#so many people being with him in his last moment no longer lonely

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐇

pairing: joel miller x webcam model!f!reader

genre: no outbreak AU, explicit smut, minors dni

word count: 9k

summary: Joel, only now starting to feel the impending sense of loneliness, decides to listen to Tommy and sign up on an online streaming service called Ravish.

warnings: joel is bi in this, sex toys, paddles, nipple clamps, pillow humping, self-spanking, female/male masturbation, piv, dirty talking, possesive!joel, cum eating, oral (female receiving), size kink

additional warning: alright so there is a short moment in this where reader smacks herself with a paddle that has a heart-shaped hole and gets a heart mark on her skin, I don't use any descriptions (like calling it red or pink etc) but I'm also not oblivious enough to think everyone would get a mark when getting spanked so I wanted to let you know in case that would put you off and wouldn't want to read and that's completely fine!

a/n: this definitely ended up being longer then it needed it to be bfgbfg I want to take the anon who requested this, and the rest of you who chimed in and voted on the polls. I hope you all enjoy 💜 oh, also a special thanks to @missredherring who gave the idea of a more in-depth reason as to why Joel likes honeysuckle flowers 👀

edit!!! this has more than one part now! click here for the masterlist

Joel was lonely. 

He hadn’t really thought about it until Sarah went off to college. 

Since the day she was born, he had one thing and one thing on his mind only—to give his little girl everything that he could and make her happy. The rest didn’t concern him. He didn’t really care about dating, he didn’t have the time to think about how lonely he was. He had been on a couple of dates, all of which were initiated by Sarah as she entered her teenage years, pleading with him to go out and have a life.

But now that she was gone, studying what she always wanted to study and being happy, the emptiness began to spread like a nasty infection. Every creak and groan of the house sounded like mockery to him. He started keeping the TV open all night, most of the time falling asleep, only to wake up in the middle of the night startled by sudden shouts from a randomly playing film or show. He hated it. This wasn’t how Joel imagined his golden years to be like. 

Maybe that’s why he decided to use the damn website. Ravish. He’d heard it from Tommy first —which was an uncomfortable conversation as one could imagine— and after that, he kept on hearing the name. 

Ravish 

Ravish 

Ravish 

It was like a shitty pop song, stuck between his teeth like toffee, impossible to get rid of. The name made a home in his brain, making its presence known whenever he was doing anything, no matter how mundane the task was. 

Ultimately, he gave in. What was the worst that could happen? 

Joel groans. He stares at the screen with his brows drawn tightly together, the text cursor blinking as it waits for him to type out a username. It’s been almost ten minutes. A brief thought of asking Tommy passes through his mind but he quickly pushes the thought away and leans over the keyboard. 

JMiller. That should be alright. He doesn’t need anything fancy, and J can be any name. It can be Jack, Jacob, Jonathan, John, Jeremy. There are a bunch. Besides, Miller is a pretty common last name, so if someone asks if he's JMiller, he can just deny it. Not that anyone would. Everyone would be too busy jerking off to pretty people. The last thought anyone would have would be of him. 

He quickly decides on his password and he’s immediately overwhelmed. There are too many things happening at once. His eyes widen, heart beating a bit too fast as he moves his mouse around. In the corner, there’s a little pop-up begging for his attention, and on the screen, there are multiple thumbnails of women and men. When he drags his mouse over a thumbnail it starts moving and he jumps. 

“Holy hell,” he mutters. “I’m in way over my head.” 

Joel gets up to pour himself a glass of whiskey. After that, he sits on the couch again and takes three deep breaths. The ice clicks together as he takes a swig, the amber liquid pleasantly burning as it goes down his throat. He looks around some more, looking for the profiles that pique his interest the most. 

While he scrolls, he sees one of a man with the username NicolasCageFreak, which he finds odd, but the man is pleasing to the eye with soft brown curls and natural honey highlights in between. The man has a small bullet vibrator pressed against his hard length, a cock ring at the base of it. Joel presses like and saves it for later. 

Joel has to remind himself a couple of times that the people who stream can’t actually see him. The more he scrolls the more relaxed he feels. There’s a woman with pretty green eyes he saves for later and another man with the username CammingBravo. He has his face hidden, Joel can see the red ribbon circling the back of his head as he bends over, granting the viewers a delicious sight of his ass that has a shiny buttplug. 

Liked! Added to your queue for later.

Until now Joel was fairly certain he was straight, sometimes he’d get the occasional same-sex dream but he figured everyone did at some point in their lives. He’s not so sure anymore. 

Some more scrolling and Joel starts getting restless. His cock strains against his sweatpants, aching for his rough touch. He takes a deep breath. The next live stream he sees that he likes he’ll click and that will be that. He’s starting to get worked up and, unlike NicolasCageFreak, he’s not a fan of edging himself. 

Then he sees her. A woman wearing a delicate chain vest with rhinestones that sparkle whenever she moves. His eyes flit to the username; Honeysuckle. He loves that flower, he has many memories of picking them with Tommy and sucking the sweet nectar hidden inside. He wonders if she tastes just as sweet. 

Not one to break a promise to himself, Joel clicks on the thumbnail. His eyes are instantly drawn to the live chat. There are so many people asking her to do something all at once—Jesus Christ. There are also a couple of them just chatting as if they were friends with her. He sees that everyone calls her Honey, which is fitting and a bit on the nose, he thinks. 

Noticing that he has the stream muted, Joel unmutes it, a pleasant tingle running down his spine as soon as her voice comes through the speakers of his laptop. 

“Wow, Eric47 I’m so happy you got that promotion!” 

“Don’t worry everyone, I’ve been thinking naughty thoughts all day and I’m ready to put on a show.” 

“Patience everyone.” 

“Thank you for buying a private chat, SarahBelieves! I can’t wait to be your good girl. . .” 

Joel is too focused on her tone, the smooth lilt of her voice, to hear the words she’s saying. The only thing his ears pick up on is the words private and chat. He wasn’t aware you could buy some extra time with the streamers. He loves that—

He shakes his head. Loves? Is he already planning on paying? At the thought, his cock twitches with interest, his reserve quickly crumbling to the floor. 

Joel decides to focus on the stream first. He can decide later on if he wants a private session or not. He cups himself through the soft fabric of his sweatpants, groaning as a spike of relief shoots through him. His eyes are glued to the screen. Honey’s hard nipples poke through the chains, her hands delicately kneading the tender mounds as she rises slightly by lifting herself onto her knees. She’s on a bed, wearing black panties and a matching garter. Joel’s mouth waters. The things he would do to her. . . 

His tongue pokes from between his lips, soft tendon moving with muscle memory as he thinks of eating her sweet cunt out. 

“Today my sweet bees,” she addresses them. “I was thinking of fucking myself with the biggest dildo I’ve got, how does that sound?” 

Joel’s eyes drift to the chat. Everyone seems to be cheering and asking her to show them how much she can take. There’s also a bunch of them calling her their favorite size queen. She chuckles. 

“I love all dicks, in any shape or form,” she purrs. “I’m just in the mood for a bit of pain.” 

Pain. That captures Joel’s attention. It makes him curious about all the other things she might be into. Perhaps she enjoys getting spanked, or she would enjoy the feeling of someone dragging their nails down her pretty back. He wants to know. He wants his imaginary scenarios to be as accurate as possible. 

He’s about to pull out his cock when he hears her voice again. 

“I do have one question though,” she says innocently. “Should I keep these pretty black panties on or off?” she grins into the camera, her eyes shining with mirth. “Let’s see those answers, my bees.” 

What do you want? Joel wants to ask. But this isn’t that kind of scenario so he thinks. The answers come flying in, there’s a fifty-fifty ratio. Joel’s mind blanks for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching. He wants her to keep them on. He likes the idea of her sliding them to the side and fucking herself deep, it feels more animalistic, more raw. He enjoys the idea of claiming someone, a curiosity he hasn’t yet fully explored yet. 

He types exactly that. His wording and grammar a bit too neat compared to the rest, but he gives Honey his answer. He wants her to keep it on. Maybe play with herself some more until the fabric is basically see-through, then she can fuck herself with the biggest cock she’s got. 

Joel watches intently as her eyes go over the live chat, there are so many answers coming in, he doubts she’ll see his comment. Still, he likes to believe she’ll see it. 

Honey’s eyes still briefly, hunger swirling in them as a canine sinks into her bottom lip. Her smile is bashful and shy, much different than the character she’s playing. Her eyes move back to the camera. Joel watches her breasts as her chest heaves, nipples grazing against the cool metal. 

“Well, well, JMiller. . . you certainly have a mouth on you,” she tuts and Joel’s eyes go wide. The satisfaction he feels leads to goosebumps coursing over his burning skin, being noticed. . . it’s surprisingly thrilling. “Are you new? I haven’t seen your handle before.” 

Joel swallows, his hands shaking as he types in a quick “yea”, Honey smiles, “Welcome to the hive then, baby. Keep the comments up,” she sighs, cupping both her tits. “I love a man who knows how to dirty talk.” 

A knot forms in his throat, his skin tight. He wasn’t expecting to be this affected. Now he understands why so many people enjoy live streams. They don’t see you, not actually, but still, it almost fills the void. Almost. He’s excited now, eager to type in more of his thoughts, eager to hear her answer him. Joel pulls out his cock, the waistband of his sweats hugging his thighs. He gives himself a firm tug, his spine straightening at the burn gathering in his lower stomach. It feels fucking good. 

“Since it’s J’s first time, and because he got me all hot and bothered, why not leave the panties on for this time?” Honey says. Joel observes the chat, there are a lot of congratulatory messages addressed to him, welcoming him. He doesn’t care. “You want to see these panties soaked, huh? You guys know how much I love making a mess.” 

Honey shimmies back, revealing more of her bare legs. She spreads them for the camera, the soft sound of delicate metal filling the air whenever she moves. Her fingers start to move lazily over her clothed clit, her head falls. Joel can see a subtle dark patch growing, his own hand starting to move slowly up and down his throbbing cock. A drop of precum dribbles down, easing the glide of his rough palm. She doesn’t look at the chat as frequently as she did before, too focused on her pleasure. Her glossy lips part and her eyes scrunch up. Her moans are loud and breathy, signs that she lives alone. 

Joel doesn’t think as he fists himself. Normally when watching porn he would think; he would think of a scenario, or what he would be doing differently, or the things he would want to do. This is different. He’s just watching, inhaling what’s being given to him. He sucks a sharp breath, his hand moving faster, the side of his fist smacking against his pelvis, dark curls damp under his palm. 

“Fuck,” Honey moans, eyes peering toward the screen. Her fingers move faster, her hips grinding to meet the graze of her palm. Joel groans, his eyes rolling back into his skull. “I think I’m going to come,” he breathes out. “Should I?” 

Joel doesn’t bother with typing until he hears his alias. 

“JMiller, since you’re new the decision is yours. Should I? P-Please answer,” she sounds desperate, her hips rutting the air as she presses her fingers hard against her clit. “O-Or do you want me to come on your cock?” 

Joel’s hips stutter, filling the tightness of his fist, “Fuckin’ hell.” 

With sticky fingers he types his answer, telling her that she should come with his cock deep inside her. Joel also adds that he wants to hear her, telling her to be loud. 

“O-Okay,” she whines, almost tearful as she reaches to grab her dildo off-screen. Joel can’t help the grin that makes its way across his face. He types again, telling her not to cry and that she’ll be coming soon enough. When he presses enter, he notices that his name is highlighted in dark orange. “You’re kind of an asshole,” she answers playfully. “I like that.” 

You're the buzzing heartbeat of Honeysuckle’s live stream! You are picked by the streamer as the treasured Drone Bee, your unwavering loyalty and vibrant energy create an electrifying atmosphere. Your presence is a key ingredient in making the honey even sweeter! 

A growl echoes in his throat when Honey shows the camera the dildo she had picked out. She wasn’t kidding when she said it was her biggest. It’s bigger than his own dick, and Joel is by no means a small man. He squeezes his cock and looks down, with a sudden need growing in his chest, he purses his lips and lets a long trail of saliva drip between his lips. He shudders when it reaches the head of his cock. He swipes his palm over it and continues to stroke himself, he wants to come. 

He wants them to come at the same time. 

Honey pushes the dildo in slowly, giving her viewers a clear sight of what’s happening. The toy stretches her wide, the ache of it pulling a gasp from her pretty lips. Joel breathes heavily, his nostrils flaring as his hand speeds up. 

Oh, how he would love to be the one fucking slowly into her, to hear those little gasps coming from her in person rather than his shitty speakers. He holds his breath. It’s buried fully inside of her now. She slowly looks down, her eyes looking directly into the camera. 

“I hope the view down there is good,” she says with a smirk. Joel doesn’t type anything. He focuses on the way his cock drools for her, aches to be buried in her cunt. Honey pulls out the toy until it’s only the tip that’s inside and then shoves it all in one smooth thrust. She cries out, her voice unfiltered. Joel’s stomach jumps at the sound, his pupils dilating like a wolf seeing its prey for the first time. 

She fucks herself hard, whimpering and crying out every time she fuck herself deep. Joel sees the way the plastic surface shines with her slick, he bets she tastes fucking sweet. 

He knows she’s close when her thighs begin to shake—he also knows thanks to the live chat going completely berserk, cheering her on and telling her to squirt. Joel, despite her own release close enough that he can taste it, rolls his eyes. 

“This one is for you JMiller,” she whimpers and Joel’s eyes go wide, his cock pulsing in his wet fist. “Hope you’re gonna fall down the edge with me, big guy.”  

Joel doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until she’s coming—she does so with a loud moan, her cunt fluttering around the large cock. Her head falls back completely, giving a clear view of her heaving chest, nipples fully erect under the see-through armor. 

His fall from grace is less pretty. He lets out a grunt, his hips fucking into his hand helplessly as come spurts from the slit, it’s almost painful. His heart beats aggressively while he tries hard to keep his focus on the screen, he doesn’t want to miss anything. Joel makes a mess of himself and his surroundings, the rug underneath his socked feet stained with his release. 

 Joel’s cock stops throbbing and with a pleased sigh, his shoulders drop. 

“That felt fuckin’ goood,” he groans, staring blankly at the ongoing live stream. Vaguely he notices Honey pulling the toy out, an equally fucked out expression on her face. The live chat is still going wild, he manages to lean over and type in one last sentence before going offline. 

Good girl. 

Joel is a weak weak man. 

Watching Honey quickly became a routine for him. She would start streaming around the same time he would come back from work and it was the perfect way to let off some steam. Tommy had asked if he checked out Ravish, to which Joel promptly said no. He didn’t need his baby brother making fun of him. 

Besides, some primal part of him didn’t want Tommy to know about Honey. It’s an odd thought, he realizes, since she’s enjoyed by many many people. Still, he didn’t have an explanation for what he was feeling. 

Once she had brought in a guest, and his body had immediately rejected it. He was ready to close the stream and head to the bathroom for a quick shower—however, he stopped when he noticed who the guest was; CammingBravo. Another streamer who had caught Joel’s attention when he was scrolling through the endless amount of entertainers for the first time. He watched Honey eat out his tight little asshole, then he watched Bravo fuck her senseless, making her soak the sheets. 

Joel never came that hard in his life before— It was exhilarating. He tipped handsomely that night and Honey mentioned how JMiller was one of her best viewers. Bravo’s smile, which was surprisingly kind, was infectious. 

He would be lying if he said his chest didn’t puff up a little. 

And, of course, he ended up buying a private chat with her after that. He just had to. It would just be this one time, he told himself, just one hour without the live chat. Just him and her. 

He turns on the laptop, already knowing that he’s kidding himself. There’s no way this will be a one-time thing. He’s too. . . smitten to leave it with one private chat. 

Maybe he can limit himself to once a month. That seems reasonable. 

The familiar website of Ravish loads and he clicks on the little gray person in the corner. He finds the section that’s titled “private chats” and clicks. Her username, Honeysuckle, pops up. On the screen, it says she’ll be with him shortly. 

A minute later the screen goes black and her face comes into view. She’s wearing a pink see-through bra with strawberries on it, Honey’s smile is bright as she looks into the camera.  

“Hi there J!” she greets him, his stomach warms at the sound of her voice. “This is your first time doing a live chat right?” 

He nods absent-mindedly while typing. Honey reads his answer and gives him an empathetic look. 

“Okay, so you don’t have to show your face—obviously—but if you want you can click the tiny microphone in the corner and talk to me directly. But if that’s also too much you can continue to type what you want me to do.” 

Joel’s eyebrows raise. Talk to her. . . with his actual voice? The thought both excites and sends cold fear down his spine. What would he even say? What if she doesn’t like the sound of his voice? 

“Are you there?” her voice comes through. “Is everything alright?” 

His fingers tense and rigid, Joel types in the questions that swirl in his head. Luckily the questions sound cheeky without any tone indicators so Honey smiles, her eyes narrowing while her lips curl seductively. 

“You can say anything you want, big boy,” she licks her lips. “And don’t worry about your voice, I’m yours for the hour. You might as well have the most shrill voice in the world, I would still tell you how sexy you sound.” 

You always call me that. Why?  . . .  Also, it doesn’t make me feel any better when you say you’ll tell me how good I sound regardless but I get what you mean. 

Joel aggressively chews the smooth inside of his cheek. Honey reads his messages, a grin stretching across her beautiful face, “Let’s just say streamer’s intuition,” she winks. “As for the other thing, I mean that you don’t need to worry. I doubt you have the most shrill voice in the world.”  she thinks over her words before adding. “Of course, it’s up to you. If you don’t want to use voice chat that’s completely fine.” 

 Joel sighs, his curser hovering over the tiny microphone. Closing his eyes, he clicks. 

“Can—Can you hear me?” 

Her eyes sparkle. 

“Crystal clear,” she answers with a wide smile. “You sound hot.” 

She sounds genuinely impressed. Joel can’t help but chuckle with the shake of his head. “Don’t sound so surprised but thanks, I think?” 

“Oh it’s definitely a compliment,” she says rolling her tongue. “Is there anything you want me to call you or should I just call you J?” 

There’s a brief moment where he thinks of just telling her his name but he bites his tongue at the very last moment. His heart does a little jump when he answers, “You can call me. . . sir.” 

