#when the participants are *not* romantically involved | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

winged-self-indulgence · 5 months

Text

Why Do People Like Yanderes?

Hi everyone, my name is Diya, and this was going to be a YT video-essay-type-thing but I'm too poor to afford a mic and too busy with college to learn how to edit videos, so here's my vague exploration of the psychology behind why people like yanderes so much through the lens of my favourite Visual Novels.

TW for uh. yandere content. Mentions of sex, gore, and non-con, particularly in the last topic. This is more like the first draft of an academic paper so while it's not explicit, I do go into some detail.

Introduction

If you’re a fan of anime or visual novels, then you’re probably already aware of what a yandere is, or at the very least you’ve seen that one picture of Yuno Gasai. Still, for the sake of thoroughness, let’s take it from the tippy top. The term ‘yandere’ is a Japanese portmanteau of ‘yanderu’ – the progressive form of ‘yami’ – meaning ‘sick’, and ‘deredere’ which roughly translates to ‘loving’. Together, the word refers to someone who is – in short – extremely lovesick. Obsessive to the extreme, and with little morality to spare, the standard yandere is characterized by a dangerous fixation on a chosen target, often appearing shy and caring at first only to flip the script and become violently aggressive towards perceived threats (Kroon, 2010).

It should be noted that yanderes are not a strictly romantic or sexual trope. The Ancient Greeks classified at least six forms of love, from familial (storge) to guests (xenia). Modern psychologists may distinguish love as either Companionate or Passionate (Kim & Hatfield, 2004) or consisting of three dimensions of Intimacy, Passion, and Commitment (Sternberg & Sternberg, 2018). Realistically, possessiveness shows up in a variety of relationships. However, people are generally primed to view certain dynamics as inherently amorous. Societal norms tend to encourage the idea that romantic bonds ought to rank above all others, and therefore if Person A is bizarrely fixated on Person B, then clearly there must be an element of sexual interest involved regardless of the actual relationship between the individuals in question.

Regardless, yanderes remain quite popular in fiction. Many dismiss it as a fetish, which it can be, but that isn’t the case for everyone. While there is nothing wrong with indulging in kinky fiction, not all of us get horny at the thought of being chained up in someone’s basement, no matter how hot our captor may be. So why is it so pervasive? Why is this trope so appealing that most writers cannot help but include at least a single line of dialogue implying that – if circumstances had been ever so slightly different – my wholesome shoujo romcom might have turned into a psychological horror?

Hybristophilia

‘Hybristophilia’, also known as Bonnie and Clyde Syndrome after the titular criminal couple, is a word is derived from the Greek word ‘hybridzein’ meaning ‘to commit an outrage against someone’ and ‘philo’ which means ‘a strong preference for’. Sexologist John Money reportedly defined it as a paraphilia in which an individual is sexually aroused by a partner who has a predatory history of hurting other people (Money, 1986, as cited in Matuszak, 2017). In his book, Serial Killer Groupies, true crime and crime fiction author RJ Parker distinguished two forms of hybristophilia: passive and aggressive. The former is when an individual contacts a criminal with the intention of striking up a relationship with them, allowing themselves to be seduced and manipulated but having no interest in committing a crime themselves. The latter are far more dangerous, as the individual not only derives sexual pleasure from their partner’s atrocities but are active participants in carrying out or covering up the crime. To quote Griffiths (2013, as cited in Pettigrew, 2019):

“[They] help out their lovers with their criminal agenda by luring victims, hiding bodies, covering crimes, or even committing crimes. They are attracted to their lovers because of their violent actions and want to receive love yet are unable to understand that their lovers are psychopaths who are manipulating them.”

In some ways, hybristophilia is the nearest thing we have to a realistic understanding of why people love yanderes. I mean, much of the fantasy surrounding such characters and their media tend to be filled with posts begging to be spat on or calling the rightfully terrified main character ungrateful for being a teeny bit upset about finding surveillance cameras in their ceiling. However, enjoying fictitious immoral activity does not predict real perpetration, so what does? There exists little consensus amongst psychologists as to what sparks this particular predilection, and that was strange to me. You would think there would be more studies into this topic, in spite of or perhaps because of its controversial nature. Heck, that one dude wouldn’t shut up about white women’s obsession with Bundy and Dahmer, and I assumed he had gotten that information from somewhere, but it turns out that was just him using modifiers to justify sexism.

However, I believe that we can hedge a few guesses, and over the course of my research, I’ve organized the main rationalizations under four umbrellas which I will explore through the lens of my favourite yandere-themed Visual Novels. Please keep in mind that most of these games are rated as mature due to sexual scenes and/or gore. Additionally, in the spirit of transparency, this ramble will be focused exclusively on male or masculine yanderes. So, without further ado:

Call Me Bob the Builder Because I Can Fix Them

If you’re familiar with DC Comic’s Batman, or just happen to have attended any costume event held over the span of the last 20+ years, you may be familiar with the character of Dr. Harleen Quinzel, better known as Harley Quinn. Initially created as the Joker’s one-off sidekick in Batman The Animated Series, she was so well-received by audiences that she became a recurring character in the cartoon and was eventually given a proper origin story in the form of a one-shot titled Mad Love.

Harley’s origin story has seen some alterations over the past decades, but the core aspects remain largely untouched. In the beginning, Harleen Quinzel was a promising young woman who wanted was a degree from the university’s prestigious psychology department, which she gained through…less than scrupulous means.

(Listen, I’m not sure if the authors were leaning on the Dumb Blonde stereotype, or if they simply thought that casting her as a genuinely bad student would make her later actions more believable. Either way, the idea of Harley as someone with a legitimate PhD came later)

After landing an internship at Arkham Asylum – a half-hospital and half-prison straight out of the 1870s that might as well be built out of one-ply tissue-paper soaked with gasoline and left next to a crate of fireworks – Harleen set her sights on the then incarcerated Joker. At the start, her fixation on the criminal wasn’t remotely sympathetic. She didn’t want to help him, she wanted to use him. Harleen Quinzel wanted piggyback off his infamy and write a tell-all tale detailing what sort of messed up childhood resulted in Gotham’s Clown Prince of Crime. Yet the more she interacted with him, the more the Joker took advantage of her empathy. By the end of their sessions, Harley no longer saw him as a violent serial killer with a clown schtick, but as a “lost, injured child looking to make the world laugh at his antics.”

But Diya, you may be asking, what does this have to do with the video? The Joker never loved Harley, and it could even be argued – as Shehadeh did in a 2017 essay – that her obsession with the pasty-faced clown is more akin to Histrionic Personality Disorder. While that may be the case, I believe that Harley’s story provides one of the reasons yanderes are so popular: their backstory.

Whether they were abandoned by their family, bullied by their peers, experimented on by evil scientists, starved on the streets, died under mysterious circumstances and then trapped in a haunted VCR tape for decades, or are simply so impossibly inhuman that they frankly do not understand why it isn’t socially acceptable to imprison their crush in a pocket dimension made of meat and non-Euclidean geometry, yanderes often have fairly sympathetic or at least understandable explanations for why they are Like That. Your mileage may vary significantly depending on how much you sympathize with these motives, but the point is that yanderes always make sense to some degree. Their morality and priorities may be twisted or even completely incomprehensible, but the audience almost always knows the reason, and that can be comforting. In the real world, other people aren’t always straightforward, and we never really know what they’re thinking, but narrative coherence demands a semblance of internal consistency lest the audience end up frustrated and confused. So yanderes are not only easy to sympathize with, but also fairly predictable. In-universe they may be unhinged freaks with a blood fetish, but to you watching from behind the safety of the screen they’re just acting out the script written for them based on a prototype. And if you understand the why behind their loose gears, then you might just be able to put them back together again.

The concept of rescue romances or “I Can Fix Them” has been around in our stories for thousands of years. The Epic of Gilgamesh detailed how Shamhat essentially ‘civilized’ wild man Enkidu through ritual lovemaking, and a concerning number of religions push the idea that women are dutybound to save men from the follies of sin. Yet men are not exempt either, with one notable example being the German fairytale, King Thrushbeard. Call it what you will regardless: Knights in Shining Armour, the Florence Nightingale Effect, or a plain old case of Because You Were Nice to Me, studies have shown that human beings generally like helping [DA2] others, even when the reason doesn’t necessarily stem from pure altruism. I will delve deeper into this later, but care and compassion are deeply ingrained in human nature, and arising from those roots is the appeal of this mentality: You can save them. You can change them. You can make them better. You are special, and the way you treat this person carries a weight that has not and will never be matched by anyone else for the rest of their mortal or immortal existence.

The illusion is a delicious one, especially if the person you’ve helped turns out to be a billionaire CEO with cash to burn, a super powerful ghost king willing to raze continents to dust for you, a demon having fun on a Friday night, or just your average hot creep with a knife. Moreover, different people have different ideas of what ‘fixing’ even means. Maybe you want to single-handedly rehabilitate your yandere into a functional member of society. Maybe you’re cool with the incessant stalking but would like them to stop slaughtering your friends, family, and local service workers. Maybe you want to make them much, much worse.

Not only do yanderes provide immediate proof that your actions have a tangible impact on the lives of others, but the fantasy also includes the desire of being seen as special. Of being admired and adored by someone whose life you inexplicably made better by virtue of simply being yourself, or an idealized version of yourself. In this fictional world, in this imaginary setting, the person you are is so uniquely, impossibly irreplaceable to someone. And if that’s the case then they can’t risk losing you, can they?

The Allure of Obsession, or ‘Til Death Do Us Part (Literally)

It shouldn’t be necessary, but here is my obligatory disclaimer anyway. Ahem: obsession is not a good thing in real life. Fixating on another human to the detriment of your own wellbeing and that of those around you is dangerous, as is encouraging someone else to obsess over you. You might think you are being worshiped, but real life is not a visual novel. The outside world doesn’t come with an age rating, the author’s guiding pen, and a convenient fade to credits sequence once you’ve reached an ending. The consequences will still be there in the morning, so don’t do it. Just don’t.

PSA out of the way, it’s natural to want to be wanted. Maslow’s Hierarchy places it just above physical safety, but I’d argue that it could easily be compared to baser drives. According to many psychological and anthropological studies, much of humanity’s continued survival and environmental dominance is largely attributed to our ability to form groups, cooperate with one another, and maintain complex interpersonal networks. Social support, intimacy, and a sense of belonging are linked to emotional and physical benefits, such as more optimistic health perceptions, higher subjective well-being, increased creativity and innovation, and greater self-efficacy (DeWall & Bushman, 2011; Harandi et al., 2017; Wang & Sha, 2018). Therefore, it’s perfectly understandable that rejection of any sort would be construed as a threat.

But if someone is obsessed with you, then you have no reason to worry about that, right? No more nights spent agonizing over how they feel about you, asking yourself whether your last text made you sound too desperate, or if you’re boring them because you spent the past hour info-dumping about Stardew Valley farm layouts. With a yandere, there will never be any doubt that they care about you. Sure, they might go about it in weird, manipulative, and insidious ways that violate your physical and mental autonomy, but you can’t deny their loyalty. They do love you in their own bizarre way. You are the sun around which they orbit. When you’re in the room, no one else exists. Every single messy flaw is just another bullet point on the mile-long list of why they adore you.

In essence, yanderes are not only attentive, but their love can be virtually unconditional. A yandere might know everything about you, and still revere you. It’s unhealthy as hell and you might genuinely question their taste, but it can be tempting to pretend that all of you, right down to the ugliest parts of yourself – the traits and choices that you would never share with another living soul even at gunpoint – are worthy of understanding, if not open praise and affection.

Attractiveness, or Okay but Have You Considered That They’re Hot Though?

I mean what am I supposed to say here? They’re hot, what do you want from me?

No, but in all seriousness, fictional media paints an idealized version of the world, and most yanderes are hot because they have the freedom of existing purely behind that screen; artfully arranged and edited to forever appear compelling to anyone who happens to enjoy their particular style. And there are a lot of styles to choose from. Whether you want them pretty faced and disarmingly cute, or scarred up and big enough to pin you like a butterfly, yanderes come in a wide variety of shapes and sizes that are meant to pique your interest and draw you in like a naïve little fish being lured towards the mouth of an angler fish, unwilling to believe that anything bad might happen to us when the bait is this pretty.

This is often referred to as the Halo Effect, a form of cognitive bias referring to the tendency for people to assume that a single obvious positive trait must be associated with other positive traits. The go-to characteristic is typically physical attractiveness, but a nice voice, good humour, and cooking skills are also factors which serve to influence our perceptions.

So, conventional physical attractiveness is one thing, but that’s only skin deep. What about beyond that? After all, the yandere still has to talk to you before they enact their master plan of tying you up in their basement until Stockholm Syndrome kicks in.

When I showed my friend a picture of John Doe from the game John Doe, she told me that he looked like a creepy slob, and she’s far from the only person who’s ever thought so. Look at them. I feel like if I tried to comb that hair it would simply eat me, and some of the CGs really put the scopophobia in Scopophobia Studios. I love Doe, but he is not hot, and he doesn’t behave in a normally appealing way either. If the player chooses not to take a bath, Doe will immediately comment that you “smell good” before following you home, breaking into your house, and leaving a bloody organ on the floor for the player to trip over. Many yanderes can at least fake a veneer of normalcy, but from the get-go Doe doesn’t even bother to pretend he’s anything less than an otherworldly creature stuffed into a vaguely person-shaped meatsuit. In an effort to find out why so many people had latched on to Doe – including me – I shopped around social media and YouTube for answers, and what I found was a widely unanimous sentiment.

While some were drawn to his fun design and goofy personality, most simply thought that he wasn’t inherently malevolent, just very confused. In addition to being a supernatural being with a completely alien axis of morality, Doe’s meta-awareness and unbridled attempts at winning the player’s affection lends him quite a bit of support from the audience, especially if you yourself also happen to struggle with social cues and relate to his pure earnestness. In Ending 7 of the extended version, the player character has the option to tell Doe – who has altered himself to pass as more ‘normal’ – that they prefer who he truly is, at which point he grows visibly flustered and sports an adorable pair of literal heart-shaped pupils.

Whether they’re charismatic, seductive, cute, sweet, funny, nurturing, or generous, the best yanderes have engaging personalities. Even while they’re committing truly heinous crimes against God, man, and your guts, you still kinda want to hang out with them, and you want them to acknowledge you as being just as interesting. And this is all fine in fiction because you’re the one in charge, and if you ever get bored or uncomfortable or busy with something else, then you can simply close the tab or window with zero consequences, which brings us to the final and most important reason.

Power Dynamics and Consent in Fantasy (I Couldn’t Think of a Joke Here Guys, This Is Kinda Serious)

Once again, I feel that I must preface this section just for the sake of my own peace of mind: sexual coercion and assault are vile and disgusting crimes that should never be emulated or tolerated in the real world. We are speaking purely of fictional media, specifically adult-oriented media in this case, so please be mindful.

In 2009, Bivoni and Critelli conducted a study on 355 undergraduate women with the goal of assessing the reasons behind fantasies of non-consent. At the time, there were two leading explanations of this phenomenon. One stated that women with high libidos but repressed views of sex used these imaginary scenarios to alleviate the guilt they had grown to associate with sex. Because the simulation was a purely mental exercise and they themselves were cast as helpless victims in the scenario, they were able to remain blameless while still finding sexual gratification. The second stated that these fantasies were an expression of liberation by women who were adventurous and comfortable enough with their own sexuality to engage with taboo ideas that they weren’t at all interested in performing in real life. Which do you think was more common?

If you guessed the second option, you’d be right. The study found that of the 220 women who had experienced such fantasies, 45% found theirs erotic, 46% were mixed, and only 9% reported pure aversion. One justification for this outcome relies on psycho-biological theories, for example masochistic preferences or the unintended activation of the sympathetic nervous system and subsequent mis-attribution of arousal. Other reasons have to do with higher order thinking and are tied to the power dynamics within such fantasies. On the surface is the appeal of being so desirable to someone that they simply cannot control themselves, but then there is a deeper impulse, which the researchers referred to as Adversary Transformation. To quote the article: “[fantasies] involve a struggle between an assailant and a potential victim in which it is relevant to consider who is the winner and who is the loser. At one level, it is a struggle over sex, but the woman's non-consent may be feigned or token. At another level, the woman may be seeking a victory that is not about whether sex occurs, but about what happens emotionally between the protagonists.”

Basically, the imaginary perpetrator may have ‘won’, but the self-character need not have ‘lost’.

Media provides an extra layer to the illusion, one that you as the viewer have absolute control over. If you are choosing to engage with a piece of media that explicitly labels itself as including R18+ yandere content, then you clearly have some expectations, and that background awareness goes a long way in reducing long-term discomfort and allowing audiences to make informed decisions. If you don’t like the plot, you can simply turn it off it with the click of a button, and when the screen goes dark it’s not like the yandere is going to punish you for saying no. Strade isn’t going to break into your house with a drill, there are no homicidal clown ghosts hiding in your TV, and no suspicious pink-haired hackers watching your webcam. They aren’t real, and the consequences aren’t real either. You have all the power here.

