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sanjisprincesswifey · 4 months

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pros and cons

summary: the good, the bad, the ugly, perfectly curated into a pros and cons list

♡: reupload (but better now), some nsfw content is listed; MDNI, includes all characters with indications of a female reader!

black leg sanji

pros:

constantly wants to color coordinate your outfits together

let’s you pick meals at minimum once a week

very good kisser (he practiced with his pillow a lot before your first date)

he wants you to walk him like a dog

sanji never lets you forget how much you mean to him

always remembers important dates, birthdays, anniversaries, etc.

remembers the little things and notices your absence (will often go to try and find you)

adapts to whatever love language you respond to

cons:

the nicotine smell embeds into your sheets and clothes and is a pain in the ass to get out

yells for any minor inconvenience

occasionally too handsy

always finishes before you

major jealousy issues

is constantly horny

says he’s fine but he’s dying inside

doesn’t understand the concept of alone time and takes it personally if you ask to be by yourself

roronoa zoro

pros:

the best napping partner

protective

is a softie but only with you

very emotionally intelligent

gym trainer boyfriend

let’s you take the relationship at your own pace because he can’t be bothered

loves to mark you and give you hickies

always makes sure you finish first

cons:

stinky (bro smells like sweat and steel)

does not have a single romantic bone in his body; you’ll literally have to teach him how to be a boyfriend

is extremely blunt

snores super loud

might fall asleep while you’re talking

you can no longer be friends with sanji

doesn’t ask you to date him, just assumes you are together

gets upset when you can’t keep up with his drinking

monkey d luffy

pros:

the best hugger

extremely loyal to you

hides midnight snacks for both of you

lets you sit on the ship’s figurehead with him

king of silly sentimental gifts (hand-picked flower, cool rock, pretty seashell, that sort of thing)

always makes sure you’re included in conversations

shares his favorite foods with you

can always make you feel better

cons:

doesn’t know how to be quiet or whisper

never lets you win arguments

throws himself at you with no regard to his strength

no concept of personal space

rubs his boogers on you

accidentally makes fun of the noises you make during sex

will steal blankets from you while you’re asleep

points out your pimples or zits

usopp

pros:

always finds a way to make you laugh

grows flowers for you

comforts you if you’re insecure

handmade gifts!!!!!!

brags about you to everyone

loves to show you off and tell stories about your adventures together

names special attacks after you

always lets you in on the pranks he pulls

cons:

is insecure

would sacrifice you to an enemy to protect himself

shows you bugs even if you’re afraid of them

incredibly awkward with all your firsts

clammy hands

make jokes during arguments (it makes you madder and the cycle continues)

never tops

sometimes pranks you too

cyborg franky

pros:

is always telling you how hot you are

can literally build/make you anything you desire

romantic (can be corny sometimes though)

so flirty with you

human refrigerator; occasionally lets you store things in there

introduces you like this: “and this is my super smokin’ hot girlfriend, OW” to anyone who will listen

protects you during fights

king of reassurance

cons:

messy

never wears pants

slaps your ass too hard since he’s half metal

dad jokes 24/7

you can’t compliment him without him doing a montage of poses

difficult to cuddle with (again he’s made of parts)

always busy fixing something on the ship

is constantly asking you if he can make you a cyborg too

nami

pros:

lets you take a few of her tangerines

immune to her reprimanding when something bad happens (most times)

extremely thoughtful gift giver

shares her money with you

cares deeply about you (don’t point it out though because then she’ll stop)

is always telling you how pretty you are

very good in bed

is more lenient with your allowance

cons:

pawns gifts you get her

bad communicator

critiques everything about you

can and will distance herself from you

charges you if you piss her off

talks about vivi way too much for having a whole other girlfriend

doesn’t apologize after fights even if she caused them

bullies you (with love)

nico robin

pros:

leaves you notes in books to find later

the voice of reason in your relationship

notices and compliments you on every little change you make (haircuts, style change, etc.)

extremely good listener

literally a human search engine; so smart you can ask her almost any question and she knows the answer

passionate lover; treats you like a god in bed

soft lips

spoils you in every way that she can

cons:

can make you feel dumb with her endless knowledge

will never say ‘i love you’ first

always tops (a possible pro depending on your preferences tbh)

has nightmares almost every night ):

closed off in the beginning of your relationship

franky hits on her (and you) all the time

rather be reading than with you

takes your relationship extremely slow

portgas d ace

pros:

can heat food up for you at any time day or night

loves pda

plans fun dates

probably says ‘i love you’ a million times a day

into body worship (both ways)

kills bugs for you

walk him like a dog, sis !

never says no to you

cons:

sweaty and greasy in the summer

farts and gives you a dutch oven

doesn’t take anything seriously

adhd moments

mommy AND daddy issues

likes to lay on top of you even though he’s huge and basically crushes you

talks with his mouth full

is loud in bed (because he enjoys it so much) and everyone can hear when you two have sex

sabo

pros:

another body worshipper

dragon claw fist. need i say more?

the best secret keeper

praises you

would actually bow down to you

very respectful, asked you to kiss on your first date

awkward but sensual lover

a loyal puppy

cons:

loves being right

sore winner & loser

cocky ass mf

talks about luffy and ace 24/7

never on time

bad temper

might catch on fire if he’s mad

loves to tease you (again, could be a pro depending on your preferences)

shanks

pros:

buys you anything you could ever want

good kisser

always showing you off

treats you like a queen

calls you his wife

very affectionate in public

another worshipper; does that thing where his kisses lead up from your hand to your shoulder

when he gets drunk and you try to kiss him, he pushes you away and says “get off me, i have a wife”

cons:

gets you riled up during the day

teases you all the time

can be unreliable

bad at flirting

drunk all the time

still makes jokes about his arm even though it’s been YEARS

lingering alcohol smell

pervert

trafalgar law

pros:

rarely cooks but always does for you when you’re sick

smells amazing all of the time

lets you do this eyeliner in the morning (based off this fanart)

is a victim of the ‘she fell first, he fell harder’ trope

gives you sound solutions to your problems

literally becomes addicted to you and can’t live without you

flusters easily, very shy

would shave his facial hair if you asked him to (please tell him to shave off that godforsaken beard)

cons:

very blunt

never talks about his feelings

grammar police

a virgin; he doesn’t know what to do but fakes confidence like he does (it makes your first time a bit awkward but just talk him through it, babe)

humbles you without meaning to

over explains if you broach a subject he likes

sassy

just stares at you when you try to flirt with him

eustass kid

pros:

scary boyfriend privilege

an absolute beast in bed

insanely good kisser

raspy morning voice

you get to use his boobies as a pillow

is very smart but kinda dumb

eats pussy like a starved man

will always save you some food (it’s how he shows he cares)

cons:

dramatic

hangs out with killer more than you

will put the milk carton back in the fridge even if it’s empty

you can never be mad at him or make him mad because he’s the biggest asshole ever

ignores you if you’re fighting

zones out while you’re talking

if you send him a long, thoughtful text, he’ll respond back with ‘k’

what’s his is his and what’s yours is his

donquixote rosinante

pros:

walk. him. like. a. dog.

possessive over you, especially around his brother

would protect you with his last dying breath

absolute romantic

probably writes you poems

gentle giant, is so careful and soft with you

amazing cook despite accidentally setting himself on fire

has the patience of a god, once again, because of his brother

cons:

clumsy

you have to keep a fire extinguisher with you at all times

you can’t get the smoke smell out of his clothes

he’s so tall you can’t kiss normally, he has to pick you up

whiny

silent treatment

covers up his farts with his devil fruit and you don’t realize it until it stinks

has really bad resting bitch face (literally goes from :| to :) in .03 seconds)

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated (✿◠‿◠)

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in-som-niyah · 1 month

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GirlDad!Jason who supports you all throughout your pregnancy; holding your hair when you get sick, rubbing your sore feet and ankles, holding you through cramps/braxton hicks, buying you everything you craved etc.

GirlDad!Jason who cried for hours after she was born. His little girl, just as beautiful as you, all bundled up in soft blankets. He never believed he could love someone so much, it was like his entire body was burning with love and compassion for this little bean in his arms. For once, the world stopped, just for him.

GirlDad!Jason drives the most carefully he ever has in his life when coming back from the hospital. Despite your incessant giggling about how you've never seen him so scared, he drove like a damn senior citizen. He was carrying the most precious cargo, could you blame him?

GirlDad!Jason who changes diapers, feeds, bathes and plays with your daughter. He never leaves her for more than 5 minutes, and is involved to the point of mild annoyance. You would put your daughter down for 5 seconds and return to her gone, and in his arms. It's the most adorable thing though, you wouldn't trade it for the world.

GirlDad!Jason who can't stand to see your daughter upset. It's a trait he developed when she got to the toddler age, always fussing about everything she can't have and Jason giving in. Every time.

GirlDad!Jason who cries on her first day of kindergarten. Would never admit it though, but he hates seeing her grow up. He dreaded the day she learned how to tie her shoes and zip up her coat independently. It makes him feel like she doesn't need him anymore :(

GirlDad!Jason who will, without fail, play princesses, hair salon, tea party and barbies with his daughter. It doesn't matter if the world needs saving or if Bruce is up his ass, his daughter comes second to nothing. Even if it's to kiss a minor booboo she got while running around the house.

GirlDad!Jason who always brings back little trinkets and toys for his daughter. Her bedroom will be cluttered with stuffed animals and shiny things that caught his eye or reminded him of her. She would anticipate his key in the door which meant daddy brought home something for her. No matter how old she gets, he won't stop.

GirlDad!Jason who absolutely fucks up bullies. Be it in kindergarten or in college, Jason will make sure she and her friends are never bothered again. I cannot disclose his methods for legal reasons.

GirlDad!Jason who doesn't freak out about periods. He's so loving and supportive and doesn't ever make her feel ashamed about it. He'll bring her tea, hot chocolate, hot water bottles, painkillers, heating pads and rub her back if she's in a lot of pain. He'll take the day off to stay with her, and never force her to go to school on those days.

GirlDad!Jason who absolutely spoils his daughter shamelessly. Mom said no more sweets? Well dad sure isn't going to place a bag of candy under her pillow the next day. She wants a car for her 16th birthday? His baby gets a pink Porsche with a bow on top. She's obsessed with X artist? All the merch in the world miraculously ends up in her room.

GirlDad!Jason who will tower menacingly over her first partner. It doesn't matter how much you or your daughter like them, Jason's imagining a thousand ways to hide their dismembered body.

GirlDad!Jason who needs to be talked down from killing said partner when he finds his daughter balled up in a crying mess on her bed when they break up. Nobody makes his precious girl sad. He'll definitely egg their house without your knowledge. He buys her everything she could ever ask for to make her feel better, no matter how stupidly expensive.

GirlDad!Jason who's always up to a conversation. No matter how embarrassing or personal, he'll listen and give honest advice. Because he's so open, your daughter almost never hides anything from him.

GirlDad!Jason who bawls after dropping her off at university. Again, would never admit it, but sleeps on the floor of her bedroom for the first month she's away. He can't help but miss his little (adult) girl. He also flips through pictures and videos on his phone of when your daughter was little and sheds a few tears. Honestly it only makes you love him more.

GirlDad!Jason who still doesn't like your daughter's college partner. He's better this time around, but still. Don't put murder past him. Yet.

GirlDad!Jason who cries when your daughter shows him her shiny new engagement ring. He's so excited yet terrified. His baby girl is all grown up now.

GirlDad!Jason who walks your daughter down the isle with the brightest smile on his face. He slowly comes around to liking her fiancé(é) and honestly wishes them well.

GirlDad!Jason who meets your daughter at the hospital, ready to meet his new granddaughter for the first time. He holds her in his arms, just like he did his daughter, and gleams knowing the cycle is repeating itself. He couldn't be more excited.

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a/n: sequel to this post i guess??? i needed something cute with jason and his daughter bc..... well..... we don't talk about my own father :D

night night guys

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason peter todd #red hood #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #dcu #jason todd comfort #robin jason todd #dc robin #dad jason todd #daddy issues lol #arkham knight x reader #arkham knight #in som niyah

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babyleostuff · 6 months

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hi! I was wondering if you would write an angst svt reaction about them saying something they didn’t mean in a fight but it just came out?

i decided to do this with the hhu, if you want me to do it with any of the other units let me know!

saying something they didn’t mean in a fight | hip hop unit

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

as a leo and a fire sing myself, i’m sure that cheol can be a bit impulsive and not think his actions through, especially if it’s during a fight where his emotions are all over the place. things would get heated really quickly with him, and he’d have a hard time holding his tongue.

“shit, baby,” he reached for your hand, eyes wide and panicked. “don’t fucking call me that seungcheol,” you pulled your wrist out of his grasp, looking at him with an expression that made his heart shutter to million pieces.

he knew the second the words left his mouth that he shouldn't have said them, but his brain was too slow to understand that, and the heat of the argument made him lose all of his common sense. “my precious baby, i’ve hurt them,” that would be the thought that’d run through his mind, as he tried to wrap his head around what he had just done. “just… leave me alone.”

and he’d do that. he’d give you as much time as you needed, but that wouldn’t mean he’d abandon you. cheol would make you your favourite ramyeon and place it at the nightstand next to your bed where you were resting, or he’d put his hoodie in the dryer you always wore after shower, so it’d be warm and cosy.

and he’d take his pillow and blanket from your bed to sleep on the couch, so he wouldn’t make you uncomfortable, and so that you could rest peacefully. but then, after maybe an hour of tossing and turning, seungcheol would hear quiet footsteps, and a dog's paws running across the wooden floor, meaning you couldn’t sleep as well.

you’d lay next to seungcheol, your back pressed against his warm chest, as his arms shyly sneaked around your waist to pull you even closer. “please, let’s never fight like that again,” you murmured, pulling one of cheol’s hands under your chin, nuzzling your nose against his palm.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ JEON WONWOO

honestly, i have a hard time imagining wonwoo saying something he doesn’t mean. i feel like he always thinks before he talks, no matter what situation he’s in, and he strikes me as a person who is great at keeping his emotions at bay, contrary to cheol. he’d also have this thought at the back of his head that no fight is worth hurting you with his words.

you looked at each other in confusion, as the words left wonwoo’s mouth. never in your whole relationship had he said anything like that, so you were taken aback more by the fact that he even said it more than that it was directed towards you.

wonwoo nervously fixed his glasses, looking as lost as you. you could almost see his brain trying to understand what had just happened. “i’m sorry i… i didn’t mean what i just said,” he looked at you, eyes big and sad.

you sighed, and grabbed his hand intertwining your fingers. “i know you didn’t mean it baby” you said, looking at his broken expression. “but you still said it.” his eyes got even wider, and he quickly cradled your face in his hands, running his thumb over your cheeks.

“i know that no matter what i say won’t change what i did, but you have to know that no part of my mind and soul believes in what i said. that was just a stupid intrusive thought that i shouldn’t have said.”

even though you said you forgave him, wonwoo was still very attentive to you for the rest of the evening - he had you on his lap for the whole time he was gaming, he made sure the sweatshirt you wore to bed was one of his best ones, and he cuddled you extra close to his chest that night.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ KIM MINGYU

another fire sign, and as cheol (this might be an unpopular opinion?), might also have issues with controlling his emotions and words during heated arguments. like, i know he’s an amazing person with the best personality, etc. etc. BUT i see gyu as someone who is very defensive of his beliefs and point of views, and i think he can get quite stubborn, which can lead to him saying things he doesn’t really mean.

mingyu knew he shouldn’t have opened his mouth - both of you were consumed by your emotions and neither of you were thinking clearly. the only difference was that he let those emotions hurt you.

“i didn’t… i don’t…,” he whispered, looking at your shattered expression. yeah, he couldn’t believe it either that those horrendous words left his mouth. you closed your eyes tightly, a single tear rolling down your cheek. the person who you trusted with your life broke your heart just like that, but you wouldn’t cry in front of him. he didn’t deserve a single tear after what he had done.

you held your head high up as you turned around and started walking towards the door. “no, no please,” mingyu followed after you, catching up with you quickly. “don’t leave my love. hate me, yell at me, punch me, but don’t leave,” his eyebrows were furrowed and eyes glossy, and you knew that he was trying not to cry as well.

“i’ll take the couch for tonight, but stay. i won’t let you walk out, it’s too dangerous.”

he cradled your head in his hands, and pecked your forehead gently, before disappearing in the bedroom to take his pillow and an extra blanket.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ CHWE VERNON

same with wonwoo, i don’t see vernon saying something he doesn’t mean. like, i don’t think his mind even works that way. for one - arguments with him are never heated, not because he doesn’t give a fuck, but his personality and mindset are so calm and collected in itself that neither of you even have a chance to raise your voices.

“i’m sorry,” he stared at his shoes, too scared to look at you. “i’ll leave you alone.”

he quietly closed the front door behind him, leaving you alone in your apartment, confused and sad. vernon rarely got angry, especially at you, and you had never heard him raise his voice. you had a stupid fight that probably started over something stupid, but both of you were tired and irritated and you just snapped at each other.

but you didn’t mean for him to leave.

later that night, when the sun had already set, vernon came back home as quietly as he left. “chwe hansol, where the fuck have you been?” you exclaimed, worried to death. You threw your arms around hiis neck, pulling him close to you. You shivered as he nuzzled his cold nose into your neck, placing a gentle kiss there.

“you know i didn’t mean what i said, right?” he asked, pulling his face away from you. “of course, silly,” you smiled at him, caressing the back of his neck. “but never leave like that again, or i’ll kick you out myself.”

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @dkswife @marisblogg @whatsgyud @aaniag @jeonghansshitester @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic

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theemporium · 7 months

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Eddie Munson wasn’t the most romantic guy, but he tried his hardest.

His feelings for you were overwhelming in the best way possible. He was loud and eccentric and a little too much for most people, but then again, you weren’t like most people. Wayne had always joked that it was a shock Eddie managed to snag someone like you. You always liked to joke back that Eddie was scaring everyone else off until you came along.

But truth be told, he agreed with Wayne.

He wasn’t sure how he managed to get someone like you to love him, but you did. You loved him with your whole heart. You took one look at him and saw the real Eddie. You didn’t see some third year senior, or some freak obsessed with a fantasy game. You didn’t see a weird metalhead, or some kid with no future.

You saw Eddie. You saw a glimpse of him and you wanted to see more. You wanted to see more so you could love more, and it made his chest feel funny the way you decided to stick around even after seeing the person behind the mask.

And sometimes, Eddie envied how easily the relationship seemed to come to you. You would always surprise him, sometimes with dinner from his favourite or a bouquet of flowers or a tape you knew he had been wanting. You always knew when he wanted to be held or the words he needed to hear to cheer him up a little. You always knew how to make him feel special, like it was a basic instinct for you.

Meanwhile, Eddie was left second guessing himself because the last thing he wanted was to scare you away. He loved you. He loved you so much, it hurt. He loved you so much and he just wanted to show that. Hence, the picnic date.