“Understood, sir,” she repeats, her voice dripping with lust. A shudder crawls up his spine and he has to brace himself by holding his knees. “There is also a matter of safewords, I don’t do everything as I’m sure you don’t as well. Red is for stop, yellow is for slow down and green is for go. I think that’s the simplest one but if you want to use a different word I’m okay with that.” 

Joel blinks before answering, “Uh, yeah sounds good.” 

“Also the website doesn’t allow screen recordings—which I appreciate— so you can’t film these sessions in any way. I’m just letting you know because no one reads the terms of service and one client was very unhappy when he got a cease and desist.”

“I. . . okay, I wouldn’t even think of it.” 

She smiles and Joel’s heart feels a bit lighter, “Good,” with the rules established, a sense of relaxation washed over both of them. “So, do you have anything planned for me?” 

Joel clears his throat as a warning and her eyes glimmer with amusement. 

“Sorry,” she breathes heavily. “Did you have anything planned for me, sir?” 

“Would you laugh if I said no?” 

“Sir, I would never laugh at you,” she pouts, brows turning upward. Momentarily she looks off screen and when her eyes find the lens again she smiles giddily.  “Would you want me to show you the toys I think you’ll like?” 

Joel smiles at how genuinely excited she sounds, it’s hard to remind himself that this is all an act and that this is her job. He wants this to be real. He wants her to actually be excited to show him all the things she wants him to use. 

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he answers not missing the way her lips part with a soft gasp. “Show me what you got.” 

Honey shows him a handful of her toys. She has a lot. Dildos of various sizes, vibrators, nipple clamps, kegel balls, anal plugs, anal beads, floggers, collars, paddles. . . she might as well have an entire sex shop in her room. Joel takes mental notes of all of them to use during their next sessions.  

“Anything that you like, sir?” 

“The paddle,” he murmurs, feeling a bit flustered now that they’re actually getting into it. “The one with the heart-shaped hole and. . . the nipple clamps—” 

“The heart-shaped ones?” 

Joel swallows thickly, “Y—Yeah.” 

“No need to be shy, sir,” she grins. “It’s only you and me.” Honey picks out the toys Joel requested and raises an eyebrow while her gaze searches the pile. “So, no dildos? Or vibrators?” 

“I . . . had somethin’ else in mind, if that’s alright.” 

“Ohhhh, a mystery,” she purrs, winking into the camera. “I love it, sir.” 

Honey is slow to rid herself of her bra, sliding one arm out and then the other before moving both hands to the back to unclasp herself free of the dainty fabric. Her chest nears the camera, giving him a full view of her fully erect nipples. Joel’s breathing grows heavier by the second. He can feel his cock stiffen, pleasure stirring in his gut. He quickly kicks off his shorts, leaving himself bare on the couch as he watches her secure the clamps over each nipple. She lets out a tiny sigh of bliss, pulling her arms back and planting her palms firmly against the mattress, she shows her newly decorated nipples. 

Joel groans and wraps his hand around his cock. She does a little wiggle, the soft sound of bells making his cock twitch. 

“Are you touching yourself, sir?” 

“Yea.” 

“Good, I want to hear you get off,” she quickly adds. “Sir.” 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweet thing,” his eyes flutter closed as his fist moves down, and he opens them back up after giving himself a firm squeeze. “Turn around,” he grunts. “And don’t forget the paddle.” 

She does as she’s told, which in return gives Joel an immense sense of control and satisfaction. Precome drips down his length, he uses it to lube himself further, paying extra attention to be loud for her. Just like she wanted. 

His eyes follow the movement of the paddle, she drags it over the right cheek of her ass, caressing her skin. Her panties disappear between the crease of her gorgeous ass, leaving little to the imagination. “Is this okay, sir?” she asks, her voice thick. “Am I being a good girl?” 

Goosebumps rise over his skin. He’d called her, wrote to her, good girl after every stream—his smirk is laced with something dark when he realizes that she must’ve enjoyed it. 

“You’re being very good,” he answers. “Now hit yourself with it, I want to see a heart tattooed on that pretty flesh of yours.” 

“Southern man into branding, why am I not surprised?” she purrs and lifts her ass closer the camera. “You like seeing your pretty girl all marked up by her owner?” 

Fuck. 

“Don’t get full of yourself,” he orders, adding a bit more venomous tone to his voice. Honey stills, and briefly Joel worries he’d overstep. He stops breathing, not wanting to miss even the smallest hint of the safeword. 

But then she shudders, hitting herself lightly with the paddle. “How’s this, sir?” she says, her lilt indicating that she’s highly aware it isn’t enough. 

“Harder.” 

She spanks herself harder, her body jolting. Joel can hear the bells. He circles the head of his cock with the pad of his thumb, groaning as he makes himself more comfortable on the couch. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t think you’re listenin’,” he inhales slowly, enjoying the way her muscles tense. “I want to see those hearts on your skin. I thought this was supposed to be a show.” 

“Y-Yes, sir.” 

He loves how breathy her voice has gotten. Heat licks the base of his spine, his cock begging for release. 

She raises the paddle, smacking her plump meat much harder than before. Her asscheek ripples and Joel can finally see a faint trace of a shape. But it’s not clear enough to be a decent heart. “Again,” he orders. 

It takes about six to nine times before the heart takes shape on her skin. She’s whimpering, tremors moving up and down her body as she fights the urge to collapse. She loves seeing his mark there, she might’ve placed herself, but it was his doing and he revels in it. 

“Good,” he says, swallowing thickly. “Good fuckin’ girl. Lookin’ so pretty for me.” 

“S-Sir,” she mutters. Joel doesn’t know what to expect until her hand comes between her legs, sliding the thin line of her panties to the side. Her cunt is a sopping mess. Joel leans further towards the screen, his tongue licking the roof of his mouth. “Do you see how wet I am? P-Please, I want to come—Can I, sir?” 

“Fuck, ‘course you can,” his neck feels warm, burning almost. “Turn around, grab one of them pillows behind you.” 

“P-Pillow?” 

She sounds dazed, Joel almost feels bad for her, almost. “Yes sweetheart, pillow,” he coos. “I want you to grind that pretty cunt against it. . . honey.” 

“Shit, say that again.” 

“Honey,” he groans again, his hips thrusting into the air, burying himself deep into his fist. His voice drops further as he begins to chant, “Honey, honey, honey, honey—” 

She visibly clenches at that, her entire body tight with arousal. With shaky hands, she brings the pillow between her thighs, straddling the soft cushion. Her head falls back as she gives it an experimental roll of her hips, Joel’s breath catches in his throat. She looks delectable. Her hands come up to her chest and tugs at the clamps, she jumps, a wanton moan echoing from the back of her throat. 

“You’re so worked up aren’t you?” Joel continues as she grinds herself further down, leaving a wet, darkened patch behind. He’s preaching to the choir. His own arousal drooling over his knuckles. He closes his eyes, allowing his mouth to roam free. “Stuff three fingers in your mouth, want you to choke darlin’.” 

With a whine, she nods and pushes three fingers between her lips. Joel smirks, “It ain’t nearly enough but at least you can get a feelin’ of how much my cock would stretch those pretty lips, honey,” he rasps. She shudders, her hips moving wildly over the pillow. “You love havin’ your mouth full don’t you?” 

“Yesh, sur,” she moans around her own fingers, she move acutely, and with every jerk of her hips, Joel can see her throbbing clit. He’s teetering on the edge of his release, heat pools between his legs, his balls go tight. 

“I’m gonna come, honey,” he groans, his tight shaking. “Come with me, show me how wet your get that pillow.” 

With a hint of mischief in her eyes, she loudly gulps around her fingers, giving Joel a clear few of her cunt before rolling her hips down against the smooth surface. His eyes go wide and before his brain can register the coil snapping, he spills over his hand. Heavy strings of come dripping down his hard throbbing length. He makes a choked sound as he tries to breathe in and out at the same time. Honey pulls out her fingers from her mouth and grins, her hands drop in front of her and she bounces up and down, mimicking the way she would ride him. 

The action manages to squeeze one last rope of come from him, his lungs collapse, his body burning. She comes right after, her thighs squeezing around each side of the pillow before gushing around it. Joel can see the shine as she continues to grind her hips. 

“Show me,” he pants, his next words quickly shifting into a growl. “Show it to me.” 

Licking her lips, Honey pulls the pillow from between her legs and shows it to him. His cock twitches with interest. “Wanna taste you,” he says without thinking. 

“Sadly technology hasn’t improved that much yet,” she answers. “But I’ll tell you this much,” she leans in and flattens her tongue against the soaked fabric. Joel’s jaw tightens, his molars digging together painfully. She moans. “I taste sweet. Like honey.” 

You hate visiting home. 

You hate the heat, the crowd, staying at a home where you’re still treated like a child when you haven’t been one for a long long time. But you didn't really have a choice when your dad hurt his leg, which meant that you had to help around with the tiny bookshop your family owned. It was a miracle that it was still standing, but people did love their old, dusty bookshops. You had to admit, you enjoyed the aura of the place.

Your mom had asked you to bring over two coffees before coming in, she opened up shop early which you were grateful for. Now that you were home, you didn’t have the luxury to do as many private calls as you wanted to. You still streamed late at night, keeping silent, your audience didn’t mind. They thoroughly enjoyed the whispering and the “we can’t be caught” act. You only indulged in one private session, a session that you couldn’t bare letting go of. 

JMiller. 

You thought a lot about what his real name might be. Jacob, Jeff, Jeremy. . . none of them felt right. It was disappointing because you wanted to scream his name when you had your hand between your legs. But since you couldn’t decide on a name, you whimpered a string of sirs over and over again. 

You eagerly counted down the hours until you could finally spend time with him. This was a funny thought on its own because you boasted about how professional you were. You kept things clear, not allowing for any miscommunication or—potentially—feelings. But there was just something about him that got your entire body yearning to hear his southern drawl. Maybe it was the nostalgia of it all. You did grow up in Austin after all. But still. It was odd how excited you got before going online. 

You briefly mentioned you were going back home, you didn’t tell him where, obviously, but you did tell him that there could be scheduling issues. He understood. 

Of course he did, he was perfect. 

Pulling yourself away from your thoughts, you impatiently drum your foot against the clean marble floors. This line is insane. You let out a groan, sending your mother a quick text that it might take you a while. A second later your phone buzzes with a thumbs-up emoji from her. You sigh again as you shove the phone down your back pocket, you hate waiting, it gets you anxious and even though you don’t have a boss that will yell at you, you don’t enjoy being late. 

Then, as if he popped out of the concrete like a weed, a man pushes himself between you and the other person that was waiting in line in front of you. 

Your heart races, your eyebrows knitting together, no way in hell are you going to allow someone to cut in line. 

“Hey,” you call out. The man ignores you and you tap his shoulder, he turns sharply, his eyes glaring daggers. “You can’t cut in line,” you say defensively. “You need to move to the back of the line.” 

“Look lady I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about I was always here.” 

“Ummmm, no you weren’t,” your chest heaves, heat rising to your cheeks. You don’t like confrontation—you’d do it, but you’d hate it. Your legs are already shaking slightly. “I’ve been staring at the pink paint stain on that guy’s shoulder for about half an hour so I know what I’m talking about.” 

He rolls his eyes, an ugly snarl taking shape, “Just leave it. I ain’t gonna budge. I have places to be.” 

“And the rest of us don’t?” you snort, eyebrows raised. He shrugs, makes a face, and turns his back to you once again. It takes you everything not to stomp your foot like an angry bull. 

You’ve had enough. You’re tired of the assholes of the word, you don’t care if you’re not allowed into the coffee shop ever again. Puffing up your chest, you open your mouth wide, ready to give this rude stranger a piece of your unfiltered mind. 

“You know what—” 

“Is that any way to treat a lady, moonshine?”  

You turn towards the source of the voice. It’s a man you’ve never seen before. He’s rugged looking, the salt and pepper in his beard endearing. He has a deep crease between his brows, his brown eyes dark as he stares down at the rude stranger. You take in the sight of his broad shoulders, thick neck—your heart does a little flip. You don’t know why but you’re drawn to the man, he has a nice voice. 

The man, however, isn’t as pleased as you. 

“What’s it to you? She your girlfriend?” 

You’re not but you kinda wish you were. 

“Get in the back of the line, I saw you cut in front of her.” 

The tension in the air is thick enough that you can cut it with a knife. You hold your breath, your lungs starting to burn as electricity crackles between the two men. Finally the asshole caves and sighs, going to the back of the line. You let out the breath you’ve been holding, your shoulders sagging with relief right after. 

“Thank you,” you say, your gaze finding the kind strangers. “I was right about to blow my lid before you stepped in.” 

He doesn’t answer and just continues to stare at you. Worry builds in your spine. Why isn’t he saying anything? His softened gaze flits across your face, taking in every detail before looking away. He pushes his hands down his pockets, looking almost boyish with the way he drops his gaze to the floor. 

“Don’t mention it,” he mutters. 

You raise an eyebrow. His voice still sounds familiar. Your curiosity getting the better of you, you shove the thoughts of familiarity into the back of your head and grace him with a wide smile. He blushes profusely, eyes slightly going wide, he takes a sharp inhale. 

“How about I pay for your coffee. . . or whatever you’re buying?” you ask. 

“You don’t have—” 

“I insist!” you chirp, glad that the line is finally moving. You extend your hand with enthusiasm, which he accepts a bit tentatively. Your smile never wavering, you tell him your name and an emotion akin to guilt washes over his eyes. He releases your hand, lips a tight, frigid line. “Is something wrong?” you ask. “You don’t like the name?” 

“N–No, it ain’t that,” he shifts from one leg to the other. You nearly look down, curious to see how tightly his jeans hug his muscular thighs. “I’m. . . Joel.” 

The world around you falls into a complete silence. Joel. Joel. Something electric and searing shoots up your spine, your lashes fluttering. Your heart starts beating a mile a minute but you’re not sure why. The only thing you do know is that this is a significant moment. An important moment. 

Your rake your brain for answers. 

Why? 

Why is it important? What piece are you missing to complete the puzzle? 

His lips break into a soft smile, he gestures towards the counter with his head. “We’re up.” 

“O-Oh, yeah,” you swallow, barely able to pull your gaze away from him. “Sorry.” 

You tell the kind barista your order and she writes it down on both your cups happily. The two of you move away from the line to wait for your drinks; a black coffee for your mom, a caramel macchiato for you, and an iced quad espresso for Joel. You raise an eyebrow. 

“I have a long day comin’,” he says with a small smile. “And I didn’t do much sleepin’ last night.” 

Your mind immediately flashes you memories of last night. Legs spread wide with two dildos stretching you, JMiller really enjoys it when you test your limits. Your pulse pounding in your skull, you look down. “Don’t I know it.” 

“You had a late night too?” there’s a teasing lilt to his tone. Your stomach churns and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip. It looks like he’s about to say something else but the barista calls your name and both of you head towards the counter. He takes his death juice with a grateful smile, his demeanor more relaxed compared to when you introduced yourself.

“Thank you, honey. I appreciate it.” 

Oh shit. 

Shit shit shit shit. 

It is him. 

JMiller—J stands for Joel. 

Fuck. 

“You. . .” you begin, panic raising in your voice. “You’re. . .” 

He nods, “I think we both know why I didn’t sleep much last night,” he extends his hand again. “Huge fan by the way. You’re great and this is awkward as hell.” 

“It is,” you whisper. Still, you take his hand. “It is.” 

“You’ve never had someone come up to you on the street before?” he asks, curious. “I would assume you get recognized a lot.” 

“Not as much as you would think,” a cruel, humorless burst of laughter drops from your lips. “People don’t exactly want their partners to know they’re watching me. But if they’re alone yeah. . . sometimes they’ll say hi.” 

Or they’ll ask inappropriate questions and be weird about it but he doesn’t have to know that. 

Now that he’s mentioned you bumping into others, you’re not sure why it felt like the end of the world before. You feel embarrassed, flustered even, two emotions that a client shouldn’t be making you feel. 

“Well,” he breaks the silence, moving his jaw as he opens the door for you. “Thanks for the coffee.” 

“Technically you bought it.” 

“Right. . .” 

The two of you are out in the street now, staring at each other, contemplating what to say. He scratches the back of his head, then his fingers move to rub at his jaw. Arousal gathers between your thighs, it’s not your fault, now that you know that it’s him, your body acts accordingly. 

“Are we still on for tomorrow?” 

You still for a moment before answering, “Yeah.” 

He turns and leaves, you do the same, only in the opposite direction. 

After learning your name, Joel completely abandoned his rule of you calling him 'sir', making you moan his actual name as frequently as he could. His name stuck to your tongue. It might as well have been tattooed under your bottom lip. He was possessive in the way he asked, in some instances even begging for you to say it—and you fucking loved it. You loved this sick claim he had towards you now that you two had officially met. You loved how much more eager he was to see you make a sticky mess between your thighs. You love how cock dumb he made you feel without actually being there to fuck you himself. 

He even started doing his version of online aftercare. Mostly he would just talk, tell you about every-day things as you came down from your high. Or he would murmur a song. You never asked if he was a musician, he had a nice voice. 

It’s the beginning of the session and you’re getting ready. He says he enjoys watching the preparation you do for him so you decided to start streaming five minutes earlier, allowing him to watch. You really need him today. You had a rough day with an order mix-up, and your mom isn’t the best at dealing with mishaps. He clears his throat, which draws your attention to him. 

“Is something wrong?” you ask. 

“No no, everythin’ is fine, sweetheart. I just. . .” he sighs. “I want to ask somethin’.” 

“Ask away.” 

“Can we—Would you want to—” he groans in frustration and you start grinning. His frustrated pout is adorable. All you want to do is smooth the crease between his brows with your thumb and give him a kiss. 

“Joel Miller,” you tease, not missing the way his breath catches in your throat. “Are you asking me out on a date?” 

Oh god, you hope your intuition is right. If it isn’t this call is about to get really awkward. 

He flushes, eyes dropping as he nods. 

“Is that okay?” 

This is highly unprofessional, “More than okay. I’d love to go on a date with you.” 

His grin is infectious. 

“Good,” he lets out a breath then settles back against the couch. “Now show me those pretty tits, honey.” 

You can’t believe you’re actually in JMiller’s, aka Joel’s, home. 