Conclusion

In summary, Yanderes are appealing for a variety of reasons. Whether you want to save them, think they’re attractive, wish to indulge in a dream of being utterly coveted, or simply enjoy a bit of spice in your me-time, it’s obvious why the trope has persisted for so long and will likely continue to do so. If you enjoy yanderes but are worried that having a taste for the less wholesome side of things might imply something about who you are as a person, don’t be. The notion that fantasies and media preferences directly reflect subconscious desires is not only painfully out of date debunked nonsense but also indicative of restrictive ideologies wherein bad thoughts = sin. This isn’t 1984. You haven’t committed a thought-crime by having a weird kink. You aren't going to superhell for fantasizing. The human mind is hardly ever so mathematically rational, and the point of fiction is to allow us to safely engage with and explore various ideas, provided the everyone involved is mentally, chronologically, and emotionally mature enough to do so.

Thank you all for listening to me. If you learned something or were just a little bit entertained. If you're curious about knowing more, I've listed my sources below

REFERENCES

Bivona, J. M., & Critelli, J. W. (2009). The Nature of Women’s Rape Fantasies: An analysis of prevalence, frequency, and contents. Journal of Sex Research, 46(1), 33–45. https://doi.org/10.1080/00224490802624406

Critelli, J. W., & Bivona, J. M. (2008). Women’s Erotic Rape Fantasies: An Evaluation of Theory and research. Journal of Sex Research, 45(1), 57–70. https://doi.org/10.1080/00224490701808191

DeWall, C. N., & Bushman, B. J. (2011). Social acceptance and rejection. Current Directions in Psychological Science, 20(4), 256–260. https://doi.org/10.1177/0963721411417545

Flynn, F. J., Reagans, R., Amanatullah, E. T., & Ames, D. R. (2006). Helping one’s way to the top: Self-monitors achieve status by helping others and knowing who helps whom. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 91(6), 1123–1137. https://doi.org/10.1037/0022-3514.91.6.1123

Harandi, T. F., Taghinasab, M. M., & Nayeri, T. D. (2017). The correlation of social support with mental health: A meta-analysis. Electronic Physician, 9(9), 5212–5222. https://doi.org/10.19082/5212

Hazen, H. (1983). Endless rapture: rape, romance, and the female imagination. https://openlibrary.org/books/OL3161300M/Endless_rapture

Kroon, R. W. (2010). A/V A to z: An Encyclopedic Dictionary of Media, Entertainment and Other Audiovisual Terms. McFarland.

Matuszak, M. (2017). Hybristophilia White Paper. https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55dfd21ee4b0718764fb34cc/t/5cb7cabee5e5f00ab13be58b/1555548863275/Hybristophilia+White+Paper.pdf

Oarga, C., Stavrova, O., & Fetchenhauer, D. (2015). When and why is helping others good for well-being? The role of belief in reciprocity and conformity to society’s expectations. European Journal of Social Psychology, 45(2), 242–254. https://doi.org/10.1002/ejsp.2092

Parker, R. (2014). Serial killer groupies. RJ PARKER PUBLISHING, INC.

Wang, T., & Sha, H. (2018). The influence of social rejection on cognitive control. Psychology, 09(7), 1707–1719. https://doi.org/10.4236/psych.2018.97101

#reference list is completed!#yandere #sunny day jack #my dear hatchet man #mdhm #stnaf #ddlc #john doe #boyfriend to death #tpof #degrees of lewdity #your boyfriend #14dwy #br<3ken colors #camp willowpeak #br0ken colors #obey me #favour vn #binary star hero

1K notes · View notes

futureplayboibunnie · 7 months

Text

Heartless Pt.1

Mafia Boss! Miguel O’Hara x fem! reader

You and Miguel are married to each other…and it wasn’t because of love.

okay i’ve redirected this fic and made it into a slowburn multi chapter series, in hindsight my last idea was too abrupt. i feel like this storyline is wayyyy better. I LOVEEEE SLOWBURN. i hope ya’ll like this one better! Part 2 up now!

PS. if you don’t like this type of stuff, don’t be stupid and comment on it because I really don’t care enough to hear it, use ur fingers and scroll. it’s not that hard.

You thought your wedding day would've been more romantic than this.

More personal, more involved, a consolidation of the many moments you shared with the man you were going to love forever, but free will and liberation were something that you gave up when your parents decided that it was in your family's entrepreneurial interest to participate in a partnership with the O'Hara Dynasty.

You weren't mad. It was just...different. You knew this day was coming but it was all wrapped together quite nicely, in a neat little bow.

Everything was done with the utmost sensitivity and respect, the O'Hara family's Consigliere placed piles of paperwork in front of you, NDAs were rarely ever necessary, and guns and fists normally did the trick but Miguel personally wanted all of this to be clean. He was getting married for the sole purpose of extending his power and influence, being a part of the 5 Families in this city wasn't something that was done without shedding blood. And Miguel shed a lot. This was a very important occasion to him, marriage was important in all generations of his family, and almost every single Don arranged a marriage with a woman from another Dynasty just for the purpose of spreading influence and agendas. Miguel and his brother talked for hours about it and in the end, he had to do what was necessary for his family and his capos. He needed to conserve what was his whilst also inserting his power.

Dealing with ill-tempered men and being a sounding board for their last scraps of sanity wasn't new but Miguel wasn't that. He was just silent in a way you didn't like. It was almost unsettling. Maybe it would be easier to hate him if he was an asshole, but he was very kind and respectful in the little words he said to you.

All of this was strictly professional, a beautiful show for the underworld. It was ridiculous and you felt like a fool, and after the day you had, it felt perfectly reasonable to feel that way.

It was your wedding day and word got around fast.

The dress he picked was fine.

The ceremony was fine

The ring was fine

Everything was just fine.

Now you were in his cold, lavishly destitute penthouse at an ungodly hour, sitting around, still in the wedding dress that you haven't taken off for some reason- maybe to compensate for the fact that you'll throw it in a corner, leave it in the cold and black dark, collecting dust for you to never see it again. Miguel's capos had to scamper around and follow you just about anywhere but for once, they left you alone with Miguel shooing them out.

Is this what your life would be like? Sitting around, waiting for something to happen? Was everything meant to be so banal and grey?

“You looked lovely today.” A low voice grumbled behind you, you whipped your head around to see Miguel leaving his study and entering the living room, he was still wearing his tux with that unknotted ugly bow tie that was crooked the whole ceremony. He looked tired. You gave him an agreeable smile in response.

"Thank you.” You said politely, there was just nothing purposeful behind your voice. All there was between you and Miguel was agreeable conversation, polite and meaningless drivel to distract from the very true and real fact that you were betrothed, you both owed each other something. Miguel gave you protection and you gave Miguel his pathway to influence- it was a business transaction, that was all, but it didn't mean that all of this wasn't abnormal. “I can't reach the zipper, can you please zip me down?” You asked as if it was a normal question- it wasn't for your kind of relationship but what the hell was normal nowadays? For Christ's sake, you were married to a man you barely knew and you slept in different rooms.

Miguel approached you in silence, watching you stand up from the couch and turn around. He liked the dress, he picked it out himself, you looked nice. His fingers found the zipper and pulled down slowly, watching the slivers of skin appear with every small tug down.

As far as women go, Miguel wasn't really that interested in sleeping around, every woman he shared himself with became a target or an opportunity pry into his head- he didn't want anyone messing with his internal affairs. Sometimes he'd cave and fuck one of the women serving him drinks at private poker nights, they always made eyes at him, begging him with fluttering eyelashes and wet lips to fuck them senseless. He was a man after all, sometimes it was enjoyable, sometimes it wasn't, he just needed to get off.

You on the other hand, you were unreadable in a way that he didn’t know how to approach.Though sometimes he did find you talking to him like an acquaintance vaguely irritating he would definitely be a hypocrite for calling you out.

It felt like you were holding your breath when he was finished, you settled baxk into your senses, he gazed over the patch of skin peeking out of your dress. He stopped his gawking when you turned around and gave him a weak smile like you would a friend or a neighbour. "Thank you. Goodnight Miguel.” You walked passed him and went to your designated room. Miguel did the same

You never really thought of yourself as an incurable romantic, but this was truly dull and you contemporary marriage like this. Even if it was to one of the most dangerous men in the city.

You awoke to a cacophony of sizzling and rustling noises coming from outside your room, your dreary eyes lulled by sleep couldn't fight against the delicious smell wafting from outside. Before you could fully register that breakfast was being made, the first thing you noticed was the heavy feeling of dread resting on your chest, you raked a tired hand over your face and rubbed your eyes awake. Opening them up fully, you saw the white fabric on the floor. In another life, the husband you actually loved would be laying next to you, whispering sweet nothings. Your wedding dress and veil were strewn about as if it was an article of clothing a teenage girl would carelessly discard while figuring out what to wear for a date with Tommy or Billy or Jason or whoever. But this wasn't high school drama, this was the type of life you were conditioned into.

Blood, war, and money.

You weren't complaining, the protection it offered you was immense. Miguel was a corrupt man dealing with equally corrupt politicians and people of interest, he had to adapt in his work but a part of you didn't believe he was the poisonous person everyone always made him out to be. Maybe it was because you hadn't seen him in his raw, primal ways, beating people bloody. That's what made you weary.

You shifted up and headed over to the walk-in wardrobe. This was the part that really stunted you, Miguel wanted you to wear what he specifically liked, everything was picked out by him and you still didn't know how to feel about it, but it made you grimace. You stepped in and glanced at the hangers, they were all ordered out by color and style. You noticed that he seemed to like satin and silk, and he was very particular about color, he liked black, silver, grey and even a baby blushed pink in certain articles. Your fingers grazed over the silk of the nightwear dresses, and the fabric of the gala dresses- you didn't like the idea of having to play pretend in front of too many people. You idled towards the drawers and wondered what he preferred when it came to underwear. You raised a cynical eyebrow and your lips pursed in curiosity as you let your finger pull it open.

Your mouth unhinged in a surprise you expected, but not in the way you thought of. He definitely had a thing for lingerie. God, there was a pair of everything, lacy, strappy, padded, unpadded, sheer garters, sparkly garters, knee highs, thigh highs. He was very particular indeed. It was tailored to your perfect cup size. Fucking hell. He liked Brazilian underwear but he seemed have an affinity for a thong too. You sighed and closed the drawer, you didn't want to read into it. Your eyes wandered to the muted pink silk robe hanging next to the drawer. Hm. That'll do for breakfast.

Miguel looked up from his newspaper to see you padding barefoot to the table where a spread was laid out. His maid, although young, ditzy and so obviously desperate to fuck him, was a very talented cook but the coffee she made always tasted like dirt. “Thank you.” He said to her plainly, he couldn't even look at her due to him being distracted by your presence. Your face creased into a light frown as you stared at the eye candy handing Miguel his coffee before she left as Miguel waved his hand. Of course the women who worked around him had to be insanely beautiful.

“Good morning.” Miguel grumbled before taking a sip. You were wearing the silk robe he liked. Good. Good girl.

You didn't say anything back, acting aloof and nonchalant seemed to be the only way of conserving whatever sanity you had left. The back of your throat had back drool when you stared at the delicious spread in front of you. You didn't know what you wanted to eat first. You grabbed a few pickings of everything, topped off with a mimosa. You ate in polite silence, minding your business, uninterested in anything he had to say at this point. Miguel settled down his newspaper and glared at you, you weren't particularly bothered by his presence, and that made him...unsettled. It went on like this for a solid few minutes.

“What?” You asked him, not even giving him the decency of looking him in the eye. Miguel was silent for a moment, contemplating your presence before he opened his mouth.

“We're leaving the city tonight.” He said oh so casually in that deep, low voice of his.

"And why is that?”You sighed tiredly, a slightly amused smirk twitched at your lips at this out-of-the-blue statement.

Miguel clicked his tongue and cooed at you, “Because cariño, my Consigliere has informed me that our marriage is not boding well with the other 5 Families, they think it's a covert attack in some sort of way, a questioning of power or sorts. And also..” He cut himself off for a reason unknown to him. “He also thinks it's a prudent idea to have a honeymoon, to hone everything in and make this...real.” He murmured as he rolled up his shirt sleeve.

Your eyes pricked up at the word 'real.' Wasn't this real? The papers were real. The ring was real. But the actual connection…? You glowered at him, your eyes narrowed.

“Do you think this is real?”

Miguel didn't know how to answer that. “Isn't real relative?”

“No.” You replied thickly like you didn't even need to think about it.

“Look. I don't want to discuss this.”

“So you can't compromise.” You shot back.

“No, I won't.” He pushed his chair back aggressively and sat his coffee down hard, he looked irritated by all of this. He didn't like that you thought you had the power to interrogate him.

Miguel walked past you as he went to exit the room but then for some reason he halted in his tracks. Compromise. Miguel is not known for compromising. The people around him know that for a fact, but he doesn't want this marriage to be another agenda that he has to put up with. He didn't want to hate you.

He sighed.

“Choose where we go. Tell my brother and he'll tell my pilot.” Miguel said coldly, his tone clipped and gruff even when he was trying to build a bridge of some sort.

It didn't seem like you had a choice, so now you were just another lackey he ordered around.

#spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara

2K notes · View notes

the-cat-and-the-birdie · 9 months

Text

The Hobie Brown Punk Playbook - Anarchism & Hobie's Arc

A short series where I analyze the political, historical, musical, and romantic influences of Hobie Brown, and how it affects his arc, design, and character.

1) Anarchism 101 / 2) Punk 101 / 3) Hobie Characterization Guide (How to Write Hobie) /4) Punk & Hobie's Design / 5) Romance in the 70's

_______________________________________________

Why Hobie's Arc is the perfect metaphor for Anarchy and Anti-Establishment:

What is Anarchism? What's an anarchist, and what makes Hobie one?

In most places, Anarchism is defined as:

a political theory advocating the abolition of hierarchical government and the organization of society on a voluntary, cooperative basis without recourse to force or compulsion.

Which means that, as an Anarchist, Hobie believes that all forms of authority that involves a hierarchal power should be abolished and destroyed.

Anarchists opposes any and all power structures in which a single person, class, or entity rules over a body of people.

Anarchism is a thought system that, at it's core, is anti-government, anti-monarchy and anti-cop. It's goal is to protect and highlight the importance of equality and community but also freedom and individuality as well.

Although many people assume anarchy is about chaos - and denying any and all structures - if anything, it’s actually the opposite.

Anarchy is about balance -

When we look at the definition of Anarchy, we can see two complimentary ideas. ______

The first is the 'advocating the abolition of hierarchical government' - which is the sentiment Anarchy is most known for. It's the opposition of power structures in which one class or group rules or gains privilege over another - cops and civilians, the government and citizens, Spider-people and the multiverse, Miguel and the Spider-people...etc.

For the purposes of this post, I'll call it the First Pillar of Anarchism, and it's the basis for one of Anarchism's foundational beliefs: direct action.

(Which Hobie is the king of)

The second idea is one often overlooked, but just as important, and I'll talk about how much it colors Hobie's characterization in a second.

The organization of society on a voluntary, cooperative basis. Anarchists believe in equality, and the power of the collective and working together as a unanimous unit.

But they also believe in freedom of choice, and the choice to be independent.

When working in large cooperative groups, there is the risk of a shared identity that may stifle or assimilate it's members. Just as much as Anarchists believe in unity and equality, they also believe that a society - or any group - should be voluntary. And that sticking out from the pack is okay and even encouraged.

They believe people reserve the right to not participate at all, and that it is their right to differ and challenge the pack, if they so want to.

In the perfect anarchist world and situation (in my opinion,) - No one rules over the collective, and the collective rules over no one.

When you put those two together you get Anarchy. A balance of community and self.

And although we don't live in an anarchist utopia, Anarchists are people who live life fighting for the equality and unity of others, as well as their independence and freedom to be who they are outside of others.

In short, An Anarchist is someone who believes in equality, community, freethinking, and most of all freedom of choice.

Starting to sound like anyone we know?

What makes Hobie the perfect Anarchist?

Hobie is Anarchy personified. Literally.

Hear me out.

When we look at the definition of Anarchism next to Hobie's actions, behavior, and beliefs - we can see the writers created Hobie and his arc to be anarchy in it's purest form.

Anarchy is described as:

a political theory advocating the abolition of hierarchical government and the organization of society on a voluntary, cooperative basis without recourse to force or compulsion.

Hobie only has roughly ten minutes of screentime, and I wrote (here) exactly how the writers squeeze meaning into (quite literally) every-line he has.

In every line and frame the writers are intent on having Hobie move towards the 2 specific goals and motives on Anarchism, backed by his punk and anarchist morals.

