your hand from beneath your chin and pinches your index finger between two of his own. Your nails are painted a glittery purple, and Joel studies them. Sarah had painted them earlier this week when she’d hung out after school, and had picked out the color. 

“So are you,” he shifts closer. 

He’s not quite close enough to kiss you himself. But it’s enough…he’s just giving you the chance to lean in, to close the gap. The proximity makes you dizzy, and you’re a little overwhelmed. It’s too much. It’d be too much. You can’t. You’re afraid of what he might do to you.

“We should be good, then,” Gazing at him from under your lashes, you pull back just enough. It’s not a rejection, and you can tell he doesn’t see it that way either. There’s a mutual understanding, you’re on the same page, but you aren’t quite sure what it is. The warmth of Joel’s hand leaves yours, and a part of you is filled with regret.

And then, like it never happened, the two of you spend another hour talking. He’s engaged, intuitive, thoughtful, funny. By the time he excuses himself, long after the sun has fully dipped below the horizon, you feel like he’s an old friend. An old friend you want…badly, but, you know him on a level you hadn’t before.

“Gotta be up tomorrow for a soccer game, otherwise I’d stick around,” Joel says as you’re guiding him to the front door.

“It’s alright,” you say. “You’re welcome to do this anytime.”

“You sure?” he tilts his head, leaning against the doorframe on his way out. “You might regret offerin’ that….”

“I won’t.”

--

part iv

taglist: @yaskna@venomous-ko@lomljigg@yeehawbitchs@ay0nha @eldahae @lol-im-done@melancholicmelanin@reggies-floatie @omniscientqueer@superflymaterial@mikkorantanev@zbeez-outlet @nadja-antipaxos @strawberri-blonde @jabbajambler @ponyboys-sunsets @kyuupidwrites @r4efromvenus @loveatfirstsight-atlastsight @korianderbandit @nicoleoeoeoe @hotgirlsshareaccounts @madisonred88 @crustyrustydusty @sflame15-blog @issybee0611 @darkemeralddiamond @grandmana @totallynotastanacc @ay0nha

#are you feeling the slow burn yet? #also #i fully think i am not just writing for hbo joel but also game joel #ive had a lot of thoughts about game joel lately #and i really need people to understand i try to represent both in the story #so imagine who you want ;) #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller #Joel Miller x f!reader #joel Miller imagine #Joel Miller series #joel miller the last of us #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #Pedro pascal #troy baker #TLOU HBO #TLOU fanfic #pre-outbreak! joel miller #texas sun

[gglitch1dd]

I've been having a Golden retriever izuku type of boyfriend brain rot 🥺🤧

Well... looks like I know what Im posting for the week. Sorry for not responding sooner. Life has been a whirlwind and I haven't been able to get to everything yet.

Warning: Some suggestive content and mentions of a breeding kink. NO SMUT OR NSFW.

Izuku Headcannons.

Now Izuku is such a sweetheart. It is one of the very well known things about him. He's kind and sweet, caring, great with kids... suspiciously like a dog. You didn't really notice his rather happy-go-lucky instincts until you really watched him.

For starters, Izuku loves bringing you food. His mother always used to bring him snacks or make him meals whenever he was sad, celebrating something or for any occasion really. Especially since it was just him and his mom most of the time, he learnt a lot of skills from her. Expect him to try and make you stuffed and happy.

... in both ways.

When you are happy, he's happy.

Izuku has been through a lot in his life and often than not those memories and dark moments don't just go away. They build and they effect him more than people think. Having someone else to focus on is sometimes better for him than focusing on the past. Which is why he loves making memories with you in the present. Seeing that smile on your face makes all his hard work and dedication so much worth it.

He has this huge smile and laugh that he does, a full one that makes even the grumpiest of people smile just slightly. A sparkling smile that never fails to make you smile. That's one of the things you love about him.

As I said earlier, he's been through a lot of shit. His eyes don't shine as bright as they used to, he doesn't smile as bbrightly and as often as he used to, and he is really good at hiding his true intentions. But all it takes is one nice long hug and that big exterior comes crumbling down to the same green haired boy who doubted himself because everyone else did too. He just needs so much love and comfort.

Talking about love and comfort, he'll give it to you endlessly. He will shower you with it. Every second day he has a fresh bouquet of roses for you and if not, a potted plant to grow instead. He takes you out on routinely dates as often as he can. He tries to always show you off. He doesn't like boasting about his accomplishment unless its to Kaachan's face, but he does love showing you off. I mean look at you!!

He loves just laying in the sun, on your lap, in your big garden with all the many rabbits you both have. When you met Izuku he had one rabbit. Then you bought a rabbit. Suddenly you lost count, which was one of the reasons why you had to move out of your apartment and get a space all to yourselves. All for the rabbits that swarmed your house like the plague.

Not because Izuku's breeding kink (He's a bunny too after all) was pressing him into thinking about getting more space for the family the two of you were gonna have.

Of course not.

Sometimes he would do the most simplest things and come show you because he just loved your attention and approval. He's really just a really big himbo who comes trudging to you from the kitchen, covered in flower and icing somehow ending up on his nose and sprinkles in his hair and in his large scarred hands is a green frosted cupcake. He would bestow it upon you like an offering and with your praise he would just beam and get you seven more.

Refers back to giving you tons of food.

He's a big bulky hero. He has to gain mass. So prepare yourself for a stocked fridge and constant food offerings.

But one you cook, he loves to sway in the kitchen with you. With his hero suit still on, white cape, lined in gold on his back, the pot brewing with who knows what you were cooking, he would pull you to his chest and slow dance with you. He wants to hold you and just enjoy your presence. Close his eyes and put his head on top of yours and want the world to just disappear.

Even though he was the number One hero and he was a very busy man because of it, he was your Izuku. He was your partner.

He would trade in One for All just to be able to kneel at your feet and praise you.

Cause that's just the type of person Midoriya Izuku is.

-Glitch1d

<Izuku Midoriya Masterlist>

#izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #deku x reader #izuku midoryia x you #izuku headcanons #izuku midoriya headcanons #deku headcanons #deku x y/n #izuku midoriya x you #izuku x you #mha izuku