The date had gone better than you expected. He was kind, charming, and chivalrous which were all qualities you haven’t seen for a while. Ever since you started streaming you hadn’t been on many dates and frankly, after a while, you purposefully avoided them. It just felt like asking for drama that you had no intention of dealing with. But Joel wasn’t like that. He could be blunt, a bit grumpy, yet also kind. He had taken you to one of his favorite pubs. Beers accompanied by the best jalapeno poppers you ever had equated to one of the finest dates you’ve ever had. 

He was a contractor, had a daughter in college, and a younger brother. His mother and father had passed a long time ago and ever since Sarah left, he’d been feeling lonely. He’d admitted shyly that that was the reason why he signed up on Ravish. He wanted company. 

You found it incredibly charming. 

As soon as Joel closes the door behind you two, you fall into each other’s arms. He kisses you with fervor, tongue slipping between your lips as he breathes you in at the same time. You feel him everywhere. Large hands squeezing your hips, waist, breasts—it’s intoxicating. You moan wantonly into his mouth, your lids falling when he sucks your tongue into his mouth. He tastes like beer and you’re pretty sure you do too. 

Joel pushes you up against the wall, knocking the air from your lungs while you continue to chase his lips with an insatiable need. You can’t bear to be separated from him, not even for a second. He drags his lips down your neck, mouthing at your jugular, sharp teeth nipping the sensitive flesh. Your hips jerk to meet his and with a growl, he pins you back to the wall. 

“Don’t,” he grunts. “I’ve been waitin’ so long for this honey, so fuckin’ long.” 

Your lips curl, a challenge lingering in your eyes, “Show me then, big boy. Show me how bad you want to fuck your slut.” 

“Fuck,” he hisses, gripping your chin harshly and pulling you in for another kiss. Your teeth clink together, he pulls back just as quick, the muscle in his jaw twitches. “Fuck,” he breathes out again. “You have quite the mouth on you, darlin’.” 

You have no recollection of how the two of you clamored upstairs, stripping one another in a lustful haze. The time you realize you’re naked is when you feel the cool air of the room caressing your burning skin, he leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses down between your breasts, fingers eagerly working your nipples as he forces you to walk back until your back of your knees hit the bed and you fall. 

Not wanting to give in so easily, you wrap your fingers around his heavy cock. It juts angrily between his legs, answering your touch by drooling all over your palm, slickening your movements. You jerk him until he’s fully hard, his breathing heavy as he rolls his hips to meet the tightness of your fist. He sinks his teeth into your neck, the pain that blossoms coaxes a moan from you, your own wetness growing between your legs. 

“I knew you’d be fucking big,” you whisper, tongue toying with his earlobe. “So huge—makes me wonder if I can take it. . .” 

“I’ve seen you take bigger,” he groans, hips stuttering. A whimper drops from your lips, you want him, you want to feel him inside, want to feel his come dripping out later. You feel thick fingers spreading your soaked folds, he drags down a middle finger between them, licking himself into your mouth as he draws circles around your aching clit. “So wet for me,” he rasps. “Gonna make a mess in you, honey.” 

You gasp, “P-Please.” 

He lines himself against your entrance, teasing you, stretching you subtly with the bulbous head of his cock. Your head falls back and your back arches into him. He draws a hard nipple between his lips, closing them as he sucks. Heat rushes all over your body, arousal thick on your tongue. You clutch the sheets. He smiles as he pushes in, filling you inch by inch with a lax jaw and a dazed gaze. 

He stops and waits for you to adjust to him. Joel’s forehead drops against yours, dampness growing between the skin. You feel his breath fanning your face, so warm. There’s a hint of pain, the type that makes you flutter around him. He feels it too. The way you tighten against him, your body begging for more. He obliges. Pushing further and further until his hips are flushed against yours. His jaw is clenched tight, his breathing heavy. 

“Fuck you feel so good,” he presses fleeting kisses all over your face. It’s ticklish and if all your senses wasn’t narrowed in between your legs, you would’ve giggled. 

Your body jerks as he pulls back, the pleasure you feel is instant and overwhelming. You’ve missed the feeling of actual flesh inside of you. Joel snaps his hips forward, locking your breath in your throat, with a moment of desperation you wrap your arms around him and pull him closer. He fucks you in earnest. Every thrust desperate. Every thrust needy. He seems lost in you, whimpers, groans and grunts trembling in his throat and chest. You spread your legs wider, wanting more of him, wanting your cunt to take the shape of his cock. 

“Harder—” you cry out. “Take it—Take what you want—” 

Your arms fall limp, his body moving up and towering over yours. Joel grips your thighs tight before lifting them, he jackhammers into you, tugging and pulling at you like a brand new fucktoy. He splits you in half. The force of his movements making you scream. You don’t miss the way he grins wildly, dangerously. Something dark and haunting washing over his face. 

Your eyes grow wide, your heart beating in your throat, making it hard to swallow. It happens all at once, you clench around him, arousal pouring between your legs in a way it never had before. The look, the cock, the man behind it all—everything combined pushing your mind into the deep stages of want and need. Your eyes roll back, your hands coming up to pinch your tight, tingling nipples. You sob his name, your voice hoarse as you beg him for more and more and more—

“W-Wait, darlin’ if you squeeze me like that I’ll—!” 

A series of curses drops wildly and unintelligently from his lips. You feel him. The heat of his seed filling you to the brim, his cock throbs and twitches, spurting into you again and again. Your lips break into a satisfied smile. Instinctively, Joel pushes deeper, shoving your combined slick even deeper. 

“Shit,” he says catching his breath. “I-I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I usually last. . . longer than that. I—” 

You shush him and cup his cheek. You’re so pliant right now, floating happily in the air. You let out a sigh before willing your lips to move. Has talking always been this taxing? 

“It’s okay Joel,” you slur your words, smiling lazily. “I take it as a compliment, that felt fucking good.” 

“Yeah?” he sounds so innocent and hopeful that you can’t suppress your giggle. His eyes twinkle under the dimmed light. “Well, I’m glad you felt good, sweetheart but I’m not done yet.” 

Your breath hitches when he pulls out, your brows furrow as a chill settles between your legs. You wanted him to stay inside longer. But you’re pleasantly surprised when he slides down your body, kissing every patch of skin before settling between your legs. 

“Let’s see if you’re as sweet as you’ve been tellin’ me.” 

He kisses your cunt, lips moving in tandem with your wet folds. He drags his tongue up between them, curling it as he takes himself into his mouth, tasting both of you at one. You go limp at the pressure of his tongue, your walls fluttering and squeezing for more. With a groan, he shoves his fingers, the wet sound makes your toes curl into the mattress. It’s like torture, a very pleasurable torture. You gasp when he pulls you flush against his face, the bridge of his nose bumping against your clit as he licks you clean. 

Your build up is spontaneous. You feel it coming, the taste of your orgasm at the tip of your tongue. Joel curls his fingers, sucking your clit between his lips and gently nipping at it. You hips chases his mouth, his mustache chafing the tender skin. Your hands come to each side of his head, threading your trembling fingers through the soft locks, his fingers brush against an especially sensitive spot and you tug at his hair. His throat shakes with a groan. His eyes closing. 

“Do it again,” he mutters. And you do. He starts moaning into your cunt, his hips, despite just spilling inside of you, rutting against the bed. Your nails bite into his scalp and he flicks his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

The tension coiling in you finally snaps, your entire body locking up as you gush into his mouth. He gulps you down loudly, fingers still moving deep inside you. Your throat is dry as ou shout his name, hips stuttering helplessly, he pins you down with both hands, moving his head up and down as the fat strokes of his tongue becomes more wild. 

When he’s finally done feasting, he pulls away with a wet mouth. 

“Wow,” you murmur, curling into him when he lays beside you. “That was. . . wow.” 

“You really had low expectations, huh?” 

“Not low,” you grin. “But not that high either.” 

“Well,” he says, guiding you so you’ll lay on his chest. “I’m glad to prove you wrong.” 

You smile, heart fluttering. 

“Me too.” 

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #tlou fanfiction #hbo the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters

[blue-jisungs]

heyy, how are you doing? hope life's treating you well during the last days of the year 🤚😔

I wanted to request smth but I'm not sure if I should send it here bc I didn't see a link? anyways. I was wondering how would wonwoo or scoups deal with a s/o that hasn't dated nor kissed before and therefore is scared of the commitment and all the pressure that comes with catching feelings? maybe I have a friend who's insecure about that, iykwim

thank you for taking the time<3

firsts (and hopefully, not lasts)

author’s note. hi dear anonnie!! i’m doing good, thank u for asking <3 i hope life was treating you tenderly too!! :D

++ thank u mother @l3visbby for proofreading<33

summary. having a conversation about your worries with wonwoo, who’s understanding and caring

also this turned so self indulgent like 😭😭😭 i relate to all the bitchless single ppl out there fr fr … so worry not, i getchu…. i mean, your friend >_<

word count. ~1,5k

sometimes you wondered how did that happen. that meaning you and wonwoo dating. him, a talented and handsome idol with lots of charisma, good traits and fans. you, being a simple human with an ordinary life.

it was even quite… boring. nothing really happened in your life. highschool, then college. working and studying, an endless cycle. you were never the one to party – or get invited to parties. sure, you got along with your classmates and co-workers (or even their friends!) but you couldn’t help but feel envious when in their early 20s they already had dated, partied and had the fun of their lives.

you met wonwoo while on a vacation on jeju. for something that felt like ages, you decided to take a trip. alone. just with yourself.

while having a lonely stroll around the neighborhood, you stopped to pet a cat. it had a collar, it certainly wasn’t stray - and surely, loved belly rubs. so while you were petting the feline, wonwoo noticed you. heart warming upon seeing the simplicity and beauty of human nature, he stared for a while longer and went back to the place he stayed at.

he passed you a couple of times – on a beach, when you were secretly petting the cat, when you were riding a rented bicycle with wind blowing your hair.

you were cute and wonwoo decided that ‘screw it’ and approached you once you were reading a book under a byeonggeul tree. and the rest was history.

you’ve been dating for almost three months. yet… you haven’t kissed. wonwoo understood that, how could he not? he respected your boundaries and told you to take your time. he didn’t know the reason – that you haven’t kissed anyone, that he was the first guy you held hands with, that he was your first everything. and in moments like these, when the realization hit you like a wave crushing on rocks by the shore, you were terrified. how come you’re 27 and still a loser? bitchless loser, as many of the younger people would say. sure, wonu never made fun of you (simply because you never talked about it or mentioned it to him) but your friends, that knew you for a long time now… you felt it in your bones that they’re making fun of you.

“hey, is everything okay?” your boyfriend’s (gosh, that sounds so beautifully strange. you never thought the possibility of having a boyfriend is something that was actually possible for you) tender voice reached your ears. tearing your dozed-off eyes away from a random spot in the wall, you nodded with a shy smile.

wonwoo sat next to you, placing his warm hand over yours.

“come on, i can see something is bothering you. you’ve zoned out” he snickered and you just send him a smile “you do that a lot lately, you know? is something bothering you?”

‘you. you are the reason of my bothers’ you thought, sighing.

“well…” you started and already knew it was a mistake. wonwoo cocked an eyebrow.

“so there is something” he hummed, satisfied “you know i won’t judge, hm?”

he knew exactly what you were thinking. one would think it’s kind of creepy. actually, you found it adorable. he knew you so well, almost as if you knew each other since childhood.

“i know but… it’s silly” you mumbled and your eyes met his warm, ebony irises. wonwoo fixed his glasses with a swift flick and shook his head. you opened your mouth to say something.

communication is key, they say. you should probably tell him what’s on your mind, right?

you just sighed.

“how do you… bear with me? we… we haven’t kissed and–”

“i hate to interrupt but i’ve told you this. i don’t mind. you being comfortable it’s the most important thing to me and i would hate to lose your trust” he said, a bit sternly but you knew it was pure care speaking through him.

“i know but… i haven’t kissed, wonwoo. like, never. and actually, i’m scared. because this is my first relationship. my parents and friends have this pressure on me… and it’s so draining. ‘you didn’t even kiss yet?’, ‘when are you going to introduce him to us?’, ‘does he take you on dates?’, ‘do you live together?’, ‘are you really committed?’... ‘are you sure you like him?’... and how… how would i know? i’m scared” you burst out suddenly, words leaving your lips like water erupting from a waterfall. you see his eyes widen in shock, lips parting.

“scared of what?” wonwoo asked, blinking slowly “me…?”

“no. yes. i mean, no!” you laugh and see a wave of relief wash over him. then he frowns, so you explain “i’m scared of what you’ll think or… or where we will be in the future. i’m scared to do some things with you but also… kind of excited? i’m scared of committing but i’m also frightened of not committing! like, with all respect, how will i know i love you? do you just wake up one day and know it’s love? i’m scared i’ll get hurt or even worse, hurt you. i don’t know what to do…” your voice died in your throat.

great, you overshared. now he’ll think you’re actually insane.

you could see wonwoo was baffled. you sat in silence for five minutes, his thumb drawing circles on your hand in a soothing manner.

“that’s… a lot to process” nonu let out a small laugh and you smiled.

“i know, sorry. it’s just been on my mind lately” you mumbled. wonwoo brings his leg to the couch, then puts his other hand and grabs both of yours. looking you in the eye with seriousness, you tense a bit. uh oh.

“to be honest, baby…” your boyfriend starts (and the nickname still makes your stomach swirl with butterflies - even though you always thought it would make you cringe. surprisingly, coming from wonwoo’s lips, it doesn't) “it’s hard to answer all of these. i really like you and i truly hope our relationship will last. but human heart is really unpredictable. we don’t know what the future will bring and we can only do our best and hope, it’ll only be positive things”

you nod. you’d like that – wonwoo was a person you could never get tired of.

“i didn’t know i’m your first boyfriend. and… i feel very touched that you trust me enough to share it with me and be with me. if you’re scared that kissing or something will overwhelm you… i’ll do my best to guide you into everything you want. and if you don’t, i’ll understand that” he said and you suddenly feel like crying. your friends always say that men are shit. wonwoo must be a real angel, then.

“i can’t really tell you how you’ll know you love me. everyone realizes in their own time, their own way. i don’t think… i don’t think i’ve ever experienced romantic love, to be honest” the words left his lips and you stared at him in shock “we’re not so different, dear”

you melted, feeling your lower lip start to quiver.

“and… thank you for sharing your worries with me. i’m really proud, you know? you were scared of others’ opinion, what i will think… of your own emotions. and it's normal. it’s understandable, especially in your first relationship. but i’m here for you, okay?” he cooed, his lips forming into a gentle smile.

“you’re not… angry?” you asked quietly. his face morphed into confusion.

“no, why would i be?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.

“well, it kind of sounded like i wanted to break up. which, i don’t of course. but um… you know… a girl tells you she’s scared… i dunno…” you rambled and blew air into your cheeks.

“i’m not, of course i’m not. in fact, i’m happy. i know now how you feel, i know what’s been troubling you. and i just want you to know that… with time, it’ll become natural for you. i mean, i’d hope so” he grinned “also, for the record, i won’t judge your kisses. of course i wouldn’t but… if that makes you more comfortable, then–”

“but be honest, do you even want to kiss me?” you huffed. he giggled, shaking his head.

“duh! what kind of a boyfriend would i be if i didn’t want to kiss my gorgeous partner?” wonwoo asked a - obviously rhetorical - question, squeezing your hand gently. “i do. i really do. but as i said…”

you loosened your hand from his tender hold and smacked his arm jokingly. he looked at you disoriented but with an amused smile.

“take my time… blah, blah, blah. okay. i will, you know it” you said and sent him a serious look “but promise me… if i ever do something wrong, you tell me. right away. like… ‘y/n you’re being a bad partner!’”

wonwoo scoffed and seeing your serious look, he nodded.

“i will. i swear on my love for chan” he said and placed his hand on his heart with a proud smirk.

“awww- wait, what?” you laughed and wonwoo followed along, the comforting sound of your laughters merging together in a beautiful melody.

and you have a strange feeling in your heart. you’re not sure what is it but you’re certain that it’s its way of saying ‘you’re safe with him’.

masterlist <3

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @dazzlingligth

#wonwoo seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen comfort #seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #seventeen x y/n #seventeen angst #seventeen drabble #seventeen soft hours #wonwoo drabble #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo svt #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #wonwoo imagines #svt wonwoo #wonwoo #svt reactions #svt wonu #blue jisungs's requests

[ryker-writes]

Your angst fic had made me go into angst creative mood. Twisted wonderland Character/s of your choosing of younger sibling that have chronic illness but hide it from their family. Often when to the toilet to cough out blood to avoid suspicious. Even went as far as asking the dr to keep it a secret because they don't want to burden their family and wanted them to enjoy their life because they already suffer so much and the distance actually help. Until sibling collapse and went into coma and the Dr had to break the news that they don't have much time left.