Firstly, he approaches Miles to advocate the abolition of Miguel's hierarchical society, emotionally and mentally encouraging Miles to oppose his authority. All of Hobie's speaking lines are dedicated to this purpose - becoming an ally to Miles (and other Spider-people) and inspiring rebellion.

This is reflected by his opposition to the ideas of anomalies, and Miguel's rule.

I just wanna highlight, that when Hobie meets Miles - neither he nor Miles are aware that Miles intends to avoid his canon event.

At the point of their meeting, Hobie only knows that Miles has disrupted Pavitr's canon event, and that Miles himself in an anomaly.

Hobie opposes Miguel's hierachial society, his rule over the timeline and multiverse, and his use of force and threats of violence. By advocating for the abolition of Miguel's society and urging Miles' rebellion against Miguel, Hobie is directly engaging in the first pillar of Anarchism.

When Hobie's efforts pay off and Miles escapes Society capture, he's goal changes toward the second pillar.

Hobie recognizes Spider-Society does not operate on a voluntary, cooperative basis - as their canon events are mandatory by force and compulsion. And because of this, he thinks ahead and uses his self-made watches in order for him, Gwen, and Miles to exercise their right of choice. From the moment he quits, all of Hobie's behavior is dedicated to this purpose - getting Miles and Gwen out of the society, and helping Miles avoid his incoming canon event.

The Spider-Society is everything Anarchy stands against.

Anarchy stresses volunteered and cooperative effort for a reason.

I spoke earlier about how in cooperative groups, their is a risk of a shared identity within a group that forces assimilation and cooperation.

And Spider-Society is the perfect, and most literal example of this.

Spider-people are (literally) the 'same person'. Those in the Society are united by the shared identity of being Spider-people. This identity is mandatory for entry - and because Miguel ties canon events to the identity of a Spider-person, the canon events become compulsory and mandatory as well.

I mentioned before that at the time of meeting Miles, both he and Miles had no idea about Mile's incoming canon event. He, like Miles, only learns this when Miles announces that his dad is about to be captain - in front of Miguel.

When Miles escapes and Hobie quits, from that point on - despite the fact he's not fully shown on screen again - Hobie still manages to act on and stand by Anarchism. From then on, every single one of his actions is dedicated to opposing the involuntary, compulsory nature of canon and canon events.

Hobie interferes with the compulsive nature of canon by approaching Gwen's dad and speaking with him. He interferes with the involuntary nature of the Society's membership, by leaving Gwen the watch that allows her and Peter B. to leave, going AWOL.

___________________________________________________

As a character, Hobie is what is considered a insurgent. His purpose in the story and Miles' life is to inspire action and rebellion within him and the system.

And at his core, Hobie is meant to be a character that's meant to empower others - especially at their lowest point. That's what Anarchism, and Punk, is about.

Hobie is Anarchy personified.

Every one of his motives and lines are dedicated to it's purpose. Whether it's his first scene disarming Miles with humor and allyship, or him deliberately copying Society technology.

With every word and frame, Hobie inspires rebellion - defying hierarchy, and empowering choice.

With the people closest to them, he literally put the power of choice in their hands, whether it be Miles' palms, or the watch Gwen held.

In the battle against the Spider-Society - an organization of hierarchy, control, compulsion, and force - the writers chose to have Hobie's weapon of choice be Anarchy.

And it's really clear they see Anarchy for what it is - a system and tool of empowerment, compassion, and freedom.

And honestly, I can't think of any other words that can describe Hobie better (or than hot).

Hobie Brown is literally walking Anarchy idc idc you can't tell me different bye.

Find Part 2 - Punk 101 here!

__________

also have a couple more ideas and drafts of these, mainly examining: Punk and what makes Hobie punk, his design inspiration and fashion, the 70s history behind him, romance in the 70s, etc so uh yeah

#wake up hun new analysis just dropped #I love ANARCHY AND COMPASSION AND CARING FOR OTHERS #atsv analysis #hobie brown #spider punk #spiderpunk #across the spider verse #atsv #Miles Morales #Gwen Stacy #Miguel o'hara #spider-gwen #spider man #spiderman #marvel #long post #Hobie Brown Punk Playbook

746 notes · View notes

bitchlessdino · 7 months

Text

Dearest friend (m)

pairing: bsf!seungcheol x afab!reader Genre: angst, smut Word count: 2.8k tags: unrequited love, mentions reader in heels and wig, mentions of TOXIC romantic relationships, public kisses, unprotected sex, please let me know if im missing anything Summary: When you're in a toxic relationship, there's no way of understanding that right away. There's typically much trial and error, such as Seungcheol and his unsuccessful relationship with his on-and-off partner that he keeps getting you involved in. In one of the countless schemes to get them back, things take an unexpected turn with you, his best friend, who does something that may change their dynamic forever. author note: I'm back lovies. hopefully for longer this time. teh wedding planning has honestly kept me very busy but i've finally got back in tune with writing again. let's see how long this last.

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @wonuhour @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @himbocoups

He had been with them throughout high school. Throughout college. Into their mid-twenties. Before anyone could realize it, a decade had passed.

You were friends, his specifically, and you lived through every suffocating second while trying to balance your own lack of love life. Night after night, bouncing from body to body, one candlelight dinner to another, and for nothing to come out of it. You weren’t one to judge the relationship coming apart and sewn back together redundantly.

However, this on-and-off relationship had become a constant in your life–one both annoying yet entertaining depending on the circumstance–as well as their mind games that they constantly used to get back together. And they wonder why it never fucking works (you’re practically screaming it into the void).

This was their off period and for Seungcheol one of the most terrifying periods to have. This instance in particular because it’s the rare occasion that his ex was actually out on a date with someone. That’s when he conjured up a plan, a despicable one. One that not only would so-called ‘help’ his long-time former lover to realize what they’re missing being apart from him but would put you in a deeply comfortable situation.

You’ve been a part of of schemes before, but they were usually surprise events, mitigating, or simply becoming the one end of Newton’s cradle, providing collision and causing friction until the balls lose momentum. This assistance unfortunately required more participation on the field, and you preferred being behind the scenes, but Seungcheol had forced your hand.

“You look awkward. Stop slouching.”

You offered the man a quiet, but deadly, middle finger at your waist as you struggled to stand in the tight outfit he deemed necessary for the plan to work.

It had been a while since you’d seen his ex, enough time that they wouldn’t recognize you, especially after the extreme makeover Seungcheol decided to bestow upon you on a random Friday evening. You can’t emphasize enough that what you were doing wasn’t by your own will. Your best friend just really knew how to push your buttons. It was as if he had the manual of the ways you operate. Now you were wondering how you had yet cut him out of your life because of it.

“Fuck you, you blackmailed me into a pair of heels and a wig.”

His lips tugged up at a single corner, pulling you by your waist as he noticed his ex’s eyes flicker towards them. He mused in a smile as his lips drew closer to your ear intimately, fanning his breath against your cool cheeks. “The eagle has landed in the coup,” he whispered, blatantly ignoring your complaints.

“This is so…stupid.”

He erupted in boisterous laughter–emitting feigned warmth and life–as he trained his eyes on you. “You’re so cute,” he tucked the locks of the wig behind your ear, softly hurting his teeth as he spoke through them. “Laugh.”

“Ha, ha, ha, ha.”

He scoffed lightly enough that it couldn’t be detected from afar, caressing your arm to maintain the facade. “That was awful.”

“Well you’re unfunny and this is an unfunny situation.”

“But it’s working,” he retorted, giggling to himself. “They can't bear to take their eyes off of me.”

You rolled your eyes, trying not to pay attention to his hand softly stroking your waist. You’ve managed to get past its initially ticklish sensation until it became as natural as breathing. You sighed exaggeratedly, causing him to brush against you closer. He sharpened his features, stern written all over his face. “Take this seriously or they’ll see under our ruse.”

You scoffed. “It’s so painfully obvious. They’re not an idiot.”

The tip of his nose brushed against your cheek, and he could practically feel the rage radiating off his target as they too pressed closer to their date in plain sight. You felt his smile against your skin, festering body heat until it was seething. “Tell that to them who’s giving me sex eyes right now. God, they look amazing.”

“Really? I’m right here,” you said light-heartedly, trying to joke in the awkward situation.

“Shit, why do they look like they're trying to leave?”

“Uh, maybe because they’re in the same room as their ex? Seriously. Think, Cheol.”

Impatience was never Seungcheol’s favorite activity. He was as jittery as a child with sugar. “Kiss me.”

You squinted at him accusingly. “Excuse me?”

“We need to really push them to the edge.”

“Yeah, but is kissing necessary?”

He determinedly nodded. “Yes, absolutely. Just do it.”

“Now hold on, let’s think about this.”

“You do it or I will.”

“Fine!” Your hands reached out for his collar, tugging him against you to crash into his silky, pillowy lips.

Even after his persistent pestering, the kiss came as a surprise to Seungcheol, who found the pleasantry in record time. His once stiff hands on your body simply melted around your figure just as your lips have and the warmth both comforting and delicious. Arousal pooled between your clamped legs, your hands tightened their grip on the cotton of his shirt. You could feel every muscle of his firmly wrap around you like a safety blanket, while his jaw engaged in following your pace. You flushed under his touch and your knees were losing strength as they buckled, nearly falling to the ground.

Seungcheol picked you right back with his palm flat over the small of your back, feeling the thud of your unresting heart beneath your clothes. Your hand crept against his cheek, his teeth softly pierced your bottom lip and pulled in his direction, muffling your whimpers between his lips. The position of his hands, squeezing your flesh shocked you back to consciousness and finally you jerked away, meeting his eyes long enough to see the darkness in them.

Your gaze fell to your feet, the whisper of his kiss lingering on your skin. “Are t-they gone,” You asked in a flustered hush.

For the first time, his eyes are finally on you. Truly in you, as if you were the only other person in existence. “Why did you pull away? Why did you stop?”

“I-I don’t know. It felt right to stop.”

“Well, it wasn’t.” The crook of his finger pulled you by the chin and brought you right back where you were, enraptured by the spell of his lips, somewhat more intoxicating than the first instance.

Your fingers combed through his hair as the small gap of your mouth is filled with his presence. Your vessel vibrated, tingling in the dryness of your throat as he moved against you starved, not at all bothered by the marble bar counter rearing in his lower back. His grunts were addictive, drunk without the substance. Without fearing doubt, you swallowed your pride–and Seungcheol’s lips–you fully took advantage of the current circumstance.

A fire kindled in Seungcheol’s stomach, instigating a roar that could only be tamed by the furnace of your body clenched to his sides. The mumble of his name on your lips was mistaken for a moan, and maybe it was, revving Seungcheol’s engine until determined to take you here and now, in the middle of a crowded bar where anyone could see.

Before the moment could prologue, your hands flattened against his chest and shoved him, gasping for air while he was frustrated to have been interrupted again. He met your eyes, ready to scold you, until he registered how shakey your presence was with eyes barely able to level with his. His watch softened at you as he reluctantly let go, overwashed with a sense of shame. “Hey, I—“

“I’m gonna take a second in the restroom. Please.”

He nodded, guilt seeping into his throat, droughting what was inside. “Okay.”

The second the door stall closed behind you, you took a deep breath and tightly shut your eyes. You rubbed your hands over your chest, feeling it pulse under your palm. Inhale and out. Shallow panicked breaths escaped the narrow gap of your lips, trying to relive the overwhelming pounding.

Right about now his ex must be throwing themself at him and they're seconds away from being sewn back together. Just like always. You expected this. You’ve accepted this. This was how things always were.

Why aren’t you over that by now?

You mustered whatever courage you had within and forced your feet out of that restroom, facing exactly what you expected, Seungcheol’s ex on him like a wild animal around fresh meat. You tore away from the scene immediately retreating to take the closest Uber out of the bar as soon as possible.

You abandoned your disguise near the door, hearing your wig fall limply to the ground. A sound of relief escaped your lips as you trodded off to the bathroom to wash away the grime of sweat and embarrassment. Your tears fell in sync with the shower head that enveloped you in desirable heat. Heat that you wished belonged to a body instead of a body of water. Your hands felt your face as you sobbed, knowing it wouldn’t escape past the bathroom door, or your apartment being alone, once again, like you always have been.

After the night you’ve had, you’re ready to go back to your regular routine and forget the mental break of indulging in fantasy. You were only meant to ever help a friend and now that friend is back where he should be: in the arms of someone he actually loves.

As toxic as their dynamic may be at least there is something romantic about it. You and him have been and will always be just friends, a side plot to the main story in his life. You are simply a pawn in this twisted game of chess and you have no one to point blame on but yourself. You let this happen.

Gathering your pathetic self to your room, you drowned in your duvet, cuddling up next to your pillow and burying your face in the fabric. After some time of thinking and crying, you at last find slumber, determined to erase any and all thoughts of your best friend.

As though this night couldn’t get any worse, someone else had to ruin your sleep too.

Annoyed, you rustled out of bed to head to the front door. Your heavy steps move with reluctance, fisting over the door knob as it swung open and suddenly you’re wide awake. He stared back at you, eyes glistening, shoulders falling at your comforting site. “Hey.”

“Hi,” You greeted back softly. “What—What happened? You and—“

“They asked me to come back.”

You blinked at him, stretching a faux smile on your face. “That’s great. That’s amazing! That’s exactly what you wanted…So why are you here?”

“Uh…” He closed the door behind and you let him step inside, placing himself dangerously close to you. “I said I’d think about it?”

“What? It’s all you’ve been wanting the entire time you were apart. The system, Seungcheol. The system.”

“I don’t know. I just wasn’t sure anymore after…”

You waited for him to finish for as long as you could. His steps towards you only resonated louder, prouder. Everything in you told you to back down, yet you stood your ground and met his eyes in anticipation. “After…?”

“Yeah. That.”

“Well, what does that mean…Cheol?”

Suddenly, it was so much harder to breathe and his body got only closer and closer, tightening your airways and overwhelming your senses. You didn’t push him away when his lips daringly landed on yours, hands finding purchase on your cheeks as you softly caressed them like fine china. Your torso lined up with his as you tossed your arms around his neck, deepening your connection.

He parted briefly to reassess the situation, the tip of his nose timidly tracing over the bridge of yours. “It means I want to…explore this more. Whatever it is.”

“And them?”

He shook his head. “They’ll have to keep on waiting because I can’t stop thinking about you since that kiss and by the way you're looking at me…you can’t either.”

“Seungcheol…”

“Don’t tell me I’m wrong,” he begged, “Please.”

“You can’t tell me you aren't still madly in love with them.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I was. Do you think I would be here if I didn’t have doubts?”

“… I don’t want you to end up doing something you’ll regret…forever.”

His hand clasped against your cheek, adoring the vulnerability that glows in your gaze. He admired your soft features, drinking in the quiver of your kiss-bitten lips as the flutter on your delicate lashes shielded from his bold light. He held you closer, drawing his lips nearer, and he breathed a breath of defiance. “I don’t think I regret a single second I’m with you.”

The kiss you shared didn’t express a moment of doubt, only flurries of passion as your clothes found their way to the ground. He kissed down your navel, balling fists of your flesh, nipping at your skin, inhaling your clean scent. You said his name in a swoon, bounded to him like warm clay, melting into one another with no points of separation.

Your hands roamed up his upper back, palming at his shoulder blades. He softly winced as your nails dug into his skin, his tongue lightly licking at a spot that emits the most sound from your lips. Your name on his lips comes in your ears, churning your stomach, burning your thighs. Your legs clamped to his side, feeling the brush of his cock as it twitched in your direction.

You ached to be filled, climbing his build in desperation. His familiar tufts of hair found their way between your fingers until you pulled, eliciting his starved moans. You beg and beg, meeting his eyes with much desperation. He was kissing your body, embracing you with so much love, but you knew you wanted more. More of him.

Seungcheol seemed to be a mind reader as he was already positioning himself. He towered over you with gratitude in his eyes, gratitude for the trust you gifted him. The vulnerability you finally gave into. The body and love that you once hid. He would appreciate it and not waste a single second to do so.

With a single hand caressing your face and one on his cock, he watched your eyes change as he plunged inside. He felt your thighs come up to the sides, hooking around his torso. He jerked his hips, memorizing the shape of your walls, and how they massaged him well, squeezing every inch of him until you were filled. Your head knocked back into the sheets, your nails now clawing up his arm. “Cheol…”

“I’m here,” he whispered. “I want to take care of you,” he admitted, “Let me know if anything goes wrong.”

You nodded back, accepting his kisses as they became signs of worship. He would touch every inch of your body, fill your warmth until it was coated in thick, sweet arousal of your own doing. He whispered your name, moaning sweet praises. “You feel so precious in my hands…I want your body and soul to bind with mine…I don’t think I could ever forget what this feels like…”

He moved faster, his hips buckled harder, and your fingers indented into the smooth texture of his back. He kept thrusting deeper and harder inside you until it was a blissful pain but you don’t remember ever replicating. With his sweet cherry-shaped lips on yours, you feel your sweat mix into a cocktail of pure delicious nectar. He mouthed a flush of your skin, clutching you to his body like a man getting mad, unwilling to give up his most prized possession.