He had gone all out, having spoken to Robin and Steve countless times over the last week to set up the perfect date setting. He cleaned out the back of his van to make it the perfect fortress of blankets and pillows. He had packed your favourite foods and even splashed some money on the slightly more expensive beer that was easier to get down.

It was the perfect set up for a romantic date, but the funny thing about Eddie Munson was that he wasn’t really a romantic kinda guy. And that was something you adored about him.

You didn’t want cheesy dates and corny lines that made you borderline feel like you wanted to empty your stomach. You didn’t want over-the-top date nights or meticulously planned outings. You didn’t want expensive beers and fancy chocolate-covered strawberries that cost three times the amount they should.

You wanted Eddie.

You wanted your Eddie.

You wanted your Eddie who made you feel good in a million different ways that no other man could ever compare to.

“Eddie,” you let out a soft, high-pitched squeal as your head fell back against the thick blanket beneath you. “Shit, I—”

“This,” he groaned, low and rough and gravelly. It made your stomach dip. His hands gripped the meat of your thighs, keeping them spread open as he leaned down to lick a thick strip along your cunt. “This is better than any fucking dessert.”

“Eddie,” you whined, your hands gripping the fabric of your pretty sundress in tight fists as he began shamelessly licking the mess you had made all over your thighs.

And you really shouldn’t have been surprised.

Eddie was a simple man when it came to you. Anything you did, the boy obsessed over because you did it and he was obsessed with you. So, his brain practically short-circuited when you came running out your house, dressed in a pretty floral dress that brushed against your thighs and had two thin straps holding it up. He about lost the ability to speak when you leaned over to kiss his cheek in a greeting, giving him the perfect view of your tits. But his downfall was when you climbed into the back of his van, giving him the perfect glimpse of the white cotton panties you were wearing that made it difficult to care about eating anything but you.

He lasted all of twenty minutes before he broke, watching a little dribble of strawberry juice drip down your chin that had him leaning over, licking up the mess before crawling over your body completely. You had breathed out his name, breathless and a little dazed when you saw the heated look in his eyes, the look that told you he wanted to devour you and that was exactly what you let him do.

But now you were two orgasms in, your body was wracked with pleasure and the boy didn’t look like he had any plans of stopping soon.

“‘s too much,” you cried out as he pushed your thighs up, almost bending you in half with your knees pushing against your chest so you were completely spread out and exposed for him. “Please, I can’t—”

“One more,” he groaned against your cunt, his nose nudging your swollen clit because he liked the way your body jerked in response. “Need you to come on my fingers, honey. Then I’ll stop, okay? Just one more, that’s all I want.”

“Mhmm,” you whimpered, all high-pitched and whiny but your obedience made him grin.

And he did intend to only make you come one more time for him. He intended to give you a break. He did. He really, really did.

But then he was knuckle deep inside you, the wet and debauched sounds of your soaking pussy echoing through the back of his van as you squirmed and moaned and screamed out his name until your throat was raw. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, your thighs were shaking in his hold and you were babbling incoherently, so lost in the pleasure that you didn’t have time to warn him that something felt different, that there was a twist deep in your guts that didn’t feel familiar.

Eddie could’ve came in his pants from the sight alone.

It almost felt never-ending. His fingers were pumping in and out of you, already soaked to the wrist with your arousal before you were squirting everywhere. You were shaking beneath him, mouth parted with silent screams as you soaked everything around you. As you shook and moaned and came harder than you ever had in your life. As you did something he only thought was possible in fucking pornos.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment when your brain seemed to catch up with your body, blinking a few times as the realisation hit you like a freight truck. Your eyes instantly teared up, your hands desperately trying to pull the soaking material of your sundress over your body to cover yourself up like it would give you some dignity.

You opened your mouth. “Eddie, I’m so—”

“Did I say you could cover up?”

You blinked, your brows furrowing in confusion. “What?”

He slapped your hands away, not allowing you to pull your skirt over your pussy. “I said,” he repeated, his voice lower this time as his darkened gaze caught yours. “Did I say you could cover up?”

You pressed your lips together, shaking your head. “No, sir.”

“Good girl,” he praised, and the hot tears of embarrassment were quickly replaced with the warmth of his praises. “Now, lay back down and keep your legs open.”

“Eddie—” you started again, your stomach dipping when you noticed the mess you made. Not only were you soaked, but so was he. His clothes now stained darker, along with the blanket beneath you but he didn’t seem to care.

“Shhh,” he hummed as his hands rubbed up and down your thighs, completely uncaring of your arousal leaking and dripping down your thighs. “Only wanna hear your pretty moans, honey. Wanna hear how good it feels.”

“It?” You questioned breathlessly.

His grin was vindictive, almost sinister. “Wanna see you do it again f’me, baby.”

Your eyes widened. “But—”

“Nuh uh, what did I say?” He chastised softly, gripping your thighs until a soft whimper left your lips. “Now, either you let me hear those needy noises or I stuff something in that pretty mouth of yours to keep you quiet. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Now, open those legs and let me see my pretty girl.”

#cece's smutober #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things one shot #stranger things smut

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takami-takami · 13 days

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Keigo Takami — Nsfw Alphabet

6k. Hawks x Reader. Minors dni.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Oh, Keigo is sickly sweet.

All that post-orgasmic fuzziness is getting funneled directly back towards you: the object of his affections. Every chemical that bursts and pops in his brain when he comes inside you is getting channeled right back into plentiful doting, post-sex.

Keigo's aftercare… It's riddled with indulgent pampering. You know how some dogs bring you their favorite toy to make you happy? Yeah. It's kinda like that. If you had feathers, he'd preen them between his fingertips.

Keigo's the kind of dom who's primary form of aftercare is giving aftercare. He needs to see his hands soothe and treat you like royalty in order to be normal. At his core, Keigo is quite the sensory, visual creature. When he sees your eyes slit shut like a purring cat beneath his touch, that's when he finally allows himself to breathe.

The hero who is so desperate to help and wants to see people smile more than anything, to the point that it disintegrates him, finally being given a healthy outlet for all those urges to protect and provide and keep you safe? Yet it's still a kind of "work" that satisfies his workaholic nature without feeling like work at all? And it simultaneously serves as the purest, most soothing indulgence he's ever had the pleasure to sink his teeth into?

Oh my god. It makes him normal.

Physical touch is a big one. He's a bit handsy and gets in your personal space, but you don't mind one bit, so it bodes well for the both of you. If you let him pull you into the bath with him after, he likes to wash and run his palms along your body even though you're perfectly capable of doing something like that yourself. His little "let me, babe" is an instruction and a beg all at once. Expect him to get a bit playful with the bubbles, though.

Part of why Keigo loves baths with you is because of the part where you turn him over, gently preening and pinching the bristles of each feather until his brain melts to goo once more.

You're going straight to bed after. No buts. You deserve some well-earned rest after you did so good for him. Keigo made sure to start buying the softest blankets and pillows he could find after you started getting intimate together. Don't ask him why.

Keigo doesn't shy away from verbal affirmations, either: "Oh, baby, you did so good for me", "you're perfect", "I'm so proud of you." He never did like holding back his true feelings on things, and speaking to you is no different. He is going to let it spill and that's that.

For aftercare that he needs personally, be sure to reflect how much his aftercare helps you and be honest about what you need! Whether they're verbal or not, he's quite skilled at understanding cues. It's good for him to be shown the fruits of his actions for a change, even if he doesn't think he needs it.

It's good for him as much as you.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Keigo never stopped to think about his favorite part of his body. If you asked him, he'd likely cock his head to one side like a doberman puppy given a command they can't exactly interpret on the spot.

He supposes everyone expects him to answer with the word "wings"— even though those closest to his inner circle would balk at such a notion, knowing how complicated that whole situation is. Yes, and no.

The answer comes easily, after he meets you. Keigo likes the way you look into his eyes. In that way, he learns to love them.

He abhors his hands, but he worships yours. Every bump and ridge, the sharp roundness of each knuckle, the length of each finger. The way you hold him, the way you touch him. He'd shudder in recounting this, if you were to ask him what parts of you he likes best.

He also adores chests. That skin-to-skin contact is soothing; and although he can hear your heartbeat through his feathers already, pressing his ear directly against the source grounds him deeply. It makes him feel ablaze and at peace all at once, the bareness of your skin.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This boy cums a lot. Like… Genetically. He's blessed. Whatever god is out there gave him the right equipment for his breeding kink in a stroke (ha) of good luck.

Keigo cums sticky, excessive, fat ropes— his backshots are insane, his facials outrageous, his creampies coating the sides of his cock white and spilling out of you before he even can pull out because there's just not enough room for all his cum inside you.

Keigo is a gentleman, so he will ask your input respectfully beforehand without letting his desires slip through the cracks when he pants the question, "where do you want me?"

But you both know the truth.

You're perfectly aware there is nowhere else his poor, sad, pathetically needy dick would rather burst and throb than stuffed deep inside you. Balls deep, as flush as your bodies can practically go, subtly grinding against your ass rather than thrusting because he would rather die than pull out even a fraction while he's in the midst of an orgasm this good.

The orgasms he experiences when he's inside you are the closest Keigo will get to religion.

How else is his cock supposed to get milked? Not inside of you? Fuck out of here.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He, uh… Likes to be humiliated and talked down to. And stepped on... A lot. More than a lot. It makes his brain go fuzzy with the lack of control. Don't ask him where that kink comes from. Really, don't worry about it!

Keigo is also the type of guy to swear he's not into feet (he's into feet). No, really, he just thinks your boots suit you and he swallows a lot around them because he's just so fascinated with the, uh… The style. Yeah. You can prop your feet up on him like a footrest, if you want. It's intimate, or something— whatever, just do it.

Can he kiss them? Can he unlace your boots? Do you want a foot massage tonight, babe? It's no inconvenience, really, don't worry about it, he insists… Please? Fuck, please, would you let him touch you, your skin is so soft, he promises he's been so good please god just let him feel your soles against his hot, throbbing cock— I mean his hands. When he massages them. As a favor to you.

Fuck, his dick is hard now. That's your fault. This is all your fault for wearing sleek leather and not ordering him to rut against it like a fucking dog. Leather boots as a "fashion choice" his ass, you're torturing him. You have to be doing this on purpose. That's your fault, not his, but he's sorry anyway if that means you'll punish him by stepping on his dick so gently with your—

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Virgin loser.

But no, seriously, Keigo has had neither the time nor the cognitive space to stop and consider his own sexuality, let alone experiment with it. It's not like he would have trusted anyone enough to do so with, anyway. Fat fucking chance.

As far as whether he knows what he's doing, he starts off tentative and curious, absorbing the information of your body and voice like a damn sponge. When he tests the waters, so to speak, he starts slowly and observes any miniscule quirk of your muscles, every hitched breath in response to the stimuli he offers.

Keigo is a quick learner and a perfectionist. Don't expect him to take the backseat for long.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary.

Undoubtedly, missionary. He's romantic, like that.

What more could a man want? Your ankles hooked across the small of his back, his right hand entwined with yours while his left kneads every inch of your body, focusing on petting your sex whenever he wants to hear your voice whine for him.

Keigo gets the perfect view like this. He can absorb all you have and breathe it into his lungs and swallow it while he gulps down your image like a sacreligious idol. Like an angel. Like worship.

The connection of it all maddens him. He adores the way he can press your thighs up and into a mating press if he so pleases, deep enough to stuff your guts full of him and make you sob gooey tears with how good it feels. It allows him unbridled access to your thighs, your chest, your hands, your mouth (which he plays with unashamedly like his favorite toy. Fingers, tongue, lips.)

God help him, Keigo loves missionary.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

As serious as Keigo wants to take the love you share, for every intimate night you make love and absolutely nothing else, there's another day he makes you laugh so hard your chest aches like a bruise in bed.

Keigo can be a brat. A little shit, a pain in the ass. This is no secret. Still, every joke and nibble and tackle and moan is utterly saturated. It's sticky. It's lovesick.

He likes to banter in battle, and that switch doesn't turn off when the conflict is between the sheets. There are nights he simply allows himself to be your pillow princess, laid back and spoiled in the fluff of your bed like it's made of heated cashmere; and there are other nights you grant Keigo the holy sacrament of servicing you while you simply lounge and watch him do what he does best.

Those nights, not many words are exchanged. There's no need to say them.

You get each other.

Even so, you cannot count the amount of times you've choked "shut the fuck up" through laughter over the years, when sex looks more like tussling than worship. It's stress relief as much as it is bonding, play as much as it is intimacy. Still, Keigo keeps a good balance of humor and seriousness.

Can't have all work and no play, can he? He never was a dull boy.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Keigo has trimmed hair that is still blonde, but slightly darker than the hair on his head. It's well-kept.

He keeps his chest bare, unfortunately, to look photogenic for his modeling gigs and such. But after many nights spent begging and pleading on your knees, Keigo sort of considers keeping the happy trail. After the night you traced your tongue down the trail toward his cock, promising he'll get this kind of treatment if he keeps it, Keigo never shaves it again.

Oh, Keigo's happy trail… It crawls up his navel and stops just short of his belly button; dark and noticeable, but a little sparse, kind of like the scruff on his chin. It makes him look more rugged while simultaneously making him appear prettier somehow, because Keigo is nothing if not unfairly contradictory and magnificent in everything. Asshole.

You suppose anything would look good with those abs as a backdrop, though.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect?

Keigo never knew intimacy before he met you. It sounds like hyperbole, the word never; but whether people believe him or not, it doesn't erase the decades of longing for no one and nothing in particular, a parasocial ghost that both plagued him and kept him trudging forward.

Keigo builds community for others, working to connect their hearts… Why wasn't he invited, again? Oh well, that doesn't matter to him. That's not why he does the work he does. His own happiness is never why Keigo does fucking anything.

It's for the greater good. And Keigo is worse than everyone else, isn't he? It makes sense why he wouldn't be invited. He never stopped to question that.

You don't touch him like he's dirty, though. The first time your palm slid up his throat, he stiffened and trembled like a twig that might have snapped beneath your boot; but when you hush him this softly, he's a stray kitten in your maws, plucked and wrapped for the first time in fleece and warmth and love. For as feral as the world made him, Keigo is at his core quite a domestic thing. You put him back in place when you make love to him.

In turn, Keigo offers himself to you. It's not much, but it's yours if you'll have it, he says. The louder he gets when you fuck him, the more you realize he's opening up his lungs like buds awake from frost.

You know from experience what that's like. He opens you up, too.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Keigo had to go through a bit of a journey to arrive where he's at.

Namely, over the course of his sad little life, he underwent three categorical phases. Do not mind the tiered nature of the following sections. This shift was, in actuality, torturously gradual; like having one's body dragged forward by its ankles, finally accepting you have no say in where it's headed after a few desperate claws at denial.

Jerking off was a chore, a half-assed attempt at wringing the frustration of a long day out of his body and letting it wash down the drain on Sunday nights— every other time of the week was booked to the nines with hero work. Ten minutes for yanking it, tops. If Keigo timed his sessions with a stopwatch, he'd fall just short of the millisecond every time. Score. Efficiency. Plop down in bed and go straight to sleep after so you don't have to think about how lonely that whole experience just made you feel.

Enter, scene: you. After meeting you, masturbation just wasn't the same. It frustrated him that he even had to use the same word to describe it, because as far as Keigo was concerned, this was not the same activity in the slightest. Those were the golden years, when jerking off felt less like "rubbing one out" and more like "this is how it feels to drown in liquid gold. This is how it feels to have your cause of death be every neuron in your brain spontaneously combusting in a fit of pleasure. This is how it feels to be in love." The first time he allowed himself to touch his cock to the thought of you, Keigo swore he saw god; and when he finished an hour later, the back of his hand was chewed to whimpering bits. Yeah, those were the golden years.

And here we are, back to square one. After you finally get together, Keigo is back to square one. What do you mean he has to use his own hand when he's on missions away from you? What do you mean he can't cum inside you? This sucks. This blows. It's not the same, and for all his patience and respectability, the lack of passion when he touches himself kills Keigo with sexual frustration. The only thing it accomplishes is planting a pathetic whimper of "fuck, I miss them" in his head while he pants post-orgasm in a shitty motel bed alone at two in the damn morning. You do get a really cute text message after every time; something chaste like "missing you tonight <3." It's so obvious. You simply have to laugh.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding, obviously.

Dumbification, both ways. Thinking is overrated! And honestly, he deserves a bit of a break from all the whirring that goes on in his overheated, overworked, cognitive machine of a brain. Something about the responsibility for guiding his partner through it when he's the one who doms is special to him, too.

Oral fixation, because he's the cutest little biter. He chews. Keigo also gets lost with his mouth latched onto your chest, flicking his eyes upward periodically when he has the mental faculties to think for half a second (which is not all that often, when his mouth is full, his lips are pursed, and his tongue is lapping its fill.) He also adores giving head!

Subspace, too— Keigo is a fiend for subspace, either guiding you through it or getting lost in it, himself.

Huge fan of edging and overstim. Keigo is not a physical sadist at all, he never wants to make you cry out of pain; but tears of frustration are not just "on the table," they're a goddamn feature. He is such a pain in the ass. You can't blame him for being insufferable, for stopping just short of your orgasm when you want to cum and forcing more out of you when you think it's too much. He's just having so much fun!

Keigo is the kind of guy to edge you when you say you're close and click his teeth dramatically before he goes, "ahhh, shucks, baby. What was that? Did you ask for something? I didn't hear you that time. Ask nicer."

He tilts his chin to the side and taps his ear with two stiff fingers when he leans in, invading your space as he mockingly orders: "Say it louder for me."

And after you throw your little fit about how mean he's being, how he’s such a bully, Keigo finally feels emboldened to move onto the next phase. He makes you feel good until you're sobbing, expertly dragging climax after climax out of your body until you're so overstimulated you can barely speak and are lacking more than a few electrolytes. In which case, Keigo will make a point to laugh at your complaints. He'll say, "aww, I thought you liked coming? Aren't I being nice? Don't pout, I'm just giving you what you asked for!"

This is not so much a kink, but he likes the title daddy because of the trust, affection, and protective responsibility being 'daddy' implies. Assuming responsibility during sex feels like home to him; because for the first time in his life, he has a healthy outlet for those urges and instincts that have caused him so much trouble. He admits in canon to being desperate to be of use and help, after all— oh, and along that same vein, he loves to service top.

Keigo thinks the title "sir" is really cute too! But mostly, he treasures the nicknames and pet names you come up with for him. His names of "Keigo Takami" or "Hawks" have never felt stable for him growing up. So nicknames are nice, for a change.

And he has a mommy kink because of his mommy issues. You'll actually have to be very gentle about this because he absolutely does not recognize where it comes from at all.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In bed. Anywhere in his home, really— surfaces, the floor, cabinets somehow— but he especially prefers to take you in bed. It's not a nest thing, trust me (it totally is).

The way Keigo's quirk works isn't an actual animal quirk, so he's not literally a bird and his bed is not literally a nest. But he does possess a number of birdlike oddities, and this is one of them!