If it not to much- I'm feeling very angsty-

Oh my the heavy angst. This is so sad tho but I love it. These actually ended up longer than I thought they would be. I just had too many thoughts and it hurt my soul to write this because it's so sad but I enjoyed it

sorry not sorry if anyone cries <3

Characters: Leona, Idia, and Malleus

warnings: Mentions of blood, implied reader death, angst, no happy ending

Request rules and Masterlists

Leona:

you knew you should tell Leona about your condition

he was your older brother and he should know

but Leona was pretty protective and would drive himself mad demanding that somebody find something to help you

and he would spend all of his time worrying and fussing over you

so you didn't tell him

you wanted him to enjoy things and be happy

he's already struggled so much growing up and you don't want to burden him more

also you wanted to peacefully enjoy the time you had with everyone without a lingering sadness in the air

so you pleaded with the doctor to keep it a secret

and thankfully they did

all you had to do was hide the blood that you may cough out

so your bathroom trips became more frequent

Leona even joked that you should see the doctor about how much you have to go to the bathroom

but he didn't know the truth, and he was happy

that's all you wanted

until one day you woke up feeling weaker

you tried to fight it and carry on as you normally would

but for some reason you just couldn't

it was when you were walking in botanical garden towards Leona

black spots started to cloud your vision and you felt like you lost control of your body

the last thing you heard was Leona shouting

Leona was very worried when he saw you collapse

and you weren't responding to him either

he rushed you to the infirmary as quickly as he could and demanded that the doctor sees you immediately

when the doctor tells him that you're in a coma and don't have much time left, he's angry

how could you not tell him about your illness

he would've tried to help you if you just told him

Leona will spend most of his time by your side, waiting for you to wake up

he's not going to waste a moment somewhere else

he doesn't know what to do with himself

he's so angry with himself for not knowing sooner and not being able to do anything

you have to wake up, you just have to

Idia:

the Shroud family was a strange one

most of the family were shut-in's that were pretty isolated and lonely

your big brother Idia was a prime example of this

he spent most of his time behind the screens and barely interacted with other people

and he didn't really have friends either

both you and Ortho wanted him to be happy

and that's why you didn't tell him about your illness

if he knew he would isolate himself further and bury himself in trying to help

he would sacrifice his own health for the sake of you

and you couldn't let that happen

though you did hope that somehow he would be able to be happy and have a friend before your illness took over

it was difficult to keep it hidden

Ortho regularly does scans on you and Idia's health so he knows if something is wrong

so he knew, but you had to convince him not to tell Idia

it was a long process and filled with tears but he gave in eventually

and so when you would spend time with Idia, Ortho would be a little sad but hide it well

when you made and excuse of going to the bathroom Ortho knew what was happening and would make up some excuse to Idia about you drinking a lot of water or something

but then one day you were walking through the school halls with Ortho and Idia's tablet

it hit you so suddenly that you didn't even have time to react

as you coughed you could feel the blood sputter out and onto your chin

this coughing fit seemed worse than the rest and you couldn't stop

it hurt and even brought you down to the ground, and after a bit you passed out

Ortho was quick to help stabilize your condition and take you to the infirmary

all that came from the tablet was panicked noises and frantic questions

once the doctor checked up on your condition, he gave them the bad news

you had been sick for a long time and it's led you to a coma

with the way your condition was progressing, you didn't have much time left

Idia was so confused

how could both he and Ortho not notice especially when Ortho did health scans

but Ortho didn't answer and Idia could just tell that Ortho already knew

Night Raven College was buzzing with gossip that day

some were saying they saw Idia Shroud himself quickly walking through the halls and others denied that it couldn't be true

the notorious shut-in would never even leave his room or go outside Ignihyde

but the rumors were true

Idia Shroud had left his room and walked through the halls to the infirmary

and he stayed there all day constantly checking up on every little change in your condition

and when he wasn't checking on your condition he would sit there quietly and think

why did this have to happen?

why did it have to be you?

it wasn't fair

Idia was making the stressful trek through the halls every day so he could stay by your side in case you woke up

as he sat there he would play some of his video games and tell you all about it like he normally would, but this time you weren't able to respond

Malleus:

Malleus didn't have a lot of people he treasured in his life

those in Diasomnia were like his family, but you were actually his family so he treasured you dearly

he was always looking out for you and doing everything he could to make sure you were happy, and you wanted the same for him

so when the doctor had informed you of your illness and what would happen, you didn't want to tell him

Malleus would be crushed at the news

He had always been someone who was lonely

and you were like the one person he had that wasn't required to be around him

if he were to learn that you would soon be taken away from him, he wouldn't be able to cope

and you wanted to see him happy as long as you would be here

you couldn't tell him and instead kept it hidden from everyone

Malleus never questioned it much when you ran off to the bathroom

he would just ask if you were alright and once you said you were, he wouldn't ask past that

and so many days and even weeks past as you spent time with Malleus

he seemed happy and you were happy to see him like that

but it was when you were going on one of his gargoyle walks when the world started to spin

you wanted to ignore it and act natural before Malleus could notice, but it was all to much

your legs seemed more tired than usual and you fell to the ground

you could hear Malleus ask you repeatedly what was wrong but you couldn't answer

then the world faded to black

The great Malleus Draconia was terrified

you weren't responding to him and he didn't know what was wrong

his healing magic was amazing, but he couldn't heal injuries he didn't know about

so he picked you up and teleported the two of you to the infirmary

the doctor had to stop whatever they were already doing when the fae prince himself demanded his assistance

and the doctor checks up on you and tells Malleus everything

you were sick, now in a coma, and you were running out of time

the room was quiet for a minute as Malleus processed what the doctor said

and then, thunder

the worst thunderstorm Night Raven College has ever seen has been summoned

lightning was striking all around the campus and many students were taking shelter while terrified

but the infirmary was the safest place from the storm

Malleus sat by your side quietly pondering his thoughts

he was angry

not at you but at your illness for doing this to you, life for cursing you this way, and mostly at himself

he should've been able to see the signs before it got to this point

he should've been there for you

he should've helped you

how ironic it is that one of the most powerful mages was so helpless to save the one person they treasured most of all

Lilia, Silver, and Sebek came to find him after the storm started

and when they did, they didn't even say anything, but felt the heavy atmosphere

Lilia tried providing some comfort, but Malleus just stayed silent

for days after that, his three guards stood outside the infirmary and prevented anyone from disturbing the two of you

the storm persisted and Malleus never left your side

he would sit there for hours silently wishing for you to wake and be okay

even though he knew that was unlikely

but he wouldn't leave and possibly miss you waking up

that was simply one event he wouldn't miss

Malleus was never good at noticing how quickly time passed

but as he sat by your side, he was painfully aware of every passing second that you lie there

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland angst #twst angst #leona kingscholar #twst leona #twst leona x reader #leona x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #twst idia #idia shroud #idia x reader #idia shroud x reader #twst malleus #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader

[littlerosetrove]

I think the show is going to start doing better by Eddie in upcoming episodes, and I desperately hope I’m right. Some critical thoughts incoming because I just want better for Eddie.

My focus of this post is about Eddie being in a romantic relationship, although there are absolutely so many potential storylines to delve deeper into with Eddie. Trust me, I know. 

I do get why Eddie was with Ana, I do. That man was still repressing so much trauma for starters, and (even now) Eddie was also feeling pressured by society and his upbringing to “give Chris another mom.” It was something Eddie felt like he should do. And hooboy does Eddie still need to work on issues surrounding things he often feels like he “should” do. We all know that Eddie stuck it out with Ana far longer than he should have (Ana is guilty of this two, cause it takes two to tango). An apt description for Eddie is that he’s “the architect of his own misery.” ← Idk who originally said this phrase, but I got it from @yramesoruniverse, and it’s true. 

Speaking of misery. No matter how the show tried to paint it as something cute and good, there is nothing actually good about Marisol and Eddie. Let me explain and bear with me. 

Let’s be real. The show during 6B treated Eddie’s loneliness and his subsequent desire to date as a joke. Maybe not 100%, but even 1% is too much. That montage of Eddie going hiking, playing golf (??), and hanging out at a fucking country club (?????) to find a date? That was played for laughs. 

Now at one point, Eddie had a genuinely great heart to heart with Bobby. I can’t recall their conversation exactly right now since I haven’t rewatched season 6 since it aired, but I know Bobby basically said Eddie should find someone who will sit with him during the hard times (please correct me if I’m wrong).  

But then the show tried to frame Eddie running into Marisol - someone he met on a call - as this spark, this magical moment. Let’s remember that in season 6 Eddie was wistfully reminiscing on his and Shannon’s beginning and called it magic. And so again, the show tried to say, “Hey look! Eddie bumping into Marisol (no last name) is meant to be. This is magic!” Then we jump into season 7 where we’ve gotten no development on Marisol still, and zero development on their relationship, unless you want to call Eddie admitting to using Marisol as a babysitter as some development. Hell, we don’t even know how Chris feels about her. With all of this in mind, to me this just looks like Eddie had grabbed onto the first person he could so he wouldn’t be lonely. If the show wanted us to care an iota about Marisol or their relationship in any capacity, they would have. But they haven’t. And that’s just heartbreaking for Eddie. All they’ve given Eddie is a surface level, nothing of a relationship. 

It’s clear Eddie and Marisol are going to break up in 7x7 at the latest, and… for what? 7x5 will definitely have to do some backfilling on where and why their relationship isn’t going to work (it doesn't appear Marisol will be in 7x6). Even still, what was the point of it all?? Before anyone says it, yes Eddie is allowed to date, even casually, but GD there’s been nothing to grasp onto, you know? No reason to feel even remotely excited or happy that Eddie’s dating, specifically not with Marisol (and the actress is a shitty person) who ffs doesn’t even have a last name. Just having two attractive people in the same room does nothing for me, sorry. 

To try and conclude this, this *gestures at everything I just said* is why I want better for Eddie and Ryan. I really really hope we’re going to get something of substance for Eddie as a character. Yes it’s been great to see Eddie so much happier in season 7 (thanks to therapy, though he needs more, and Buck and Tommy lbr), but, and to stick with the relationship aspect of it all, I want better for Eddie. Idk if Eddie will have or needs someone like Tommy for himself, or if Eddie is just going to work on himself before the next relationship he’s in will be Buck. We’ll have to wait and see, but yeah…. Eddie just. deserves better. 

(this post was inspired by a recent conversation I had with @elvensorceress)

#911 spoilers #9-1-1 #911 meta #Eddie Diaz #my thoughts #gosh I hope this all made sense #I read over it a few times but yeah...

[hiraeth-sonder]

Routine Trail - Inicio

Boothill x Reader

The way home is a long one, but what is waiting for you is most often worth it

//Short little thing before I start working on a fic no one will want (very indulgent onmyoji fanfic). Massive liberties taken for Boothill's entire existence here. Poem from Akif Kichloo on Twitter.

People keep asking 

me for my address and 

‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿

The candle flickers in the night, its little flame trying its best to remain alight among the harshities of this world. Seated by the window with a book in your lap, you look beyond the horizon as your tea grows cold on the table. It is quiet for the most part, nothing but the occasional chirping of birds and your thoughts to accompany you on such a lonely night. 

Though, perhaps ‘lonely’ would not be the best descriptor. 

Your dearest lover was due to arrive any time now. Albeit, the connection on his end had made it horrifically choppy and all you could catch was ‘coming’ and ‘soon’, so whatever that means. And seeing as his message had lasted for about a minute, you could only assume he would be coming back soon. So you wait. You have been waiting for the past three days, tidying up the house and thinking of his smug grin, doing the laundry and thinking of that silly little hat plopped on your head when you least expect it, knitting and thinking of the way his fingers grasp your hand, no matter that he is unable to feel it. 

Still, you wonder how long he will remain in your humble abode this time. If you get lucky, perhaps he will stay around for a few days, and if not, he will be gone by the time the sun rises. 

You are not angry that your reunions are very often brief and if not, cut short. Rather, you find it hard to remain angry. Of course, that is not to say that every time you awaken to nothing but your empty bed, perhaps breakfast prepared on the table and no doubt a little audio message waiting for you, you do not feel just the slightest miffed and perhaps aggrieved. 

You know that he has pledged himself to the Galaxy Rangers, and that his own principles will not let him remain idle in one place for too long knowing that many injustices in the world remain. You know that, it is a notion you have not once forgotten, one that has made you so unabashedly enamoured with him. You would even argue that you would have never gotten so addled by his very being if not for that very part of him. Yet there are times you just wish you could have him for a day longer, an hour longer, a minute longer even. 

There are times you miss him with such a fervour you wonder why you do not just pack up and join him, times you yearn to do nothing but to run your fingers through his hair, run your finger along his nose and place a hand at his cheek. These moments always trip you up at the most arbitrary times, and it leaves you thinking of nothing but him in the aftermath. 

As your eyes flutter open and close, a pathetic attempt at remaining conscious, you can just scarcely hear the sound of footsteps outside, boots against dry ground in a rhythmic click of spurs. The person beyond steps onto your porch and does not bother with knocking, opening the door as what may be considered moonlight leaks in. 

There is that well-pleased grin on his face, steel grey eyes glinting with a fondness still. The ends of his pants are dirty, and his hair is just the slightest messy. Arguably, he has come back to you neat and tidy as can be, but that instinct within you simply looks for reasons for him to stay, not reason.

“Darlin’,” He calls for you yet Boothill gets not two words in before you are already up and out, your hands reaching for him as metallic arms clasp themselves behind your back. In a sudden move, he lifts you up in one swift action, forcing a shocked gasp to leave your throat as he laughs.

It is a sweet sound and no matter the surprise, you yourself laugh along when he spins you around. He would never drop you, you trust him with your life. And when he finally puts you down, soft and gentle, a hand rests on his chest, the feeling of leather and cool medallions under your touch a kind of relief, yet nothing compared to that of your other hand, thumb upon his face rubbing in methodical strokes, warm and alive.

With a far softer tone that you are used to, you furrow your brows as you direct your attention to him fully, “You’re all scuffed up.”

“‘was trying to get back to you quicker,” He mumbles in your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo like a man starved.

“You idiot,” You sigh, a resigned smile pulled across your face. Still, that does not stop you from continuing your petting, your other hand brushing away his bangs to fully reveal his handsome visage, “You didn’t even stop by the mechanics, I can wait for you, y’know?”

“And let you waste away all on yer own?”

You can only let a fond laugh escape at that, not actually too worried about his clearly healthy and fighting fit condition. Come hell or high water, that damned cowboy of yours would find some way to crawl back into your life. 

“I’m back,” His voice mellow yet distinct, finally free of whatever glitchy communication device he manages to get his hands on.

Smiling, far wider than last time, cold fingers brush back your hair as you lean into his touch. You whisper into the night, heard by only you and him, “Welcome home.”

He came home, and no matter how long he will be around, what matters is that he is home, safe and sound and back in your arms. 

‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿

I keep handing them

your name

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr boothill #boothill #boothill x reader

[crazychaoticizzy]

When You Wish Upon a Star

Levi X Reader

WARNINGS: post war, major character death, angst, longing

Word Count: 1k

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AOT Masterlist

“Levi, when I die I’m going to become a star. So if I die before you I want you to look up at the sky every night and find me, and just tell me how you’re doing.”

Levi furrowed his brow. He looked over at where you were sitting in the plane to find you looking longingly out the window.

“What? You’re not dying.”

You laughed, turning your attention to him. “I’m just saying. You never know what’ll happen.”

Levi is silent. You’re right, he doesn’t know what’ll happen, but he knows that you’ll try your damn best to live. Even if nothing is waiting for you, even if the entire world is against you, you’ll survive.

“Mr. Levi, why are you always so grumpy looking?”

He set the now empty box of candy to the side, looking down at the group of children that had gathered and sat around him. He wasn’t sure why they always came to him, but he didn’t mind it.

“Yeah. You always have this face like”—one child contorts her face into an exaggerated frown—“like that.”

“Is it because you’re lonely?”

That was a stab to his heart. He spent most of his day giving these kids candy. Sometimes Gabi or Falco or whoever would come and wheel him someplace else, so he wasn’t really alone.

But sometimes at night, when he’s struggling to lower himself into the bathtub, he wishes someone were there. Sometimes, when he’s pushing himself around in the morning to make breakfast, he wishes someone would kiss his cheek or tell him, “Good morning.” Sometimes when he watches the kids that sit around him bicker and argue and play with each other, he wishes that he had a little brat of his own.

What he really wishes, is that you were there with him.

“Mr. Levi isn’t lonely! He has his cousin, remember? Or those other people that come and talk to him sometimes.”

“Yeah, but they don’t count. I mean like a girl. Are you married, Mr. Levi?”

“No, I’m not married.” He wishes he was. He wishes he could have convinced you to stay so you could be the one he married, but he couldn’t. He had frozen up and watched you go.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Levi thinks back to what you said to him on that flying ship, back before so many people had to die.

“She’s a star.”

They start snickering, holding their hands tightly over their mouths attempting to muffle them. As children do, they over exaggerate their reaction, falling on their sides as they giggle.

“You can’t date a star! They’re all the way up in the sky so you can’t date one.”

Levi cracks a small smile and doesn’t say anything. As much as they remind him that he can’t be with a star, that he’ll never get the chance to tell you how he really feels, he doesn’t mind because these kids are laughing. They’re smiling so big Levi can see all of their teeth and he thinks that there’s nothing he’d rather be doing.

When he goes home later that day, he asks Gabi to leave him out on the porch for a bit. She complies and Levi tells her to go inside and read a book until he’s ready. He stares out as the sun sets before him thinking about the last time he was able to touch you.

“Hange, if we both go we can stall for longer,” you said. You were already ready, your ODM gear strapped to your hips and legs with thunder spears in yours hands.

“Y/n, you’re being stupid. That won’t-“

“She’s right.” Hange’s voice was soft. Levi could tell they didn’t want you to go either, but they were desperate and needed all the time they could get. “We don’t know how long it’ll take to start the air ship up.”

Levi had blocked the rest from his memory. He’s not sure why, those were the last moments he had with the two of you, after all. He wanted to remember every little detail.

While Hange was appointing Armin as the fifteenth commander, you kept Levi wrapped in your arms. You were taller than him, so his head was tucked into your shoulder as you told him over and over again you loved him.

Tears streamed down your face. You sobbed and ran your hands through his hair and told him the same words over and over again.

He took you in, squeezing you in his arms so hard you were breathless. He tried committing your smell to memory and found himself wishing your hair wasn’t pulled back so he could take in the scent of flowers it always had.

Now you smelled like sweat and dirt. He hated it, but he couldn’t let himself hate it as much as he did because it was you. Part of him wishes you had chosen different paths, ones that didn’t end up here.

He cried, too, but your shirt had absorbed the tears before you pulled away and cupped his face in your hands.

You looked into his eyes, the prettiest steel gray you’ve ever seen and always overflowing with emotion. A soft smile stretched across your face despite the circumstances, and you leaned forward and softly kissed his lips.

“Don’t forget to tell me how you are, okay?” Your voice cracked on the last word, but you refused to cry again. “Every day. I want to hear everything.”

You kissed him once more before pulling away and letting Hange say bye.

And he just stood there when you finally zipped off. He was frozen until Mikasa grabbed him by the shoulder and brought him back to reality.

He remembers wishing it was night while they were in the sky just so he could talk to you again.

But now that the sun had gone down and the moon was hanging in the air, Levi looks up at the sky and finds the brightest star.

And he starts talking.

i got this idea because i watched the princess and the frog and i love ray and evangeline so much (it's a firefly and a star, i know, i'm sorry) and this came to me in a vision and i just needed to write it but i hope y'all enjoyed <3

TAGGING: if you'd like to be tagged whenever I post or Levi comment or DM to let me know!