His groans became ingrained in your brain and you felt waves of arousal stagger you, paralyze you. Your mouth dropped. “Oh god…” Your hands trembled. Your toes curled. “That’s so good, more please.” You begged and begged and begged and begged—

A knock at the door. A panicked one that.

You rose from bed, empty, cold alone. Your hand ran over your head, feeling the clammy, distressing remnants of your wet dream. Overwashed with guilt, you reluctantly pulled the covers off and got out of bed, dragging your feet towards the door, ignoring the wig that stared back at you in your peripheral. It swung open the familiar way it does, and déjà vu hits you.

Seungcheol stood before just like once did in the dream. He walked closer towards you, and word seemed to halt in your throat.

“They asked me to come back.”

Having already rehearsed this in your mind, you stretched in another fake smile, finding its chirp through your tired voice. “That’s great. That’s amazing. That’s exactly what you wanted. So why are you here?”

“I-I don’t know…I just thought I should tell you. Um, thank you.”

You nodded solemnly. This was reality after all. “Glad I can help as always.”

“You really are a great help. I’m lucky to have you as my dearest friend.” He grinned, not quite reaching his ears as if holding back something secrets he couldn’t bear either.

You didn’t think much of it and smiled. “Of course. Dearest friend.”

#svthub #seventeen smut #scoups smut #seungcheol smut #choi seungcheol #seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #seventeen seungcheol #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #seventeen #seventeen angst #seungcheol angst #scoups angst #choi seungcheol angst

623 notes · View notes

adyophene · 1 month

Note

lucifer x husk is something i never knew i needed and as a multishipper im screaming

literally. king of hell x some alcoholic furry guy

i love them i need to know how they wouldve met, fallen for each other and started dating. and how much thatd piss alastor off

Ooh I am so happy other people are enjoying this pair as much as I am! I've gotten a few asks about my headcanons for them, and I am happy to blab on and on. Fair warning. This is gunna be a long and rambling essay.

I'm gunna put it all under a readmore, just cause I want to insert the art I've done of them so far, since I've been half-heartedly trying to tell a visual story through the doodles.

Okay. On we go!

How they met;

We did see them technically meet in the show, where they shared their singular canon piece of dialogue, which was just Husk saying 'hey'. And then in the finale where we see a literal split second moment of Lucifer holding Husk's arm.

(also seeing the sweet looks huskerdust is giving each other here just makes me feel so delulu for writing this all, but crackships are silly by definition, so lets get back to the lucihusk) For me, what I imagined, is after the Hotel is finished its rebuilding, that is when Husk and Lucifer finally actually meet in a proper manner. I think Lucifer would be trying to make a good impression on all Charlie's friends at this point, endeared to all of them from their actions during the finale. Unfortunately, I think he is also the King of Bad First Impressions.

[Note. I think at this point Lucifer wouldn't even remember Husk's name quite yet. I think he would call him 'Keekee' ( by accident) or 'Dusk' (confidently incorrect) or just be like "Hey!.... Uh... You?" until Charlie or Vaggie finally corrected him. ]

Husk, on the other hand, I feel like maybe wouldn't gel with Lucifer right away. Wouldn't hate him, but also maybe not be enamored with him right away. Same as Lucifer, maybe he would have sweetened on him a bit through the hotel's rebuilding, but I think they'd start out at very neutral feelings. Maybe a vague sense of 'He's okay, but I don't know if we will really get along.'

Despite this, Lucifer is persistent, and he's going to be everyone's (except maybe Al, unless they start getting along by s2) buddy. He'd start hanging around the bar and participate in the redemption exercises.

Now, we know Lucifer struggles with depression, and I think he would be trying real hard to mask anything going on during this time. They defeated Adam! They rebuilt the Hotel! He believes in Charlie's dream, and he's more involved with her life and other people than he has been for years.

His only issue being Husk sees right through it, both because Husk is perceptive, but also because even the King of Hell can't help but have a lonely night or two at the bar where he ends up venting about his divorce and subsequent lingering loneliness.

[snapcube ref aside, )I really do think Husk would start to feel more positively toward Lucifer after Luci would drop the act somewhat. That they could bond over feeling both at their lowest of lows, while also being to admit that things seem to be getting better!

This would be about the point that I imagine Lucifer developing more romantic feelings! Husk would be a bit less prickly, and Luci would just absolutely eat up any and all positive interactions they'd have. I like to picture a lot of little shows of care at the this point, like Husk memorizing what Lucifer likes and even making up 'fun' drinks just to try and cheer the guy up. And Lucifer would fun a fun game in trying to get the grumpy cat to smile, and just, lighting up himself any time he was successful.

And that culminating into the two of them making each other laugh, with Alastor being an easy butt of the jokes, and a good way for Husk, himself, to finally get a chance to vent. I think Lucifer would be one of the only 'safe' options for Husk to do that with, in just so far as Al can't really threaten Lucifer, and Lucifer already sees Al as a bit of a manipulative bastard.

Falling for each other; At this point, Lucifer would start being a bit more caring toward Husk, though with that wonderful, oblivious flair of his. I don't think Lucifer himself would realize he'd have a crush up until he'd start feeling protective or jealous over Husk, and it would really throw him for a loop at first.

Because fake dating is one of my all-time favorite tropes, I have always had a idea for a fanfic (or comic) that I haven't gotten around to yet, based around Lilith coming back, and Lucifer panickily asking Husk to pretend to be his boyfriend, so he can appear well adjusted/completely over her. Of course the whole thing would backfire, as Lilith would see through it (as Lucifer wouldn't be as good of an actor as he'd think), and that Husk would end up kind of feeling hurt by the whole thing.

Husk, who'd go along with the plot with an eyeroll, would find himself seizing up through the whole fake date/encounter. Would find weird, sudden emotions bubbling up and absolutely hating it.

I don't think that man would think about the class difference between him and Lucifer up until someone would say something about it, maybe Lucifer himself trying to rationalize the (at this time still fake) relationship to Lilith. Now, Husk feels uneasy about the whole thing and ends up drinking heavily the whole night so he doesn't have to think about feelings. (Blitz and Stolas who? Ahaha. fuck.) Meanwhile, while the date would be fake, I think Lucifer would really rather like having Husk on his arm and feeling like he'd have a love-life again, while also not really getting why Husk's mood would be getting worse throughout the night. I think they'd still end up on good terms, but both of them would have their feelings in a jumble, and Husk would not like it. (he thinks he's lost the ability to love, after all)

I think somewhere at this point, as they are starting to develop feelings for one another, is when Lucifer finally starts really realizing how tied to Alastor Husk is, and he starts to make it everyone's problem. I do think Al and Lucifer would stay snarky at each other this whole time, but that it'd only get worse, as Al would poke back since he'd find Lu's over reactions funny.

I also think Al would be maybe the last person to realize anything romantic would be brewing between Lucifer and Husk, and he'd just think it'd be a purely platonic thing.

Beyond just bitching about Alastor, Lucifer would really be ramping up his attention towards Husk too. Fully in that 'puppylove/crush' stage, and trying his darndest to make Husk feel good and special. Husk would be resistant to it all, thinking it would just be Lucifer rebounding hard, and not wanting to get wrapped up in Morningstar family drama when he could happily (miserably) keep his head down and just keep drinking the days away.

But then Lucifer would find out about Husk's love of stage magic, and his history as a performer, and it'd be all over for the catman. It would become Luci's new pet project to rope Husk into some joyful self-expression, and after a song and dance number's worth of convincing, Husk would start to come around. I have to post all these images now cause- I drew them with the intention of mimicking a musical number! Husk starting off as a bit resistant before jumping in whole heartedly, and Lucifer overexcitedly dragging him along throughout the music number, hyping him up and just all around being smitten.

And this is where Husk would start really falling. Getting swept up in indulging his favorite, least destructive hobby, and having someone who absolutely loves it to bond with. Especially when it would be over. When they would just settle down and talk, and laugh, and bond over what they love about performing. The spectacle, the audience, the love of the craft. Its about the comradery!!!

@belladonazeppole wrote a wonderful series of fanfics based off these pictures, as well as the songs from 'The Greatest Showman' that really fit the ship! I would be remiss to not mention them here, because Bella and their fics are just wonderful!

How they started dating;

Now. Don't think just cause they both caught feelings for each other, that they'd immediately admit to it. No. I think both of them would drag their heels. I don't think Husk would admit to them at all, without some outside force effecting it. I think he'd stubbornly try to ignore the crush or drink it away, rather than let his heart become vulnerable to anymore damage.

Meanwhile, Lucifer would be struggling between his feelings for Husk and Lilith. (In the actual canon, I do think they might try to rekindle things, depending on what kind of person Lilith turns out to be, but I digress.) Part of him would be so swept up in a giddy kind of excitement, while the other would be set firmly in the camp of 'this is a bad idea, this won't work out, just look at what happened to your last relationship'. It wouldn't stop him from being outwardly more and more affectionate, but it would be weighing on him.

I do think Lucifer would end up being the one who would be thinking; "What am I doing. He'd never like me back." While Husk would be just sitting there (echoing what was said in the ask- sorry I went all wild and wrote this much about the ship dear god)- "I'm just some fucking furry alcoholic, what the fuck would the king of hell see in me??? Am I delusional? What the fuck is going on??" And I feel like this stage would go on for MONTHS and drive everyone else nuts. It would be clear to everyone (except Alastor, who again, would be just this meme

Though that wouldn't stop him from getting a little pissy about it) And then it would all come to a head during something benign, like a board game night. There would be flirting, there would be jealousy, there would be arguing, and then finally, loudly and with a lot of feeling, Lucifer would shout his way through asking Husk out on a date. A real Date. A capital 'D' date out on the town, dressed to the nines and a real good time. The board would be knocked over in the fray, game pieces raining down upon them while Husk would just stare blank faced, trying to process what just happened. An awkward half-minute would pass before he'd finally, trying to play it cool, shrug out a 'sure'.

How much it'd piss Alastor off;

In the aftermath, a radio static would just lowly grate everyone's ears as Alastor would be slowly coming to terms on how just annoying it would be to have his friend (/Unhealthy co-dependent pet friend possession??) romantically involved (ew) with the King of Hell (double ew)??? Then, either it would be something light hearted like 'he keeps trying to break them up but failing cause he hates interacting with romance' or a darker route where 'he keeps trying to manipulate them into breaking up by preying on all their worst insecurities in the relationship'.

And that, my friend, is all I have in mind so far for this delusional crackship au! There is more I could flesh out, of course, like Angel's role as a friend or potential third in the relationship, or what I imagine as Husk becoming like a stepdad to Charlie, but I've typed enough for the whole month. Hope any of that was coherent! I did not bother to edit or proof read it. Just pure stream of consciousness.

#not art #this is long #like really long #like don't open it unless you want 25 paragraphs about a crackship that like 12 people ship #royalflush #lucihusk

287 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 2 months

Text

The Taste of Shame NSFW Alphabet

[ dom!modern • Aemond x friend sister • female ]

NSWF Alphabet for Aemond from my mini series The Taste of Shame made for my one year celebration. I show his perspective of what it looked like with his clients and his girl. Dirty things below.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

With his little girl, whether she feels safe, whether she's comfortable, whether she's okay and needs anything is essential. Immediately after they finish he asks her if everything is alright, brings her water and some wet wipes, cleaning her gently between her thighs, praising her and how wonderful he felt with her, placing soft, tender kisses on her naked, sweaty body. 100% commitment.

He did the bare minimum with his clients. He always made sure they had water to drink standing next to them on the cupboard and wipes, but did not help them or participate in anything after the sexual act itself, approaching it professionally and without emotion.

B = Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

In his sweet girl's case, her hair, her eyes and her breasts. He loves to clench his hand in her hair when he fucks her from behind, and he's also jealous when, during meeting him for dates, she doesn't wear a bra under her dress or shirt, unhappy that other men can look at her too. He clearly shows her his displeasure afterwards in bed, after which she always finds it hard to sit on her bottom the next day.

In his female clients case, nothing. He didn't focus on whether he liked something about them or not, it was just his job.

C = Cum (anything that has to do with it)

Always inside her.

With his female clients, he always used condoms.

D = Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

His work was his one big dirty secret, plz.

E = Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

He is very experienced and knows exactly what to do to prepare a woman well for what will happen next, with his little girl, however, he is more careful, knowing that she is more delicate than the women who have been his clients, not wanting to hurt her or overdo it. Her comfort always comes first. He just wants to make love to her, any way she allows him to do so satisfies him.

F = Favorite position

The missionary position, in which he holds her wrists above her head with one hand and keeps his balance using the other, thrusting into her at such an angle that she cries out and begs him to fill her, to kiss her, to let him touch her.

His power over her and how sweet she is turns him on so much that even though he teases her for a long time, he finally gives her what she needs, kissing her like a starved man, quickening his pace, allowing her to embrace him as he nears his peak.

Apart from that, any other in which he can watch himself open her wide on his fat cock. Something about the sight makes him lose his temper and fuck her like crazy.

With his female clients each where he didn't have to look at their face.

G = Goofy (how serious are they)

With her, they often laugh when they get something wrong or she asks him a silly question, inexperienced, he often then kisses her cheeks blushing with shame, explaining everything to her patiently and with care.

Completely serious with his female clients, straight to the point.

H = Hair (grooming habits)

Trimmed and cleaned. His hygiene is very important to him.

I = Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

Very affectionate and caring towards his sweet girl. Whenever he wants to do something new he takes his time to explain to her exactly what it would involve and asks her how she would feel about it, if she would like to try it.

Every time he sees discomfort on her face when they start, uncertainty or fear he stops, kissing her nose, saying: let's make love then, taking her more gently and slowly than usual, reassuring her that he loves her and she is never a disappointment to him, his sweet little baby.

When a new position or toy pleases her, he praises her, muttering in her ear that she is brave and has done wonderfully well for him.

No intimacy with his female clients. He didn't ask their names and they would call him 'sir' themselves. He wanted no intimacy with them, although many of them aspired to it and filled his email inbox with messages after their sessions.

J = Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

He was doing this before he started his job and thinking about his girl when he still thought their relationship had no chance. When they started being together he stopped, 100% fulfilled with her.

K = Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

Everything to do with domination. Hand tying, punishments, full control. He trusts his little girl, so sometimes when she desires it he lets her ride him, still controling the situation though, just looking at her adoringly, coming inside her involuntarily.

L = Location (where they like to get it on)

With his little girl wherever he is sure that her body cannot be seen by anyone but him and when he is sure she is comfortable.

With his female clients only in a separate flat that he has rented for his work.

M = Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

Her behaviour, the way she talks to him. Sometimes he feels like crying in front of her, hearing how well she understands him, that she does not judge him, that she loves and supports him. He then involuntarily seeks her closeness, which often, though not always, ends in an intimate closeness.

Sometimes, simply while looking at her from afar, he gets an idea and is turned on by the very thought of seeing her in some position or some situation. He is then like a predator waiting for an opportunity.

In the case of his female clients, his motivation was easy money. He tried not to think about what he was doing during the act itself and drift off with his thoughts, imagining some women he has seen in pornographic films.

N = No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

With his little girl there is hardly a thing he would not agree to, apart from some heavy domination on her part, tying his hands etc.

In the case of his female clients, he never allowed them to kiss him or touch him with their hands. He could put his cock down their throats, but he wasn't going to touch them with his tongue between their thighs without knowing who touched them there before him.

O = Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

He is the king of spending time between his little girl's thighs. If he could, he would fall asleep cuddled up to her warm womanhood. He loves her taste and how she responds to his caresses.

He lets her reciprocate at her request, never demanding it himself, and takes his time, watching the sight of his cock disappearing deep down her throat, trying not to come too soon, whispering how wonderful she looks with her mouth full of him.

He could shove his cock into his clients' mouths if they so agreed in the rules beforehand, but they couldn't hope for reciprocation.

P = Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

With his little girl he sometimes comes faster than he wishes. It just feels too good.

With his female clients he could last a very long time, not of his own volition. It was just hard for him to get really aroused and often he had to be just more violent towards them to come.

Q = Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

Depending on the situation, sometimes he does it very slowly when she craves a slightly more tender, calm rapprochement, where they stroke, kiss and whisper to each other, and sometimes they fuck like animals, even more so if they haven't seen each other for a long time, which for them is 2-3 days.

With his female clients he was always quick. He saw no point in doing it slowly.

R = Risk (do they like to try new things)

He enjoys taking risks with her, but not at the expense of her comfort. Her safety and well-being is always his priority.

With his female clients, he had done every single thing they wanted, even the most fucked-up, as long as it did't require them to touch him or kiss him.

S = Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

After resting for a while, all it takes is for her soft buttocks to rub against him and he's ready for action again, if she feels like it. If not, he just snuggles into her and falls asleep.

With his female clients he only did this only once per meeting, no more. He always kept an eye on the time and was not interested in repeats beyond his schedule.

T = Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

He uses this kind of toys on her that increase her sensation and pleasure. He wants her to cry out in front of him with delight.

With his female clients, every one they wanted. What turned him on the most was causing them pain, as if he was taking it out on them that they dared to come to him and ask him to do all these fucked-up things to them.

U = Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

He adores denying her and prolonging her orgasms, but trying not to overdo it, loving watching his sweet girl beg him for fulfillment in tears. He assures her what a good girl she is and that she just needs to endure it a little longer, that he will reward her soon.

If his client annoyed him, he would be more brutal towards them than usual, much to their delight.

V = Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

He allows himself to be loud around her, panting and sometimes groaning low in pleasure, unable to express otherwise how good he feels deep inside her, usually losing control of himself just before orgasm.

Quiet panting and grunting was the most his clients could count on.

W = Wild card (random canon of any sort)

He fingered his girl in the kitchen, knowing that her parents and brother were nearby in the living room.

As for his clients, one once enraged him so much by touching him against his will that he almost strangled her and she fainted. He was terrified and wanted to call an ambulance, but she woke up after couple of seconds saying that it was amazing and that she wanted to continue.

He asked her to leave, did not take money from her and did not allow her to come to him again even though she begged him to let her.

X = X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)

Something doing miracles.

Y = Yearning (sexdrive level)

He is totally into her. He loves spending time with her outside of bed, taking her for a walks and dates, often talking to her for long hours, relying heavily on her and respecting her opinion. When he looks at her, the desire to make love is a natural result of his intense inner need for her closeness.

It didn't matter with his clients. He worked like clockwork.

Z = Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

He only falls asleep when he knows she is safe. Sometimes he can't sleep thinking about whether he overdid it during their intimacy or hurt her by accident.

He fight with himself then and eventually wake her up in the middle of the night, asking her, devastated, if everything was okay, and only calms down when she hugs him, calling him silly, snuggling into his chest with soft purr.

He never fell asleep next to his clients, but they sometimes fell asleep after orgasm, infuriating him because he had to reprimand them and ask them to leave.

258 notes · View notes

lendeah · 3 months

Text

Valentine's Day Special!

Merryment Festival

Synopsis: To commemorate the Merryment Festival in your hometown, you decide to give Astarion a gift. Pairing: Astarion x GN! Bard Reader Words: 2.6k Tags: Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff , Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, just cute stuff

a/n: HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!

"Back in my hometown, we had an annual festival called Merryment Festival," you said wistfully, tracing your finger over his bare chest.

He arched an eyebrow and smirked. "A festival for merriment? How delightfully cheesy."

You smiled, lost in the memories. "It was held at around this time of the year every spring and was a big event in our town."

"I never would have guessed that there's a single festival in your tiny little village."

You rolled your eyes, playfully punching his shoulder.

"What did you picture, Astarion? That we only had cows and pigs and chickens? That's so stereotypical..."

The vampire laughed, using his cold fingers to brush your hair away from your face. "Then enlighten me, my dear. What exactly is this festival you speak of? Please don't tell me it's just another reason for the common folk to get drunk."

You leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed.

"Actually, there is plenty of drinking involved," you admitted with a chuckle. "But the Merryment festival was a time for everyone to come together and celebrate life and love."

"Celebrate love?" He let out a snort. "So it is an excuse for everyone to get together and make more commoners. How utterly wonderful."

A pout formed on your lips as you absorbed his words, a twinge of disappointment stirring within you at his lack of enthusiasm for your favorite festivity. But you were determined to show him just how special it was.

"It's not just about making more commoners, Astarion," you argued. "It's about celebrating love in all its forms. It's a time for couples to reaffirm their love for each other and for singles to hope for new beginnings."

"Oh? I wasn't aware that the commoners needed an excuse to fornicate." Astarion sneered. "They seem to be doing just enough of it without this Merryment festival of yours."

"Astarion! It's not like that!" you whine, "There was music and dancing. Everything was covered in wild flowers. And there would also be competitions for the best couple dance or the most romantic poem!"

"So you're telling me the entire village throws a party for the duration of an entire week to... Dance? And compete for romance?" Astarion looked at her, his mouth curved into a smirk. "That truly is a spectacular waste of time, the village must have nothing better to do."

You narrowed your eyes and crossed your arms. "It's not a waste of time, Astarion. It's a celebration of love and life."

Astarion's fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on your back as he challenged, "What about the people who are here alone? Do they just sit and watch as the couples make a spectacle of themselves?"

"Well, kind of... But sometimes they can participate in the competitions as well, or find someone to dance with." You explained, getting a bit flustered.

"Oh, so you danced with your villager loverboy then?" he prodded, a hint of teasing in his tone.

You swallowed nervously.

"I mean, I was there, but I mostly just watched from a distance."

Astarion's eyes widened and his hand paused its gentle caress on your back. He burst into a fit of laughter, his voice filling the room. You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you as you realized you had just confessed your biggest secret to him - that you had never experienced the joyous festivities of the Merryment festival.

"That's preposterous! How can you love something so passionately when you have never experienced it yourself?" Astarion exclaimed between giggles.

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of shame and guilt wash over you. It was true, you had always been too shy to join in on the festivities. While everyone else was out there dancing and having fun, you would stay hidden in the shadows, watching from afar.

"Um... well, I guess I just never found the right person to participate with." You mumbled.

Astarion's mischievous smirk softened into a warm, genuine smile as he took in your shy admission. He leaned in closer, his lips almost touching yours.

"Oh darling, I think you already have found someone." His breath brushed against your lips, sending shivers down your spine. "How lucky I am to be your first," he purred.

You tremble beneath the thin bedroll, your exposed skin prickling with goosebumps and your cheeks flushing a deep shade of crimson. Astarion's words left you at a loss for how to respond.

"I never would have imagined..." you stuttered, still trying to process his confession. "I often dreamed of dancing with someone and exchanging gifts according to our tradition... if only I had met you back then." Letting out a sigh, you gazed into his eyes and reached up to gently stroke his cheek. "But it doesn't matter now. You're here with me, and that's all that truly matters."

He grasped your hand and brought it to his lips, leaving a tender kiss on the back of your palm. The gentle gesture sent a shiver through your body, and you couldn't contain the smile that spread across your face.

"And what present would you have preferred to receive from your hypothetical significant other?" he asked, softly.

You paused for a moment, thinking back to your childhood fantasies of Merryment festival. "Maybe a book? Or a new flute?" you pondered deeply before coming to a sudden realization. "No, no! I know exactly what I wanted." You gave him a small smile. "I wanted someone to write me a dedicated poem."

"Ah, a poem?" Astarion wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Of all the things you could want, and you want a poem?"

His reaction made you pout. "I think it's romantic," you say, hoping he'll see your perspective. "But I guess romance isn't really your forte. The closest thing to romance we've shared was when we read that erotic book together."

Astarion reclined in his seat, a cunning grin playing on his lips. "My dear, if you were seeking lovey-dovey poems and romantic gestures, your time would have been better spent with Wyll or Gale."

You snorted. "Yeah, how unfortunate I fell in love with a grumpy vampire."

"Excuse me? I am not grumpy! I simply... I don't like all the fluttering romance. I'm more of a practicer, more a... seducer."

"Practicer," you chuckled, "That's a nice way to put it." You leaned into him, feeling the cold of his body against yours.

He gently wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. "And there's no better way than practically demonstrating my love for you, my dear."

You bit back a grin, your heart fluttering in your chest at his words. "So, you're saying... seduction is your way of being romantic?"

He gave you a quick peck on the lips. "Romance is a game for amateurs."

"You're incorrigible," you teased lightly, poking him in the side.

The two of you spent the rest of the evening talking and laughing, occasionally stealing kisses from each other. As the night wore on and your eyelids grew heavy, his strong arms enveloped you, cocooning you as you drifted to sleep. Your mind wandered to the Merryment Festival, just days away, and a wave of longing washed over you. How bittersweet it was to have finally found your soulmate after years of searching, only to be separated by a thousand miles from your hometown festivities.

But then, an idea ignited in your mind: why not give Astarion a gift? It didn't have to be anything extravagant, just something simple yet meaningful. Something to honor the spirit of the festival and show Astarion that you cared for him.

The next morning, you awoke with a renewed sense of determination. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, casting a warm glow through the small cracks in the tent. As Astarion peacefully meditated beside you, you carefully untangled yourself from the bedroll and tip-toed out into the brisk morning air. With a destination in mind, you set off towards the bustling Baldur's Gate town market, eager to find the perfect gift for Astarion. Amidst the rows of colorful stalls, you skimmed through an array of goods, admiring handcrafted trinkets and aromatic spices. The smells of fresh bread and exotic fruits mingled together, creating a tantalizing aroma that filled your senses. Each stall seemed to hold its own treasures, but you were determined to find something special for your companion.

Eventually, you stumbled upon a quaint stall adorned with exquisite, handcrafted jewelry. Your gaze was drawn to one unique piece in particular: a scarlet pendant that shimmered with a particular aura. As you approached, the stall owner, a strong half-orc woman, immediately noticed your interest.

"Ah, you have an eye for the unique, dear," she chimed in with a warm smile. "That is our special Bloodstone Pendant. Every piece is crafted from a drop of blood and imbued with powerful magic."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you picked up the piece, the stone cold against your fingers. A drop of blood...

"How is it made?" You found yourself asking.

The elderly woman's eyes twinkled as she explained. "A willing volunteer donates a bit of blood. That blood is then petrified through an ancient magical process only known to our kin. It's then shaped and set into the pendant akin to the one you now hold."

"And what makes it so unique?" you asked curiously.

"Every stone contains the emotions of its donor. When the holder touches it, they can experience those emotions as if they were their own. It's like carrying a piece of someone you love with you at all times."

Without any hesitation, you readily agreed to give a small sample of your blood. The half-orc woman smiled warmly at your eagerness and guided you to a small table in the rear of her stall. She arranged a vial and lancet on the table, ready to extract the needed blood. As she pierced your finger with the lancet, a sharp pain shot through your hand. But you ignored it as you watched the drops of blood fill the vial, mesmerized by its deep crimson color.

Once the vial was filled, the woman carefully sealed it and began working on shaping it into a pendant. You could feel a strange energy emanating from the stone as she worked, almost like it was pulsing with life.

Finally, the woman presented you with the finished product: a beautiful scarlet pendant with intricate designs etched into its surface.

"Thank you," you said with genuine gratitude, as you paid for the necklace. "This is perfect."

The woman smiled warmly at you. "It's my pleasure," she replied. "I hope it brings joy and love to whoever wears it."

The bustling market slowly faded into the background as you made your way back to camp, eager to give Astarion his gift. The pendant, nestled against your pocket, radiated warmth and seemed to hum with anticipation. As evening descended upon the camp, and you and Astarion settled in for the night, you reached out and took his hand in yours. He looked up at you with curious eyes.

"I have something for you," you said with a gentle smile, holding out a small velvet pouch to Astarion.

He raised an eyebrow inquisitively, taking the pouch from your hand. He opened it and his eyes widened in surprise as he saw the beautiful pendant inside. He held it in his hand, turning it over to examine it closely.

"What is this?" Astarion asked.

"It's a gift for you," you replied. "Happy Merryment Festival."

Astarion's lips curved into a genuine smile as he gazed at the necklace. "A blood pendant." he said.

You frowned slightly, "How did you know?"

"It reeks of your blood, darling." He brought it closer to his nose, inhaling deeply. "Though, what a lovely smell it is." His fingers gently traced the elegant patterns, his smile growing wider. "Thank you, I truly adore it," he said sincerely, his gaze meeting yours.

You watched him with a small smile, enjoying the peaceful moment before speaking.

"Now you will always have my blood with you, even if we are not close." you finally said.

"Is that so?" he murmured, reaching up to touch the pendant reverently. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and you could feel him experiencing your emotions as if they were his own. When his eyes finally opened again, they shone brightly in the dim light of their shared tent. "It's... remarkable."

"I'm glad you like it," you replied softly.

Astarion's gaze settled on you again, and before you could process what was happening, his lips were pressed against yours. The kiss started off soft and tender, but quickly grew heated as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in closer. You couldn't help but shiver as his fangs gently grazed your skin.

After a few moments, he pulled back slightly to catch his breath. His thumb gently brushed across your cheek as he stared into your eyes. "You truly are one of a kind," he whispered.

The two of you stayed in that position for a few moments, relishing the comfort of each other's company. Reluctantly, he broke away and seemed to fidget with nervousness.

"I- um." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I have something for you too."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Really? You don't need to give me anything just because-"

He rolled his eyes as he tried to hide his nervousness with a cocky grin. "Come on, darling, humility is such an unnatractive trait. I know I don't have to, but I wanted to," he stated confidently. However, his hands shook slightly as he reached into his bag and retrieved a petite book, extending it towards you with eagerness. He whispered a "Happy Merryment Festival, or whatever" under his breath, trying to sound composed but failing to hide his true emotions.

Turning the small book over in your hands, your fingers graced the embossed title on the cover. It was a collection of poems, each page filled with graceful handwriting. Your eyes widened as you realized that the handwriting was Astarion's.

"These are... your poems?" You asked, your voice echoing with surprise and awe.

Astarion nodded again, looking slightly embarrassed now, but feigning nonchalance. "I have been compiling poetry over the years, just for the chance I would have someone deserving to gift them to. And now that I have someone... you who has so graciously been keeping my life interesting, I just couldn't pass up the opportunity."

You looked up at Astarion, your heart swelling with emotion. "They're beautiful," you whispered, flipping through the pages and absorbing each word. The pages were filled with beautiful handwritten verses, each one more passionate and lyrical than the last.

"Most were only written while I was in a particularly romantic mood, though some I wrote specifically for you."

His words made you heart stop. He had dedicated you a poem. No, he had dedicated you multiple poems. Each word poured from his soul onto the page, declaring his love in the most beautiful way. As you read them, tears pooled in your eyes, moved beyond words.

"This is... I'm..." Your voice faltered as you struggled to find the right words. "I can't believe you wrote all of these," you finally managed to choked out between sobs, unable to contain the overwhelming joy and love in your heart. The pages felt like a treasure.

"Well, I have been around for quite some time," Astarion quipped with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

But his attempt at humor only made you cry harder. With a sigh, he wrapped his arms around you and soothed your back with gentle caresses. After some time, your tears began to subside and you pulled back slightly to meet his gaze. "Thank you, Astarion. This is the best gift I have ever received," you said sincerely, feeling your heart swell with love for him. And this time, you knew he could feel it too, through the pendant.

He gave you a soft smile and kissed your forehead. "Anything for my dear Merryment companion."

#astarion ancunin #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #baldurs gate fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 #astarion baldurs gate #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #fanfic #writing prompt

268 notes · View notes

therhythmafterthesummer · 1 year

Text

Afraid to Lose You (M) ~Bang Chan

Pairing: Werewolf!Chan x Human!F.Reader Themes: Supernatural/Fantasy AU | Smut | Fluff | bit Angsty | Established Relationship | Soulmate AU Word Count: ~9k | AO3 Synopsis: The aftermath of an argument with a supernatural being was something no one ever prepared you for, much less if that supernatural being was someone you were romantically involved with. You figured it’d happen eventually, you just weren’t aware of how much it could hurt. [This is an instalment of my WereRoomies series. You don’t particularly need to read the other instalments to understand this, but it’ll add more depth to the story if you do, so I highly recommend it~]. Warnings: chubby/curvy MC · usage of the word ‘fat’ in a neutral/positive manner · mandatory Christopher Is Intense warning, but the reader is also Intense so it’s very mutual · couple arguments · they’re in love, your honour · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut) .

Author’s Note: i felt like portraying this side of our dearest pack parents. apologies in advance. special thanks to @cursed-mars-bars for reading this and sharing her thoughts with me💜

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Chris’ WereRoomies Instalments: It’s Cold Out · Rut · Alpha Dog · It’s Warm In · Love is Easy · Afraid to Lose You. For extra drabbles, check out the series masterlist.

Smut Warnings: oral [M.Rec] · fingering [F.Rec] · unprotected penetration [piv. no barrier method, but the reader is presumed to be on birth control] · creampie.

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

It was rare for you and Chris to have disagreements, but they did happen. You’d argue sometimes, over small things that usually could be resolved by taking some time to cool down and talk it out after. It was usually fine.

What happened just a few minutes ago was completely unprecedented.

You weren’t really sure how it all got out of hand so quickly. It was probably the fact that Chris had arrived home from work at midnight, starving and tired out of his mind, the fact that you decided to talk about such a sensitive topic right then and there, right as he munched on a sandwich.