He also just feels safe, secure, and at ease in his home (not the one from the commission, his actual home). Given his whole thing about his little roosting place in canon, it makes sense that the bedroom holds special significance to Keigo in particular.

Keigo bought you some blankets. He really, really hopes you like them.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Service. Pleasure and sensation is fantastic for him, he thrives in it, but eroticism is cognitive for him as well (or, ya know, lack of cognitive during dumbification). Don't get him wrong, a simple "woah!" and a popped half-chub from seeing you shirtless is still something that definitely happens, but he can be a complex man, too. He promises.

Most of all, Keigo is an observant sponge. He likes to watch, to study, to learn, to analyze, to perfect— like a cat confined in an enclosure given toys and apt time to chase and solve as a form of enrichment.

Sex is special and a bonding activity, but as much as he's a sucker for the plain old basics— the romantic part of it all— it's no surprise that Keigo gains a great deal of satisfaction from gently mapping the parts of your psyche that make you tick. And obviously, as Keigo is one for outcomes, just mapping you out isn't enough for him.

He should be able to play with the fruits of his labor, too, no? The satisfying pop of your last brain cell has something of a Pavlovian effect for him. That's when the real fun of it begins.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Any heavy impact play. This is an absolute no from him. He doesn't want to do it with tools like flogs, whips, etc; but it's especially worse when it's his own hands. He can't exactly pinpoint why, though (poor birdie has a thing about his hands being dirty). For that matter, he dodges anything that would bring you more physical pain than, say, a firm tap. Keigo does enough of that at his job, he doesn't want to hurt his baby, too.

A couple love taps on the cheek or thigh are the most you'll get, but the way he does it is more than enough to get your brain fuzzy. He's a biter and scratches a bit, though! So if you're into pain, this is where you'll find common ground.

Never call him filthy or dirty, or ever imply he is either of those things, even as a joke or to tease him.

He's not a fan of choking, but specifically when he's the one doing it. Again, it reminds him of his job. He's okay being choked himself, though, since he believes he's perfectly capable of handling himself (and he's used to putting his life on the line, anyways).

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Most are familiar with the "Keigo-drowns-between-your-thighs-and-dies-happy" headcanon at this point, but the classics are classics for a reason.

He prefers giving over receiving. It's not even close, honestly. Your orgasms against his tongue satisfy him more than his own— not that he won't be touching himself while he goes down on you. Because he absolutely will.

Rough day? He'll eat it from the back to cheer himself up.

Good day? He tops it off with you on top of his face, of course.

Mediocre day? Fuck it, he's on his knees and his mouth is on you before his keys hit the table, anyways.

One of your fondest memories you recount to him endlessly (to his embarrassed chagrin) is a night you two were roleplaying in bed. The slippery fucker thought he was slick, tied to the bedpost as he attempted to— in character and in scene— subtly propose you sit on his face as a "punishment" in that pathetic little oh no, whatever will I do type of voice.

His face flushed scarlet when you burst into laughter over him, breaking character and nearly busting a lung in the process.

Oral? As punishment? For Keigo? Did he actually think you were going to buy that? Oh my god. You never let him live it down.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on his mood and yours. Oftentimes, you find yourselves synced and on similar wavelengths; but other times, as all couples inevitably see, there's a bit of a mismatch between sharp and smooth desires. On those nights, Keigo takes the liberty of defaulting to softness.

He easily slows his pace when you tell him you want it syrupy and molten, regardless of how pent up he is. But more interestingly, Keigo is able to see when your "give it to me rough" doesn't reach your eyes.

When you ask for rough sex with your hands clutching his tee shirt and a shaky look in your eye, that's when Keigo rolls up his sleeve and kisses you softly. If you pitch a fit, he'll shush it away. Both wrists are kissed, and both thighs are placed reverently on his shoulders.

"Why are you doing that," you ask.

"Because I like you a whole lot, dummy," he answers, pecking a kiss on your tummy. "Let me show you how much?"

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

When it comes down to it, Keigo is a hero. His career comes first, so quickies are a delightful inevitability in this line of work. Given his particular gift for espionage and the equipment he carries to boot (feathers, baby), the chances of anyone catching him in the act are slim enough to slide under the door to the broom closet he's fucking your brains out in.

But make no mistake, just because Keigo can break you down quickly doesn't mean he prefers it. He'd much rather take you in his bed achingly, ironically slow for a man so beloved for his speed. He'd rather be meticulous with you, but he can't always get what he wants exactly when he wants it. Self control is unfortunately a thing he has to consider, he'd sigh.

He's still going down on you during quickies, though. No way in hell he'd deny himself that.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Keigo is quite careful with you. He cradles you in his maws like fresh fruit fit to burst— sinking his canines just enough to pierce your skin and sample your juices, but never using enough pressure to cause you any tangible damage. He wouldn't want to hurt his baby, even if part of him does want to deconstruct you a little; just not in a destructive sense. His preferred method of breaking down is to coax out your moans the way a gardener coaxes the sprout of his very own harvest.

That being said, once Keigo becomes comfortable enough with you to let the guard dog in his heart rest in your lap, he is open to a surprising amount, sexually speaking. Whatever it is, he's clever enough to find a way to make it sexy— and if a certain kink or position doesn't work out as planned, he's grounded enough to remain confident you can both get a laugh out of it together, at least.

You just get each other like that, you and him; and fuck, if that isn't the hottest thing in the world to him.

He feels safe enough with you to treat your bed like a playground and a temple all at once. Keigo stops and considers his new life one night as he takes the BDSM test with you, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a mouth still spilling crumbs from that night's takeout. His chest hurts from laughing, his heart is fuller than his stomach; and for the first time in his life, another person feels like home to him.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Multiple. Many. Numerous.

This is Keigo's forte, his wheelhouse, his territory. You're out of your mind if you think you can outlast this man, but it's cute of you to try.

Your attempts to keep your sorry little mind held together by willpower and duct tape for just a little while longer are absolutely adorable to him. He'll use that against you, too.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Keigo doesn't own any toys— well, he didn't, before he met you. A few painful months after he realized it was actually you that made his heart beat, he buys a fleshlight to kind of, sort of, maybe pretend it's you.

Disrespectful, yeah. He knows. But it's better than the alternative. He can't afford to get you mixed up into his life; and if fucking a chunk of silicone every couple of nights to unscramble the plague of you from his head and make it normal (it makes it worse) is the sacrifice Keigo has to make, then call him Japan's number one martyr, because he's going to wring his money's worth out of the damn thing (and his cock).

Once Keigo gets over that thinly-veiled form of self-sabotage, he buys a couple of toys to use on you, instead.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Life's unfair, sweetheart.

That's what Keigo tells you, smile wide and gloved hands clasped behind his back as he encircles your bed.

He adores his handiwork, tied up, gagged, and stuffed in every orifice. He's not a sadist, he swears! He just wants to… Overwhelm you a little. It's fun! And it's not Keigo's fault, really, that he likes to play with his food.

Honestly, he's doing you a favor by teasing you to bits! You like it, don't you? All pouts and "please"s, but the moment he takes away that stimulation you nearly throw a fit (how adorable. Keigo adores his little brat.)

The only comfort granted to you is the sound of his voice, all buttery rich and familiar; but even that notion carries a caveat. The words he decides to spill aren't exactly fair. Condescending bits of praise he knows will get you to whimper for him just right, questions he knows you can't answer properly in this state…

Point is, Keigo will use every resource available to be unfair to you because he's the worst combination of perfectionist and pain in the fucking ass. If he doesn't edge you up to the damn millisecond before an orgasm, Keigo won't consider it a job well done; and a job insufficiently done is not a job done at all. He'll have to give it another go until he does it right.

… And another, and another, for good measure.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Keigo is loud.

He's embarrassingly, heart-wrenchingly loud. The oh-god-did-I-leave-the-window-open kind of loud, especially when he subs. He's such a fucking baby about it; like he's crying for attention, for you. Poor thing. Whimpering, moaning, sniffling for attention like a puppy with its tail between its legs peeking from between a dog crate's bars.

Keigo never was one to hold himself back or keep his mouth shut— he's not the shy type, exactly— and you look like the type of person to be into that kind of shit, anyway, he'd attest later with an infuriating smile.

Is he wrong? He rarely is. Bastard.

But regardless, Keigo tends to run his mouth. His voice is his most precious weapon to use against you when he's on top, too— sharper than any feather he's ever grown, that's for damn sure. His dirty talk reveals his silver tongue and charisma more than anything.

Keigo is a switch, but he enjoys the luxury of changing your mood quite quickly with his voice alone. He doesn't have to try hard at all to get you into subspace or domspace, really. All it takes is a "make me" to get you to be mean to him, a "please" to get you to pamper him, a "watch it" to get you to shrink, a "poor baby" to get you to melt.

He's not the only one that's well-trained, it seems.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

His wings puff up a little when he cums. Like a Ghibli character, yeah.

When he's babbling while he gets a good lay, dick wet and balls deep into a real good fuck, Keigo's wings shudder from the shoulderblades to the wingtips. They flap a few times for good measure, uncontrolled with arousal. It's not like he couldn't suppress the instinct to do so. It's just that he knows it drives you wild to see him as authentic and raw as he wishes he could be.

It's a little unconscious, but moving his wings during sex also entices your hands to play with them a little. You always did like to fidget, and what better way to peacock in front of his precious partner than to flap their favorite fidget toy within arm's reach?

It's mutually beneficial, thank you very much. You get a little something to grip on to while he blows your back out, and Keigo gets to blow his load while you tug at an erogenous zone arguably more sensitive than his cock.

It's a win-win.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

The wishful thinking answer is that he is big but not like, ouch big, about 6 inches or so. HOWEVER, realistically, this is not the case. There is evidence to consider.

His pants are very baggy. This raises questions. Nobody wears pants that baggy at the crotch all the fucking time unless they are packing. He also carries a certain energy with him. BDE or whatever. So this bumps him up to about 6.5-7 inches as an estimate. But honestly, it's difficult to say! Because Keigo is also not particularly tall or anything.

It curves a bit upward when he's rock hard and it slaps against his stomach when he's on his back. Mostly smooth save for a few prominent veins. Nothing crazy, but enough to be visually appealing or trace if you want to. His dick is ever so slightly darker than the rest of him and a bit flushed, especially at the tip. The head is proportional/average and swells darker when he's hard or edged.

Huge breeder balls. They're sensitive, too. And he gives insane cumshots. Like, he cums a lot. A lot. His backshots are out of this world. Fat, sticky ropes. A gift for his breeding kink, truly.

He has a very, very pretty dick. Like the kind you'd look at and go "wow, congrats man" and give him a firm handshake. The kind of dick you stick a little blue award ribbon that says "best in show" on and pop a confetti popper.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not very high at all, interestingly. It's pretty par for the course, for a man his age; if not a bit dampered at times by his constant business and overworked nature.

When Keigo gets into it, he gets into it, sure, but his drive isn't really on the higher side. It's more of an "on" and "off" switch that he has a pretty solid handle on. His cool head up top tends to trump the hot one between his legs.

Well. You kind of throw a monkey wrench in that whole system, but that's okay. No, really, it's cool. He still is able to begrudgingly do the same old routine, this time through gritted teeth and with a head nearly thunked against the wall in agonized frustration.

When you send him racy pics before his afternoon patrol, it technically is possible for him to will his boner down and think of something else. And that is what he ultimately decides to do— just with a little footnote tucked away for later.

He'll get you back. He always does.

- ̗۪۪̥̀৩ु˖❥ Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Eepy. Falls asleep on top of you, cradled like a teddy bear. Zzzzz.

#✒ writing #smut #🌶 spice #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #minors dni

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wlntrsldler · 1 month

Text

poisoned mercury | just friends

a/n: boys have debrief sessions too! a lot of pining! lovers who are blind! yippeeee!

series masterlist | previous | next

vii. just friends by virginia to vegas

“yo, castellan!”

luke was lying on your bed, head falling off the corner as he watched you scribble things down in your notebook on your desk. he’s been hanging around in your room more often. your bed was much comfier than his own, with a fluffy white blanket, silk sheets, and a million pillows that mostly end up on the floor when you go to bed. he cringes when he thinks of his usual navy, polyester sheets on his bed, and piles of scrap paper with wasted lyrics scattered around his floor.

the pictures you took at the photobooth were now taped with the rest of the decorations on your wall. you placed it front and center, giving him the perfect view of it from where he was. the boys had asked him about the sudden change in attitude between the two of you, but he never gave many details about what happened the night the two of you disappeared.

they cornered him once on his way to the gym, “what gives, luke? when did you and y/n get so close?”

luke shrugged, “i don’t kiss and tell.”

“you kissed?!”

“well, no.”

“dude.”

that was that. luke wasn’t going to share anything with them, partly because he didn’t know if there was anything to share. yeah, you two were hanging out a lot more now. you were touchier with him, a hand on his arm (he tried not to flex whenever you did that but it’s like muscle memory for him to do so.), a leg on top of his own when you sat beside him, a lingering touch on his back when you said goodbye. you were also more open to him touching you, a hand around your waist while you smoked together, holding your hand underneath tables, a hand on your thigh as you engaged in conversations with the group. but he didn’t know if he was reading into things. maybe you were just like this with everyone. he’d only ever seen you with clarisse and she wasn’t a very touchy person, so that didn’t help much. and you didn’t have many other people you were close to at camp for him to base anything on.

luke sat up on your bed, “in here!”

travis, connor, and chris popped their heads into your room, no doubt thinking of new ways to tease luke about his crush on you. they said hello to you and motioned for luke to follow them into travis’ room.

luke groaned, not wanting to leave you, but obliged. he got up and walked over to you, squeezing your upper arm, “i’ll be right back.”

“m’kay,” you replied, sending him a smile. you closed your notebook as he peeked over your shoulder, “you coming to the party tonight?”

he smiled, “wouldn’t miss it.”

the three boys were sitting around travis’ computer when he walked in. connor motioned for him to shut the door when he arrived. oh, luke thought, this is a band intervention. this only happened once before when connor was going through a tough time and he was taking his anger out on everybody. he’d just broken up with his girlfriend because long distance got to them and it seemed like he was upset at everyone he encountered. not the best situation to be in when they were all forced to live with each other in a small tour bus and hotel rooms.

“what’s going on?” luke asked, leaning against the door. “you guys look serious.”

“because this is a serious issue,” connor said, playing with his key ring, “we need to show you something.”

“well, we need you to hear something,” chris chimed in, motioning for travis to cue up something on his computer. “so this thing with y/n… is it serious?”

luke felt like he was put on the spot. he didn’t know how to answer that question. were you serious? what were you anyway? he didn’t know how to categorize what the two of you were doing. he felt like he was stuck in a limbo with you, maybe something more than friends but not anything more than that? it didn’t make sense when he tried to rationalize it. it kept him up more nights than he’d like to admit. but he let you call the shots. he didn’t want to scare you off.

luke’s jaw ticked, “i don’t know if we’re anything.”

“dude,” travis groaned, “come on. you’re something. i’ve never seen you act like this since…”

“ever,” chris finished travis’ sentence for him. he sat beside connor on travis’ bed, “i’ve known you for years, luke, and this is not something i’ve ever seen before.”

luke sighed, “look, i know you guys said not to fuck up our relationship with mr. d and it’s really not my intention to, but i dunno, guys. she’s just so–”

“i’m gonna stop you right there before wax on and on about how great y/n is,” travis cut off. “you do realize that we’re not mad that you have feelings for her, right?”

that caught luke by surprise. he’d been so focused on trying to figure out what the two of you were that he was kind of relieved to know where his friends stood on the situation. sure, he wasn’t the happiest knowing that his friends disapproved, but at least he didn’t have to guess about what they thought of it, but now he was more confused than ever.

“luke, man, we just want what’s best for you,” connor said, shrugging his shoulders. “did it have to be the daughter of the man who decides if we get a contract extension and the man who dictates the trajectory of our career? no, but we can’t stop the two of you from whatever it is you’re doing. plus, we like y/n.”

“i’m confused,” luke vocalized, walking over to the three of them, “if this is not what that’s about, what’s the point of the intervention?”

travis beamed, twirling in his computer chair to dig up some files, “we wrote a song.”

“you wrote a song?”

“yeah, we just recorded it without you because you’re too busy sending y/n googly eyes,” connor snickered, “wanna hear it?”

luke nodded, pulling up travis’ drum seat, “absolutely.”

“before we play it,” chris prefaced, “we mean these words in the most loving way possible.”

“is this fucking song about me?” luke asked, gobsmacked. he let out a laugh, understanding why they felt the need to call for an intervention, “you guys suck.”

“maybe,” travis smirked, clicking on an audio file, “but the song doesn’t.”

the song began with drums, followed by the sound of connor playing guitar. the bass came in shortly after with the three of them doing background vocals. travis seemed to take the lead on main vocals. luke felt connor tap his shoulder, sliding him a piece of paper with the lyrics to the song.

luke couldn’t deny it– the song was good. he looked down at the page, cheeks turning red as he read the words. the paper had three distinct handwritings, showing that this song was definitely a group effort. this was co-signed by the three of them.

“stop making up your excuses

call her up, tell her you forgot something

it's worth more than you are thinking

don't be a fool, tell her you think she's cool

stop waiting for a fairy tale to

take you away, don't wait for someday

she's thinking the same thing as you

don't be afraid, dreams aren't found they're made

'cause you've only got one chance

you've only got one chance

kiss her you fool.”

luke put his head in his hands, laughing uncontrollably as the song continued. the three boys laughed along with him, head bopping to the instrumentals of the song. it was insanely catchy. luke knew instantly that this song would be a fan favorite. it was definitely going on their second album.

as the song faded off, luke tossed the paper to travis, “you motherfuckers. did you write a song to try to convince me to make a move?”

chris looked at him with a straight face, “duh.”

“i really thought this was gonna be a whole thing,” luke smacked travis’ leg, shaking his head, “whole time you guys just wanted the dirt on me and y/n.”

“okay, here’s the thing, luke– there is no dirt to share!” connor whined. the three of them weren’t nosy per se, but they were curious. they wanted to know what developed between you and luke. he’d never been one to shy away from talking about his romantic interests, but this time, with you, it was like luke was suddenly a square.

they often saw you guys giggling with each other, sharing secret looks that you thought the rest of them wouldn’t notice, hands on each other at every possible moment. it was quite ridiculous, actually. luke didn’t need to have a finger hooked on your belt loop while you made cereal in the morning nor did you have to have the string of his hoodie wrapped around your finger when you were lying on him on the couch.

they’d tried to ask him about it many times, but luke wouldn’t budge. they didn’t need to know everything, but it became clear to them that luke’s silence wasn’t because he was keeping secrets from the band, but because nothing had happened between the two of you that warranted a conversation. it was like you two were playing a sick game with each other, pushing the envelope just far enough to avoid a conversation about what you were, but subjecting everyone around you to the brutal torture of watching you fall for each other without making a move.

okay, so they were nosy. sue them.