#izzy’s imagines ❀ #attack on titan #aot #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman aot #levi ackerman x reader #snk #snk x reader #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #levi x reader #aot levi #levi aot #levi attack on titan #attack on titan levi

[shinidamachu]

It's absolutely beautiful how there were three very significant moments in Inuyasha's life where he was at his lowest and we could feel the sun like a presence on each of those times because Kagome was there. Starting with when they first met.

After years facing prejudice and leading a lonely existence, Inuyasha let his guard down with someone just long enough to see — what he thought was — them turning against him and sealing him away.

He was dead to the world, frozen in time and his heart was the coldest it has ever been. That's where the sun comes in, because every sunrise means a new awakening and a new chance to begin again.

Its warmth melts away the worse of winter and allows spring to finally come. Without sunlight, there's no light to guide you. There's no life at all. Kagome woke him up and brought him back to life in every possible way.

And even though Inuyasha literally never saw it coming — still oblivious to her arrival — it's clear from the get go the role she's bond to play in his life: his own personal sun, lighting up the darkness of his days.

The second time it happens, Inuyasha was consumed by grief, guilt and the heartbreaking realization that he'd have to let Kagome go, despite it being the last thing he wanted to do.

After he can no longer postpone saying goodbye, Inuyasha walks to the well, feeling miserable under the shadows of the trees, only to find Kagome already there, waiting for him and bathed in sunshine.

I love how he gets blinded by the light because that's what happens when we spend too much time in the darkness: it takes time to get used to something burning that bright. Until Kagome, he was not used to people staying or loving him unconditionally — with the obvious exception being Izayoi.

He then steps into the daylight to get to her and after they work things out, Kagome takes him by the hand and guides him forward. Inuyasha squeezes her hand back and catchs up so they're walking side by side. They're both under the light now and they're moving on.

There were many instances in the series where Kagome's voice or the mere thought of her was enough to snap him out of dark spells and certain death, leading him back to the light, to life.

At last, after three years of darkness, there's the moment when Kagome finally comes back to him, because the sun will always rise again.

In a way, this is what those three scenes are all about: Kagome returning to him again and again. Only the first time it was as the piece of his soul he didn't know was missing, finally finding the way back home.

One of the openings — or was it a closing? — even nodded to the notion of Kagome being his sun: she dissapears and takes all of the light with her, leaving Inuyasha in the dark, alone and lost.

And thinking about Kagome in this context is even more meaningful when we take into account that Inuyasha's literal darkest nights — the moonless ones — are his human nights, because when the morning comes, when the sun comes, he is free to be himself again and regains his lost strength, much like he does in battle when he thinks of her.

#Inuyasha #Inuyasha meta #Inumeta #Inukag #Inukag meta #Kagome #Kagome Higurashi #Sidposting

[mackjlee9]

SONGFIC IDEA inspired on "ilomilo" by Billie Eilish

maybe reader got abducted or kidnapped while in a stablished relationship with Leon, they did so many experiments on him that he doesn't know what's real and what's fake anymore so when Leon rescues him he's so fucked up he believes Leon is part of his mind, that he's not real.

this one could be HEAVY ANGST but i'll leave that up to you since this is just a general idea. Reader could die? Reader could simply stay in a mental facility getting tortured and his only source of happiness is seeing Leon even if he believes is an hallucination? Reader could one day actually know that Leon is real? Get yourself inspired by the song since these are just ideas!

Also this is kinda my first time requesting a songfic so idk if this is good lmao

I love when my own angst makes me cry 🙂

Leon Kennedy x Male!Reader [Angst]

Masterlist.

Resident Evil

"Don't worry, Lee, I'll be back soon, I promise."

Told you not to worry

But maybe that's a lie

Maybe I shouldn't make promises I can't keep, eh? (M/n) could feel his head spinning, all the blood he lost being the cause of it.

He was trying to keep his eyes open, to maybe try and see the person that had done this to him. Perhaps he would be able to identify them once they were captured, but all attempts were useless, his sight was getting more and more blurry as the seconds passed. All he could do was hear the booming sound of a bullet being shot, a few tears brimming in his eyes as (M/n) realized everyone in his unit was dead, or close to dying

"We'll take good care of you, Agent," he heard a woman whispering in his ear, kneeling in front of him, gently brushing his hair out of the way.

(M/n) opened his mouth to say something, but he had used the last bit of his energy, his eyes closing as he passed out. The woman giggled and glanced behind her, the man standing there smirked and signaled to the B.O.Ws standing aside to pick him up and take him to the van waiting for them in the parking lot.

No one would find them, not until he had finished with (M/n) first.

Where did you go?

I should know, but it's cold

And I don't wanna be lonely

Leon... Leon...

Was all (M/n) could think when everything done to him was over, when his body was left twitching and pulsing against his will, unable to stop the reactions of his body to whatever had been injected into him.

He would close his eyes and think of Leon, seeing his lover was the only thing that could ground him, keep him somehow sane.

(M/n) hated being in that room. It was always cold, it made goosebumps cover his skin, and he knew his breath was foggy, but feeling Leon's touch on his was enough to warm him up for days on end. But then, he would see how Leon would slowly disappear, and (M/n) knew he was about to be put through the same thing again.

And every time it happened it just got longer and longer, or felt like it did.

I don't wanna... be alone, Leon, where... Where did you go...?

Blinking a few times, he would be greeted with the same bright light, surrounded by people wearing surgical masks and sometimes, chemical protection suits.

You're... Probably at home, or... Looking for me... Please, find me soon...

//////

The moment Leon was notified of what had happened to (M/n) during his mission, he froze. Everyone's voices faded out, and he felt like he was being kept underwater, he couldn't breathe.

He was monetarily lost in a trance, when the flashing image of (M/n)'s lifeless body appeared in his mind, as if mocking him. Leon slammed his hands on the table as he stood up, snapping back to reality.

I can't lose another life

"I'm not losing (M/n) too."

//////

Hurry, I'm worried

The world's a little blurry

Or maybe it's my eyes

With every minute, hour, or day that passed, everything got worse. (M/n) could feel his body slowly giving up, quicker with each time he got subjugated to these experiments.

It got to a point where he no longer knew what was fake and what was real, he didn't know if he was even alive anymore, and yet, the only thing that continued to work, the only thing that kept him awake every day, was Leon. Thinking about Leon let him that he was alive, the heat he felt surge through his body, the feeling of his heart speeding up, the homey atmosphere Leon brought with him was more than enough for him.

Leon sits with him, next to his bed and they talk, and Leon loves him the only way he knew Leon would.

(M/n) blinks when everything around him gets blurry, and he realizes that it's his sight the one distorting everything. Are they... Done now?

His thought process is slow, difficult, and rather painful for him, but he's able to understand the things happening around him. (M/n) hears guns being fired, explosions going off, people screaming and then alarms echoing everywhere. He grunts in pain and his eyes stare at the door as it opens.

"Leon...?" He whispers breathlessly, his voice gone from all his screaming, so it's impossible to hear him over the sounds of the sirens, but Leon didn't need to hear him to know that (M/n) was calling out to him.

His legs trembled as he ran further inside the room, tripping and falling to his knees next to his bed, picking himself up and hugging (M/n) tightly, tears running down his face nonstop, choked sobs racking in his chest, his hands desperate gripping onto (M/n) to make sure he was there, alive.

(M/n) had a small smile on his face, his arm slowly lifting to stroke Leon's soft strands, making the man look up at him. Struggling to move his body even an inch, Leon held his hand and nuzzled his cheek on his palm, sobbing as he felt (M/n)'s thumb gracing his warm skin as he wiped his tears away.

"I feel safe... When I'm with you, Leon... I'll always will..."

The friends I've had to bury

They keep me up at night

Leon would never forget how (M/n) died in his arms the moment he got to him. The soft and loving look in his fading eyes, the gentle and understanding smile pulling on his lips, the touch of his burning hand becoming colder by the second.

He had been staying on (M/n)'s grave every day since his burial. He didn't care that he was slowly killing himself, he had lost the only thing- the only person in this fucked up world that had given him some hope in his life. (M/n) was his light at the end of the tunnel, but now he was in complete darkness, because lights eventually run out, and sometimes... You can never replace them, because you could never find a light as bright and lasting as that one.

Said I couldn't love someone

'Cause I might break

Every day he stays there, basking in his memories, unable to stop beating himself up for not finding (M/n) sooner. If he only had been there a day earlier then maybe- maybe he would still be alive.

"I just wanted to protect you," he mumbled weakly, his voice breaking as he let himself be drenched in the pouring rain, at least his tears were unnoticeable now. No one would know how long and how much he has been crying for the past two weeks.

No one needed to know. He would only cause problems for everyone anyway.

Was hoping you'd come home

I don't care if it's a lie

#leon kennedy x male reader #leon kennedy x reader #re x male reader #re x reader #resident evil leon #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #male reader #x reader #reader insert #angst #.mackjlee9 writes

[pennyserenade]

IT’S NEVER OVER 

pairing: dieter bravo x you, dieter bravo x reader rating: mature (no explicit sex but language and content is 18+ regardless)  tags: fluff/comfort, some angst but just a little word count: 2.5k+ summary: dieter asks you to go to the opening night of his play and you do. for this he rewards you handsomely. a/n: this was the most fun i had writing in a very long time and i want to thank all of you who encouraged this in me. i love u & i hope you enjoy ex-husband dieter as much as i do <3

For most, divorce is definitive, final. It’s the last act that two people make as a couple, signing their names on a piece of paper that divides their lives the same way the marriage certificate connected them. If Dieter was any other man, it probably would’ve been that way for you, but Dieter is Dieter; he marches to the sound of his own drum. 

You aren’t obligated to him, but sometimes he asks you to do things and you say yes like you are. Your five year marriage bore no children — a willful decision on both your parts — and you never felt it was fair to do something like get a dog, because even on the best days you knew you would’ve only done it to cope with being lonely in a relationship you shouldn’t be lonely in. So there’s no reason at all that you should still keep in touch with Dieter, but you do. Five years of marriage and three years of dating before that bonded you to him. You’re used to him. Comfortable.  Maybe even achingly in love—but in a more platonic shade than before. 

On Sunday of last week, he had asked you to attend the opening of his play and you had said that you would. He told you he’d set two tickets aside for you, in case you wanted to bring someone, but you didn’t. You can see the relief in his eyes as you make your way to him. The throng of actors that occupy the backstage area make it hard to get to him, as they all seem to want him, but the moment he sees you, he parts the sea of them for you with his own self. He meets you somewhere in the middle. 

“You made it,” he says quietly, “I know you said you would but, you know….I don’t know.” He shrugs, smiling. 

You kiss his cheek. “You did great tonight, kid.”

“God, I’m glad you came.” Dieter brings your body in for a hug and you let him, taking in his scent and feeling a wave of comfortable nostalgia. His voice betrays his anxiety and you hold onto him a bit longer than you should because you know he gets. Even after his best performances, he was always plagued with self doubt and worry. That’s why you came tonight. 

‘We’re all so vain, actors. I can’t get over myself,’ he had told you once, on a night much like this one. And he was right, you came to find: Dieter really could not get over himself. But you don’t hate him for it anymore. He wears it anxiously tonight, that strain of vanity. It’s not like the bad times. You even feel the desire to hold his hand. 

He lets go of you when a woman to the right — the girl who played his girlfriend in the play — taps him on the shoulder. She is a beautiful young woman, about ten years his junior. “Who’s this?” she asks him, smiling. 

“My wife.” He responds. As soon as he says it, you get an idea of just what he’s been doing to prepare for this play of his. The woman tries not to let her face fall, but you know from experience that Dieter could make even Meryl Streep break character with his nonsense. You touch her arm and say, “I’m his ex-wife and you did a very good job tonight. I don’t make it to many plays anymore and it was a real pleasure to see this one.”

The woman relaxes visibly. “Thank you. I’m glad you liked the show. I was just coming to tell Dieter how lovely he did.”

Dieter stares at her like he doesn’t know what to do with her. This poor girl, you can sense how much she doesn’t understand him. He can’t get over himself, you want to tell her, just to assuage the fear you know too well. But then he smiles - a genuine smile - and he tells her he couldn’t have done it without her. 

And it makes you mad, and then sad, and then unsure if you know him either. You don’t meet with Dieter often because this happens at least once every time; you think you know every bit of him and then some part of him has changed, been made better, and you wonder bitterly “Why couldn’t you have done that for me?”

Tonight it passes quickly. He touches the small of your back and brings you closer to him than to the woman he’s very obviously fucking. She sees this. You see her see it and you watch as he doesn’t get it all over again. 

“I’ll see you later, then,” she manages, before disappearing back into the crowd of celebrating actors behind you. 

Dieter watches her go, brows creased. He hums. “Hm.”

You click your tongue. “You ought to be ashamed.”

His dark eyes shift towards you. “I’m positively mortified. Trust me.”

“Good. You’ll apologize to her?”

“I’m in the habit of it these days. Better than I used to be.”

“I’m glad. You can be—“

He cuts you off, “A bit of an ass. I know. I get real neurotic on opening nights. I hate them.”

“Are you going to the after party?” You straighten the tie of his costume instinctively. You don’t get embarrassed by the act once you realize what you’re doing.  Dieter doesn’t make you feel like you ought to be. 

“Thank you,” he says, “But no. I know you don’t like those things and I wanted to see you tonight. Please don’t get mad but—“

“Dieter.” You scold him preemptively. 

“—but I bought out the movie theater. That one we used to go to. I know you said doing things like that isn’t fair to you but you said that like, three years ago, and I promise I’m not trying to fuck you or anything. I mean, if you want, I’m not saying I wouldn’t but that’s not the purpose.” He pauses, then says, “Ignore that last part. I didn’t mean it that way. I wouldn’t have sex with you, but I wanted you to know that I still think you’re good looking and would if life had been different.” 

He looks at you expectantly and you feel the will in you fall away. “What if I had a date?” you ask, ignoring his ramble for his own sake. 

Dieter shrugs. “I guess I would’ve asked him if he—“ He watches your face “—or she? If they liked James Stewart.” Someone bumps into you, pushing closer, into Dieter. He grabs your shoulders to steady you. “Do they like James Stewart?” he asks. 

You shrug him off, shaking your head. “I like James Stewart.”

“I know you do. Mr. Smith Goes To Washington.”

“That makes me cry.”

“I know it does. But that one’s your favorite.”

“But you like Rope better.” 

“I like you and I wanted to do something for you.” When he says that, he looks ahead of you, at the people crowding around you. He’s avoiding eye contact, knows he shouldn’t have said it but he couldn’t help himself. You’re not angry with him. You pat his hand affectionately so he knows it. 

“Thank you. Sometimes it’s nice to know I’m liked and remembered.” 

He looks at you incredulously. “You’re kidding me.”

“Absolutely. I know you’re too fond of me and always will be. It gets me by.”

This makes him laugh. The sound of it makes you grin. “Let’s go.” Dieter tugs on your arm, nodding his head to the direction of his dressing room. “I’ll get undressed and we can head to the theater.”

You shake your head. “I’ll meet you by my car when you’re done.”

His eyebrow furrows, then he realizes. His face falls, and you know you’ve hurt him with the implication. 

“I have no interest in hurting some girl tonight, Dieter. She’s bound to be watching and I’d rather save her a little bit of heartache than turn my back to the wall while you get undressed.”

He frowns, but nods his head. “You’re too good for me, you know? I wouldn’t make you turn your head, though. You've seen it before and I’d like to think it looks mostly the same.”

“I know I’m too good for you.”

He clicks his tongue this time. “Give her an inch and she takes a mile,” he says as he disappear through the crowd. You hear the joke in voice even if you can’t see his face. 

You watch the back of him for a moment.

As you make your way to the car, you smile more genuinely than you have in a few days. Despite yourself, you love him immensely and you know he loves you too. It feels nice, even if you make a joke of it. He’s family to you. Not a husband, but a friend. 

He was always such a good friend. 

———

“Oh, kid.” 

James Stewart’s young face, wasted away with exhaustion, and his voice hoarse from desperation, never fails to make you cry. He stands in front of his piles of fan mail and is so damned earnest in the face of evil, it makes you ache. Dieter used to think that this movie was too sentimental, but you wore him down over the years. He sniffles now too when it gets to this scene, but nothing like the pitiful sobs you let out. 

He hands you a napkin and you wipe your eyes. You watch intently as Jimmy collapses onto the floor from pure exhaustion. You let out another sob the same time as Jean Arthur calls out to Jimmy. You hear Dieter’s soft laughter and you know you’re ridiculous, but you can’t help yourself. He knows this is how you get when you watch this. 

“God, this movie.” You shake your head and wipe your nose. 

You watch the rest of the movie in silence — or at least, without acknowledging your cries. When the movie ends and the soft hue of lights crowns over the empty theater, you turn to Dieter and sigh. He’s a little red in the eyes too, you note, but he looks at you in pure delight. There’s a fondness to it, though, so you let him live. 

“I can’t believe you used to think that was too sentimental.” You shake your head, huffing, getting angry at this younger Dieter. “That was so—that was acting!”

He holds his hands up in defense. “I know! I don’t think that now, you know? I think it’s good.”

You scoff, still infuriated with the Dieter that had told you this was the worst of Jimmy’s works. “You said it was American propaganda!”

He laughs. “I was trying to sound clever. I was too serious of an actor at the time. I’m sorry for having committed that crime many, many moons ago.”

You shake your head, letting the last of your tears fall. “I’m heartbroken.”

Dieter laughs. “But it worked out in the end. I can’t understand why this movie breaks your heart.”

“Because he had to fight so hard.”

Dieter softens. “That’s right,” he tells you, handing another napkin over, “I forgot about that—about why it breaks your heart.”

“It’s silly but I can’t help it.”

“It’s not silly. I married you for things like that. I loved those things. I love them now. I couldn’t remember why I liked watching this with you so much until now, but that’s exactly it. Because he fights so hard it makes you cry.” He squeezes your hand and the casualness of those words hit you straight in the gut. You’re glad to already have cried violently because if you haven’t, you’re certain that would’ve made you. 

“I’m gonna die, I’m so sad.”

“Do you want to get high? Will that help?” 

You shrug, blowing your nose. “I haven’t in a long time.”

“I brought a pen.” 

You debate it for a moment. “I shouldn’t.”

“Alright, but we’ve got this theater all night.”

“All night? I thought you just got it for this movie.”