‘What if you turn me? Wouldn’t that be better?’ You’d had those questions on the back of your mind for a while now, mulling on the possibility of your boyfriend turning you into a werewolf, into what he himself was. To you, it made more sense, since you were essentially leading a pack with him. You being human, in your mind, made it so there were certain things you couldn’t do, or activities you couldn’t participate in, and, sometimes, you’d admit you got a bit insecure about it.

‘Absolutely not’, you’d never heard Chris say something so firmly, so incredibly serious.

For some reason, you got defensive, Chris got defensive, and at some point everything started escalating. If you thought about it in depth, it was probably the time of day, the fact that you were both tired.

He was so stubborn, and, in that moment, whatever he told you felt just so diminishing, something he’d never ever made you feel, something he never did. Logically, you knew Chris valued you and your opinions, but tonight, it seemed like logic wasn’t leading his train of thought, nor yours.

‘What the fuck’s gotten into you? Why’s this suddenly a problem?’ He’d asked at some point, probably louder than he had intended to, and, it just made you answer louder in return.

It wasn’t just suddenly a problem, it had always been a problem. Or, at least, it seemed like that to you right then, when you were talking to him.

‘I don’t want you to turn!’

‘And what if I do want to?!’ You’d countered, because, ultimately, wasn’t what you wanted what mattered most?

‘Are you out of your mind?!’

Chris never ever spoke to you like that, and maybe that was why you got defensive.

‘So if I don’t do what you want I’m out of my mind?!’

‘That’s not what I said!’

It was a seemingly endless back and forth, an endless loop of both you and him further rubbing salt in the freshly open wound. Saying things you didn��t mean, in ways that were nowhere near appropriate, until you just couldn’t take it anymore.

“That’s it. I’m fucking leaving”, you took your phone and your keys, and it was just as you were putting your shoes on that Chris caught up to you.

“Where the fuck are you going?!”

“Away!” You turned to look at him. You weren’t really sure how to read the expression on his face. Angry? Tired? Annoyed? Hurt? You honestly couldn’t reason it too much, you were too preoccupied trying not to cry. Because you’d be damned if you cried right now. “Can’t stand being near you right now”.

“But–!”

“I said I’m leaving”, you interrupted him, still speaking louder than you normally would, but no longer shouting, at least. “I need space, Christopher”.

Chris didn’t follow you after you stepped out of your flat and slammed the door closed. You knew he wouldn’t, and you honestly didn’t want him to, it would’ve probably made everything so much worse.

You knew where you wanted to go, but there was no way you could get there at this time without a car. So you made your way to Changbin’s. If they turned you down you’d try someone else, but, even in the unstable state of your mind, you knew they wouldn’t.

So, as soon as you stood in front of Changbin’s door, you knocked. It was late, you were well aware of that, but there was only one person you felt like you could go to right now, and you were sure they wouldn’t hold it against you.

When Changbin’s girlfriend opened the door, hair mussed, wearing nothing but a nightgown, you hauled yourself at her, hugging her tightly and burying your face in the crook of her neck. You couldn’t stop the tears anymore, it was too late for that.

She was a bit taken aback, but she immediately hugged you back, mumbling a quiet, and very, very sleepy ‘Hey, honey, what’s wrong? What happened?’

You couldn’t mutter a single word, you just sobbed against her shoulder as she waddled back into the flat with you in her arms, closing the door quietly behind her.

When you finally managed to pull yourself away from her shoulder, she cradled your face in her hands, wiping your tears away, but they wouldn’t stop. “Baby, what happened?”

You just shook your head, hugging her again.

“Is Chris okay?” You heard Changbin mumble from somewhere behind you, and you shook your head again, not even looking at him, getting your friend’s shoulder drenched in your tears.

Changbin sighed, but he didn’t sound annoyed. If anything, it was a worried sigh. After a few moments of silence, you heard the front door open and close.

“He’s gone”, Changbin’s girlfriend mumbled, patting your shoulder. “Babe, talk to me. Can’t help you if you don’t”.

With a deep, shaky breath, you finally pulled yourself away from her shoulder so you could look at her.

Wiping the trail of tears on your cheeks, you mumbled, “I need a favour…”

Being in your mother’s house always made you feel safe. Which was why you always ended up here whenever you needed some time to disconnect from the outside world and think about things.

Your mother didn’t even question why you’d appeared in her house in the middle of the night with one of your friends, she simply let you in and offered Changbin’s girlfriend a warm drink and essentially begged her to stay the night because ‘It’s really late, darling. You already drove all the way here, you should rest before you leave…’

You were honestly happy she took the offer. That night, when you finally made it to your childhood room, Changbin’s girlfriend slept with you, hugging you close in an attempt to soothe your aching heart.

On the way here, you’d told her the details of what had happened, of your argument with Chris, and she had been nothing but understanding the entire time. Even if you’d woken her up all of a sudden, she still drove you to your mother’s place when you asked her to, regardless of the time, and without any hesitation.

‘Call me if you need anything. Hm?’ was the last thing she told you the next day before she left, and you honestly couldn’t help but feel immensely grateful. Not only for her help, but for her friendship in general.

Three days had passed since then, and, as you stared up at the ceiling, way past midnight, with your eyes fixed on the spinning fan, you just couldn’t ignore the heavy feeling in your chest.

This was the longest you’d spent without talking to Chris, and you quickly realised you absolutely hated it.

Whenever you felt like you needed to think things through and regroup your feelings you had always tried to pull yourself away from the situation, cool down, and then go back to face it head on and resolve the problem. However, what you hadn’t anticipated was how much you’d hate being away from your home, being away from Chris…

You honestly weren’t sure if it’d been worth it at all. All you’d felt these days was this all-consuming feeling of sadness, coupled with an immeasurable amount of longing. All that introspection you’d done during your stay here was quickly bringing you to the conclusion that things had blown out of proportion.

Turning to look at your bedside table, you stared at the journal you’d found this morning in the bottom drawer of your dresser. From things you’d dreamt, to things that had happened to you at school, to arguments with friends…Reading your thoughts from when you were little was a bit amusing, considering how all your problems from back then seemed so insignificant now. You enjoyed reading them regardless, though.

Taking your phone in your hand, you unlocked it and went to your messaging app. Your eyes fixed on the screen in front of you, re-reading the messages Changbin and Seungmin had sent you this morning.

> BroBin💪: i’m sure you have a very valid reason to not be here > i know it’s only been like 2 days > and i know it’s none of my business > but chris is absolutely miserable > and i just can’t bear seeing him like that > if you asked for space i doubt he’ll reach out to you first > so i’m literally begging you to please consider talking to him

Of course Changbin was worried about Chris. He always was, and you wholeheartedly understood him, but Seungmin’s messages were the ones you’d been mulling over the most.

> Seungminnie🐶: mama > u dont have to respond and i know u prolly wont > no one has said anything > but i noticed ur not here > and christophers moping > are u not talking? > u should talk to him if thats the case > itd be really bad if you dont > i think theres something you should know…

These messages had been staring at you all day. You hadn’t really replied to Changbin, nor Seungmin–just like he’d predicted.

You’d admit you tended to isolate yourself when you needed a breather, even from friends. It was just insanely hard for you to reply to them, maybe irrationally so–not something you were proud of by any means, you were just overwhelmed.

Seungmin’s revelation had been roaming freely in your head since you read his messages… To top it all off, Chris was miserable, and you weren’t that much better, so what was the point of all this?

Going back to your recent chats list, your finger hovered over your conversation with Chris, and you suddenly felt a knot form in your throat just at the sight of his name. That was enough for you to know it was time, you just couldn’t keep running away from this, so, with a racing heart, you clicked on his chat and quickly sent him a few messages, all before your own self-doubt made you recoil.

< You: i’m sorry < for the things i said < you didnt deserve that

Not even twenty seconds after you sent those, you received Chris’ reply, so you replied as well.

> Chris 🐺💕: mind if i drop by ?

< You: no i dont mind

> Chris 🐺💕: be there in around an hour

< You: i’ll be in the backyard with joaquin < just fyi in case you ring the bell and i dont answer < you can just text when youre here

It was a forty-five minute drive from the den to your mother’s house, and that was not accounting for any possible traffic. Just thinking that Chris was making his way to you as soon as you gave him the go-ahead made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It reminded you that, ultimately, Chris would always respect your boundaries, he’d always lookout for you, and you honestly wanted to cry just thinking about it.

So, you got out of that bed as fast as you could and ran to your bathroom to take the quickest shower you possibly could. You’d honestly barely left your bed the entire time you’d been here–something your mother did comment on, but any of her efforts to get you out of your room were futile.

That shower made you feel as if you’d been reborn. People truly underestimated how a good shower could immensely improve your mood, yourself included. So, with a fresh pair of shorts and the oversized t-shirt you kept in your childhood room’s dresser, you finally made your way to the backyard, and sat on one of the chairs to watch Joaquín chase squirrels around.

Joaquín was your mother’s dog, whose favourite pastime was chasing rodents of all kinds. She adopted him from a shelter around five years ago, so you really didn’t know which breed he was–if any. He was a big dog, with black and brown coat, short haired, and probably one of the friendliest dogs you’d ever met–although, if you thought about it in depth, wouldn’t your boyfriend and your friends be the friendliest dogs you’d ever met? You just chuckled at the thought.

As soon as the one hour mark since you received your boyfriend’s texts passed you started to feel antsy. You’d glance at your phone every couple of minutes, or fiddle with the loose threads of the table cloth in front of you.

You started to worry, too. What if something had happened while Chris was driving here? What if he had an accident and the last thing you did together before it happened was have an argument? What if–

Suddenly, Joaquín bolted out of your sight, and you heard him barking as well as the undeniable sound of your boyfriend’s gentle voice trying to calm him down. “Hey there, buddy. It’s been a while, huh? Shh, yeah, yeah. It’s just me. Yeah, I know you’re excited, but tone it down a bit. You’re gonna wake up the whole neighbourhood at this rate…”

You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on your face as you heard them talk to each other–as much as Chris talking to your mother’s dog and Joaquín barking at your boyfriend could be considered having a conversation.

Just as you were about to walk back into the house, you heard a thud, and Joaquín quickly made his way to where you were, panting and wagging his tail.

Your boyfriend appeared seconds after, which immediately made Joaquín turn his attention back to him again.

“Hey”, Chris gave you a small smile, and it honestly made your heart skip a beat.

“Hey”, you watched as he instructed Joaquín to go play and give you two some space, to which the dog immediately complied. “I could’ve just met you at the front door, you know? No need to jump over the fence”.

“Very true, but then I wouldn’t have been able to play burglar and dog with Joaquín”, Chris chuckled.

Silence enveloped you, and you simply took in the sight of your boyfriend. He was wearing one of his hoodies, a cap, and some gym shorts, the first items he probably found in the closet before coming here. Most worrying, though, was how pale his face looked.

“Have you gotten any sleep?” You couldn’t help but ask, the bags under his eyes and his overall complexion looked just like they did when he pulled an all-nighter, but somehow much worse.

Chris shrugged. “Have you?”

You hadn’t.

You’d been sleeping horribly.

Every time you tried to sleep you felt like something was missing, and anxiety made your heart feel heavy in your chest. If you did manage to fall asleep, you’d wake up a few hours after, mindlessly seeking your boyfriend’s body heat and finding none of it, which only fed that feeling of uneasiness that had clung to every fibre of your body.

“Not really, no”, you answered with honesty, because there was no point in hiding it. It was clear that you both were having a bad time, and you couldn’t help but feel incredibly guilty. “I’m sorry”.

“I’m sorry, too”, Chris replied simply, taking a step closer to where you were standing, clearly trying his best to not invade your personal space.

It was so weird. Having Chris so physically distant to you, on purpose, was something you weren’t used to anymore, and the more he stayed rooted on the spot, the more you yearned to be enveloped in his warmth, in his scent.

So you took tentative steps towards him, all while Chris just looked at you with the saddest look in his eyes, resembling a kicked puppy. The only other time you could remember seeing this look on Chris’ face was the night you found out he and the rest of your friends were werewolves, right after you’d finished your confrontational conversation in the landing between floors, right after you told him not to follow you when you left.

“I shouldn’t have…spoken to you like that. I really am sorry”, you finally stood in front of him, but not as close as you wished you were.

“I shouldn’t have, either. I was exhausted that day, I let panic flood my brain, and I was being irrational”.

You couldn’t bear the distance anymore, so you reached for him, taking a hold of the front of his hoodie with an admittedly trembling grip. That simple gesture was all it took for Chris to finally move, to finally wrap his arms around your frame and hold you tight against his body. His sigh of relief didn’t go unnoticed, just like the way his muscles seemed to relax as soon as you were within his arms didn’t.

Relief washed over you immediately, especially when you buried your face in the crook of his neck, when you got that faint whiff of sea air that seemed to always emanate from your boyfriend.

“Pretty…” Chris cradled the back of your head, softly caressing your hair, holding you close. “You know I’d give you the world. Anything you asked me for…But this is something I won’t do, and that I beg you to not ask anyone else to do. It’s not certain you’d survive the turning process, and that’s a risk I’m just not willing to take”.

You hummed, moving your hands from his chest to instead wrap your arms around his waist so you could hold him tighter.

“I know you…can get in your head sometimes with this, but trust me, human you is just as adequate as a possible werewolf you. Why risk your life when you’re already perfect just as you are? I just…” Chris’ voice broke a little bit. It made your heart ache and a knot formed in your throat. He tightened his hold, taking a deep breath. “I can’t lose you, baby. I just can’t…Especially if it’s over something that can be avoided”.

“You won’t…” You mumbled against his neck, pressing a quick kiss on his skin. “You’re right…I was in my head. Overthinking…”

Chris hummed, and he pressed a kiss on your temple. “I’m still sorry for how I talked to you”.

“Me, too”, you rubbed your forehead on his shoulder, getting drenched in the smell of your shared home, in the smell of him. “I love you…”

Chris pulled away from you to cup your cheeks. The warmth of his palms on your face almost made your shiver, the soft drag of his thumbs over your skin had your heart beating fast in your chest, and the way he was looking at you, with his pretty eyes all glossy, as if you held his world in your hands, had tears collecting in your eyes.

“I love you. So much. You’re my everything, you know?”

You just nodded, and the second Chris’ lips were on yours you just couldn’t contain the soft whimper that came out of your throat.

Bringing your hands from where they had been wrapped around Chris’ middle, you took his cap off, held it in your hand, and buried the other in his slightly damp hair in one swift movement. Chris hummed, clearly relishing the tender caress of your fingers on his scalp. His tongue made contact with your bottom lip, and you immediately parted your lips to let him into your mouth.

With his hands on the small of your back, Chris simply held you close as he ravished your mouth, almost like he needed to kiss you to keep his heart beating, just like you did. It might’ve been three days, but those three days seemed to have lasted a lifetime, and now that you had your boyfriend’s warmth surrounding you again, you honestly couldn’t care about anything else.

Chris detached his lips from yours, only to reattach them to your cheek, pressing tender kisses on your skin. “Missed you so much, pretty…”

He said those words in a way that made it seem like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, and you wholeheartedly shared the sentiment. “Missed you, too, baby…”

“Come back home”, he mumbled against your cheekbone before pulling back. He cupped one of your cheeks in his hand, while the other remained on the small of your back. “Our bed just feels so empty and cold when you’re not there. I hate it”.

“I will”, you replied simply, leaning into his tender touch. “Tomorrow, though. It’s too late, baby, and you’ve barely had any sleep. Let’s stay here tonight?”

Chris hummed, pressing a brief kiss on your lips. “Sure. As long as I get to hug you to sleep tonight I don’t care where we stay”.

Chris sent Minho and Changbin a quick message, letting them know he was here with you, and to not turn away any packmate that might need some alpha support tonight–you doubted there’d be any, but it was good they were prepared just in case. You honestly didn’t like that both you and Chris had to be away, but when Minho replied to Chris’ message with a simple ‘👌’ you felt immediately at ease.

“Is your mum sleeping?” Chris asked as soon as you were stepping back into the house, getting out of his shoes.

You shook your head. “She’s not even home. She went out with her friends and had a bit too much to drink, so she’s staying with one of them”.

“So it was just gonna be you and Joaquín in this big house?” Chris turned to look at Joaquín, just as the dog made his way to the sofa. “You would’ve protected my girl if anything happened, right?”

The dog huffed, jumping on the sofa, turning a few times only to finally plop down on one of the ends, on his usual sleeping spot.

Chris just chuckled, shaking his head.

“What’d he say?” You took a hold of your boyfriend’s hand, offering a ‘Good night, Joaco baby’ to your mother’s dog after you sent her a quick text and went through the motions of switching the lights of the living room, right when you walked past him on your way to your room.

“Essentially that he’d die for you”, Chris held your hand tighter. “And that he was happy to see you smile again”.