“i don’t know what to tell you guys,” luke got up from his seat, rubbing his neck, “i just– i’m scared that if i make a move, it’ll fuck things up between us.”

“believe me when i say this,” chris got up, placing his hands on luke’s shoulders, “you aren’t going to fuck anything up. trust me.”

he cocked an eyebrow, “and you know this, how?”

chris’ face flushed as he removed his hands from luke and stuffed them in his front pockets. he looked down at his feet, shyly, “clarisse told me.”

luke’s eyebrows raised, eyes twinkling with fondness, “you guys are so focused on me, but we need to talk about chris and clarisse!”

chris’ face morphed into a gigantic smile at the sound of his name next to clarisse’s. luke shoved him, motioning for him to start talking, while the stolls leaned in, locked in to listen to chris’ perspective. luke took his spot next to connor, giving chris the floor.

chris scratched the back of his head, red creeping down his neck, “i really like her…”

–

when you mentioned that there was a party happening, luke didn’t realize that it was a party just for the older campers. imagine his surprise when he walked into the woods with chris in tow to find lee fletcher with his entire dj set up blasting IDGAF by drake and bottles of liquor strewn about on a picnic table.

“hey, you see y/n or clarisse yet?” chris asked, looking around. luke didn’t comment on how chris seemed to spray a bit more of his cologne on his clothes tonight and how he hogged their bathroom to fix his hair a million times. they were late to the gathering because of chris. luke thought it was adorable how chris got so nervous around the girls he liked.

“nah, sorry man,” luke pat chris’ back, “don’t be so nervous. you’ll be fine.”

chris scoffed, fixing the pearl necklace around his neck, “easy for you to say, castellan.”

“chris,” luke stood in front of him, blocking his view of the party, “clarisse likes you too, alright? don’t stress.”

“no, i know she does,” the boy replied, shaking his head. he peered over luke’s shoulder to look for clarisse again. “she showed me what she was wearing for tonight and i know she’s gonna look so pretty. do you think i look okay?”

“you look good, rodriguez,” he chuckled, moving to chris’ side. the interaction brought luke back to high school, back when chris went on his first date with a girl from their chemistry class, adrianna. they’d been paired up to do a lab project together and it was the first time luke saw chris become a nervous mess. the two of them rode around on their bikes going to four different grocery stores to find the best bouquet of flowers for adrianna. in the end, they settled for an arrangement of poppies and sunflowers. adrianna loved it and they went on to date for a few months before she broke it off with him when he started to take music seriously.

luke always thought that chris was a better man than he was. chris never harbored any ill feelings towards adrianna, stating that the rockstar’s girlfriend life was just not something she saw herself in. chris said that adrianna wanted to be a teacher and had her own dreams she wanted to follow. as much as chris liked the girl, he took the breakup pretty well. even if he was younger than luke, he was always more mature than him, emotionally anyway.

“i think i see her,” chris said, fixing his shirt for the umpteenth time. “y/n is there too.”

luke’s eyes quickly darted to where chris was looking. you and clarisse were sitting on another picnic table, feet resting comfortably on the benches. beside you was a red cooler with selzters and beers perched on top of ice packs. you were laughing at something clarisse said, talking to two older, male campers who didn’t hide their attempts to check the two of you out.

luke couldn’t blame them. the two of you did look good. you were wearing jeans that hugged your curves perfectly with a long-sleeve off-the-shoulder black top. your hair was thrown behind your back, two small braids on either side of your head, and small gold hoops hanging from your ears. in the orange glow of the campfire not too far away, luke could see the hint of lip gloss on your lips. you wore your black platform converses and luke squinted to see if his little doodle on the side of the rubber was still there.

he tilted his head in your direction to signal chris to start walking towards the both of you. as he got closer, a warmth spread inside his chest when he saw his familiar handwriting on your shoe. in silver sharpie, luke wrote ‘5 star’ with an atrocious attempt at a star on the left shoe.

you two were in your room when he had the idea. he didn’t notice it before but you wrote little things on each of your shoes. you told him a story about a house party you went to years ago where you’d accidentally taken the wrong left shoe on your way out the door. you’d all taken off your shoes to jump into the pool and left a pile of shoes by the living room, stacked on top of each other. in the rush of things, you grabbed a pair of vans and slipped them on, only to realize when you got home that the left shoe was a different size than the right. since then, you always customized your shoes in small ways to make it easier for you to find them.

you’d never wore your converses before so you didn’t get to do anything to them yet. luke was happy to help you continue your tradition. he also wanted to leave you a reminder of him whenever you wore the shoes. a small memento of your time with him at camp.

“five star,” luke called as he approached you. the four of you turned your heads at the sound of his voice. the two boys paled at the sight of two members of poisoned mercury and scurried away before he and chris could even grab a beer from the cooler.

you unseriously rolled your eyes, taking a sip from the can in your hand, as you watched the two boys you and clarisse were talking to before leave in a hurry. not good for luke’s ego, you thought, though you were glad the boys left. you were on your sixteenth (and yes, you were counting) ‘oh really?’ with the boy who only seemed to talk of himself.

“castellan,” you raised your can to him in a greeting.

luke moved the cooler away from you, snagging the last bud light in it, before sitting beside you. clarisse and chris got to talking, choosing to move to another area away from the noise and left the two of you alone.

“who was that?”

“hm?” you asked, genuinely forgetting that you were talking to someone else before he got there. you were focused on the boy beside you now. he was wearing a red flannel, bunched up around his elbows, with a white shirt underneath. his black jeans complimented the silver jewelry he always wore. he looked good. you blinked, “oh, i don’t know. james or justin, or something.”

luke cracked open his beer, “you need to start remembering people’s names.”

“i remember the ones that matter,” you dismissed, turning to face him. the small studs on his ears were illuminated under the dim light. “you showed up.”

“told you i would,” luke smirked, bumping your knee with his, “you look good.”

“thank you,” you squeaked out, looking down to play with the ring on your index finger. luke’s eyes looked down at your hand, a wave of fondness crashing over him. “you do too.”

he grabbed your hand, running a finger over the silver metal, “is that my ring?”

your eyes widened, “oh, yeah. sorry you left it in my room and i wore it to remind myself to give it back to you.”

“keep it,” he said, keeping his hand on yours, “i have so many i didn’t even realize it was gone.”

that was a lie. the barbed wire ring was in his daily rotation. he always wore it on his ring finger along with his other two rings. he even had a ring tan that matched it. he’d been looking for it everywhere for days, but decided it was a lost cause when he couldn’t find it in time for the party. luke figured he could just buy another one, but now knowing that you had it, he didn’t feel the need to anymore. it was safe with you.

“what did the boys want earlier?”

“oh, nothing,” luke flushed remembering the song they played for him a few hours ago. the four of them got caught up talking for hours that by the time they ran out of things to say, it was nearly time to get ready for the party. the stolls headed out earlier, too impatient to wait for chris as he flailed around trying to find the perfect outfit for clarisse, and luke stayed back to wait for him. he didn’t see you after he left your room, too preoccupied with helping his best friend.

you narrowed your eyes, “didn’t seem like nothing.”

“well, they wrote a song and wanted me to hear it.” luke could never hide anything from you, not like he wanted to anyway. there was nothing he wanted to keep from you, except how he felt about you. but that was more of a complicated situation.

“i wanna hear it,” you said, excitement in your voice.

“absolutely not,” luke scoffed, playfully. he was not ready for you to hear that song. he knew you’d connect the dots quickly. “soon, though. maybe.”

“come on, castellan,” you droned, placing your seltzer on the table. “i wanna hear it.”

“i told you, soon, five star. s’not ready yet.”

“and? what if i wanna hear it unfinished?”

“nah, you’ll get to hear it when it’s perfect,” the corners of his lips quirked up into a smile, “gotta impress you.”

in the morning, you were going to blame the alcohol in your system, although you had been sipping on the same seltzer since you arrived. the drink tasted watered down and dull. it didn’t really have an effect on you at all, no red flush on your cheeks, no dizziness in your mind. but for now, you were going to blame it. perhaps, it was a placebo effect of some sort, encouraging you to be bolder with luke. “you always impress me, pretty boy.”

luke was glad that the beat dropped the same time he choked on his drink, the liquid getting stuck in his throat as the pet name left your lips. he played it off, clearing his throat as he looked at you. your lips were parted slightly, the ghost of the words you said prior still lingering in the air. your voice echoed in his head. you always impress me, pretty boy.

you were looking at him with hooded eyes, something foreign dancing in your irises. a dare, maybe, for him to succumb to you and let you hear the song he was speaking of. or maybe for him to do something else, something that crossed the line of friendship that he’d been tip-toeing around for weeks. is it too far to press his lips against yours right now? the voices of his band mates rang in his ears, begging him to finally make a move.

your lips were inviting. the remnants of your lip gloss was smudged haphazardly on your bottom lip, sparkles of glitter catching his eye. you were closer to him now, too, thighs pressed against his own, breath fanning over his face. it drove him wild how you were looking at him, patiently waiting for him to do something.

he decided against it. it took all his willpower not to kiss you then, but he didn’t want the moment to be tainted by the watching eyes that surrounded the two of you. he knew you didn’t like the spotlight, preferred to have your private business safely tucked away just for you, and he respected that. he wanted that too, to only have these moments for himself. what he envisioned with you was his own personal reprieve from the world. he didn’t want to share you.

five star, the girl who had him wrapped around her delicate finger, who teased him relentlessly, who carved a permanent space in his thoughts, who took his breath away with every stolen glance and concealed touch. he shared so much of his life with the world with his music and his status. he’ll be selfish just this once. this was just for him.

luke looked away, sipping the last few drops of his drink. your pull was magnetic. he sighed, voice hoarse, “you’re killing me, five star.”

it amazed you how luke still didn’t realize that he had the same effect on you, though you couldn’t judge him too harshly, you supposed. for the last two months, you’d given him nothing to work with but a roll of your eyes, snide remarks, and feigned nonchalance. you built your walls up too high. from the moment you’d met him at your smoke spot, you knew it would be dangerous for you to be around him, though you didn’t show it then.

an attractive boy who shared your vices, incessant on pushing your buttons undeterred by the fire in your soul, ready to argue back. he had his sarcastic replies that countered your defense mechanism that often left your mind scrambled when you thought about it at night. his proximity to you, living in the same cabin, giving you just enough space to leave you wanting more. you enjoyed your time with luke, much to your premature dismay. your biased perception of musicians was turned on his head the more you spent time with him.

people always told you that you liked a challenge, always searching for something to keep you vigilant, on your toes. and luke castellan, the bastard that he was, was exactly who you needed. he always had something up his sleeve, but never something that could hurt you. you didn’t know if he was even capable of the sorts.

it was easy to see why people were attracted to him. he was easy on the eyes, even if it took you weeks to admit it to yourself. but you pitied the people who didn’t get to know him like this– they’d never understand how it feels to know luke castellan. they’ll only get to know the luke that the tabloids wanted, and he was the furthest thing from it. he was wild and rowdy the way any teenager would be, but with his mom, his band, with you, he was something else entirely.

you were sure that anyone who was lucky enough to know him were unlucky enough to want him because when anyone gets to know luke, there is no denying that they’ll fall for him. and you were teetering dangerously close to the edge.

if gods existed in this world, will they make you one of the lucky ones to experience this? had you done enough good in this life to deserve this? you didn’t know and you were scared to find out, but with the way he was looking at you now, something between longing and tenderness, your patience was wearing thin.

before you could say anything, clarisse, chris, and the stolls walked over to the two of you. chris had his arm around clarisse, sending luke a wide smile.

“we’re ditching the party to grab food by the gas station,” connor explained, “you guys wanna come?”

you looked at luke. you loved your friends, but you didn’t want to be with them right now, not when all you wanted to do was talk to luke. he saw your pleading eyes and shook his head, turning to the group, “nah, i think we’re good here.”

“suit yourself,” travis shrugged, beginning to walk towards the main road. the other three followed, the murmurs of their conversations fading into the night.

luke got up from the table, dusting off his pants, “you wanna head home?”

“yeah,” you followed his actions, taking his outstretched hand to help you off the table. “let’s go home.”

the walk back to your cabin was filled with your usual banter, laughter that you both tried to suppress in fear of getting caught after hours, and excuses to touch each other, playful and teasing, but they lingered longer than what could be deemed as friendship. when you arrived at the cabin, you and luke stood in the living room, both unsure of what happens next.

you paused, scruffing the bottom of your shoes on the cabin floors. you motioned to your room, “this is me.”

he rubbed the back of his neck, every bone in his body begging him not to retire to his own room. “yeah. guess we should get some sleep.”

“yeah, g’night,” you turned around to walk into your room. luke watched as you opened the door, only beginning to walk to his own when he saw you enter. he was so caught up in his head that he didn’t realize the door never closed. it was the sound of your voice that made him turn around. “luke?”

he jerked his head so fast, he was sure he almost got whiplashed. luke’s voice was hushed when he spoke, “what’s up?”

you bit your bottom lip, “do you want to come in?”

his feet took him to you before his mouth could open to give you an answer. he was in front of you in record time, breaths uneven and palms sweaty. you placed your hands flat on his chest, feeling the racing of his heart. he closed his eyes as you wrapped your arms around his neck. when he found the strength to open his eyes, he found your face close to his. his hands found their way to your hips. he cautiously let his lips graze your cheek, placing a soft kiss there. “five star.”

“mhm?” you purred. “what is it luke?”

the sound of your voice like that, breathless and raspy, was enough for him to press his lips against yours. luke felt like his heart was about to burst in his chest when you kissed him back.

#frances writes #poisoned mercury #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #percy jackson #percy jackson fanfic

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a-hazbin-reader · 3 months

Note

how about a reader who's been feeling pretty overworked recently?and just needs to rest but is to stubborn to Al does something about it?

Now it's Alastor's turn to pamper~

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: None I think??

Description: ☝️⬆️

You've been going nonstop all week and it's been taking it's toll on you physically and mentally

There's so much that needs done and you're only one person, you don't have time to sit and relax

Which means you're unintentionally taking time with you away from Alastor

Not his ears drooping and folding back when he realizes you're going to turn him down

"I'm so sorry, Alastor, I'm just too tired to go out and I really need to finish this."

"Y/N, it's our date night and I insist that you-"

"I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you later, I promise."

But you pass out and Alastor has to carry you to bed, hating that you're so overworked right now, that you have no time to spare for him

Which in his deer brain, means that you're neglecting him because you're so fried from work

And that means he's gotta fix this

But you're stubbon and won't relax willingly so he's got to get creative

"Darling, won't you take this bubble bath with me? I need help getting my back~"

🥵🥵 s-sure

He takes special care to massage and scrub every part of you until you're a gooey mess in his hands

Despite his claws, he can be surprisingly gentle, it's rather soothing to feel them ghosting over your skin

It's not until later when your back is against his chest and he's kissing your shoulder that you realize he's been spoiling you the entire time

Literally carries you to bed bridal style and dries your body with a loving reverence that makes you blush

"Alastor, I can do this myself-"

"Hush now, let me do this for you..."

Rubs fancy lotions and creams into your skin, massaging until you inevitably fall asleep under his care

Nobody is allowed to wake you or bother you at all for the time being, he'll make sure of it

He finds excuses to interrupt you during your work, forcing you to take breaks

"Darling, I accidentally made too much jambalaya! So I thought I might bring you some as I am quite sure you haven't eaten today~"

"Alastor, I don't have time to-that smells really good..."

It's so good you could cry, devouring the entire thing while he stays and has lunch with you, turning it into a mini date

You didn't even realize how tense were before Alastor showed up, feeling full and relaxed after he gives you a parting kiss

You really don't want him to go, watching him leave with a longing expression

Not him purposefully stealing something you need so that you have no choice but to seek him out

"Have you seen my folder? I can't get back to work without it!"

"Hm? I can't say that I have, but have you seen what a beautiful day it is outside? Why not just skip work today, and we'll take a stroll through Cannibal Town?"

Won't take no for an answer, already looping his arm with yours and marching you outside

It is actually a beautiful day outside

Takes you to all your old haunts and spends all day buying anything you even look at

It feels good to catch up with Rosie and some of your old friends, not having realized how long it's been since you've seen them

He also takes you out dancing, which leaves you tired and sore, but in the best way possible, he was always exciting to dance with

Will carry you home if he has to, will actually find an excuse to do so

"Do your feet hurt? Here, let me carry you~"

You pass out before he puts the blanket over you, soothed by his scent on your pillow

It's not until later when you wake up to him putting your folder back in your bag that you realize what he's been up to

"Alastor..?"

Oh fuck he's been caught

"Darling! I was just-cleaning off your bag and-"

"...just shut up and come back to bed..."

Literally climbs right on top of you and flops on you like he's your own personal weighted blanket

Kissing your neck and shoulders before whispering into your ear with a slightly guilty voice

"Are you angry with me?"

"Mm...not if you keep giving me attention like this..."

Well, he wouldn't want his darling Y/N to start getting angry with him now, would he?

The next day you feel more renewed and refreshed than you have in weeks, waking up tangled in Alastor's arms

You chuckle softly and push some of his hair out of his (totally not pretending) sleeping face, admiring his handsome features

He's a sneaky man who tricks you into relaxing and taking time for yourself because he loves you

And you love him all the more for it

This one was too cute! I hope you like it

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

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aphrogeneias · 3 months

Note

37 w Eddie 🫡

roommate!eddie munson x fem!reader + we always snuggle, and this shouldn’t be any different, but i’m trying not to press my lips to yours because they’re right there and i don’t want to pass up another chance, but you take initiative and do it yourself. oh.

warnings: fluff, a little suggestiveness, kissing. eddie being a soft boy.

There is no excuse, at this point.

The only excuse he could give himself, at first, was that he's a tactile person. His uncle used to tell him he had eyes in his hands, always picking things up in order to look at them. His hands are always fidgeting, reaching, touching.

Eddie’s friends are all used to it. He hugs, holds, and squeezes. Hands on their backs and arms, guiding, reassuring. Excitedly pulling and slapping when he's telling a story, or laughing.

This only grew tenfold when it came to you.

At first, he kept a safe distance. You weren't his friend, after all. Just Nancy’s friend from college, someone who needed a place to stay after your last roommate bailed on you. Coincidentally, Gareth had left their apartment to move in with his girlfriend not too long before.

Fate, it seemed — or just two broke young adults trying to make ends meet, which was, in a way, fateful too.

His caution was thrown out the window when he realized you were just like him in that aspect. It all started with small, delicate touches.

A hand on his back while you were sharing the kitchen space in the morning, too tired to get off each other's way. Messing his hair to tease him, kissing his cheek as a greeting anytime you got home. You'd put your feet on his lap during your self-appointed movie nights, and his hands would carefully land on your calves, rubbing your legs under his rough palms, and you wouldn't pull away.

The blue light of the television, the only source of light in the room, had him feeling light. Your soft skin on his hands, and the warmth under it, the fuzzy feeling of the hair there. He let them wander, squeezing your knee, massaging your feet, always keeping an eye for your reactions. It seemed as if you preened under his touch, leaning into it. As if, if he'd pull away, you'd ask for more.