He nods. “I did, but they don’t let you buy the whole movie theater out for just one showing. Not for me anyways, but I don’t care because I used to sneak into movies when I was younger here and this feels like a kind of karma.” That makes you laugh and he claps his hand. “The cloud is lifting. You’ll make it out alive after all.”

You lean back in the chair, wiping away the rest of your tears and most of your makeup. You sigh. “I care just like he does, don’t I?” You look at Dieter. 

“It’s so human of you, don’t change it. Please.” He takes your hand in his. “I always wanted to tell you that, that you care just like that, but I knew you’d take it wrong when we were married. We used to fight all the time for really stupid reasons. But it’s different now.”

“We’re friends.” You look down at your linked hands. 

“In a fashion, sure, but I like to think we’re more too.” You quirk your eyebrow. “Not like that—like lovers or whatever, but I don���t know. I know you get it too. You can probably explain it better than me.”

“Oh.” You smile and crinkle your nose. “We’re friends,” you repeat. This time he nods his head. “Yeah.”

You both fall into a comfortable silence. You sit with that knowledge. 

“Thank you,” he says suddenly. 

“For what?”

“For keeping me in your life. That was honorable of you. I don’t deserve it after the way I treated you during our marriage.”

You wave his words away. “Marriage brought out the very worst of us. This is the best of us. What we did to each other then, I don’t think it’s a reflection of who we are.”

“Yeah but I did the most damage. I know that. I left you alone a lot.”

The pad of your thumb rubs the back of his hand and you watch it as it does, as if you’re not in control of it. “Maybe you did. But it’s finished. We stopped that battle a long time ago and we’re in the clear now. You’re nicer, kinder.”

“I should’ve been all that then. I really loved you.”

“You really love me now. That’s enough for me.”

Dieter reflects. Then he says, “In another life, I’ll find you again and I’ll do it right.”

Giving him back his hand, you shake your head. “I think we’re doing just fine in this one. I think this is where we were meant to be. This is the kind of love that we do the best with.”

“You don’t miss it, the way we used to be?”

“God, all the time, but it was never like this.” 

“I guess you’re right. We do get along better. I don’t feel like I disappoint you anymore.”

“You don’t. Tonight is the most fun I’ve had in weeks, and I even cried my eyes out.”

He smiles softly. 

“You want to know something?” you ask him. He nods his head. “Nothing in the world makes me feel better than knowing you want me when I’ve got nothing to give you but my friendship. Men don’t want women like that.”

“I’ll always want to be your friend.”

“Then you will be,” you respond, “In the next life too. I promise.”

#dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #the bubble #dieter bravo #josé pedro balmaceda pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

[acatalystrising]

Alriiiight! As I promised to @daimyosprincess - here at long last is Small Favors! This fic…sheesssshhh, this fic. It almost destroyed me! It’s absolute pure filth borne of one too many days of Boba brain rot, so buckle up, people!

Enjoy the ride! 🫠😉

(Zwei, this basically ended up being dedicated to you after all the lovely prof Boba content you’ve been giving us. I hope it lives up to your expectations! 💚🖤)

TW: NSFW, minors dni. This contains smut - predator/prey, fingering, dirty talk, pre-discussed non-consensual sex, piv, f!receiving, bondage, dom!Boba, pet names, teasing, slight degradation, all the usual suspects 🙃

Small Favors

The day Boba Fett called you a hellion, you were pretty certain it altered your brain chemistry.

To make things worse? He’d said it on his way out of the door, dressed in full armor, heading down to the throne room for yet another day of rulership.

Leaving you alone to ruminate on his words.

That simply wouldn’t do. You tried to be his good girl - lounging on his bed, boredly counting the cracks in the ceiling, doing as you’d been told…but where was the fun in that? You couldn’t help but let your imagination take over, wandering to a particular scenario that had intrigued you as of late.

Oh, the Daimyo was strong. Powerful, capable of overpowering you in seconds despite your best attempts to put up a fight. You could never forget it, no matter how many times he pleasured you senseless. But it made you wonder…

You knew how Boba the Daimyo handled you. But…how would Boba the bounty hunter? The mere thought of your love hunting you down like prey sent thrills coursing through you. But you’d been hesitant to mention it, given how many times he’d openly stated those days were behind him.

But the day was crawling miserably by, the hours even longer, and you needed a distraction. You knew you’d probably regret it, even as you stood and got dressed. But right now, you felt like doing something dangerous.

You were going to play with fire.

-

You were merciful (or smart) enough to wait for his last visitor to leave for the day, but not a moment longer. You struck before he had the chance to get up.

Boba still sat on his throne, powerful thighs spread like an invitation too good to refuse, as you made your way to him. His eyes followed your every step, hunger unabashedly flaring in his amber gaze.

But instead of sitting in his lap as he surely expected, you skirted around the throne, tracing a lone nail along his armor as you walked behind him. He reached for you, but you dodged his fingers with a smirk, tapping the back of his head instead.

“See you’re in a teasing mood.” His voice was gruff, tinged with exhaustion from the day’s tedious events, but you pressed on, still staying right out of his reach.

“I don’t don’t know what you mean,” you tapped his pauldron with another grin, and he shifted to face you, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“What game are you playing at, little one?” He patted his thigh, a command he expected to be obeyed. “Been a long day.”

Oh, you were at war. You knew it was probably in your best interest to do as he said, and he was tired, after all. Perhaps he’d be too tired to play along. But…you didn’t want to throw your plan out the window just yet.

“Maybe you need some exercise. Wouldn’t want your skills to go to waste.” You raised a brow, stepping around the armrest and stopping before him, still out of his direct range. “Why don’t you come get me?”

Boba arched a dark brow, gaze locked on you, completely still. You realized a moment too late he was waiting for you to continue. Either that, or calculating his next move. Probably both. It sent a thrill coursing through you.

“I…”

“What’s this about, hmm?” He crossed his broad arms over his even broader chest, heaving a deep breath that flexed his beskar plates as he fixed you with a quizzical expression bordering intrigue. “Wanna play hard to get? We both know how that would go.”

Ahh, there it was, your golden ticket. That, or the action that would seal your doom. At this point, you’d already committed, and it was too late to back out, now.

“I don’t think you could catch me, old man.” You smirked, hands on your hips, looking at up at him with a raised brow. “You’re a Daimyo now. Lots and lots of sitting. You’re bound to lose your edge.”

Oh, you knew you were asking for trouble.

Boba regarded you evenly, a small smirk working its way on the corner of his lip. Those thick, skillful, beautiful lips. Oh, he did too.

“Is that so?” He looked down at you, eyes narrowing imperceptibly, a teasing lilt to his voice. Ahh, so he was humoring you. Good. “So confident today, mesh’la.”

You had the audacity, or stupidity depending on who you asked, to spit your tongue out at him. Him, Boba Fett. You were probably one of the few that ever could and live to tell the tale.

“Definitely.” You made a dramatic show of shrugging, making sure you leaned forward just enough to let the low neckline of your shirt do its job. “In fact, I don’t even think it would be hard. I’m fast, cunning too. I bet I’d even be able to outsmart the greatest bounty hunter who ever-”

Boba was on you in an instant, and you couldn’t help but loose a shriek as you were pulled into his lap before you could blink. Damn, that was quick. Quicker than when you had anticipated. And you’d thought you’d given him a wide enough berth. He curled his arms around you, pinning you to his armored chest, and pressed his face against your neck, breath hot and scalding - voice low like the thunder of an oncoming storm.

“Wanna flirt with death, little one?” He nibbled your earlobe between his teeth, a low growl rumbling from the depths of his throat, sending heat pooling between your legs. “Fine. But we both know you’re biting off more than you can chew.”

Oh kriffing gods.

You somehow managed to pull two halves of a thought together to form a sentence.

“Wanna test that? Give me two days. Bet you can’t catch me.” You shot him a smirk and shrugged. “Who knows, it could be fun.”

“And what would I get in return?” Boba’s voice was cold, calculating. Calculating, as he watched you, eyes narrowed, studying your blown out pupils and shallow breaths. He had to know you found this arousing. Especially if his hunter senses were still keen.

“Anything,” you confidently met his gaze, even as his grip on you tightened. “Anything you want.”

He fell silent for a moment, chest heaving, heart thundering beneath the beskar. A sly smirk curved on the corner of his lip, accompanied with a cutting gleam in his eyes, and it was then that you realized you were screwed.

“Anything.” He mirrored, dipping his head to meet your neck, sucking a bite on your pulse point. You bit back a moan despite your best efforts, far too keenly aware as one of his hands slid down your side and settling on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your crotch. “But you’ve already given me everything, mesh’la. Why would I risk losing what is already mine?”

Oh maker, he was playing with you. Making this harder than necessary. Punishing you for disobeying him.

“Umm, I…” you swallowed hard as his hand slipped between your legs, stifling another moan as he slowly, gently, torturously caressed your clothed clit. Gods, this wasn’t how you’d expected this to go. “I…just thought it would be fun, ya know? I’m always…maker…always wanting to try new things with you.”

He hummed, kissing your neck again, then your ear, your cheek, and finally your lips. He kissed you like a starved man, greedily nipping at your lips, tongue carving a path into your mouth, claiming you as his. He slipped his hand underneath your pants, your underwear the only barrier, deft fingers already bringing that coiling heat closer to the surface. You bucked against him, chasing his fingers, and he kept you flush with his chest with a growl.

“So my little princess wants to be hunted, hmm?” He had the audacity to lick a stripe up your neck as he circled your arching clit. “She wants to be hunted like a bounty? Like prey? That what you really want, little one? To feel helpless? Trapped with nowhere to go? Darling, I’ll show you helpless.”

You could only nod, a whimper breaking from your throat when he slowed his movements, delaying your pleasure. It nearly brought tears to your eyes. Dammit, this was supposed to be your game, not his, and yet you found yourself unraveling in his clutches yet again.

“Please, please don’t stop. I’ll do anything, I’d let you do anything,” you pressed against him with a whine, meeting his waiting gaze as you made your plea. “Fuck me bound. Even if I said no. Make me yours, break me, ruin me, I don’t care. I just want…wanna…”

You fell silent, embarrassment flaring your cheeks, but you should have known that he wouldn’t let you get away with silence. His free hand gripped your chin and tilted your face up to meet his, just forcefully enough to make his point.

“Say it.”

There was no room for disobedience now. Not when you were literally at his mercy. Not when his command rolled through you, making you tremble with excitement.

“I want you to hunt me.” You forced yourself to speak, even as his eyes darkened, his fingers slowly caressing you again. “Chase me down, and capture me. Use me as you see fit. That’s…that’s what I want.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound echoing on the stone walls, as he zeroed in on your clit again, your pleasure nearly bubbling to the surface.

“So much begging, poor princess,” his voice was a mocking coo as he wrung the pleasure out of you, your vision going white, jaw slack as your orgasm hit with the force of a speeding train. “You’ll have one day, sweet thing. One day to run, and when it’s over, you’ll be begging me to come for you.”

-

You should have believed him.

Should have realized how hard he’d make this for you. But you’d been confidently foolish, going so far as to travel off world to some backwater forest planet on a neighboring system - albeit sparely populated…just to be safe.

But as the minutes had ticked to hours, and hours into the evening, there still had been no sign of your hunter. Whether this was because he was toying with you, or you’d actually given him the slip, you didn’t know - but you pressed on anyway. And as the cerulean sky faded to lilac and crimson hues, you started to worry.

You’d taken a one way trip to get here, even hired a smuggler to fly you. Anything to make it more exciting. More real.

But perhaps you’d gone too far.

You couldn’t help but feel a sliver of worry cut through your chest. Maybe you’d been overconfident, going to such lengths. What if he had lost his edge? What if he couldn’t find you? You’d be stuck alone, on a strange planet, with nothing but a short range commlink to try to call for help.

Stars, you also missed him. Missed his voice, his touch. You’d underestimated how quickly you’d tire of his absence - and as you slipped through the trees, slowing to a leisurely walk, you finally let your guard down, too lost in your whirling thoughts to keep playing the game you insisted on from the start.

The shadows had crept over the foliage, enshrouding the trees in darkness, hiding the armor that would have otherwise glinted in the sun.

You didn’t seem him until it was too late.

Strong arms suddenly wrenched yours behind your back, throwing you off balance and against a nearby tree. Your scream broke the silence, unheard in the miles of uncharted wilderness, unable to break free from the vise like grip clamping down on your wrists.

Boba’s breath flared hot like blaster fire on your cheek as he pushed you against the tree. The rough bark bit into your skin, only a minor fleeing pain, the true cause for your panic currently locking your arms behind your back in a vice like grip.

“Really thought you’d give me the slip, hmm?” His deep voice was rough and staticky with the helmet, tone absolutely deadly as he lifted his binders to your wrists. “Poor little girl.”

You clenched your legs at that - unable to stop the reaction from pushing your brain off the edge, diving into a freefall. Damn it, not yet. You couldn’t let him have his victory this easy. You had to be more of a challenge, flustered brain or not.

“Let. Me. Go!” You twisted in his grasp, tucking up your legs and lashing out with a kick to his chest.

He grunted, the force of your attack pushing him back a few centimeters - just enough space for you to work with. You broke free, heart locked in your throat, and spun around the tree to give you some distance.

You knew you couldn’t win. He was the better fighter in every way - an opponent you’d never once been able to beat, despite your own skill. But just because you knew you were going to lose didn’t mean you were going to go down without a fight.

The trees whipped past in a blur as you carved a wild, desperate path deeper into the foliage. All was silent save for the crashing of your boots through the fallen leaves - the first warning that you were doomed. The second warning came too late.

A sharp prick bit into your shoulder, and your reflexes reacted too late - a scream stuck in your throat when a whipcord whipped around your body - throwing you to the ground. You could already feel the effects of the tranquillized taking over - vision blurring at the edges even as you still struggled in vain. Even as Boba stepped into your rapidly fading sight, armor glinting in the sunlight.

“Careful, little mouse,” his voice was cutting, sinfully victorious, as he knelt beside you. Kriffing hell, you knew he was smirking underneath that damn helmet. “Wouldn’t want you getting hurt. You’re worth more alive.”

You felt the moment the binders slapped on your wrists, sealing your fate…

And then your vision went dark.

-

By the time you awoke, the Slave 1 was already well in sight.

You were slung over Boba’s shoulder like a carcass, arms and legs limply dangling, mind still buzzing from the sedative he’d given you. You tried to open your mouth to speak, but your words were a pathetic slur.

He either didn’t hear you, or was ignoring you. You could feel the strength of him, muscles coiled underneath armor - all sinew and power. He held you with one arm, but you knew you’d never escape, that large gloved hand locked around your neck. You whimpered as the ramp lowered, ushering you both inside - inside to whatever fate he had planned for you. It closed, sealing you both in, and dooming you.

You couldn’t help but feel a thrill as he unceremoniously dropped you to the ground, right outside the cells. You wondered if he’d cage you in one to make the experience more real, but Boba seemed to have other ideas. He grabbed your bound arms and drug you across the floor, ignoring your shrieks of protest when he stopped in the center of the cargo hold.

Boba was quiet - he hadn’t said a word since your capture, and part of you wondered if it was part of the act, or if it was truly upset at the lengths you’d gone to evade him. So, you tried to take matters into your own hands.

“Please, I didn’t do anything wrong. I bet of you, let me go!” Your broken voice was truthfully cracked, parched after your strenuous day. “I’ll do anything, I swear I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Boba Fett had the audacity to ignore you. In fact, he turned his back on you, lifting his gauntlet to key in a code. A mixture of indignation and embarrassment flooded your chest, prompting your next move.

“I know you can hear me under there, bucket head.” You rolled your eyes with a scoff. “Or are you as deaf as you are dumb?”

“You know what you did.” His voice was low like thunder - cutting. A very different tone than the one he oh so often used with you.

This…this was entirely different. Excitement mixed with fear coursed down your spine as he slowly turned, that black t-visor locked on you with deadly focus.

But you wouldn’t be deterred that easily.

“What exactly did I do, huh?” You would have crossed your arms if you could. Instead, you opted to dramatically shrug. “Shouldn’t be too hard to list off my crimes. That is, if big words aren’t too much for a brute like you.”

Boba lunged forward with the speed of a viper, taking you entirely by surprise when his fingers gripped your chin, absolutely wrenching your face up to meet his - albeit hidden behind that helmet. And you were starting to realize why many would find it so terrifying. Heart hammering in your chest, you whimpered when his fingers squeezed your jaw, effectively clamping your mouth shut.

“Mouthy little brat, aren’t you?” His helmet was inches away, your panting breaths fogging the visor as he lowered his hand from your jaw to your neck. “Could just put you away in a cell. Would be what you deserve. But I might have to teach you a lesson.”

Oh gods. You swallowed, hard, and couldn’t resist the urge to wriggle beneath him, breaths growing shallower by the moment.

“You? Teach me a lesson? In your dreams.” You had the audacity to roll your eyes, spitting out your tongue to goad him further. “Sorry, but I have standards. I don’t fuck trigger happy bounty hunters.”

Boba Fett had the audacity to chuckle. A deep, dark chuckle that rumbled through your chest and tingled down your spine. Oh shit…you were in trouble. Big trouble.

“Is that so?” He gave your neck a squeeze, his free hand gripping your binders with another dark snicker. “Poor little kitten’s trying to give me orders? Ironic.”

His hand left your throat, and you yelped as he single-handedly picked you up by the binders, lifting you into the air, and pinned you against the ship’s wall. He magnetized the binders with a soft buzz, then left you dangling there - your toes barely able to touch the floor.

“What the hell?” You huffed, straining to reach the ground, heartbeat hammering so loudly you could barely concentrate, even as you felt his gloved fingers caress your jawline. “Let me down! Stop this, I mean it. Let me go, you kriffing jerk!”

Boba ignored you, helmet titling slowly to the side as if tracking his own journey tracing your neck until it stopped just above your shirt.

“You asked for this, little one.” His tone was impossibly husky, dark and rich like spotchka on the back of your throat. “You have a choice, kitten. You can either fight me, or…”

His hand slipped under your shirt, burrowing beneath your bra, and caressing your nipple with deft, skilled fingers.

“Choose to enjoy it.” He pinched your nipple too hard, and you yelped, thrashing even as he slowed back to a caress. “Your choice - but you’re not getting out of this.”