As Chris had explained it to you, animals didn’t really communicate with words. They gestured, their scents would change, and there was just something in their body language that made it so they could understand each other. It was funny to think that your boyfriend could hold conversations with your mother’s dog like this, especially when you knew that the only reason he was verbally talking to him, with human language, was because Chris wanted you to not feel left out, which you appreciated.

As soon as you made it to your room, you got out of your shorts to sleep only in the tee you were wearing like you usually did. After you pulled back the covers, you laid as close to the wall as possible, leaving enough room for your boyfriend. This bed was smaller than the one back home, so it’d be a tight fit, but you were sure he wouldn’t mind, just like you didn’t–if anything, tonight, you wanted zero space between you and Chris. You’d had enough of that the past three days.

Chris pulled his hoodie over his head, and he haphazardly placed it on your desk. He joined you on the bed after, immediately pulling you against his chest.

“Sleeping in shorts? Who are you and what have you done to my boyfriend?” You couldn’t help but comment, chuckling a little as you started to caress his back.

Chris laughed, the sound a bit muffled against your hair. “I don’t know…being butt-naked at your mum’s doesn’t feel right”.

“Mm…It’s the first time you’re sleeping here, isn’t it? Hadn’t realised”.

Chris hummed, absentmindedly playing with your hair. “First time laying on your childhood bed”.

“It’s more than a childhood bed at this point. I was sleeping here until I moved to your den”, a minute shiver shot down your spine when your boyfriend sneaked a hand under your shirt, slowly dragging it from your hip to your waist, where he settled to lightly squish the soft roll that usually formed there.

“Our den…But still”, Chris pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you scooted closer to him, relishing the drag of his hand over your bare skin. “Missed squishing you, pretty”.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “That’s why you asked me to be your girlfriend, right? To be your own personal stress ball?”

“Mm. That, and because of your child bearing hips, and this scrumptious fat ass”, he moved his hand from your waist to your bum, patting it lightly, giggling.

“What about my thighs, though?”

“God, don’t mention your thighs. I’ll pop a chub”.

“Ah, of course”, you brought your hand behind him to squeeze his buttock. “You’re just like me, then”.

“See? That’s why we’re perfect for each other”, there was a playful tone in his voice, but you knew that under all his jokes, laid some real feelings, some very deep feelings that you were sure matched your own.

You pulled yourself from his chest to look him in the eyes. A soft smile settled on your lips, and you brought a hand to his face so you could lightly drag your fingertips from his forehead, down the curve of his nose, only to finally catch on his plush bottom lip. “You know…I was reading my childhood journal…I used to write my dreams in that diary. I had forgotten so many of them, honestly. Most of them were all nonsensical shit, but…there’s one that was quite interesting. Wanna hear about it?”

Chris nodded, taking a hold of your hand to press kisses on your palm.

“So, started with me in the foyer putting my shoes on before I left the house. I ended up walking for a long time, until I found myself in a forest. There were faeries flying all around, gnomes mining rocks, leprechauns protecting pots of gold… It was fascinating. It felt like I was walking for hours, until I finally made it to a stream, where I found a wolf. And it was like this wolf and I just…knew each other. It laid down on the grass and I laid down as well, propping my head on him, like it was the fluffiest pillow. Kinda like we do sometimes at home when we’re cold, you know?”

Chris just hummed in confirmation, dragging his lips from your palm to your wrist, where he also pressed a few lingering kisses.

“Knowing what I know now, I’d like to think that wolf was you…” You continued, placing a hand on his chest. He was so warm and his heart was beating so fast–faster than usual… “Like it was you meeting me in my dreams before we even knew what we’d mean to each other”.

“That’s…literally so cute, baby”, Chris mumbled against the skin of your wrist, before he finally pulled it towards his chest, bringing it close to your other hand.

“You’re the wolf of my dreams, Christopher”.

Chris giggled a bit, averting your gaze and biting his lip, looking incredibly adorable once a rosy flush started spreading on his cheeks. You couldn’t help but giggle with him, leaning in to press a brief, lingering kiss on his lips.

“So…Did I miss anything while I was gone?” You asked as soon as you pulled back from the kiss, and Chris sighed, bracing himself for what he was about to tell you.

Apparently, when Changbin left you and his girlfriend in his flat, he’d gone to Chris, knowing he’d be having a bad time. They fought, or, at least, Chris was trying to pick a fight. He seemed to be embarrassed about it now, but he was grateful that Changbin dropped by to check on him regardless, it did help him calm down a bit.

The rest of the pack clearly knew something was wrong, but no one brought it up to Chris, which he was kind of grateful for, but also annoyed by. ‘If they don’t talk to me, it means they’re talking to each other behind my back, which means they were probably feeding all these crazy theories in their heads, you know how the kids are…’

Nothing really out of the ordinary happened besides that. Felix and Hyunjin’s partner dropped by, and apparently also gave Chris a pep talk. ‘Let’s talk alpha to alpha, they said’, Chris chuckled, recalling how she was somehow trying to help him reason his feelings, but scolding him at the same time because he’d hurt you.

You honestly weren’t sure how long you spent talking to Chris, and you honestly didn’t care much, either. You just loved to listen to him speak, and just the mere sound of his voice and his warmth all around you was immensely soothing. It all made your eyes droop and your head sink further into your pillow.

“Baby…” Chris mumbled against your hair after a few moments of silence, and you simply hummed to let him know he had your attention. “I’d like to…feel you. If you’re fine with that”.

Your boyfriend was a big fan of physical contact, especially skin-to-skin contact, which was very convenient for you, considering you also loved to feel him against you at any given moment. So you pulled yourself away from him, pulling your t-shirt over your head and throwing it somewhere by the end of the bed to quickly snuggle back within Chris’ arms.

As soon as you tucked your head under his chin, and your skin made contact with his, Chris sighed. A sigh of relief that perfectly matched your own, followed by a sleepy murmur of ‘That’s more like it. Love you…’

With your boyfriend’s arm under your neck, curled around your shoulders while the other hugged your waist to keep you tight against him, with your legs intertwined as comfortably as you could, laying close to each other on your much too small bed, you finally let Chris’ body heat and overall presence lull you to sleep.

The second you woke up the next morning and felt your boyfriend’s warmth against your back and his strong arm around your waist, you truly felt at ease. You had noticed it was hard for you to sleep without him there, but you hadn’t fully grasped just how much until now.

Taking his hand in yours, you brought it close to your face so you could leisurely press kisses on his fingertips and his palm. It was crazy how much you’d missed Chris in such a short amount of time, but here you were, feeling as if it’d been weeks. It honestly puzzled you a bit, but you couldn’t think too much about it, not when the soft presses of your lips on your boyfriend’s hand seemed to have woken him up.

“Morning…” He mumbled, shuffling a bit to mould his body completely against yours.

“Morning, baby”, you mumbled back, letting go of Chris’ hand when he started to move it away from your face so he could rest it on your belly.

“What time is it?” Chris nuzzled his face on your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but chuckle and squirm a little when his hair tickled your skin with the movement.

“Dunno”, the blackout drapes over your windows made it so you truly had no idea what time it was, and you hadn’t even checked your phone since you texted your mother last night to let her know Chris was here. You honestly didn’t even know where you left it.

Chris just hummed, holding your belly a bit tighter and starting to leave kisses on the skin of your shoulder, effectively kickstarting the butterflies in your stomach, and prompting the next words to come out of your mouth.

“Is it too soon to have makeup sex?”

You heard Chris giggle behind you as soon as you asked the question, and the sound alone made you smile.

“You know if it’s up to me, it’s never too soon for any type of sex”, Chris pressed his crotch further against your ass, letting you feel just how hard he already was. “But I don’t wanna be disrespectful”.

“To whom?” You chuckled, laying your hand on top of his on your tummy.

“To you, silly”, he pressed a kiss on your shoulder. “And your mum. This is her house, after all”.

You couldn’t help but scoff at that. “So that time we came over for her bimonthly barbeque and you sat me on the bathroom counter to eat me out wasn’t disrespectful?”

“That was different!” Chris laughed, nuzzling your shoulder.

You turned in his hold so you could lay face to face next to him. “Mhm, tell me how?”

As soon as he looked at you, Chris went serious. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but he didn’t say anything. Not until he cupped your cheeks and squished them together with his palms.

“Holy shit. You’re so cute”, you felt heat pool on your cheeks as soon as the words left his mouth. He squished your cheeks further, forcing a pout to form on your lips. “How’d I get so lucky, huh?”

“Babe…” You whined, suddenly feeling bashful under his sparkly gaze.

In an instant, Chris’ lips were on you. He pressed kisses all over your face, making you giggle and squirm a bit in his hold. “God, I don’t wanna wake up without you next to me ever again. I’m so fucked”.

“Hopefully you won’t have to”, you mumbled, melting as soon as your boyfriend pressed a kiss to your lips.

“Hopefully not”, he said simply, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you flush to him.

Chris moved, taking you with him for you to lay on top of him. You shuffled a bit, straddling his hips to lay more comfortably when his lips attached to your neck, kissing and nibbling on your pulse point.

His hands roaming your back, your sides, your ass, squeezing your soft flesh anytime he could, his lips and his tongue on your neck, his unmistakable scent, everything combined had shivers running up and down your spine and butterflies flying freely in your belly. Without even thinking twice about it, you rolled your hips, making Chris groan with the pressure of your centre against his length, and he detached his mouth from your skin immediately.

“Fuck…Yeah. Yeah, we can have makeup sex. Let’s have all the sex. Every sex”, his rambling made you laugh, and you pressed a brief kiss on his forehead before you moved.

Shuffling further down his body, you attached your lips to Chris’ neck. Right now, you felt like you needed to kiss him. Anywhere and everywhere. You wanted to feel his heated skin under your lips, your hands, your body…You just wanted to feel him, so you didn’t hold back.

Slowly, leisurely, you took your time savouring Chris’ body, leaving trails of kisses from his neck, to his chest, his stomach, his tummy…All as he sighed and hummed contently, as he buried his fingers in your hair when you stopped at the waistband of his shorts, focusing on the barely perceptible freckles that littered his skin, making sure not to leave a single one unkissed.

“Can I take these off?” You mumbled, hooking your fingers under the waistband of his shorts.

Chris just hummed, taking them off himself and throwing them right where your t-shirt had landed last night. As you suspected, he wasn’t even wearing underwear.

“You drove all the way here just in your shorts?” You couldn’t help but chuckle, settling yourself between his legs, running your hands up and down his thighs.

“‘Course I did. Had no time to put on an extra item of clothing when the prettiest girl told me I could come over”, Chris grinned at you, and you grinned back, shaking your head from side to side a bit, mumbling an ‘Unbelievable…’

The grin disappeared from Chris’ face the moment you took him in your hand, teasing him with soft strokes that instead had him closing his eyes and sighing. Your boyfriend loved to have his way with you, and you loved letting him get away with it. But, sometimes, you also wanted your fun, and he was more than ready to let you indulge.

You continued your motions, not only the motions of your hand, but the previous motions of your lips, pressing kisses on any freckle on his tummy, and even on his length, simply relishing the taste of his skin. Until you just couldn’t wait any longer, until you couldn’t stop yourself from licking a long stripe from the base of his cock all the way to his head, all so you could finally take him in your mouth.

Chris swore under his breath, bringing a hand to the back of your head, not really moving you, simply caressing your hair, taking in the sight of his length going in and out of your mouth, mumbling. “You’re always pretty, but you certainly look even prettier with my cock in your mouth, baby…”

You just hummed in response, ignoring the heat you felt spread on your face. Whether that heat was caused by the dirty words constantly falling from your boyfriend’s lips, or by the way you were borderline choking on him and slurping him up, you weren’t too sure.

You spent a while just working Chris’ length, sucking him off, swallowing every bit of pre-cum that spilled from his tip, jerking the rest of his shaft you couldn’t fit in your mouth. You did it until the feeling of emptiness in your core was just too much to bear. It truly hadn’t been that long, three days wasn’t even the longest you’d ever spent without having sex with Chris, but considering the circumstances, you figured your body just missed him.

With a lewd pop, you let him fall from your mouth, all so you could climb your way back up to sit on his lap and kiss him. Burying your fingers in his hair, you pulled him as close to you as you could, just as Chris’ fingers dug on your soft sides, whimpering a bit at the feel of his tongue against yours, of his lips on your own.

“Gimme some room, pretty. Hm?” Chris mumbled against your lips, right before biting on your lower lip and tugging it, just as he brought a hand between your bodies.

So you complied, lifting your hips just a bit, enough for him to bring two fingers to your entrance. Chris wasted no time, he spread your essence all over, getting his fingers drenched before he finally stuffed those two fingers within your warmth.

A quiet whimper left your mouth as soon as he started moving his fingers, as soon as he started massaging the utmost sensitive areas within your walls, stretching you open in the process. The slow, calculated movements of his fingers were a complete contrast to the borderline desperate way he was kissing you. You were starting to feel lightheaded, breathless, and you were sure your heart was close to bursting out of your chest.

Detaching your lips from his, you attached them to his cheek, trying to catch your breath. You couldn’t help but whine when Chris removed his fingers from your core. The sight of him bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean, with his eyebrows pulled together in bliss, had you clenching around air, had you craving his warmth, too.

So you brought your hand between your bodies, taking a hold of your boyfriend’s length and lining him with your entrance right as you kissed him again.

“Love, wait…” Chris pulled away from your lips, just before you took him inside of you. “Need to stretch you more first”.

You just shook your head, leaning in to press a brief kiss on his cheekbone. “Can’t wait that long”.

“Baby…” Chris was giving you his Worried Tone, and you appreciated it, you really did, but you also needed to have him inside you now or you were sure you’d cry.

You pressed a few more kisses on his cheeks, mumbling. “I can take it…Need you. Now”.

“Fuck, you’re playing dirty…” Chris chuckled. His need to give you what you wanted and his instinct to make sure you didn’t get hurt were clearly at odds with each other here, but you knew very well what your limits were. “Fine, but go slow. Hm?”

“Mhm…” You placed a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth before you took him in your hand and lined him with your entrance again.

With a deep breath, you finally started to lower yourself on Chris’ lap, taking him in one centimetre at a time.

Funny thing, how Chris asked you to go slow, as if you had any semblance of control whatsoever, as if he wasn’t holding your hips tightly to make sure you did go slow. Sure, it was a bit more difficult than usual, but you were already so used to your boyfriend’s body it wasn’t particularly painful, just a bit of tighter fit.

As soon as you were fully sat on his cock, you sighed, almost relieved that you were finally stuffed full, just as Chris swore under his breath. You moved a hand from where it’d been resting against his chest to his cheek instead, and he closed his eyes, turning his head to place a kiss on your palm.

“So warm…” He mumbled against the skin of your palm, and he removed one of his hands from your hips to bring it to yours on his face, cradling it so he could press kisses on your wrist. The soft drag of his lips over the sensitive skin further agitated those butterflies in your belly.

Leaning into him, you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in the crook of his neck, just as one of his arms circled your waist and his hand found its way into your hair, cradling the back of your neck, holding you close once you finally started to move.

“You know you’re my dream girl, right?” Chris whispered in your ear, chuckling when you involuntarily clenched around him.

Pressing soft kisses on his neck, you hummed. “I know. But I love hearing it anyway”.

“I know you do…I can feel it”, he moved his hand from where it was laying around your waist to grope one of your buttcheeks instead.

Chris let you keep the slow bounce of your hips, clearly in no rush to do anything other than fondle your soft flesh, than enjoying your body and your kisses and your overall attention. You could feel his body getting warmer, his chest heaving, and the low hums and sighs that left his lips under your movements had your mind hazing a bit.

“I’m so…happy”, you mumbled against his skin, pressing kisses up his neck until you found his cheek, leaving a lingering kiss there. “Happy that you’re mine”.

Chris’ hand that was cradling your head finally moved, finding your other buttcheek. He held you tightly, almost tight enough to bruise, and you knew your little time of control was over. “Love to be yours…Love that you’re mine…”

Finding your lips, Chris kissed you deeply, holding you with a firm grip. He moved you up and down his cock however he pleased, with no difficulty. His tongue in your mouth, pushing against yours, felt like the tastiest dessert you’d ever had, coupled with the feel of him going in and out of you, hitting all your sweetest spots, was quickly clouding your mind, filling it with only your loving boyfriend, the delicious drag of his cock against your walls, and the feeling of his hands on your flesh.

“You know…” Chris moved away from your mouth, attaching his lips to your neck instead to suck a mark on it, making you squirm a little. “Sometimes…It feels like you were made for me…” His hold on your bum tightened, and the pace in which he was bouncing you up and down his cock increased just the tiniest bit.