After that, he grew bolder. Hungrier. It didn't help that you were always within his reach.

An arm around your waist while you bumped into each other in the hallway. Hovering over your back when you both had to use the bathroom in the morning, letting his chest graze your back. Pulling you closer on the couch, his arm over your shoulders, your head on his chest. Hands eagerly looking for your warmth, for your skin.

Hugs from behind in the kitchen, climbing into each other's beds at night. A habit that started because you simply didn't want to stop your late night conversations, so you'd drag yourselves from the dining table with mismatching chairs, or from the couch, and into each other's rooms.

Talking about the latest book you finished reading, the last band he got obsessed with, your hopes, your fears, whatever silly conspiracy theory he read about and couldn't stop thinking of. Sharing the same blanket, hands touching, legs too.

It doesn't take long until you're in each other's arms more often than not. There is no excuse. Eddie is a tactile person, and he longs for your touch. He'll seek it until you turn him away, but that doesn't seem like it's something you'd want either.

Tonight, your faces are almost touching. You're sharing the same pillow, the one that smells just like your hair. Vanilla and coconut, sweet like you. He chases the shadows on your face, dancing with the lamp light that comes from the opened window. You're speaking, but he's not entirely listening — until you stop.

“What is it?” He whispers. The silence feels sacred.

“Nothing.”

It's not nothing, not when you lean in, neither when your lips touch his. Softly, and slowly, testing the waters. You catch his upper lip between yours, and kiss it. It makes his stomach flutter, like the wings of a moth, searching for the light. It's over too soon, and he almost whimpers with the loss.

He's learning forward, trying to catch your lips again. You giggle, putting a finger to his aching lips.

“I'm sorry. Is that okay?” You're whispering too. Neither of you know why.

“Depends. Is it okay if I tell you that I've wanted to do this since the first time I saw you?” Eddie is honest. There's no excuse not to be.

You kiss him again, firmer this time. Your mouth lingers on his, and it tastes like sunlight. “Me too.”

#hope i made justice to your request my witch queen🫶🏼#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic

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witchthewriter · 2 months

Text

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐔𝐩 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐂𝐎𝐃 𝐌𝐚𝐧

⤷ gender neutral and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆

・The only time you are ever awake before John, is the morning after he's come back from deployment.

・You let him sleep for as long as possible, as much as you want to wake him and be his complete centre of attention, you don't.

・He looks too peaceful

・And younger; the worry lines are erased from his face, the stress completely dissolved

・You want to kiss him, nibble his ear, nuzzle his neck. Which you do eventually do, however, you wait for him to rouse himself from sleep

・When he looks at the clock, his eyes go wide

"Why didn't you wake me love?"

"Because you needed the sleep!"

"Well, know that I'd rather be sleep-deprived and with you, then asleep. So next time, please wake me."

𝑺𝒊𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝑹𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒚

・Much like his Captain, Simon is always awake before you. Even the morning of his deployment. He doesn't even sleep when he gets back home.

・Just sits on the back porch, mug of tea in his hands and Riley at his feet.

・But when he's been sick, that's when you get the jump on him (no babe not literally)

・He's grouchy and moody. Sure that he's fine and doesn't need help.

・But the downside of looking after him, is that he doesn't want you to catch whatever he has. So no kissing. No cuddling.

・Well, his rules hold up for an hour, before your puppy dog eyes wear him down.

"Fine. C'mere love."

𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏𝒏𝒚 𝑴𝒂𝒄𝑻𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒉

・Ooh this man loves sleeping him.

・You cannot get this man up before 8 AM when he's off deployment (which may seem still early to some but for a soldier - it is a HUGE sleep in)

・Mumbles in his sleep too, so you can just lay there and hear a random story from your unconscious boyfriend

"And then his mask was actually ... just his face," he said with enthusiasm. Eyes closed, than back to snoring.

・It freaked you out at first. But now it's absolutely entertaining. Sometimes you take videos of him and send them to Simon, who always loves receiving them.

・In the morning, you like to snuggle close to Johnny. Your nose touching his. Eyelashes fluttering against his naturally dark ones.

・You love staring at him. You could do it for hours...except, he's start to notice.

"Oi, ye know starin' is considered creepy-"

𝑲𝒚𝒍𝒆 𝑮𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒌

・Does love a good sleep in

・Especially with you in his arms, his face in the crook of your neck.

・When you feel a stir behind you, you're sure to grab the arm closest to you and secure it around you

・You hear a laugh behind you, but no resistance

"Thought you were asleep love."

"Hmm, thought you were too. Now scoot closer, you're letting the cold in."

・Luckily he can't see him rolling his eyes. Although, there is a small smirk on his lips

"Whatever you say, my darling."

"Watch your tone, Garrick."

𝑲𝒐̈𝒏𝒊𝒈

・Loves kisses, especially on his shoulders. It makes him giddy inside.

・Sometimes he'll just pretend to be asleep so you can wake him up with kisses

・Other times, he can't stay in bed. He needs to pee.

・And as much as he wants to be quiet, he cannot. Whenever he wakes up, ultimately you wake up as well.

・Your personal heater is gone and you feel the chill near instantly

"Oh, es tut mir leid, Schatz, geh wieder ins Bett" (Oh, I'm sorry honey, go back to bed)

"No, I'll just have a tea and sit on the lounge. Will you join me?"

𝑨𝒍𝒆𝒋𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐 𝑽𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒔

・Surprisingly, he's one to always be awake before you.

・Giving you a kiss before going downstairs to start on breakfast for the two of you.

・It's annoying when you do want to wake up before him, to take on the chores that he usually does.

・You even set an alarm underneath your pillow so that you could wake up before him.

・But you slept through the first alarm and he was the one to turn it off.

・Yet, whenever you do wake up, you immediately throw back the blankets and run downstairs to jump in his arms.

"Mi amor, what are you doing up?"

"I wanted to be close to you! I missed you."

"Aw, Calientas mi corazon querida" (You warm my heart, darling)

𝑲𝒆𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒖𝒔𝒔

・Likes sleeping in but can't unless you're with him

・So you usually just flip over and land on top of him, knowing he was in the process of waking up anyway

"You comfortable there, kid?"

・His voice groggy and deep, a hand snaking it's way around your waist to keep you still

"The most comfortable," you said, scrunching your nose and giving him a peck on the mouth

"You comfortable?" You said sweetly, making sure to keep all your weight directly upon him.

"Incredibly," he said with a slight wheeze. But he didn't move, nor made a thought to. He loved the feeling of you so close.

・Knowing that he made it home again. To you.

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cocoreallylovesraiden · 2 months

Text

How MK1 characters sleep with their S/O (liu kang, bi han, kung lao, raiden, shang tsung)

This is very casual and nonsensical but pointless useless headcanons give me life sorry; I might do this for other characters but idk which oops

Liu Kang

- I am in-between the idea of him needing sleep at all (being a god and all), but either way I think he would be in bed with them to spend time together.

- Mattress hard like a rock, so you’d be better off laying on top of him for any kind of soft squishy comfort.

- Likes the physical pressure on being laid on, would secure you in place with a hand on the small of your back, or cradling you closer if you lay your head in his chest.

- During the summer months he would be too hot to comfortably lay on, so either he just longingly stares at you back (rip) or holds your hand in the middle of the bed.

- Wakes up/ gets out of bed at the asscrack of dawn and folds the spare blanket next to you so its like he’s still there… and then becomes annoyed that you’d rather cuddle the blanket than wake up and see him.

- Laughs at you when you want to buy more western soft pillows or fluffy blankets, but he gets them anyways and then now HE can’t sleep bc it’s weirdly soft.

- Will read as you sleep in his arms, and has resorted to using your unconscious elbows to flip the page bc his hands are being held hostage.

- Likes to watch you as you sleep and tries not to smile when you twitch from a dream, even when you drool onto the pillows; is content to do so until sunrise.

- Sometimes tho in the middle of the night when you roll over you just see two military grade flashlight beacons glowing in the dark staring at you like an eldritch monster.

- “Hello, dearest 😊.”

- He says, like you didn’t almost piss the bed in fear.

Bi Han

- Has a meticulous string of tasks and duties he must fulfil before he can even think of getting into bed, and he still manages to be under the covers same time every night.

- Becomes VERY cranky if you are not in bed with him within 15 minutes and when you eventually settle into bed, his back is turned towards you and he huffs like a dramatic housewife.

- Self-assigned big spoon (non-negotiable) and loves resting his face in the crook of your neck, his favourite way to rest after a long day. He isn’t the best with words (in terms of emotional vulnerability) and uses little actions to let you know how he feels.

- His hair gets EVERYWHERE. It’s in his mouth. It’s in YOUR mouth. If you have long hair, have fun waking up 20 minutes earlier to sleepily untangle your newfound spiderweb of human hair.

- Doesn’t toss and turn and is a very light sleeper- it’s required of his job. At the smallest sound his eyes are open, and he cannot rest until he’s gone and checked the locks and such.

- You know when Asian dads wake up at 4am and just go hack and cough in the bathroom yeah that’s him… that’s how YOU wake up.

- You both look like hot fucking garbage in the morning it constantly looks you both are two struggling new parents who had a metaphorical baby keeping them up all night.

- Debates smothering you with a pillow if you snore and keep him up before a busy day.

Kung Lao

- I hope you’re a heavy sleeper.

- His snoring sounds like sails ripping, it’s so loud he scares himself awake sometimes.

- “BABE WHAT WAS THAT?”

- You girl….

- Doesn’t matter what season it is, what temperate, you two are always still too hot and on the verge of breaking into sweat, even after you’re dressed down to just underwear.

- Maybe you fall asleep a safe distance away from him, but halfway through the night its like looking an abstract painting of human limbs, his foot is on your stomach and your face is smashed against his knees. Chiropractors are scared of you two.

- You both complain about how annoying the other person is to sleep next to, but can’t sleep alone at night- the bed feels too big or too cold.

- It’s like when you wake up from a nap not knowing what country you’re in, drenched in sweat and covered in those red lines but every morning.

- Talks in his sleep and you have several videos in your camera roll having incoherent conversations with sleepy Lao.

- “Hey baby… Are you asleep?” “Not now babe imgndh tm running for presdidentnt”

- Yeah king you do that!

- He SWEARS that he’s a big spoon but likes being the little tiny eeny weeny teaspoon looks at you with the ugly goo goo gaga eyes until you relent and wrap your arms around his waist.

Raiden

- I don’t care unless it’s past a certain time in your relationship he will sleep on the couch or DIE

- He is traditional to an almost irritating extent YOU WILL NOT DIE IF YOU SEE MY UPPER THIGH OH MY GOD

- But let me tell you once y’all do share a sleeping space its over for you… He uses that farmer strength to squeeze the life out of you. Like Kung Lao where you fall asleep laying next to him and wake up in the alligator death roll fighting to breathe.

- Death by beefy man arms sounds great until you need to pee and have to scrap at 6am against an unconscious man (he is winning).

- Likes it when you nuzzle under his chin, but when he’s really tired, he really just wants to lay on your chest and have you smooth his hair.

- Feels a certain need to be the Bigger Strong Man but secretly wants to be cuddled and babied a little, just doesn’t want to ask for it.

- Doesn’t matter because however you sleep, you’re waking up to that child-holding-their-favourite-teddy-bear GRIP.

- Likes to chat about both your days before falling asleep, and will verbally ask like “are you asleep?” And then stop moving, breathing, thinking because he’s scared to wake you up. You have to smack his face half-awake like RAIDEN YOU CAN BREATHE before he relaxes.

Shang Tsung

- Idgaf if he’s a man and if you’re a woman, he is the girlfriend.

- Wants you to kiss the top of his head and stroke his hair, you can feel his ugly ass smug smile against your skin the entire time.

- Even if he does love you, I can see him being unable to sleep with his back turned to you; he has to be acutely away of what you’re doing (sleeping. Your tired ass is sleeping.)

- Unless of course he’s being the little spoon. Rolling eyes emoji.

- Another very light sleeper, but when he’s deep in sleep he has reoccurring night terrors, and maybe even sleep paralysis, so he clutches you tightly like he’s scared you’ll up and leave him.

- When he wakes up he’s probably frozen, so he grounds himself by listening to your heartbeat or readjusting your hold so it’s tighter and more compressing.

- Doesn’t matter if it’s a big ass bed or stack of pelts on the forest floor, you are not allowed to move a SINGLE INCH away from him. You two occupy 25% of this bed’s real estate.

- If he wakes up first, he is slipping out without a word. If you wake up first and god forbid, try to let him go, his eyes are snapping open and looking at you so judgementally.

- Throws your boots at you if you oversleep like. Wake up you Lug. We have things to do.

- Looks amazing the moment he wakes up and makes fun of you for having bed hair and overall being uglier than he is.

- Pokes your cheek and makes your head loll about if he wakes up first and chuckles at how cute he finds it, catches himself being mushy, then pinches your nose so you wake up.

#mk1 #mortal kombat x reader #mk1 x reader #liu kang #liu kang x reader #mk1 bi han #sub zero #bi han #bi han x reader #kung lao #kung lao x reader #raiden #Raiden x reader #shang tsung #Shang tsung x reader #mk1 2023 #no offence kung lao i would suplex you #shang tsung is like a stray cat are you gonna kill me or rub against my leg

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f1byjessie · 3 months

Text

HE LIKES MY AMERICAN SMILE ━━ OP81.

love is a wild ride, and logan sargeant's sister is about to find this out the hard way.

( oscar piastri x sargeant!reader )

━━ part five.

You’ve never actually been to Monaco. It was one of the few Grand Prix you’d had to miss. Logan’s retelling of how it was had been slightly skewed by disappointment and frustration at his less-than-stellar results that weekend, but his descriptions of everything had still painted a picture of lavishness and excitement in your mind, and you’d been dreaming ever since for the chance to experience it yourself.

You’re here now, and even just the view from the plane had lived up to the hype. On the ground, it’s enough to leave you breathless. The deep blue water of the Riviera glitters with the golden glow of the afternoon sun, the mountains stand tall off in the distance, and the grand opulence of the city makes you feel like you’ve stepped foot into a whole new world.

You’re not unfamiliar with the lifestyle of riches and luxury, but Monaco is on another level entirely.

Lando, the reason you’re here in the first place, appears beside you. On the ride back to his place from the airport, he’d caught you marveling at the marina and had pulled off onto the side of the road to let you get out and take a longer look. The boats look like miniature cruise ships, sleek and elegant where they rest in the water, swaying gently with waves. It reminds you, vaguely, of back home.

“Ready to go?” He asks, fiddling with his keys.

You spare the marina one last glance, then nod and turn on your foot with the knowledge that you’ll be here for a week longer still and will have plenty of time later to take in the view as much as you want.

Lando’s house, when you arrive, is just as expensive looking as the rest of Monte Carlo.

The exterior is expertly landscaped and maintained, with hedges perfectly trimmed and flowers flawlessly pruned. It’s slightly lacking in regards to the personality you imagined Lando having. His car is personalized and his wardrobe is a look into who he is, but the outside of his house looks… normal, for lack of a better term. It’s beautiful, nonetheless, but it’s simple all the same.

When he opens the door, you take it all back. The interior screams Lando Norris. It’s extravagant in a way that mirrors what you know of his personality, but it’s comfortable. You’ve been to homes that look more like show houses, where the furniture seemingly exists to be viewed but not used, and all the decorations are vague and impersonal enough to fill blank space and do little else. This is the opposite.

There’s a blanket folded haphazardly over the arm of the couch, and mismatched pillows. On the coffee table is a half-empty bottle of water, a book with a scrap piece of paper hanging out from the middle, and an opened pack of batteries. There are pictures on the walls in mismatched frames— friends and family and achievements from throughout Lando’s career that tell a story of his successes and proudest moments.

It looks like a real home. When you tell him, he laughs.

“With how little time I actually get to spend here, you’d think it’d be the opposite,” he comments.

He helps you bring your bags up to a guest room and then gives you a tour of the rest of the house. Letting you ask questions and answering them sincerely.

When you’re back in your room, unpacking your clothes, it occurs to you just how crazy all of this is. You know Lando, but you haven’t known him for very long. Your friendship has only developed over comments on social media, texts, and the occasional phone call over a few weeks. But you’re here, across the ocean in a country you’ve never been to before, spending a week in his house just because he asked you here and offered to help you with your love life dilemma.

Your life is beginning to feel more and more like a movie, and all you can do is hope it has a happy ending.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, and 31,871 others

yourusername a pretty girl with a pretty car in a pretty city

view all 3,832 comments

logansargeant think you might need to get your eyes checked bc all i see is a pretty car sooo

↳ yourusername you have six days. run. hide. i don’t care. but enjoy your time while it lasts

↳ logansargeant i’m telling mom

↳ yourusername she can’t save you now.

user STUNNING STUNNING AND STUNNING 😍😍😍

user all three things i don’t have

user WE NEVER GOT Y/N IN MONACO DURING THE SEASON BUT I AM LIVING FOR IT NOW

landonorris *prettiest

↳ yourusername you’re only saying that cuz it’s your car

↳ user yea we definitely missed smth cuz wTF IS THIS 👀

user lando up in here stealing oscar’s girl

user OSCAR COME GET YOUR GIRL

user is she in monaco??? with lando??? 👀👀

user mclaren boys fighting over the same chick was not on my bingo card

user i need these men to make up their damn minds like bffr first oscar and now lando??? bros get it together pls 😮‍💨😮‍💨

user i think we should stop speculating about the relationships between real ppl bc they’re adults and can do what they want, plus they could just be friends and ppl saying they’re together could make things awkward for them

↳ user nah they’re totally together

“The comments are going crazy,” you tell Lando, staring down at your phone and scrolling the long chain of comments beneath your most recent post.

Some are supportive— people who knew you before your brother got involved with Formula 1 and don’t care about the drama, or they’re other models you’ve become tentative acquaintances with after years of working in the industry. Some are speculative, wanting to know if you’re with Lando, what happened between you and Oscar, theorizing about fights, messy breakups, and revenge rebounds. Some, however, are just mean, calling you a slut for leading on two guys at the same time, or a bitch for ruining their imaginary chances with their favorite driver.

You wouldn’t claim that you’re used to this type of negative attention, but you’re not unused to it either. So much of your job requires a social media presence and with your life in the limelight as a byproduct of both Logan and Dalton’s own very successful careers, you’re no stranger to internet trolls and people who are vicious just because they can be.

That doesn’t make some of the comments hurt any less.

“None of them matter,” Lando answers from beside you, his eyes focused on the road. “It’s just people who don’t know what they’re talking about.” He recites it like it’s something he’s had to say hundreds of times before, and it occurs to you that he probably has, to himself if not anyone else in his line of work.

You’re sat once again in the passenger seat of his car as he drives you back to his place. The streets of Monte Carlo at night are dazzling and even more beautiful than in the day with twinkling lights and a raging nightlife scene, but you’re distracted still by your phone, checking and rechecking to see if there’s any hint of Oscar in your notifications.