“N-no, please,” you tried to shy away, but he wouldn’t have it, pinning you to the wall with one hand, the other lifting from your shirt and wandering ever so slowly lower. “I’ll…comply. I’ll do anything. Just…please don’t hurt me.”

He chuckled, hand settling just above your crotch.

“Still giving orders, hmm? That’s not how this works.” He deftly unzipped your pants and slipped his hand into your waiting heat, a dry hiss emitting from his vocoder when he found the evidence of your arousal. “Dirty, dirty girl. Getting off on this? My, my.”

He circled your aching clit, and you cried out, trying to arch against him, breaths coming in near choked gasps as he quickly worked you towards oblivion. Damn, his patience must have flown out of the window. Perhaps he…

Just when you were on the precipice, Boba pulled his hand away. You cried out on frustration, heart pounding like a drum when he dropped his hands to his own pants, pulling his weeping cock free from its confines.

“Little kitten looks like she wants milk.” His voice was a sinister coo as he ran his thick shaft through your slick. “Poor baby.”

You whined - you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t stop the moan that ripped from your chest when his fingers once again found your clit, wringing your pleasure back to the surface. But yet again, when you were on so close, he pulled away.

“Ah, ah, ah, not so fast.” He raised his hand to your mouth, and you begrudgingly licked your arousal off his gloves. “You’ll come only when I tell you too. Can you be a good girl and do that?”

“Boba…I…” you writhed, pleading, but he promptly removed his hand from your clit with a growl.

“Didn’t give you permission to say my name,” his voice was all thunder and hellfire even as he seated himself in you with one brutal thrust. “It’s Sir to you.”

Your eyes widened, moans bouncing off the durasteel walls as he pounded into you, somehow feeling even bigger than normal. Your hands clattered uselessly against the wall, pleasure arcing up your spine as a steady heat grew in the pit of your stomach.

You cried out when he changed the angle, his cock hitting that deep spot that made you see stars. You writhed against him, legs wrapping around his back, trying to force him deeper. He growled, not slowing his pace in the slightest, and you whimpered when a hand reached up and tweaked a nipple.

“Bo-Sir…I…I’m,” you hated how pathetic you sounded, begging like some weak willed thing. But you felt it, your orgasm approaching like a speeding train, and there would be little you could do to stop it. “I’m…so close. Can I, can I…”

“I don’t know, not sure you deserve it,” he slowed his pace to a torturous crawl, slowly sliding through you, the wet sounds painfully loud in your ears even as you cried out in frustration. “Got your manners yet, little one? Have you learned your lesson?”

Oh Maker, he was torturing you. This was not how you had expected this to go - this was calculated, focused, intentional.

“I’m…I’m sorry. So sorry. P-please…” tears pricked your eyes, and you swore he was driving you absolutely mad, edging you with a calculated skill he hadn’t done before. “I take it all back. I’ll be good…I’ll behave. Just please, please…”

He pulled nearly out of you, helmet pressed against your shoulder, rasping voice directly in your ear.

“Please…what?” He stopped moving entirely until the only sound that could be heard was your desperate panting.

“Please, please let me come.” A tear slipped down your cheek, more from the building denial than anything else. “I’ll…I’ll be a good girl. Your girl.”

Boba grunted, pounding back into you with renewed vigor, one hand finding your neck, the other, your clit. He fucked you relentlessly - your back slamming into the wall as the edges of your vision dimmed.

When you finally came, your vision went completely white - all sound reduced to a ringing as burning hot pleasure seared you to your core. You screamed, writhing against him even as he continued driving into you, less focused and more reckless, chasing his own high.

“There you go, kitten.” His voice was dark with lust, armor flashing in the dim lighting. “Not so hard, hmm?”

When he came, it was with a deep groan that reverberated into your chest. He had you pressed against the wall, helmet against your neck, breaths rasping as he finally slowed to a stop.

For a moment, all was silent save both of your panting breaths. Boba was completely still, and for a moment, you worried he was genuinely angry. Had you gone too far? Had you done something wrong? Had you-

His hands reached up and unlocked your binders, catching you before you could fall to the floor. You couldn’t help but cling to him as he carried you to the cockpit, gently laying you in the small cot.

“You okay, my love?” His voice had regained some of its warmth, but still carried a dark edge. “Hope I wasn’t too rough with you.”

“I’m okay,” you nodded, meeting the visor with a small smile. “You weren’t. I’m honestly impressed you found me so quickly.”

He grunted, sitting beside you, gloved hand slowly caressing your hair.

“Didn’t expect you to leave Tatooine.” The helmet tilted in your direction. “You had me worried, little one.”

Oh stars. Had you gone too overboard? It hasn’t crossed your mind that Boba Fett would be afraid.

“Oh…I’m so sorry,” you curled into his chest, holding him close. “I’d only wanted to make it realistic. I didn’t want to worry you.”

“It’s okay,” he wrapped his arms around you and held you close. “Only startled me initially. Gotta admit it was fun, watching you trying to give me the slip. It was cute.”

Wait a second.

You narrowed your eyes as he removed his helmet, mirth shining in his own.

“Exactly how soon had you found me?” You tilted your head to meet his gaze.

“Oh, little princess,” he pressed a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, and finally, your lips. “You never left my sight.”

Taglist: @daimyosprincess @hideflen @thirsty-boba-fett-posts @marierg @deewithani @rain-on-kamino @rexxdjarin @ceapa-mica @bobathirstaccount @dukeoftheblackstar

#small favors fic #oh goodness gracious this almost killed me #I am melting #boba fett can get it #boba fett #dom!boba fett #daimyo boba fett #daddy boba fett #boba fett smut #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett x f!reader #boba fett x female reader #boba fett x reader smut #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba fett fanfic #boba fett fanfiction #the book of boba fett #star wars #tbobf #book of boba fett #acatalystrising writes #my writing

[chapinii]

Many on Quesadilla island believe that Fitmc was very much closeted to himself and the world up until he arrived on the QSMP, but perhaps that closet wasn't quite as locked as some may presume.

With the environment of 2b2t being so rife with hatred and homophobia, a deep and meaningful relationship was always out of the question. But within its depths lay the rub, of Fit, going through the all too familiar queer experience of being very aware of his sexuality against this toxic landscape, and knowing the possibility of others out there being just like him. Others whom he could never risk reaching out to in public, but longed to all the same.

He'd heard and seen his fair share of casual to severe homophobia, as well as witnessing with some amusement how the homoerotic tension some players swear against can tear factions apart. He knows all too well the irony that comes with a land so dominated by toxic masculinity and bigotry. This is a place where a man will stare you in the eyes, caress your cheek so gently, then spit in your face in disgust before insta-killing you. Of course, the price for outing somebody in such a place is a pretty penny for sure. Being a blank slate in the land of anarchy is your strongest asset. The last thing you want to do is throw fuel onto the fire and give people even more of a reason to put your head on a spike.

And so, he kept his feelings repressed- for the most part. He'd hide a blush as he melted internally over a handshake with a particularly muscular allied base leader. He'd allow himself the luxury of a poster, of an old Hollywood western starring a (very) dashing cowboy, that he'd stick crudely on the bedroom wall of wherever he'd end up staying for a while. But perhaps, just a couple times, he'd had a few small but significant experiences: the touch of a hand on his for just a fraction too long, warm eyes from a face he can't quite remember looking him up and down, all but rendering him breathless. Split second opportunities that would make those feelings bubble up to the surface, too strong to ever truly ignore. Being a lone mercenary in a world of anarchy is all well and good, but God does it get lonely.

He and Pac like to take things slow. It's a mutual decision. Neither of them have ever truly felt the need to sit down and discuss why. Fit wouldn't like him to know what he thinks about whenever the subject drifts towards the two of them going any further with their relationship. Every time Pac makes any kind of suggestive advance, heck, even if he looks at the man for too long, his mind can't help but think back to one quiet night on 2b2t, so many years ago. Flashes of encountering a stranger, deep underground, of a clumsy, desperate kiss. Stubble on stubble, the raw smell of dirt and sweat and cigarette smoke. He remembers the thrill, the terrifying electricity of it all, until a clatter was heard in the cave behind them and the moment was gone forever. It meant everything and nothing at the same time, that chance encounter. It was the closest he'd ever came to a real connection with somebody. He didn't know what became of the other man who so urgently whispered 'run', into his ear. He could have killed Fit right there, made a point of it, and yet he didn't. The mere memory of it petrified him, but by God, did he feel alive.

All the same, he didn't dare risk anything like that again. That was until he came to the QSMP, a place where he didn't have to hide himself from others, but still he airs on the side of caution. He's afraid of getting things wrong, of throwing himself into something he can't run away from. This isn't just some random encounter with a player in 2b2t. Pac is different. Fit knows he's got a past of his own, he sees how it torments him sometimes. What if daring to make a move, even kissing him opens up old wounds for the both of them?

Fit's no longer hiding in the dark. Making things 'official' with Pac is not a once in a lifetime chance, but the longer Fit hangs around him he feels like it is. He wants to keep Pac safe just as he kept himself safe for all those years. When he finally lets himself get closer to his roommate, one wrong move and another hypothetical cave noise could sound, followed by the form of something even more terrible that could rip the two apart forever and send Fit straight back to square one.

Slow and steady wins the race. Slow and steady keeps them both safe.

But God, what he'd give to feel that thrill again.

#aka the one where qfitmc has kissed men #i did in fact write out the entire kiss encounter #but it was too much of a narrative thing lol #i'm not good w not writing fics(?) like they're not genuine analysis #i've probs mischaracterised the shit out of qfit but i've had this encounter in my head for a month so forgive me for my demons #mission man is probably a jilted ex atp with the way I've penned this #this has been in my drafts for so long it's awful </3 #q!fitmc #qsmp #hideduo #please read this with a british accent in mind it'll sound better x

[that-angry-noldo]

Gil-Galad has been sitting by Finarfin's sickbed for almost a day now.

The King was recovering smoothly, the healers assured. He will be back to his feet in a few days. He only needed some time.

Gil-Galad shivered, and curled further into his cloak. Aeglos was on the ground beside him; Finarfin lay on the crude bed, pale face solemn in his sleep. He was sleeping for so long now, Gil-Galad thought. Ten hours spent without any movement; ten hours spent keeping watch instead of actually being useful.

In the small tent, looking at his grandfather's still face, Gil-Galad felt cold and lonely. He shivered again.

It was supposed to be a simple scout mission. Finarfin was not supposed to go; he joined the last moment, and the next time Gil-Galad saw him, he was bleeding, leaning heavily on his guard. People were sent immediately to deal with the orcs who set the ambush which, aside from wounding Finarfin, took the lives of three more soldiers; but Finarfin was given to the healers and —

He lost a lot of blood, the medics said. The wound itself would heal soon, but the King needed rest.

Gil-Galad dropped his head to his knees and bit his lip. It was not right, for something so ordinary to bring him to such state. They were at war. People got wounded every day, people died every day — Gil-Galad was used to it, should have been used to it by now, but it was Finarfin, and—

He looked so pale.

Gil-Galad saw too many deaths to mistake a living man for a corpse, but now he reached to put his fingers at Finarfin's pulse point, and held his breath until he felt the steady beat of the king's heart beneath his fingertips. Only then he breathed again, withdrew his hand, and leaned on the bedframe, closing his eyes.

He was trembling. It was cold.

Finarfin stirred, then groaned weakly. Gil-Galad opened his eyes; he turned around to face his grandfather.

Finarfin looked at him. His eyes struggled to grasp the lines of Gil-Galad's face; they darted from his chin, to his brow, to his hair, and Gil-Galad leaned into the touch when Finarfin cupped his cheek.

"Eönwë?" Finarfin whispered, uncertain, and Gil-Galad's heart dropped; but then, recognition flickered in the King's eyes, and he smiled — softly, lovingly: "Gil. It's you."

"It is me. Eönwë is not here." After a second of consideration, Gil-Galad added: "I am sorry."

"No, it's — it's alright, indyo," Finarfin whispered, and smiled. "Grandson. You are here."

Gil-Galad breathed, shakily. "I — I am. I was so worried, I—"

His voice dropped. He bit his lip, taking Finarfin's hand into his own and pressing it to his face.

He inhaled.

"Don't do this anymore," he whispered. Finarfin's thumb brushed a tear from the corner of his eye away.

Finarfin looked at him for a few more seconds, his eyes full of worry; then, his hand dropped down, and he gripped at the sheets, face breaking into a pained grimace. Gil-Galad hurried to his feet.

"I will call the healers," he said, wiping his tears quickly. "I am sorry, Grandfather, I—"

"Gil," Finarfin rasped, looking at Gil-Galad. "Stay. Please."

Gil-Galad's face softened. He smiled.

"Of course. But I will call the healers first. I will be back in no time."

Finarfin nodded, and closed his eyes, face strained with pain. Gil-Galad wavered for a second more, then hurried out of the tent.

The world was cold, and he shivered; but he no longer felt so alone, and if the only thing he could do to help his grandfather was to find healers as soon as possible - well. Then he will do just that.

#gil galad #finarfin #silmarillion #tolkien #silm fic #:3 #them

[viperstrikes]

SEND ME AN ANGEL (JJ Maybank)

➠ Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader ➠ Genre: Angst, with a lil fluff ➠ Type: Series ➠ Trope: Soulmates ➠ Word count: 1,606 ➠ Warnings: abuse/mentions of abuse, trauma, swearing?, alcohol use, JJs (dickhead of a) father ➠ Summary: Soulmate trope where the bruises you get on your body matches your soulmates. If you get hurt, your soulmate will also get the bruise, and vice versa. ➠ Author Notes: I haven’t posted in a minute (like 6 years lololol) but let me know if y’all want a second part to this!

⟢⟢⟢⟢⟢⟢

It’s all so surreal, the way you find out who your soulmate is.

It happens in some sweaty, alcohol-stenched house in Pogues territory, a place you’ve called home for almost two years. You remember the music creating a rhythm in your bones, a sort of cloud fogging over your brain from how much of whatever the hell was in that punchbowl you had already downed. You came here with your friend Alice, and you were both on the dance floor having the time of your life.

You thought you guys looked stupid, but it still didn’t stop you.

Until, well...something else did.

It hits you sharply, the feeling sprouting from your lower abdomen so strongly that you stumble forward a little.

“Jesus,” Your hands dart to where you feel the bruise forming. “Not again.”

You knew what was happening, though, hell, given your soulmates track record, it was far from your first rodeo.

The first time you had ever received a bruise on your body—one that you knew wasn't caused by your childish antics—you were seven.

It happened suddenly, a powerful jolt shifting in your bones and the overwhelming sensation of something not being right following quickly after. It didn’t hurt—it was far from pain—but somehow, you knew in that moment that you’d rather experience pain a million times over than have to undergo the dull and almost numb feeling that made you feel so empty that you wanted to cry.

You ran to your mother, a blubbering mess while you rubbed at the bruise on your arm with an incoherent string of words tumbling out of your mouth. She had explained it to you then; opened you up into a world where soulmates existed. Where the bruises that seemingly appeared out of nowhere had meant that there was someone who was meant for you. Where the person you were bound to collide with was your other half. Your missing piece.

And you hated it.

But it wasn't the idea of soulmates that you hated. You didn’t mind having comfort in knowing that someone out there had the same fate string as yours.

Your issue was that your soulmate seemed to be a careless, chaotic idiot. Most people are careful, most people know that the second they get a bruise that their soulmate will sport a matching one, but your other half seems to be completely insensitive.

Even now, as you stand in the middle of a crowd but somehow feel more lonely than ever, that much is apparent.

You don’t feel like dancing anymore, and so you hurriedly break off from Alice - she doesn’t seem to notice, which, thank God - to get some space.

You trek up the stairs - pushing past a couple who’re sucking face, and pull open the first door you see, the world sounding like a murmur behind the door when you close it.

But then,

“Whoa, you ever heard of knocking?” The voice is only a sliver of familiar, if anything, but it’s enough to get you to turn around to see that you’ve taken refuge in a bathroom, and that JJ Maybank, of all people, is shirtless and staring at you through the mirror in front of him with an incredulous expression crossing his features.

“Oh.” You still, taking note of the blood in the sink and his shaky hands, but not staring for longer than you should.

The last and only time you spoke to the guy was a few months after you moved here last year, where you quickly realized how awfully smart mouthed he was. From what you heard, he got into trouble, was a bit rowdy, and has broken one too many hearts, but he’s somehow completely private about his personal life; keeps to himself a lot and really only socializes with the only three friends he seems to have.

“Yeah, oh, sweetheart,” JJ breaks eye contact with you and tenses his jaw, grabbing the rag on the side of the sink and dabbing it around his lower abdomen.

It’s then that you notice the bruise blooming on the surface of his skin; a bruise formed in the same place you’re feeling completely hollow in on your own body. You think it’s a coincidence, but when you see another fading bruise on JJ’s wrist - one you woke up to last week - your breath hitches a bit.

You expect the realization to hit you in some sort of way, get you excited or tingly or warm or even nervous. Something, anything. But JJ looks too angry and was obviously hurt, notably enough that the only thing you can wonder isn’t if JJ is your soulmate - the soulmate you’ve been waiting for - but rather why the pain you feel from the bruise suddenly hurts twice as bad.

You quickly look away, and you decide that it’s to let JJ hesitantly continue inspecting the wound - something that makes him hiss and wince and swear.

Definitely not because of the real possibility that you and JJ could be...

“I’m...so sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in here-” You tried again, but JJ pointedly cuts you off.

“Well someone is in here,” He's irritated. And a bit drunk, you note. But there’s something a bit off about the expression he wears on his face. Like he’s...weary. 

You don’t blame him.

“Right,” You say, but there’s a foreign feeling pooling in your stomach and you find yourself stepping forward. JJ pauses then, eyeing you like you’d just done something stupid, a bit of drunken scrutiny laced in his eyes.

You ignore it. “I could help. Y’know, with...” You gesture towards his chest, “My moms a nurse so I know a few things.” 

JJ doesn’t miss a beat to turn around and face you, silent but still wincing from the pain. The bruise looks worse in that light, like it stings and itches, but JJ doesn’t look phased about it at all. He just looks at you through a stoic-faced expression, jaw tightened - but, he nods, eventually. And you’re honestly really… surprised at that.

It takes you a few minutes, but you eventually get his wound cleaned and bandaged up, trying desperately to hide any sort of panic or discomfort that starts to grow alongside the bruise on your own skin. It feels the same as it always does, but different. Somehow.

Maybe it’s because you know who it belongs to this time. And that knowledge comes bottled with way too many questions that you don’t think JJ can handle at the moment. He looks too lost; somewhere deep diving into the pits of his mind, body slumped against the bathroom counter as he begins to pull his t-shirt back on.

The last thing you need to do is psych him out with the truth of knowing that you’re it. “The One”. Someone the universe had picked out for him.

“So, what was so urgent that you didn’t stop to check if the bathroom was occupied before going into it?” JJ  breaks the silence, but there’s no malice to his words. Just a bit of amusement and a lot of curiosity.

“I-uh…” You don’t know what to say, or how to say it, really. JJ looks too tired and you don’t want to blurt out that you think you’re his soulmate - and even worse, that you’re fucking scared of the odds because it’s JJ Maybank. He has a rep with girls, and he doesn’t seem serious about...well, anything.

Except for maybe whatever had given him that bruise and gotten him looking pale and dim-eyed at this stupid, stupid party.

“Just needed to get away from everyone for a bit,” You give him a small smile, hoping it’s enough. And apparently, it is. At-least judging by the way he relaxes a bit, like he’s not on edge anymore.

“Yeah, these things suck ass sometimes,” He pulls something from his pocket and - oh. Blunt and lighter. “Don’t blame you at all. Shits stuffy,” He takes a few puffs after lighting it, lolling his head back before outstretching his hand and offering you some.

You blink, almost denying it before you figure that it could help you ease up; especially with you still trying to hold down the urge to cry because of how bad the bruise has made you feel this time around.

You wonder briefly if he feels it too, underneath the actual pain of it all.

“You gonna be okay?” You ask quietly, handing the joint back to him.

There’s genuine surprise in his face when you say that, and you pretend that you don’t notice the curious gaze he gives you - like there’s something about you he can’t quite pinpoint.

And - yeah. If only he knew.

“I’ll be fine. Always am.” He reassures, jaw a little slack, and then adds on hesitantly: “Thanks for the help, and for not asking questions or freaking out.”

“Course,” You nod like it’s that simple. Like you two have known each other for years and this was a common occurrence. Like there was nothing strange about sitting in a bathroom with JJ Maybank and getting high. “It was my fault for barging in, but I won’t tell anyone. Promise,” You hold your pinky finger in the air, and JJ raises a brow at you.

He seems to be pondering over something, but he decidedly reaches forward to lock his pinky with yours. He’s warm, and now that your thoughts have died down a little, you notice in this proximity that he smells a lot like a bonfire.

“Guess it’s a promise, then.”

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#jj maybank #outer banks #outer banks imagine #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj mayback x reader #* #smaa: 1 #send me and angel

[optimisticstudentangel]

Dateables when you are sick

No warning. Fluff. Reader is gender neutral 

Summary: your favourite characters take care of you. Luke is included

Diavolo

The moment he heard about your sickness, he ditches his work to see your condition with his own eyes. You try to reason him, by saying that “you don’t want him to catch cold too”. You were afraid that Barbatos wouldn’t forgive you, if young prince indeed became ill.

But anyway, he found extra time in his busy schedule to bombard you with lots of sweet messages, which included wishes for your speedy recovery. “I can’t wait to see you in a heathy state, so that we could hold our usual tea parties, without you, it’s not the same.” – you understood exactly what he experienced, being locked in your room without anyone, especially without Diavolo, was unbearable.  

Knowing that you were really lonely, Diavolo would send you many stuff, from medical supplies to Barbatos’ pastries and tea sets. This should somehow keep you occupied, so you wouldn’t worry much about your temporary isolation.

One day, Diavolo still decided to visit you, before going to you, Barbatos insisted that the prince put a mask on himself so as not to get infected from you. After stepping in your room, he hugged you tightly, even though you suggested not to get too close. He was not empty-handed. He and Barbatos made you a soup, this gesture was so lovely, you thanked Diavolo and asked him to tell your gratitude to the butler too.

You spend some time talking with each other, he promised to visit you again after some time. “Please, MC, get well soon. I need you around, only you can light up my day.”  

Barbatos

When you are sick, Barbatos is the person you wish to run to. He is good at taking care of other people’s needs, so it’s not a problem for him to quickly cure you. But one freighting thing is, that when he would hear about your illness, he would lecture you like Lucifer, or even longer than prideful demon himself.

-          MC, please you know better, than wearing thin clothes, even just for a quick shopping for foodstuff. If you don’t take care of yourself properly it will affect every aspect of your life, like studying, that means you wouldn’t get good grades, which will disappoint Diavolo. And more importantly it will make me sad. I need you to stay strong, if you are not salubrious, it also makes me stressed about your well-being, - after he finishes though, you know that you will be looked after, so there is no need for you to be anxious.

Barbatos will shelter behind Diavolo, in every possible way, using him as an excuse, just not to say that he himself is very worried about you. But you know the butler for too long, to understand that he is in fact, concerned about you.

“Open your mouth wider” – he says with a sympathetic smile. Barbatos hands you a spoon with medicine, you blush a little, but still do what he asked. Then he proceeds to pet you gently saying, that “you are doing great”.

Luke

-          Simeon, help me out please! Should I make them some cookies, or something more filling with vegetables? - the little angel spent the whole morning in the kitchen trying to cook you some tasty food, so that you would recover as soon as possible. If the angel had the opportunity to somehow brighten up your time, he would try to do so. However, Simeon insisted that Luke wait until you get better. Firstly, because he didn't want the little angel to get sick too, and secondly, Simeon wanted you to be able to spend time in peace and quiet.

But even being locked up in your room, you got a lot of attention from Luke. He made you cute postcards with various kind messages with his own hands. On one of the postcards, Luke drew one of your last walks where you played with street cats. It was so cute, you hardly held back tears of happiness.

He would call you every day, to check on your health and to tell you how his day went. “MC, you are watching over yourself, properly right? Please do so! I need to share a new recipe with you”

Simeon

When the news of your poor health reached Simeon, he was very worried about you. He offered you his help in every possible way, asking about your needs.

The angel offered you his own notes for the days that you were not present. Simeon explained the topics of the new lessons to you so that you would not lag behind the others. He wanted you to be able to integrate into your studies without any problems, as if you hadn't missed it at all.

-          You are doing great, little lamb. I shall reward you with some homemade cookies and hot tea. After little break, we should continue the lessons, so you would not fall back, okay? – he smiled at you.

It was inconvenient for you to ask Simeon for help, even though he insisted on the opposite. He understood that you are not in the best condition at the moment, and that you need to gain more strength.

While you were taking a bath, angel took the moment to clean up your room. Simeon opened the window to ventilate the space and to let fresh air into your room. After all, sleeping in a clean, tidy room with a pure air is a pleasant thing. You thanked Simeon, for all the work he has done to you. He only replied, that you are always welcome to turn to him, if you have any problem.

Solomon

When Solomon found out that you were sick, he decided that he would cook everyday soups especially for you, because this dish is so nutritious and good against colds. But lucky for you purgatory hall guys, dissuade him from doing so, you were the most overjoyed person and thanked everyone, including fate itself.

-          Sorry, MC, I couldn’t prepare a meal for some reasons, but I’ve got something else that will make it up for you, - behind his back, Solomon was holding something that was glowing, you were suffering from curiosity, trying to guess what he was hiding. “This potion will quickly put you on your feet, it is designed to increase immunity. Please drink it, so that we’ll be able to spend carefree time soon”

Most likely, Solomon spent a lot of time to prepare this potion for you, his face was very pale, and there were bags under his eyes. You were overwhelmed with mixed feelings, you were infinitely grateful to Solomon, that he did this for you, but at the same time you were sad to realize that Solomon was very tired, and had many sleepless nights because of you.

As if reading your thoughts Solomon said: "You're not blaming yourself right now, are you? Please don't fill your head with such thoughts. I did it because I'm worried about you, and because you're an important person in my life, and for me it's a duty to take care of my beloved ones." – he gave you a warm smile. “So, no worries, okay, my love?”

#wrote this when i was sick #and i kept thinking how cute it would be if side characters took care of sick reader #obey me #obey me scenarios #obey me fanfic #diavolo x you #barbatos x you #obey me luke #simeon x you #solomon x mc #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon

[anne-bsd-bibliophile]

Murder in the Age of Enlightenment: Essential Stories

By Akutagawa Ryūnosuke, translated by Brian Karetnyk

"... having fallen as far as this, they had already been so wearied by the many tortures of Hell that they no longer had the strength to cry out." (The Spider's Thread)

"At any rate, if you want to rob a man of his woman, it's only natural that you're going to have to kill him. Only, when I do it, I do it with a sword. People like you don't use swords. You gentlemen kill with power, with money, sometimes with words alone - all on the pretence of doing a man a favour. True enough, no blood is shed. He might even live well. But you've killed him all the same. It's hard to say whose sin is greater - yours or mine. [An ironic smile]" (In a Grove)

"When it once pleased His Lordship to joke, 'You appear to take pleasure in all manner of unsightly things,' Yoshihide's unnaturally red lips creased into an unnerving smile and he replied haughtily, 'Yes, My Lord, it's true. Other more frivolous painters lack the insight required to perceive beauty in what offends the eye.'" (Hell Screen)

"'As a rule, I'm unable to paint anything I haven't seen. ... I have seen a man bound by iron chains,' Yoshihide said. 'I have made a detailed sketch of another being tormented by a monstrous bird. Thus, it cannot be said that I do not know the tortures that sinners endure. As for the wardens of Hell . . .' here the corners of Yoshihide's lips rose sinisterly, 'as for the wardens of Hell, I have seen them any number of times in my dreams and hallucinations. Devils with bulls' heads, with horses heads, with three faces and six arms. Almost every night they come to torment me with their noiseless clapping hands and their voiceless gaping mouths. No . . . They are not what I am unable to pain.'" (Hell Screen)

"The fleeting moments I have left impel me to set down my story, to describe the motives that brought me to commit the murder, the act itself, as well as the strange state that gripped me after the deed was done. And yet - O! and yet - even now, how keenly I am aware of my breath warming the frozen ink, of having placed this sheet of paper before me, and, with fear and trepidation, trying vainly to master myself. After all, to examine my past and set it down in writing means nothing less than to relive a past life. Once more I hatch my plan, once more I commit the deed, once more I am made to suffer the torments of this last year. Can I really have the strength to endure all this?" (Murder in the Age of Enlightenment)

"My state of mind then was such that a Japan without [her] had become utterly foreign to me. Rather than eke out the existence of a broken man in a country that was no longer my own, I thought it might be better to take a volume of Childe Harold, travel to some remote, distant place and, having roamed the world in lonely solitude, bury my bones in the soil of some foreign land." (Murder in the Age of Enlightenment)

"It seems that deep within my soul there lurks a monster incomprehensible even to myself." (Murder in the Age of Enlightenment)

"As the time passed, however, little by little I inched closer to the most despicable temptation of my life, and to a destiny with which I would ultimately have to reckon. By no means do I have the courage to recount how fierce was the battle I had to fight, how step by step, it pursued me to the brink of death. No, even now, as I inscribe these lines, I must enter into mortal combat with this hydra of temptation." (Murder in the Age of Enlightenment)

"... he contemplated death and war. But not even the faintest glimmer of wisdom came of it. After all, dying was still a wretched business, even if it was for the Emperor. As for war . . . Well, he didn't even hold war to be a crime. Next to war, crime, rooted as it was in private passion, was almost understandable. But war mean one's duty to the Emperor, and nothing else. And yet, he - but no, it was not just he, for more than two thousand men, from every division, had been selected for the White Sash Unit, and they too, whether they liked it or not, would now have to die, carrying out the greatest of duties . . ." (The General)

"I have no artistic conscience; indeed, I have no conscience whatsoever. I have only nerves." (Cogwheels)

"Soon enough, I began to feel that anything and everything was a lie. Politics, industry, arts, science - all this seemed to me little more than a gaily coloured enamel concealing the true horror of human life." (Cogwheels)

"I looked up to the lofty heavens to remind myself how small the world was - and, consequently, how small I myself was - amid the twinkling of countless stars." (Cogwheels)

"I haven't the strength to go on writing this. To live in this state of mind is an agony beyond all words. Isn't there someone kind enough to strangle me softly in my sleep?" (Cogwheels)

#akutagawa ryūnosuke #murder in the age of enlightenment #japanese literature #the spider's thread #in a grove #hell screen #the general #cogwheels #spinning gears

[witch-and-her-witcher]

For @asnowfern, a gift for @acotargiftexchange! The support and positivity of your responses left me brimming with creative inspiration, so please enjoy this Nessian First Hybern War (and after) AU.

Thank you @popjunkie42-blog and @wilde-knight for your beta reading and handholding. <3

Ao3 | 1, 2, 3, (4)

--

nessian | E | marriage of convenience, first hybern war AU, angst, whump, emotional slow burn

War brings them together, a bond binds them - but is that enough for two broken people to find love with each other?

~*~

“Mates?”

Nesta doesn’t slow as her fingers caress the silky fabric of her last presentable gown for one final moment before folding it delicately and adding it to their lone piece of luggage.

“Correct. Mates.”

Elain ponders the word, the implication, as she peers out the foggy windowpane. She’s washed, dressed, hair plaited neatly for travel just as Nesta had assisted with first thing this morning. Her sister will always look as delicate and beautiful as she deserves, no matter if she has the energy to see to her needs herself. 

And while she does have more energy — maybe Nesta isn’t ready to give up some of the caretaking she’s been doing for Elain. It settles her, to know tacitly that Elain has been cared for each day, even if by Nesta’s cold, killer’s hands.

“And this … being mates? It’s why you stole away to wed in the middle of the night?”

“I apologize for not waking you. I had Madame Lassau from across the way sit in, if you’re concerned with your safety. She is as mean as she is ugly, you know that, no one would have dared –”

“Sister,” Elain cuts her off. “You’re married. Mated, whatever … that means. And now we are leaving the only home we’ve ever known. It’s very sudden, that’s all. Some concern is warranted.”

“Opportunity tends to present itself in that manner.”

“And love?”

Nesta pauses her packing. The weight she puts on her resting hands push Elain’s second pair of polished heeled loafers into the folded fabrics and down to the bottom of the luggage. 

Love.

No. Certainly there was no sudden eruption of love between her and the mighty warrior. But he’d slain their enemies and protected their village, Elain. He seems taken with Nesta at least physically, and even went so far as to clean up their home. And he’s fae. Automatically better off than any human can be, had to come from wealth like the stuck-up lordlings who traveled into their territory.

Nesta hasn’t forgotten the call from his brothers-in-arms: “prince.”

It can’t be true … But if Bahay is a prince’s estate …

They wouldn’t know the burr of stubborn hunger any longer.

And Nesta wouldn’t know the heel of Tomas Mandray.

Love? No. But survival? Yes.

“Don’t be silly,” she says curtly, falling back into motion once more.

Elain’s expression turns dour. “Love is a silly thing, isn’t it …”

“I didn’t mean –”

“Perhaps I’ll rest before we travel.”

Nesta watches her sister’s wistful shape drift to the bed for one last mournful slumber in the linens that will remain. It will sell with the rest of her father’s estate of assets and the funds will be transferred to her husband.

Cassian.

Cassian, who laughed when she asked after a surname.

She knows many fae with family names, but apparently in his region they aren’t kept. So Nesta will be, is, Cassian’s wife – mate, he says will be more meaningful to fae. It will all be worth it. An escape she never foresaw as a possibility.

The kettle clatters intentionally down below.

Nesta’s back stiffens.

Early, he’s arrived early.

“You move so silently for someone of your size,” Nesta says by way of greeting as she clears the stairs.

Cassian looks up from the kettle he’s using to heat water for tea. His lips tighten at the edge. Nesta angles the side of her face with blooming red stripes from the elder Mandray’s slap. Another mark of a man’s touch.

But she doesn’t have to worry if it will disgust him, her weakness and inability to keep herself out of trouble. They’re tied together now in the eyes of the court — or the bleary-eyed priest and witness Cassian had grabbed off of the streets, anyway.

It makes Nesta feel off balance.

“In my nature.”

She stands silently, watchfully, over his shoulder where he’s crouched and stoking the fire. Uncertain how they’re supposed to act now.

“Things went smoothly with the Village Clerk?”

“Yes, the marriage has been documented and the notice of the new head of the Archeron family. Should hear something in a few months and the funds will be transferred then.”

Nesta wrings her hands – stops herself, balling her fists and keeping her body still. She is not nervous. She will not look as displaced as she feels.

“The sale will take so long to process?”

It was wishful thinking that she would have her own spending money in their new home, but Nesta still had held on to that small hope for self-sustainability. To instead rely solely on the generosity of her new husband. Mother above, she hasn’t even ensured she’s his only wife – mate – what if they keep more than one? What if her and Elain will be living off of scraps?

Cassian rises gracefully to his full, lumbering height and Nesta forces herself not to take a step back. 

“Something about exchange of currency and access to the treasury now that normal processes are starting again. Sorry, not much of a head for economics.”

“Some heads are better off growing pretty hair,” Nesta says before she can contain the words. Silently wishes she can gobble them back up before Cassian can change his mind on his wicked, cold-hearted wife and dissolve their union, cancel their move. “I – that was … Not what I meant.”

Cassian cocks his head, that pretty hair of his moving with it. “Didn’t mean which part, Nesta?”

The sound of her name off of his tongue has no right to sound so intoxicating, so richly erotic in his accent, the last vowel of her name floating into the wind after the click of his tongue on the ‘t’. 

Something flutters in Nesta’s chest.

This close, without the cloy of death and battle soaking through them both, Cassian smells temptingly male in all the right ways. Lingering tobacco smoke and campfire and that strong alcohol he’d brought on their evening out. But stronger is pine and something else fresh that cuts through it all like a jolt of adrenaline. The scent makes Nesta feel alive.

“That my hair is pretty?” Cassian continues. “Or that I’m not suited for anything too intellectual?”

Nesta presses her lips firmly together. Unwilling to answer either question.

The kettle starts whistling.

Cassian winks. “Either way, you’re right.”

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#nessian #nesta x cassian #acotar winter gift exchange 2023 #acotar #acotar fanfic #my writing #CYLMWIHM