There isn’t.

It feels like a dismal ending to what had truly been such a lovely night.

You’re in a gorgeous dress, in a gorgeous car, in a gorgeous city, with a man who’s fun and relaxing to be around, who doesn’t make you feel like a side piece or arm candy, and who is genuinely a friend to you. You went to an amazing restaurant and ate some of the best food in your life with some of the best company, got slightly tipsy off of wine you didn’t have to pretend to enjoy for once, and it’s only the beginning of your time here in Monaco.

But rather than enjoy what you have here in the present, all you can think about is the one thing that would make it that much better— Oscar.

“Maybe I should just give up,” you mutter, finally turning your eyes away from the screen. “He probably kissed me, realized he wasn’t interested, and the reason he hasn’t brought it up is because it was all just a big mistake that he wants to forget.”

Lando makes a sound that you’re not quite sober enough to place. “I think the only way you could know that is if you talked to him.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrug, “that’s not likely to happen any time soon.”

He makes another sound, but you’re too disappointed to really pay it much mind, and by the time he’s pulling into the garage you’ve forgotten all about it.

He helps you out, ever the gentleman as you’ve learned tonight, and then you’re following him to the door, trying not to let your bad mood ruin things too much. You’re still incredibly grateful and appreciative to him for helping you so much despite not having known you very well when it all began.

“Seriously, though, Lando.” You speak up suddenly, just as he’s about to open the door. “Thank you for doing all this for me. Even if nothing comes of it, I’ve already had a lot of fun and you’re a good friend.”

All he does is offer you a smile over his shoulder, before pushing the door open.

When you step in through the doorway after him, you’re momentarily confused by the luggage waiting in the entryway. For a split second, you think you must have left some of yours down here, but then you look a bit closer and realize that it definitely isn’t yours.

There's movement from your peripherals as someone in the living room stands from the couch and crosses the distance to the entryway's threshold.

“You’re back earlier than I thought, Lando—” you snap your head up in surprise just as the voice cuts off.

You stare at him in shock. “Oscar…”

━━ tags: @f1-is-lovely-33 @chasing-liberosis @405rry @aquangxl @bellezaycafe @peqch-pie @formulaal

━━ a/n: tada! i have the rest of this fic entirely planned out from here and i am so excited to get to the juicy parts finally! hope you all enjoy!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #social media au #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #logan sargeant #alex albon #lando norris

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joelsgoldrush · 10 months

Text

swore i heard you whisper that you preferred us like that

joel miller x f!reader / 5,8k words

summary: you ask joel –the quiet, distant joel– to teach you how to ride a horse. they say the eyes are the window to the soul, and it must be true, because when he really sees you, it´s like he finally understands what you feel for him.

warnings: smut 18+ let’s pretend joel never left jackson, porn with plot, no use of y/n, age gap (reader is in her late 20s, joel is 56), grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation, pet names, unprotected p in v (don't try this at home ok), dirty talk, soft!dom joel (sort of???), a bit of angst/feelings, joel gets all babygirl around reader, ellie appears for like a minute, mediocre attempt at recreating joel's southern accent (sorry in advance)

a/n: hello??? well this is my first fic ever so bear with me, i'm still new to all this. also english isn't my first language so i'm afraid there may be mistakes (mostly when it comes to collocations bc i hate them and they confuse me), buuuut i'm learning obviously and if you find anything that should be corrected PLEASE TELL ME thank you :) i'd appreciate if you told whether you liked this story (idk what to call it tbh) but if you don't it's more than fine! anyways thank you so much for reading if you come across this fic, i hope you like it! i've spent a week writing it bc finals season is killing me <///3

here's my masterlist in case you want to read my other works :)

"Oh, my drunken southern star / How you tried to hide in darkness / Slipped from orbit / Now you’re dangerously close / Come out, come out from all your hiding out / We’ll dig in our heels, salute the battlefields / Where our broken hearts were born."

What is it that he has?

You used to ask yourself that question every night as you went to bed. On some occasions, you couldn't manage to come up with an exact answer. There were too many reasons that disclosed why a man like him lingered on your mind, even in those moments that were supposed to be for you and only you. Sleeping more than three hours a day was definitely something you needed tremendously, but still, the not-so-rational voice inside your head kept on bringing his name up without fail, disturbing your rest.

Joel Miller. Was it possible to feel like this? Like you knew somebody without having exchanged more than five words with them? Sure, there wasn't a single person in Jackson who wasn't aware of his existence. From whispered rumors in the streets to stories that intended to give his reserved personality an explanation, Joel became a real talking-point among those in the commune. Years ago, when the world was still just a floating ball in space, he would’ve frightened you, being the kind of person your parents used to warn you about as you started to grow older.

He walked a certain way, as if he were holding the suffering of many lives in his hands. Always on guard, prepared to fight those who defied him. Hidden knives in his pockets, a gun between his fingers, the trigger too tempting to be pulled at any time given. His hair was a mixture of brown and gray, and you swore that the latter was only becoming more prominent as days went by.

Suddenly, your pillow felt too uncomfortable, your hands fisting the fabric of your t-shirt while you kicked the blanket resting on top of your bare feet. A sigh escaped your lips, the taste of something you couldn't even distinguish on your tongue, your unsteady breath being the only sound to be heard in that noiseless night.

You were having a hard time figuring out how you felt about Joel (if there was anything to feel in the first place, since he barely remembered your face and there you were, fantasizing about him instead of sleeping.) Maybe you liked how he presented himself, how bossy and persistent he looked the times you caught him patrolling around the zone. Or perhaps it was his character what charmed you in the first place, and the fact that, deep down, a different side from him remained completely unseen.

He was handsome, too. Tall, broad shoulders, aquiline nose. His arms looked majestic in every single piece of clothing he wore, his tanned skin shiny enough to reflect the very same sun. And his legs… you were sure they were muscular like the rest of his body, because of all the physical effort he did. You had heard that he worked as a contractor before the pandemic, which made a lot of sense. Once or twice you had paid attention to his hands and–

Then, a familiar feeling sinked in. Warm began spreading through your belly, your thighs involuntary clenching together. “Fuck,” you muttered in a low tone, keeping your hands glued to your sides. Another motive not to think about Joel: he made you feel… things. Certain things that you hadn't felt for anyone in a very long time. You preferred to think that it was probably due to the fact that you were touch-starved, and not because you found yourself deeply attracted to him. Never had you ever been a sexually active person, so why now? Why did the mere image of Joel in your mind turn you on?

He’s strong. I’m alone. I feel the need to find someone who’s willing to protect me. That’s it. No other reason.

Your internal monologue was lacking in arguments, but it was definitely something you could work with. As if on cue, you found it hard to keep your eyes open, your limbs not feeling as if they were yours anymore. Next thing you knew, you were asleep.

That night, you dreamt with Joel.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

In a small cabin, you taught children how to paint and draw. Maria believed it to be helpful for their psychological development or something like that, and you had agreed to do it. A good way to spend your free time– that’s what it was. Plus, you liked children; some would even choose to include you in their drawings, and that small gesture just warmed your heart.

There, you met Ellie, a teenager whose basic vocabulary consisted mostly of profanities.

And boy, you loved Ellie.

It was hard not to, actually. She was like a breath of fresh air, with her jokes and instant charm. You two became attached in a short time, and she reminded you of a younger version of you, just a lot braver. Although in this world it brought her benefits, you sometimes wished she wouldn’t have gone through all that shit. Those eyes, which squinted as she laughed if you tickled her sides, were the cemetery of many buried memories. You wondered how she managed to put a smile on her face despite her past and the horrible things she had seen, hoping it was genuine and not a mask.

“Look!” her voice brought you back to reality. Blinking in her direction, you realized the amount of paint you had dropped onto the floor, a red stain already forming on the carpet. “Are you okay? You seem off.”

“I’m fine! Just a bit sleepy today, that's all,” you got closer to where she was lying down, her fingers moving the brush you had gifted her in different directions. Squatting a bit, you placed a strand of hair that didn’t make it into her ponytail behind her ear. “So, what are you painting?”

She smiled warmly, and her teeth catched her lower lip momentarily. “It’s not finished, okay? Don’t freak out. I know you’re a perfectionist.”

“I’m not…” you tried to explain yourself, but ended up choosing to be defeated. “Maybe you’re right. Anyway, may I see it?”

The canvas was in your hands a few moments later. Ellie spoke beside you, her words mixing together in a sign of embarrassment. “It’s for Joel. Figured I could do something nice for him, you know? I don’t– I think I need to start over. His eyes look kind of strange, don’t they? They’re so close he looks like a cyclops.”

“Don’t say that, kiddo. This is… it’s beautiful,” your index finger traced the lines framing his jaw, the shades of his skin perfectly achieved. You held the painting even tighter, afraid of breaking it for a second. He wasn’t frowning like he normally did; Ellie had painted him smiling, and the crinkles by his eyes matched his age. Surely you must have spent more time than necessary staring at it, ‘cause then Ellie continued talking.

“Well, you know what they say: The student has become the teacher.”

You handed the canvas to her, a smirk taking place on your face. “Yeah, I guess I’ll stop teaching you if that’s the case.”

An hour or so later, someone knocked on the door. As both of your hands were occupied (a more formal way to say that they were dirty with paint), you screamed “Come in!”, and Ellie covered her painting with an old, muddy curtain you used to clean the tables in which the children worked. You were about to ask her why she had reacted in that way, until you turned around and saw him.

Joel was there, as every other Wednesday. In your cabin, standing right in front of you. And you didn’t even look presentable. His hair looked messy, a couple of locks stuck to his forehead with sweat. “Hi,” he said shortly, meeting your gaze and attempting to shake your hand, but you avoided contact.

Showing him your hands, you held your palms in the air as an indication of the still fresh paint on your skin. “Sorry. If I were to accept the gesture, I’d leave you a stain.”

He retrieved a bit, adjusting his glove. “It’s okay. Safety first.”

That was supposed to be a joke, you noticed tardily. The silence in the room persisted until Ellie appeared from behind your back, already putting her coat on.

“You were supposed to pick me up in half an hour, asshole.”

His mouth snapped shut for an instant. “I missed you too. How was the class?”

Ellie lifted her shoulder in a half shrug, looking in your direction and proceeding to jerk her thumb toward Joel. She didn’t want him to see the painting. “Fine as usual.”

“Can I see what you’re–”

“No fucking way!” she accentuated the word fucking, drawing him closer to the door.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not done.”

“But–”

“No more questions, Joel. Let’s go! Say bye!” Ellie handled him like a baby, which made you giggle.

Though you saw Joel raising his eyebrows, so you stopped laughing.

Soon, they left and the cabin returned to its familiar quietness. A sigh erupted from your chest, and you allowed yourself to fall on top of a chair.

At least you could say you had actually talked to Joel for once.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

It didn’t surprise you that you wanted to see him again.

Not in the “you-turn-me-on” way, but in the “you-seem-interesting-and-i-need-to-find-out-why” one.

He had something. Something so magnetic and indecipherable that kept pulling you towards him. Something that made you look for his presence in every crew, and not sensing what it was only made your wishes to dissect him grow bigger. There was a tiny probability that he was an idiot with a pretty face. Who knew? You definitely didn’t, and that needed to change. You deserved to know if pining over that man was worth it or not.

That chain of thoughts led you to look for him the next day, almost trembling with eagerness as you asked him the most stupid and unexpected question you could have imagined.

“Would you teach me how to ride a horse?”

He looked at you as if you were out of your mind, opening his mouth a few times and then closing it before he actually replied to you. “You’re tellin' me you don’t know how to ride a horse?”

“Tried it a few times, but failed and now I really want to learn to do it properly,” you swore his eyes were trying to decipher if you were saying the truth or not. “Ellie told me that you could probably make some time to teach me?”

“So Ellie's in charge of my schedule, I suppose?” you froze on the spot, and he must have noticed it because then his expression dulled. “Sorry, sweetheart. It was a joke. I've been told I'm not the best humorist.”

Sweetheart. You could’ve died a happy girl.

“Look, why don’t we meet up tomorrow after lunch? I'm sure it won’t take us much time. Not a difficult task, y’know?” he stroked his beard, apparently thinking you understood what he was talking about.

“Sure. Thank you, Joel. My name’s–“

He didn’t let you finish. “I do know your name,” and before leaving, he repeated: “I’ll be here tomorrow. You know where to find me.”

To say that you slept without interruptions that night was an understatement. Each hour seemed to become longer the more you glimpsed your watch. Your heart drummed inside your chest violently, and you feared that someone else would be able to hear it if they got close enough to you.

After having lunch in the same spot as every other mundane day, your legs took you to the stable. You took a shaky breath, expecting him to appear out of thin air, but fifteen minutes went by, and there was still no sign of Joel. Pressing your forehead against the wooden door, you wrapped your arms around yourself. “What was I even thinking?”

“Hey.”

You looked to your side and– there he was, already getting inside the stable and inviting you to follow him. Joel petted one of the horses, clicking his tongue. His fingers caressed the animal’s back, and when he shot a glance at you, he didn’t ignore your disturbed expression.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of horses.”

“I’m not afraid of them,” you laughed awkwardly, eyeing the horse, which stared at you with those big and strange eyes. You raised your hand to mimic Joel, but that just made the animal move further away from you. “I guess it’s mutual. We don’t like each other.”

Joel smirked, guiding you outside. “It’s a damn horse. I don’t think you can tell whether he likes you or not. You gotta change that attitude of yours,” he murmured as he got on top of the horse, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Treat him well and he’ll be nice.”

At first, Joel taught you the basics: how to position yourself for balance, get your legs in the right position, hold the reins properly. A little bit of help coming from him was needed for you to mount the horse. He got down on one knee, patting it as if it were a mounting block. “Come on. Step on it.”

No need to ask me twice, you thought as you did what you were told, and once you were grabbing on those reins for dear life, you observed him with curious eyes. “Now what?”

“Now…” he pressed his hand into one of the horse’s sides, and afterwards, the horse began to fucking trot and you cried out, a high-pitched shriek slipping from your mouth. Joel laughed maliciously, almost hypnotized by the scene. “Now is when you learn how to ride a horse!”

“This isn't funny!” you screamed, the horse still very much entertained with the way you were jerking on top of him. “Stop!”

You couldn't believe how he kept… cracking up. Joel touched his stomach, shaking with laughter. “You’re a natural, can’t you see it? I’m havin' the time of my life here.”

“What I can see is that you’re an idiot! Cut the cackle and help me!”

But he didn’t move a single muscle. Instead, he remained still, that smug look never abandoning his features.

The bastard. “You’re gonna make me beg? In this situation?”

Crossing his arms while teasingly grinning at you, he added: “Wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“Joel Miller, will you help me? Pretty please?” your hair was getting in the way, and you could taste it as you insisted. “Is that enough for you?”

It was, actually. He helped you get down from the horse, his thick fingers digging into the mushy skin of your waist. It shouldn’t have felt that good, but it did. You were supposed to be angry at him for setting you up and still, by touching you for a microsecond, he had transformed you into something malleable.

Sadly, that feeling didn’t last much longer. “Didn’t know you were a man of manners. Should’ve told me beforehand.”

“Didn't know you could scream like that. I hope you didn’t freak anyone out.”

The two of you continued to practice until nightfall. A thing you also learned, apart from horse riding, was that Joel was a determined man. Everytime you tried to quit, he stopped you, making it impossible for you to rest. You stared at him, rubbing the back of your sore neck with a grimace. “I’m tired. Can we go back?”

“One more time.”

“Joel–”

“Trot a couple of meters just one more time, and that’s it for today. Can you do that for me?”

You tried not to pay too much attention to his choice of words, although it was basically non-viable. He looked sinful, and you longed to shut him up with a bruising kiss. Again, a hopeless option. Your hands itched to touch him, to feel his stubble, rough and coarse under your thumbs. How could you stay focused when the man you had been daydreaming with for the last couple of months was bossing you around?

Despite your inability to clear your head of any of those thoughts, you managed to accomplish what he had asked you to do. “Well done,” he offered you his hand to dismount the horse and you accepted it, sighing as you stretched out your arms. “We should take him back to the stable,” Joel suggested, giving you the impression of being pleased as you told him you were coming with him.

Inside the stable, he relocated the horse into one of the many stalls. Unbelievably, the place didn’t smell like absolute shit, which was what you were expecting from a barn. “Thank you for the lesson,” you told Joel once he was done with the horse.

“Anytime,” he scratched his jaw, the dim light making his dark eyes look, if possible, even darker. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“No. You were right,” your heart thrummed with every word that he blurted. His presence was addictive. You were never the one to have any bad habits, but deep down, you recognized that he easily could develop one. “I thought you were less talkative.”

“So did I,” for an instant, he pressed his lips together, forming a tight line, as if he had said something he shouldn’t have in the first place. “I think I didn’t ask you this before: but why now? I mean, why did you wait so much time to learn how to ride a horse? Everyone in Jackson seems to know how.”

You cleared your throat, his piercing eyes peering at your movements. “I guess I thought it wasn't necessary back then, before all this. It's one of those things that you don't even consider until it becomes inevitable. I used to believe I had a lot of time left when I was younger,” you had never talked about this with anyone else. There was something so intimate about this conversation, how Joel stood seemingly tongue-tied in front of you, as if he were taking notes of what you were confessing to him. “I remember being a kid and not wanting to use my toys sometimes because I kept waiting for the right moment. But then…”

“You realize there’s no such thing as the right moment,” he finished the sentence for you, and you bowed your head. “Life can end at any moment, especially in a world like ours. That’s why you always gotta do what you wish to. We never know what’ll happen tomorrow.”

“Live for today, hope for tomorrow? That’s your creed?” you tried to mock him, the tension in the stable far from evident, but he didn’t move.

“It’s the way I try to live my own life. I don’t like being left with the desire to do somethin’ I could’ve done earlier. Too old for that.”

Maybe you were gradually losing it. Perhaps just a little. It couldn’t be a coincidence, right? Had he noticed how you acted around him? Were you that obvious?

“So, you would advise me to just…”

“Do whatever you feel right, sweetheart.”

That raspy sweetheart made you give in.

His eyes. His penetrating, gleaming eyes scrutinized your face at the same time you closed the distance between your bodies. From there, you were able to see every freckle, every small detail that you hadn’t previously acknowledged. He parted his lips, as if to speak, but no words other than your name came out. One of your hands made its way up to his cheek, cupping it, feeling the warmth his skin radiated. His head immediately leaned into your touch, like a moth into a flame.

You kissed him, unable to keep waiting. It took him what felt like ages to kiss you back, his fingers tangling in your hair. He absorbed your whimpers, pressing your back against the nearest wall. Maddening– it was the perfect word to describe how being kissed by Joel felt like. When you thought he was going to draw away from you, he just held you tighter until your lungs implored for some air. Your knees had never felt this weak, and you found yourself grabbing onto his shoulders, already feeling the places where his stubble had left its trace in flames.

“Joel…” you mumbled against his lips, detaching your mouth from his. Your erratic breaths seemed to sync together like a melody, and you tugged at the collar of his jacket.

He knew, could see it on your features. “Wanna go to yours?”

Joel took you home. The moment you set foot in the cabin, he closed the door behind him, his hand lingering on the handle as he contemplated you from a distance. You took your coat off first, starting to unzip your pants. There was silence long enough to hear crickets in, the moon up in the sky being the only bystander of your meeting. His eyes roamed the newly exposed skin of your legs and you observed him gulp.

“Did something happen?” you asked him, a flush crepting up your face. Taking a step forward, one of his hands came to rest on top of yours.

“No, it’s just that– Are you sure you want this?”

Crinkling your nose, you uttered: “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m just too old for you,” he warned you, running a knuckle down your cheek. “You should be with guys your age, y’know? Not with an old man like me.”

“I want you,” reassuring him, you got rid of your t-shirt, and the fact he was still dressed up from neck to toes lit some kind of fire inside you. His calloused fingers fiddled with the strap of your bra until it slipped off your shoulder. “This is what I want. Please, Joel.”

It turned out that Joel Miller certainly was a man of manners.

You couldn't help but moan as he grabbed you by the waist, dragging you to the couch by the window and straddling his lap, his hard-on finding its place beneath you, pulsing and in need of more. His tongue brushed yours ever so often, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his teeth latched onto the skin of your throat. Joel groaned, the sound, low and primal, having its desired effect on you, your hips involuntarily grinding against his in a delicious but tormenting rhythm that already had you on the verge of tears.

“Joel, please,” you managed to plead, not knowing precisely what you were asking for. His hands cupped your ass, imprinting his fingerprints on the soft flesh, forcing your hips to go harder and harder. The harsh fabric of his pants was definitely going to leave a mark on your cheeks, and thinking that helped you realize that you were the only one –almost– naked. You reached for the buttons of his denim shirt, your lips hovering over his. “Take your clothes off?”

He did the rest himself, throwing his jacket to the floor. When he got to his jeans, he cocked his head. “Why don’t we move this to the bedroom, if you’re so goddamn needy?” The few guys you had been with had never been very talkative during sex; there was even this one specific boy who had asked you to not make a sound while he fucked you.

But Joel wasn’t like them. It was just starting and you had already realized that he had a dirty mouth, an expectant look on his face every time he waited for your reaction to his words. “Now you’re quiet, huh? Thought you wanted me to fuck you, darlin',” one of his fingers pressed down on your clit, stimulating it through your underwear. He sighed, stopping his movements and pressing the damp pad of it against your lower lip, urging you to taste yourself. “You’re wet, baby. So fuckin’ wet. Have you been like this all day? Bet you would’ve let me take you right there in the forest.”

“Oh my God,” you whined next to his ear, your whole body trembling with desire. “Take me to bed,” you begged him, and next thing you knew, he was grabbing you as if you weighed nothing and heading towards your room.

Not knowing how, you kept your hands to yourself until he placed you on top of the bed. Joel shoved his jeans down and you didn’t think twice– you stroked his length, the fabric of his boxers only making the slow drag of your hand more satisfying. His long fingers circled your throat, and you moaned as you kept eliciting exquisite noises from him. “Let me take care of you,” his dilated pupils carved holes in your being, his grip doing nothing to cease the ache between your legs. “Please, baby. I need to make you feel good. Been thinkin’ about this for so long.”

“What?” you slowed down your pace, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “You wanted me?”

“Why do you think I began to pick Ellie up from your classes, huh? Because I’m a good, generous man?” Joel parted your knees, getting closer to where you required him the most. “I’m sorry to ruin this, but I’m far from good. Just wanted to see you and your pretty face. Didn’t know if we were on the same page until you came lookin' for me, askin' me to teach you how to ride a damn horse,” you hadn’t noticed your bra was missing till he cupped one of your breasts, flicking your nipple between his fingers. “I’m sure there were many other people you could’ve asked to teach you, but you chose me, didn’t you?”

“Don’t want anybody else,” your lips chased his, a drop of sweat already rolling down your temple. “I didn’t– didn’t know you noticed me.”

“How could I not? If you could only look at yourself like I’m doing right now… You’re a sight, sweetheart, all spread out for me,” removing your panties, he kissed the skin where your inner thighs met, his tongue darting out to draw imaginary figures on your flesh. His mouth was just inches away from your cunt, and you had to tell him.

“Joel?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve never– nobody has ever done that for me.”

He seemed to understand what you were referring to. It made you tense a bit, despite the fact that you were completely naked in front of him, basically begging him to tear you apart. Still, the realization that you weren't as expert as him hit you out of nowhere. Yeah, it was all fun and games, kissing and touching probably the hottest man you had seen in your almost three decades of life. But said man was a lot older than you, and he had lived his best years in the real world, not this fucked up version you grew up in. You were sure he had been with many different women, which wasn’t a problem– you two were nothing.

“Nobody has ever tasted ya’? That’s what you’re tryin’ to tell me?” you nodded quickly, shoving a strand of his graying hair back away from his eyes. Joel chuckled languidly, squeezing your hips. “Do you want me to? It’s okay if you don’t. We can try somethin’ else.”

“Please,” you’d have time to embarrass yourself later, thinking about the amount of times you had repeated that word. But certain moments were to be lived only once, and though you hoped it wasn't the case, you had to take the chance. “I want you to.”

Four words. It took Joel four words to disappear between your legs, licking a hot stripe up your folds. You nibbled on your bottom lip, a loud moan filling the void of your dorm. He drew sweet patterns in your cunt, discovering a part of you that no one else ever had, and you couldn’t help but to grind against his face as he dipped the tip of his tongue into your entrance. Breathing wasn’t a necessity anymore. You felt as if all the air in the world was being punched out of your lungs, the knot in your belly growing tighter the more Joel spent his precious time keeping you entertained.

At some point, he focused his attention on your clit, circling it over and over again, making you shudder. Suddenly, the pad of his middle finger tested the waters, and he slowly slid it into your cunt, earning a strangled whine from you. Burying your hands in his hair, your glossy eyes looked for him for a second. You shouldn’t have done that, because as you took in the sight of Joel with his own eyes closed, browns knitted, your nostrils flared, and you wondered if it was even possible to want somebody that much.

“Joel, wait, I’m– fuck,” your jaw went slack and you scrunched up your face, two of his thick fingers nudging that spot that made you see stars. “I’m close.”

“That’s a good thing, sweetheart. Don’t know why you say it in such a dry tone,” his mouth curved into a smile, his chin and stubble shining with your slick.

Your chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. “I don’t want to come yet.”

“But you will.”

A thing you also learned, apart from horse riding, was that Joel was a determined man.

“Joel–“

“I’ll make you come with my mouth, and then with my cock,” dizziness was starting to blur your vision, your eyelashes fluttering with every hard thrust of his fingers. You glanced up to the ceiling, tears filling your eyes. “Think you can do that for me, be my good girl and come twice?”

You bobbed your head. It was official: he was going to make you come.

Drawing in a long breath, you could feel the unbearable pressure in your core. His name sounded like a prayer on your lips, chanting it in the same way some people expressed their devotion to a certain God. You had your own personal deity, whose tongue accomplished to push you to the limit, licking every drop of your release as if it were a special kind of forbidden elixir.

Your shoulders sagged and you relaxed under him. Joel kissed you, an open mouthed and filthy kiss crowning that moment as you panted. Through the cotton fabric of his boxers, you felt his hard-on poking your thigh. Shoving his underwear down, you took him in your hand, hot and just big, stroking him for real this time. You twisted your wrist at the tip, and he slumped forward, almost crushing you with his entire body weight, his breath dampening your neck. “Wanna fuck you, baby,” he croaked, his hips chasing your touch.

Out of all the scenarios you had ever imagined, none of them included being split open by Joel. You had a very vivid imagination, but no amount of creativity would’ve prepared you for what his cock would feel like inside of you. He bottomed out, his arms shaking where they rested on each side of your head. Joel’s breath quickened as he pulled out, just letting the tip, and then thrusting into you again.

“Fuck,” you didn’t recognize your own voice. It was even hard to decipher if you were still alive or dead from how magnificent he felt.

“So good, sweetheart. You’re so good, such a good girl,” he groaned, fucking deeper into you. His cock pulsed inside you, your cunt squeezing him. “Can’t believe how– how tight you are. You’re gonna make me lose my f–fucking mind.”

It was just too much. You hadn’t even recovered from your last orgasm before Joel started pounding into you like his life depended on it, the obscene sound of skin slapping skin ringing out in the room.

“You gonna come, huh? Gonna make a mess?” you could sense he was also close, his pace faltering as seconds went by, words slurring together. He pressed his forehead against yours, clenching his fists and taking in a sharp breath. “Fuck. I’m not gonna last much longer, baby.”

Come inside, you wished to tell him, to feel his seed dripping out of your greedy hole, painting your walls. But you weren't on the pill; it was also the first time you were sleeping with Joel, and you didn’t know how he would take the… suggestion. “Close,” you yelped instead, tears shimmering in your eyes as Joel’s body hovered over you like the most perfect eclipse.

His thrusts became more frenzied, if possible. “That’s it, darlin’. Come for me,” your gaze fixated upon him, his eyes flickering with hunger. “Wanna see you when you soak my cock.”

Your body went limp, your orgasm hitting you like a truck. Soreness took place in your throat as you moaned his name through the aftershocks, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids. Going rigid, you let go of Joel’s shoulders. He pulled out, mumbling something you didn’t quite catch. You fisted his cock, trying to give him the release he so yearned for. Joel kissed you, messy teeth and saliva taking part of it. Heavy on your hand, his dick twitched as you squeezed the base, roped of his warm cum splattering your belly. The scene reminded you of a painting; he was the talented painter, and you his blank canvas, waiting to be signed with his name.

It was the turn of silence now. None of you said anything for a while, until Joel used his boxers to clean up his cum from your stomach, smiling apologetically at you. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” your fingers delicately traced the contours of his chest as he reclined, enveloping you in the embrace of his strong arms. “Will you stay?”

Please say yes.

“Only if you want me to.”

Moral of the story: learning how to ride a horse can actually be nice if your teacher happens to be Joel Miller.

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obsessivelullabies · 4 months

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— task force 141 on valentines!

characters included : simon 'ghost' riley, john price, johnny 'soap' mactavish, kyle 'gaz' garrick.

a/n : i see all the cute valentine's day stuff and i get inspired <3 this is an imagine about how they'd be on your first valentines as your husband. send a request if you want to see another character. lots of fluff! gender neutral reader! unedited!

simon 'ghost' riley.

simon was anxious. he knew he had to make an impression. he had to show just how much he really loved you. in his mind, this was a much bigger deal than it actually was. he would never tell you about how anxious he was, but it absolutely consumed his thoughts the day of.

he made sure everything was tailored to your tastes. he bought you your favorite type of flower in your favorite color, got you a small basket (your favorite color, a must) filled with your favorite candy and a soft, fuzzy stuffed animal.

simon would of course play this off as no big deal to you, as if he gave it minimal thought. you could tell by the details he planned this out. that night, he'd make you both a fort of pillows and blankets, order your favorite takeout and watch your favorite movies with you.

it showed how well he listened to you, how he knew what you loved.

john price.

john is a traditional man. he had a classical date planned. roses, dinner reservations to a fancy restaurant, he spent the whole night wining and dining you, asking about you, romancing you. he knew tonight was strictly about you.

once the two of you get home, he'll draw up a warn bath for you. while you're in the bath, he'd light some candles. once you're ready to get out, he'd help you into a robe and have you lay down. he'd give you a full body massage, worshipping your body.

he'd spend the night whispering sweet words to you, kissing your neck, your shoulders, holding your body close to his. john would do anything to please you. he simply adored you.

johnny 'soap' mactavish.

johnny is so extra. he had big plans, weeks before valentine's he was hyping it up, telling you about how it would be the best night of your life. he was confident you'd love whatever he had planned. he was so eager to see how you'd smile at his surprise.

he definitely bought you lots of snacks and sweets. he wanted to be unique, to show up every other person who did something for their partner. he bought you two a cake to share with your initials on it.

at the end of the night, he ushered you outside. this dumbass brought out a bunch of fireworks and set them off for you as you sat and watched. he wanted to make you feel like the most special person in the world, who else set fireworks off for their spouse? that's right. only johnny. only for you.

kyle 'gaz' garrick.

kyle was super excited for valentine's day. he was so excited for you two to spend a day devoted to each other. he wanted to show you how much he treasured you, how you were the most important person in his life.

he made a big basket for you to wake up to. it was filled with sweets, some jewelry, framed photos of you two for around the house, your favorite flowers, a cute teddy bear and a gift suited to your interest.

that night, he cooked you two a nice dinner, poured some wine then set up a blanket outside. he sat down with you, pointing out different stars and constellations. while you stared at the moon and stars, he stared at you. to him, you were the most beautiful sight.

masterlist.

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darkbluekies · 7 months

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What kind of partner will Dr kry be if darling were dating him?

Dr Kry headcanon: as a boyfriend

Doctor!yandere x reader

Warnings: mentions of sexual themes, yandere behaviors, making murders look like suicides, isolation, drugging

Dr Kry is a very cold, modest man who doesn't like much small talk, or people in general, and everyone around would say that they don't fully know him since he doesn't like to talk about himself or anything else besides his job.

To you, he's a completely different man — he would talk for a whole good ten minutes about the weather, if only to start up a conversation with you.

However, behind that, he's a violent man who doesn't have anything against killing for you. People die every day, so what's the difference? Although, he never wants you to see him like that, he tries to make his murders look like suicides.

He's professional, so it would take a long time for him to be able to have you in the way he fully wants, but when the timing was right, he would move you from the hospital to his villah in the woods.

As a boyfriend, Dr Kry is just as controlling as he is your doctor — always treating you like you need help — but he's also a bit softer since he doesn't have to hold up a facade.

He is not a big fan of physical contact since it invades his personal space and can contain germs, but he can let go of most of his reluctance for you.

He will not let you leave the house and will continue to keep you somewhat drugged, just to make sure that you never try to leave, because Kry has the only antidote to his selfmade poison and he has made sure that you know that.

You'll spend a lot of time in your shared bed in the bedroom upstairs, so Dr Kry makes sure to get the best sheets, blankets, and pillows so that you'll have a comfy time (of course he'll get them at IKEA)

As a boyfriend, he is quite jealous, but not in a "you’re-going-to-take-my-partner-away-from-me" type, but in a "you’re-not-going-to-take-them-away-from-me-type", but he will get rid off people if they ever try to — how clean or messy depends on what they dared to do.

If you cry, he will sit beside you and wipe your tears, building up courage to give you a hug — he so desperately wants to, but it's unnatural for him, so it takes a bit of time — while whispering how much he hates to see you cry.

He's not a very needy person; he sees sex more as a form of reproduction rather than an enjoyable act, but he will always be down to have it if you suggest it, because the closeness he feels is one of the few human contacts he actually loves — he is with you in a way neither his words or his actions could ever describe.

If you argue (which I think would happen quite often with his stubborn personality) he would never blame you, never ever; how could he? You're sick, you don't know any better. It's his fault for even bringing something up.

Loves in-house dates!!! Movie nights, baking, cooking, reading together, gardening, picnicking in the garden, maybe even taking the few steps down to the lake to go on his motorboat.

In conclusion: Dr Kry is a very nonsocial yandere who goes out of his comfort zone to make you his special someone♡

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere headcanon #yandere headcanons #yandere doctor #yandere boyfriend #yandere male

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teapartyprincess4two · 1 month

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begging you to write matt with reader who's also a youtuber/influencer. I want them to be best friends and reader is naive and way too kind for her own good. my idea is that there's another influencer who has a bad reputation and everyone hates on him because supposedly he's a big red flag. but one day y/n met him at a party and he put on an act so y/n now believes that he's not as bad as everyone makes him out to be. they become friends and that's when matt questions her about it and keep warning her about the type of guy he is because matt's worried about her but she won't listen because she's still giving the guy the benefit of the doubt and then they argue about this stuff idk you can change it up I just want this fic to have lotssss of angst but with a happy ending. if you could maybe even squeeze in an angry confession like "WHY DO YOU CARE" iykwim🤭

Why Do You Care?- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Influencer!reader x BestFriend!Matt

classification: angst, fluff

warning: use of y/n, toxic relationship, argument, slight cursing, mentions of blood, physical fight, “slut,” mention of alcohol use, long

inspiration: request^^

summary: You’re naive and let yourself be led on by someone you believe has good intentions, but one day Matt puts him in his place and ends up confessing his feelings to you in the process.

—

Most celebrities quickly become out of touch with reality, allowing the fame to inflate their ego beyond recognition. They splurge on fancy cars, big houses, designer clothing, and then flaunt all of it in the face of their viewers. They become friends with whoever’s currently trending only to chew them up and spit them right out, draining them for as much clout as possible before moving on to the next.

When you first started YouTube you were scared to become one of these celebrities; the celebrities that trade in everything old and meaningful for whatever’s new and shiny. You worked hard to create quality content for your viewers while also trying to remain as humble as possible. If it weren’t for your friends, you probably would’ve fallen victim to the materialism as well.

You had a large friend group consisting of influencers you met after the fame, but a small inner circle made up of your true, irreplaceable friends. Matt and his brothers were a part of this inner circle, all of you riding the wave into fame together. So, when everyone else was gloating over their newfound fame, the four of you remained humble and down to Earth.

Erik, the guy you were seeing, was the complete opposite though. You met him at an influencer event, much like all of your current friends, and he held a certain charm that drew you in immediately. Everyone warned you, claiming he was bad news and would only break your heart, but you didn’t listen. You were naive, giving him the benefit of the doubt and letting his sweet words convince you that he wasn’t what everyone said he was.

You’re currently sitting with Nick and Chris in their living room talking anything and everything boys. Usually Chris would just sit and listen, but the conversation has meandered into the topic of Erik, and he struggles to contain his opinion. An old film plays lowly in the background, a bowl of popcorn situated between piles of blankets and pillows.

“He’s not that bad. I promise!” you exclaim towards Nick and Chris, but it sounds more like you’re trying to convince yourself. You’re scrolling through your phone, buttery fingers trying to find proof that Erik wasn’t all that bad. Nick rolls his eyes, peering over your shoulder as you shuffle through endless photos on your phone.

Chris scoots in closer, copying Nick in invading your personal space before saying, “I don’t know, Y/n. I’ve seen him at a couple parties and he’s always either arriving with a different girl or leaving with one, or both.” You pop a few pieces of popcorn in your mouth, finally finding the screenshot you were looking for.

“Shush Chris, just look at this,” you reply with a mouthful of popcorn, a greasy finger zooming into the screenshot of messages between you and Erik. Before Chris can grab ahold of the phone, Nick is snatching it from you and reading the messages out loud.

“Hey baby, you looked so cute in that black dress. Can’t wait to see it off,” Nick reads, visibly shuddering at the message. “THAT’S the message you wanted to show me?” Chris scoffs, stealing the phone from Nick to examine the messages for himself.

“Just keep reading,” you murmur, now peering over Chris’s shoulder and shoving more popcorn into your mouth. Chris rolls his eyes at you, proceeding to read the messages from Erik, “You’re better than any girl I’ve ever had.” Nick laughs loudly at that, a laugh that exemplifies how unimpressed he is.

“He basically told you he’s fucked other bitches but you’re the best,” Chris deadpans, tossing your phone onto your lap. He’s had enough with the messages, all of them making him cringe beyond belief. Nick once again grabs the phone, examining the messages one more time, “He’s fucking doing the bare minimum, Y/n. Actually, he’s setting the bar so low it’s on the floor.”

Chris laughs at the comment, getting comfortable on the living room floor and averting his gaze to the TV. “Whatever Nick, he’s nice and I really like him,” you retort, no hint of true bitterness in your voice.

The room goes silent for a while, Nick’s focus being on deciphering any hidden meanings within the messages. You lean back into the blankets and pillows that surround you, joining Chris in finally watching the movie. Finally, when Nick has read the messages 10 times over, he replies, “Yeah you really like fucking him apparently.”

Your eyes widen to the size of saucers, your hands swiftly snatching the phone away from him, “I haven’t fucked him! What the fuck!” Nick laughs, knowing the comment trigged you, “Well from what I read, it sounds like you did.”

Before you can stop yourself, you’re grabbing one of the many pillows you’re laying on and lightly hit Nick with it. The pillow ricochets off his chest, the feeling being more annoying than painful. “Don’t start, bitch. I’ll fucking win every time,” he laughs, grabbing a pillow of his own and bouncing it off your head. Soon you’re both caught in a pillow fight, your giggles and laughter filling the living room and drowning the movie out.

Chris groans in annoyance when a stray pillow bonks him in the head, scooting away from you two and turning the volume up. Matt enters the living room fresh out of the shower tussling a white towel on his wet hair. He watches in amusement as you and Nick toss and turn on the living room floor, turning to Chris briefly and asking, “What’s going on with these two?”

Chris groans again, getting up and rounding the corner to head downstairs to his room, “I don’t know, something about Y/n fucking Erik.” Matt watches as Chris disappears into his room, the statement settling in his mind when the door clicks. You hear Chris’s comment, attempting to hit him by throwing a pillow his way, but missing because he descends the stairs before it can reach him.

“You’re fucking Erik?” Matt asks, attempting to sound nonchalant and casual. But there was nothing nonchalant or casual about his question, especially not when directed towards the girl he’s loved from the moment he met her. You and Nick halt your movements, both slightly out of breath and in shock by the straightforwardness of Matt’s question, he was never the type to be so blunt.

“No, that was a lie made up by Nick. See, Nick, that’s how rumors start,” you reply, directing the last part to Nick who holds his hands up in defense. Matt feels himself relax at your confession, the anxiety that was forming subsiding, “Oh okay, yeah. Good, cause I don’t like that guy.” He’s still trying to play the unbothered card, and he wonders if you can tell that it actually did bother him. You roll your eyes, watching as Matt slings the towel over his shoulder from behind the couch.

“Yeah, alright, because who I fuck is dependent on who you do and don’t like? Right?” you reply, a challenging tone in your voice. For some reason it hurt more coming from Matt than from Nick or Chris, maybe because you’ve been pining over Matt since childhood and he’s never realized it. You’ve seen him go through girlfriend after girlfriend without complaint, but the second you’re interested in anyone it’s a problem? “And that’s my queue to leave,” Nick mumbles, getting up and walking upstairs to his room in an attempt to leave the awkward moment.

Matt doesn’t get a chance to reply as you continue, “Whatever, I don’t know why I’m fighting with you.”

“We’re not fighting?”

“We literally are? You never like any of my boyfriends,” you reply, but even you know that you’re overreacting.

“Oh, so he’s been promoted to boyfriend?” Matt prods, a sassy hand resting on his hip. Truth be told, Matt has loved you for longer than you’ve loved him, but he’s always been too afraid to admit it to you. Both Nick and Chris know, but they’ve never exposed Matt’s true feelings for you because they know your relationship is complicated. They’ve watched you both try to fill the void with fling after fling, only to end up arguing about who’s dating who and ending up alone again. It was a never ending cycle between you and Matt, a cycle that would never break until one of you confessed.

“And so what if he has? What is to you, Matt? Not like you don’t have a new random girl in here every week,” you snap, surprised by the venom in your voice. Matt’s hurt by your comment, is that what you viewed him as? As a womanizer? But his hurt is quickly masked by anger, “Alright so now we ARE fighting, and it shouldn’t be any of your concern who I’m seeing.”

“Same goes for you, buddy! I don’t see why you care so much about my relationship with Erik,” you stand from your spot on the floor, feeling small compared to Matt’s towering figure. The condescending nickname is a slap to the face, quickly informing Matt that you aren’t here to play games or coddle his feelings. He wants to say so many things, all of them about his true feelings for you, but he bites his tongue. Plus, after being called ‘buddy’ he’s not sure you’ll even listen.

His jaw is clenched, one fist balled up and the other gripping onto the towel so tightly his knuckles turn white. Once the silence becomes too much, you continue, “Whatever, Matt. I’m going home, I’ll talk to you later. Tell Nick and Chris I said bye.”

“No, you don’t get to ‘whatever’ me. Let’s talk about this,” his tone is almost pleading, a gentle but firm hand keeping you in place. You won’t make eye contact, afraid that if you meet his gaze the tears will spill.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you sigh, suddenly feeling defeated and guilty for arguing with the one man you truly loved. Why was this so hard for you both?

Matt opens his mouth to say something, but quickly closes it like a fish in water when he realizes that what he wants to say will only further complicate the situation. He silently watches as you gather your things. You push past him, making your way to the front door without another word, but you’re internally wishing he’d pull you back in and fix this. He doesn’t though, so you swing the front door open and walk towards your car.

When the door slams closed, Matt realizes that if he doesn’t do something about it, he’ll lose you for good.

—

Loud music booms through the club, the vibrations of the bass shaking the walls with each beat. You never pass up on the opportunity to celebrate friends, so when Tara, an influencer friend of yours, invited you to her party you immediately said yes. The venue is filled with drunk people, all of them so inebriated that all they can do is dance, makeout, and continue drinking.

Matt, Nick, and Chris follow closely behind you as you push your way through the crowd of dancing people. They were completely out of their element, choosing to stick to you like gum to avoid any uncomfortable interactions. As you weave your way through the club, you spot Erik in the corner with a few of your other friends, and immediately without thinking you abandon all loyalty to your friends and start walking towards him.

“Hey, where are you going?” Matt asks, voice straining to be heard over the music. He’s holding onto your elbow, grip firm enough to keep you from moving. “I’m gonna get Erik, I want you guys to meet him,” you reply, managing to slip out of his grasp and continuing your journey through the dense population of drunk, sweaty people. Matt wants to grab you by the waist and pull you back, but you just forgave him after your last argument and he knows your relationship is too fragile for another argument right now.

“Where is she going?” Chris shouts, scanning the room anxiously. The club was loud and chaotic, filled with strobing lights and bumping bodies that were enough to overstimulate anyone. Matt’s eyes are trained on you, watching as you reach Erik and cling onto him like a necklace. Chris, upon not receiving a response from Matt, looks at his brother. Matt’s jaw is clenched, prominent veins visible on his arms as the anger begins coursing through his veins.

Chris follows Matt’s gaze, immediately clocking what has Matt so serious. Nick is standing close by, bopping his head to the music. “Fucking hate that guy,�� Chris comments, slapping Matt’s back and pulling him into a quick side hug. He was attempting to console his brother, to show his solidarity, but Matt was too blinded to notice.

“Tell me about it,” Matt grits, watching as you excitedly lead Erik towards the trio. Your right hand is holding a drink high in the air as your left is behind you, fingers laced with Erik’s as you dance your way back to your friends.

“Guys! This is Erik!” you look so excited, like a little kid showing off their new toy. But Erik is unimpressed and honestly, he doesn’t give a fuck who your friends are. Matt, Nick, and Chris care even less about him, in fact they hate this guy from the rumors alone.

“Hey man, nice to meet you. I’m Chris,” Chris is the first to break the awkward tension. He extends a hand, dabbing Erik up briefly as to not seem rude. Nick follows, going in for a quick side hug, “Nice to finally meet you, I’m Nick. Y/n has told us so much about you.”

“All good things I hope,” Erik replies. There’s a fake tone laced in his voice that Matt catches instantly, causing him to roll his eyes. Matt waits for Erik to give him his full attention before introducing himself with a firm handshake, “I’m Matt.” He wasn’t going to put on a show, all he had to do was introduce himself, simple as that.

Matt’s hand holds onto Erik’s for a little too long, successfully managing to intimidate him before he pulls away. “Matt. Noted,” Erik says awkwardly, ready to ditch this situation and consume as much alcohol as possible to forget this ever happened. Erik rocks back and forth on his heels, surveying the room for an excuse to leave. He spots a girl he’s fucked before, eyes lighting up as he creates an excuse on the spot, “Hey baby, I’m going to go find some friends I want you to meet. I’ll be back in a bit.” Erik plants a kiss on your cheek before dismissing himself with a wave, “Nice meeting you guys, see you around.”

“Nice meeting you, see you around,” Matt mocks in a high pitched voice, rolling his eyes for what feels like the 100th time tonight. There were so many red flags about this guy, but he was being so nice, so fake, that Matt couldn’t even point them out. And hearing another man call you baby has Matt’s blood boiling, he just knows that Erik throws that nickname at anything with legs.

Chris and Nick return Erik’s wave, but Matt immediately pulls you in close and begins warning you about the type of guy Erik is. “He’s so weird, Y/n. Just be careful please,” he whispers into your ear, the loud music forcing him to be inches away from your face. As he says it, he catches Erik checking a girl out on the dance floor, the same girl that Erik dismissed himself to go talk to.

“I don’t want you to get hurt. I care about you and don’t want to see you upset over a guy, especially not a douche like him,” Matt continues, subconsciously letting his hands rest on your waist. It’s a feeling you welcome, wishing that it was more than just friendly.

“I’m not going to get hurt. I’m a big girl,” you reply, a drunk smile on your face. How you’ve managed to get so drunk already, he doesn’t know, but he knows that he feels a sense of responsibility for you. He’s about to tell you to stay close, your drunken state inhibiting you from properly taking care of yourself. “I’m gonna go find Tara,” and with that you’re lost in the crowd again, forcing Matt to loosen his grip on your waist as he watches you dance away.

He leans against the wall behind him, a tight jaw forming as he switches his attention from you and Erik. You’re having so much fun dancing with friends, completely oblivious to the fact that Erik is chatting up yet another girl, and Matt couldn’t do anything about it.

—

After about two hours, Matt has officially decided that he’s bored. He and his brothers are the only sober people, the three of them watching as everyone else makes drunk decisions they were sure to regret later. “I’m gonna go to the restroom,” Matt excuses himself, earning a head nod from both his brothers. In reality he just needed an excuse to stretch his legs and a reason to walk around the club to look for you.

Matt hasn’t seen you since went to look for Tara. And as he laps the club, he ends up running into Tara, her small dancing figure thanking him for celebrating such a big milestone with her. He asked her if she’d seen you, but she said it had been a while since she last saw you. That worried Matt, especially considering how drunk you were. So, as he heads towards the restroom, he studies every face in the room in search of yours.

When he finally reaches the restroom, he still hasn’t found you, but as he pushes the door open he’s met with Erik’s annoying voice, “No I don’t actually like her. I mean, yeah she’s cute, but why would I tie myself down? I just need her to boost my views.” Matt sees red as soon as he hears it, he knows Erik is talking about you, who else could he be talking about?

“So you’re using her for clout?” another voice chimes in.

“Something like that. Have you seen her numbers, dude? Her and those little triplets she hangs out with are all anyone’s talking about right now. I don’t get the hype, but you know I have to get in on that… Plus, if I play this game long enough, she might let me hit,” Erik replies, the gross comment he made about you earning him a round of laughter from his equally as disgusting friends.

Matt’s about to push the door open, slam Erik onto the floor, and beat the living shit out of him, but Erik continues before he can, “And the look on that Matt guy’s face when I finally do it will be priceless. He’s clearly in love with her.”

Matt’s heard enough, and before he knows it he’s fuming and barging into the restroom, you can practically see the steam coming off of him. It doesn’t take long for him to single Erik out, the adrenaline pumping through his body providing him with a sudden, unmatched strength. Matt grabs him by the color, using momentum and force to push him against the cold tile wall.

Matt is glad that no one is here to hold him back, but even if there was he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from doing what he’s about to do. “Ay bro, what the fu—” Erik’s sentence is cut off by a swift punch to his jaw, a punch so hard that it has him dazed. Erik falls onto the floor harshly as all of his fake friends scurry out of the restroom, commenting something along the lines of “this guy’s crazy.”

Matt was in a blinded rage, watching as Erik spits blood onto the floor, using one hand to hold himself up and the other to wipe the warm liquid that dribbles down his chin.

“You think a punch will stop me from fucking your bitch?” Erik asks with a malicious, bloody smile forming on his face. Matt doesn’t respond, his fists doing all the talking for him as he kneels to Erik’s level and pummels his face. Punch after punch is thrown, each one leaving Erik bloodier and more bruised than the last.

Erik’s friends must’ve told people in the club what was happening in the restroom because you, Nick, and Chris are suddenly barging in. Nick and Chris are horrified at the sight, but with Erik’s track record they’re not surprised, he certainly had it coming. “Matt! Matt!” Chris shouts, wrapping strong arms around his brother and attempting to pull him off Erik, who’s laughing maniacally like he got what he wanted.

Matt’s stiff as a board, so it takes both Chris and Nick to pry him off the bloody boy. Finally, when they pull him off, Erik stumbles to get up. His face is so bloody he’s almost unrecognizable. “Matt, what did you do?” you whisper in shock, a trembling hand coming up to your face at the sight. Matt’s chest heaves as he tries steadying his breathing, his dark eyes softening a little when he realizes how scared you are.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Nick whispers, the severity of the situation settling into the atmosphere. Nick ushers everyone out of the restroom, and Erik gets one last jab in, “Yeah! Leave you fucking loser! And take your slut with you too!”

Matt was never quick to anger, in fact he was docile and patient most of the time, but Erik’s comment lets you know that his outburst was building and was most certainly justified. If Chris wasn’t holding onto Matt, he would’ve turned around and finished the job, but he’s glad he doesn’t because he catches the pleading look you give him.

“Let’s go home, yeah?” Matt asks softly, pulling you into his side and planting a kiss on your head. You nod slowly, eyes trained on the bloody knuckles that wrap around your shoulders.

“Yeah.”

—

The ride home is quiet, slightly awkward, and extremely uncomfortable. The streetlights illuminate the streets, the blood on Matt’s busted knuckles glistening every time he grips the wheel and takes a turn. Chris played music in an attempt to break the tension, but even that doesn’t help.

Once you’re finally at their house, the initial shock wears off. Nick and Chris are quick to go to their rooms, the entire night having drained them both socially and emotionally. Matt makes his way to the restroom, allowing the warm water to run across his hands. He winces at the feeling, watching as a pool of red forms in the sink. You’re upset, even if you shouldn’t be, so you follow Matt in hopes of getting answers.

“So are you gonna tell me what happened tonight?” you prod, leaning against the door frame. He doesn’t look up from the sink, instead running gentle fingers across his hands to wash the blood off.

“Nothing to say,” he replies sternly with a nonchalant shrug. In reality he had everything to say.

“Oh so you didn’t beat Erik to a bloody pulp?”

“No, I definitely did,” a smirk tugs at his lips.

“Okay… Why?” Matt was avoiding the question like the plague, not only because what Erik said is something he never wanted to repeat, but because it came with uncharted territory.

“Just…” his voice trails off as he turns the sink off, grabbing a nearby towel and drying his hands. He winces again at the applied pressure.

“You don’t get to ‘just’ me, Matt. Why!?” you’re raising your voice at this point, stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you in the process. If Nick and Chris were asleep, you didn’t want to wake them.

“He was being a douche, okay?” Matt’s response is lame and he knows it. “I didn’t like what he was saying about you,” he continues without getting into detail, he was just trying to protect you and if that was such a crime he’d happily go to jail for it.

“I’m a big girl Matt. I told you I can take care of myself,” you scoff. Matt slumps onto the toilet seat, wishing he could just pull you onto his lap and hug the conversation away. “You always do this shit. You protect me like I’m a helpless little girl. We’re not eight anymore, Matt.”

“Sorry?” he replies, a sardonic tone evident in his voice.

“I DON’T NEED YOU TO FIGHT MY BATTLES, MATT!”

Matt sighs, he’s not in the mood for this right now.“He’s just a fucking dickhead, Y/n. He doesn’t deserve you. Plus, that bitchass pussy had it coming,” Matt replies, his voice remaining stern and steady. He didn’t want to raise his voice at you, but he knows it’s bound to happen with the way the conversation is progressing.

“WHY DO YOU CARE, THOUGH? WHY DOES IT MATTER SO MUCH TO YOU??” your hands are thrown up in exasperation, desperately trying to squeeze the answers out of him.

“Because you’re my friend.”

“No, Matt. Why?”

“BECAUSE I FUCKING LOVE YOU, OKAY? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED TO HEAR? THAT I’M MADLY IN LOVE WITH YOU? THAT I HAVE BEEN SINCE WE WERE KIDS AND I JUST—” he takes a deep breath, adjusting his volume and continuing in a defeated tone, “just forget I said anything, Y/n.”

The room is silent, so unbearably silent that Matt’s ears are ringing. His cheeks are flushed, almost as red as his knuckles. Your heart is pounding out of your chest. Small, quick breaths falling from your lips as you process everything he just said.

“You love me?” your voice is hushed, almost inaudible. When Matt looks up at you, he sees the twinkle in your eye as the tears brim your waterline. “Yes, I love you,” he affirms, it’s simple but true.

“Oh Matt,” you cup his face, suddenly it all made sense. All the times he chased away your boyfriends, complained about a fling, commented on a new friend, it all made sense with this new revelation.

“I get it if you don’t feel the same. You don’t have to pity me—” You cut Matt off with a passionate kiss, it’s the only thing you can think to do. He’s shocked at first, but he melts into the kiss once it registers.

His hands travel to the back of your thighs, legs spreading as he pulls you in closer to him. He moans into the kiss, unable to contain his excitement.

Matt’s tongue finds its way into your mouth, his grip on your thighs becoming stronger with each passing second almost like he’s afraid that if he lets go you’ll disappear. You only pull away to catch your breath, whispering four long awaited words into his lips, “I love you, Matt.”

Strong hands tug you back in for another passionate kiss, the pain in his knuckles suddenly vanishing as he relishes in this newfound feeling.

He’s never letting you go again.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: it’s been a while guys 😋💃🏻

thank you sweet anons for the requests, I combined them because they were very similar & I hope I did them justice!

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

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