“Your tight cunt, your fat ass, your soft tits, your thick thighs…” Every word that came out of his mouth had you whimpering, had you whining softly close to his ear. Threading your fingers through his hair, you held him tightly, relishing his wet, sloppy kisses all over your neck and chest. “But not just that…”

Kissing up your neck, Chris found your earlobe, lightly sucking and licking on it. “You’re so kind, smart…so caring, and strong willed…”

Before you knew it, you were rolling, and the tiniest of squeaks left your lips once Chris flipped you both over so he was now on top of you. There were few things in this world you enjoyed more than your boyfriend’s weight on you. It always filled you with a pleasant mix of comfort and arousal. The way he moved your thighs so you could wrap your legs around his torso, to lock one ankle over the other so you could keep him there as he continued to drill into you, it all was quickly filling you with a sense of fullness quite like never before.

His mouth claimed yours, kissing you with want, all while his hips slowly rocked back and forth to fill you with all of him time and time again. You truly felt like your heart was going to leap out of your chest, like it was skipping every other beat.

With one of his arms under your neck and the other around your lower back to tilt you however he wanted, you simply let yourself enjoy the feeling of him all around you, in you, dragging your hands up and down his back, feeling each dip and curve of his muscles, relishing his warmth, his body heat.

“I’m just…” Chris murmured between kisses. “Madly in love with you…”

Your heart swelled in your chest, now full of just Chris. You could only vaguely hear the whines and quiet moans that left your mouth with each thrust, with each word coming out of your boyfriend’s kiss-bitten lips, and your nails dug on his back as he increased his pace.

“I love you…” You simply mumbled back, holding tight onto him, swallowing the almost desperate moan that came out of his lips as soon as your words registered in his brain.

“Say it again”, Chris buried his face in the crook of your neck, bringing a hand between your bodies so he could start rubbing circles on your clit.

The slow movement of his hips was now long gone. His pace grew faster, the headboard started to thump against the wall, a sound you weren’t really used to–unlike your bed at home, this one was most certainly not werewolf-proof. It would’ve distracted you, had Chris not increased the intensity of his thrusts, drilling into you as hard as you knew he could, making you see stars and making you lose your sense of reality.

It took you a moment to comply, too lost in the feeling of it all. “I…I love you”.

“Again”, his voice was a bit strained, but you could barely register it with the unrelenting pace of his fingers on that sensitive bud between your legs, with the feel of him splitting you open time and time again.

“Love you, Chris. I’m–”

With one final moan of his name, you finally felt your release wash over you, dragging warmth all throughout your body. You bit on his shoulder to ground yourself, your nails dug on his back, and the blissed-out sounds coming out of your boyfriend’s mouth joined the ringing that had started in your ears.

“Fuck, fuck…Love you…so much…” Burying himself as deep as he could, Chris finally stilled, filling you up, pumping you full of his release, of everything he had to give.

As you came down from your high, you could vaguely feel his rumble against your chest, and even in your post orgasmic, hazy state you couldn’t help but smile, holding tightly onto him, just as he held onto you, as he pressed soft, tender kisses on your neck. Chris truly never rumbled often, but when he did, it was because he was either falling into a more animalistic state, or because he was particularly vulnerable, and as you held him, you knew the reason was the latter.

When he pulled away from your neck to finally press a loving kiss on your lips, you couldn’t help but notice the blush on his face and his ears. You simply brushed your nose against his, relishing the small giggle that left his lips when you did.

“Be right back”, Chris tried to pull himself away from your embrace, but you held him tightly in place, keeping your limbs firmly around him. Realistically, he was stronger than you, and he could pull you off of his body easily, but he didn’t, he simply regarded you with a curious–and maybe a bit confused–look.

You looked him in the eyes for a bit, until you unwrapped your arms from around his neck to instead cradle his face in your hands, softly stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “I’m so, so in love with you. Truly”.

His flush deepened, just as the widest smile spread on his lips, making his eyes disappear into crescents and his dimples pop on his cheeks. With one more kiss on his lips, you finally let go of him. Chris simply left the comfort of your bed, and he made his way to your dresser, so he could grab a random towel from one of the drawers.

He cleaned you up thoroughly, wiping the fluids leaking from your ruined core, all as he smothered your face with kisses, making your heart flutter in your chest and your cheeks heat up.

As soon as he was done he dumped the towel on the floor, tucking you and himself back under the covers, uncaring of the soiled sheets as he held you close to his body, stroking your back, your thighs, your bum…

“Sorry if I didn’t let you keep the pace for long…” Chris mumbled against your hair, sounding just as sleepy as you felt, even when it was early in the day. You figured the sleepless nights were catching up to you both.

Leaving a quick peck on his chest, you snuggled closer. “It’s okay, darling. You know I love when you manhandle me”.

“Don’t you mean wolf-handle you?” Chris giggled, mostly to himself, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Any-handle me”, you confirmed, draping your leg over his torso and pulling him further into you, pressing yourself fully to his heated skin. “Just love to feel you…”

“Mm…Me too”, he simply caressed your back, keeping you close.

You both kept silent for a while, simply basking in your love and the lingering feeling of your high.

“If we ever fight again…I’ll try my best not to run away”, you mumbled, tracing mindless shapes on his chest.

Chris took a deep breath, and you felt his chest rise and fall under your head. “I understand why you do it. If it helps you, then I won’t stop you”.

“But…it hurts you, baby”.

“I manage…” He brought a hand to your head, softly caressing your hair.

You pulled yourself away from his hold, propped yourself up on an elbow, and looked him right in the eyes. “Chris…Why didn’t you tell me you had imprinted on me?”

Chris’ whole body tensed as soon as you asked the question, and you saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “How’d you–”

“Seungmin sent me some texts explaining…Please don’t be mad at him, he was just worried about you”, you added that last sentence as soon as you saw Chris’ gaze harden, and he pressed his fingers on his eye sockets, just as he let out a frustrated sigh.

“‘Course Seungmin told you…” He mumbled. When he finally removed his hands from his face, his eyes found yours, looking incredibly vulnerable. “Pretty, listen…”

Chris sat down on the bed, and you followed right after, crossing your legs, and listening intently to what he wanted to say. “I didn’t tell you anything about imprinting in general because I just knew that the second you found out about it you’d know I had imprinted on you. There was just no way for you not to know when it’s so painfully obvious that my feelings for you run much deeper than a regular guy’s would…It’s a lot to take in, and it’s a level of pressure I didn’t want to put on you”.

Taking your hand in his, he gave it a squeeze. “I don’t want you to…feel like you have to stay with me because of all this mystical bullshit inside of me. You should be able to put space between us if you need it, to do things you want to do even if they go against what I say…And, most importantly, you should be able to leave if you ever want to…”

You felt your heart ache with that last statement. Somehow, the thought of leaving him, of truly leaving, was unbearable even to you. Sure, people fell out of love often, it wasn’t like it couldn’t happen, but you figured most people didn’t have a supernatural connection with their partner.

“Baby…” You squeezed Chris’ hand, bringing his attention to your eyes. “These couple of days without you have felt like pure torture. I know it sounds silly, considering one, I was the one who left, and two, we’ve been physically apart for long periods of time several times before, but never after an argument. It’s manageable in normal circumstances, but if we’ve fought, or if we don’t speak, you need to know it’s painful for me, too”.

Chris’ eyes widened, like you were breaking inconceivable news to him. He cupped your cheek with his free hand, keeping you close. “What?”

“I’ve never felt anything like this…Like a piece of me had been ripped out of my body. I didn’t understand why, until I read those texts from Seungmin this morning…” You brought your hand to rest on top of his on your face, licking your lips. “Seems like that mystical bullshit is inside me, too, baby. Which, I suppose, makes sense, if your wolf is somehow connected to me…”

“Shit, pretty, I–” You could see it in his eyes, Christopher’s signature Guilty Look. The one he had whenever he was beating himself up. You truly loved him deeply, but, sometimes, you felt like you wanted to murder him for taking the blame for things that weren’t his fault.

“Nuh-uh”, you cupped his cheeks, squishing them together. “Don’t give me the ‘guilty dog’ eyes. Not with this”.

“But–”

Before he could continue, you moved. Sitting on his lap, still cradling his face in your hands, but with less pressure, you simply looked him in the eyes. “Now, you’re gonna be all like ‘ooohh, I dragged you into this’, ‘ooohh, it’s my fault’, ‘ooohh, I didn’t mean to’. Please don’t do that”.

A pout made its way onto your lips, and you saw Chris’ form relax a bit, just as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“What are you gonna do about it now? Take what’s mine away from me? No way”, you moved your hands from his cheeks to his hair, burying your fingers in the soft strands, holding him tightly. “The universe has made you for me, too, babe. I wholeheartedly believe this is a mutual thing”.

Chris looked at you for a brief moment, taking you in. His eyes jumped all over your face, and, in an instant, he was scoffing, and a bright smile spread on his lips. “God, I truly am so fucked. So sickly in love with you, baby. You shouldn’t have said that, I’m gonna be even more insufferable after this”.

“I wouldn’t have you any other way”, you mumbled, right before you pulled him in for a kiss.

Chris just hugged you tighter, and he dropped back on the bed, bringing you down with him, giggling. You just giggled in response, kissing him as many times as you could, relishing his warmth, his presence, and his love.

After a while, when your fit of giggles died down, when you were just cuddling again, holding each other close, Chris tensed under you. “Shouldn’t we take Joaquín on a walk?” His eyes widened, and he suddenly held your waist tightly. “Shit, baby, do you think your mum came back?”

You just hummed, bracing yourself on his chest to sit on his lap. “Let’s hope she didn’t. Not like I particularly care, but if she did come back already, she probably heard you railing me. There is just no way she didn’t. You almost made a hole on the wall with how much this bed was moving”.

“Oh my God…” Chris groaned, covering his face in his hands, and you smiled as you saw his ears grow red. “I can’t believe I let you seduce me!”

“Oh, please. As if you needed me to do anything for you to feel seduced”, you laughed, pulling his hands away from his face, uncovering his flushed cheeks and the pout on his lips.

You tried your best to kiss that pout off of his face, but he was still grumbling, grumpy at the thought that he’d somehow disrespected your mother’s home. Whatever that meant.

“C’mon, baby”, you said eventually, pressing one last, loud kiss on his lips. “Let’s find out if you’re working yourself up over nothing, or if death by embarrassment is a real thing”.

Chris sighed, but he followed you when you stood up from the bed to get dressed, practically holding his breath in anticipation when you finally opened the door to leave your room.

Tagging: @222wonnie · @staaa96 · @oiminho · @straylightdream · @starshine-moon · @biribarabiribbaem · @100layersofdaddyissues · @dearalice · @alexis-reads-fics · @xcookiemonsteer · @knowleeknow · @chanlovesme · @liminaldaydream · @sstarryreads · @svngiem · @notastraykid · @princelingperfect · @violetpenguinkris · @leedunno · @peepeepoopooharrie · @aestheticsluut · @skzhomiehopper · @cessixja · @mimzibee · @hipsdofangirl · @djeniryuu · @floatingcoffecup · @hakunaamaatittiessss · @minnysproutgriffinteddy · @moonmooncr · @waiting-for-the-barbarians · @phobia0325 · @leebitsimpracha · @changbinmwah · @viviixlyy · @casualenthusiastexpert · @kileidoscope · @kpop-bbdoll · @crispytigerearthquake · @meloncremesoda · @amaranth-writing

in purple: can’t be tagged. If you want to be removed (or if i tagged you incorrectly) from the list just PM me. If you want to be added fill in this form~

Constructive feedback (or even keysmashes, really) is always welcome :) feel free to leave your comments in the caption/tags when you reblog, or by sending me an ask !

General Masterlist Chris’ WereRoomies Instalments: It’s Cold Out · Rut · Alpha Dog · It’s Warm In · Love is Easy · Afraid to Lose You. For extra drabbles, check out the series masterlist.

768 notes · View notes

saey707 · 5 months

Note

I’m starving for some hearsteel Yone x reader headcanons😭🙏 literally anything you have I will gobble up PLEASE😭😭😭 either that or poly heartsteel x reader🤭

✿ Prompt: Yone and you take care of yourselves ✿

♡ champion focus: yone ♡ tw: none! ♡ Gender-neutral reader

Author’s Note: Here's some fun self-care headcanons with Yone, arcade! (૭ ｡•̀ ᵕ •́｡ )૭ I really love writing dynamics with Yone because he's so old man, and I think he values the little things with you! Enjoy!

Yone was a very busy man, and you knew that very well. While date nights may be far too few during the touring season and recording days in the studio, you didn't mind! You can make a romantic date out of midnight ramen runs and sleepy nights, cuddling up on the studio couch while you both work.

You get a lot of perks dating Yone... Yeah, totally...! For one, you get a smoking hot older boyfriend who lacks sleep and healthy water-drinking habits! Not only that, but you also get an all-access pass to his creative approach and tendencies to lecture his bandmates! I mean, who doesn't want to hear all the stress your boyfriend has trying to keep his friends under control!

Admittedly, most days, it becomes too much, even for you. But you love Yone and wouldn't change a single thing about him. He was hardworking, loyal, giving... Everything and all you could ever ask from a partner. How could you ever think to leave him, especially knowing if you weren't there to balance him out he would drown?

On days when you particularly noticed how stressed Yone is, you were always sure to take extra care of him. Usually, it involves wrapping him up in a blanket, leaving a bowl of fruit at his desk, or even making him a plain-black cold brew. And you most definitely saw no harm in sitting in silence beside him, occasionally raising your fork to his lips so he could have a bite of a hot meal.

But the one thing Yone valued most was when you reassured him with gentle praises and reminders, smothering him with butterfly kisses and hugs.

"I admit, I am... A bit more stressed than usual. I know he's done this before. But... it just hurts. It hurts seeing Kayn being called out because of a stupid mistake." Yone grumbled, pushing his cheek against the side of your head while you cradled him from behind. "I know... But we're in this together. You don't have to deal with all of this yourself, Yone. We can turn things around... Kayn will be just fine, trust me."

"I know that... And I appreciate it. Trust me. When all of this blows over, I'll take you somewhere nice. Somewhere where it's just the two of us." "You don't have to do that, Yone. I'm happy just being here with you." You interjected, shifting to sit beside him, leaning against his shoulder. He shut his eyes, dropping his head atop of yours. "I know I don't, but I want to... We deserve it."

It's trying times like this when Yone begins to value self-care. After spending days neglecting his personal needs? Yeah, he definitely needed some time for himself... And you.

He doesn't do it only for himself, but for you too. He knows sometimes the weight of his job can stress you out, so he's always sure to treat you well during these times.

For him, self-care is a means of relaxation, but at the same time, it also truly reflects his older age. He doesn't like going out often if he doesn't need to. He doesn't enjoy drinking, partying, or trying completely unfamiliar things.

This certainly doesn't stop you from spending all the time you can with him, and you take immense pleasure in participating in relaxation sessions with him! In fact, you think it's good for you.

He's a sucker for using the internet as a means of self-care! He'll watch J-Dramas on his iPad (and fall asleep watching them...).

Definitely, Yone is the type to splurge a bit on his retail therapy, especially if it means he can find a new matching outfit or necklace for the both of you! ...Or even a nice skirt. Would he look good in a patterned print?

But Yone tends to start his mornings digitally detoxing, allotting time for himself to make a smoothie bowl, meditate, and settle into his day.

"You're laughing an awful lot..." He mumbled, startled when he opened his eyes. You were inches away from his face and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

"Sorry~ You're just so cute with your eyes closed!" "Oh? You flatter me..." His cheeks were flushed pink, only transforming into a steamy red when you dropped yourself into his lap.

You tilted your head up, placing a kiss on his chin. "Are we done yet?" "You're cute... But no. We still have time on the clock." He informed you, snickering when you let out a frustrated groan. "But we've been doing this for 20 minutes!" you whined, catching your boyfriend's wrists as he raked his fingers through your hair.

"Well, if you finish off these last ten minutes with me, I'll let you braid my hair." He wrapped his arms around you, permitting you just enough time to contemplate his offer, "How does that sound~ Hm?" "... Pretty good, actually! Okay!"

He usually doesn't trust anyone touching his hair, but he can make an exception for you! He knows you'll be gentle. Besides, it's kind of relaxing... And it gives him time to figure out where he should order from. Hopefully, you don't mind eating Japanese food for lunch for the fourth time this week!

When it's time to finally eat, Yone is dedicated, engaged in deep conversations with you, and hungry to learn more about you. And sometimes, you'll get lucky enough to catch him subtly flirting with you... Just try not to point it out!

At the end of your long, relaxing day, the both of you apply face masks on each other, your thumbs grazing against his cheeks. You always envied how smooth his face was... How perfect his skin was in general. Hell, some days you felt like everything about Yone was perfect...

And falling asleep in each other's arms only confirmed how perfect your relationship could be despite all the stress the two of you endure.

#saeybaewrites #request #headcanons #heartsteel #heartsteel yone #yone #heartsteel yone x reader #heartsteel x reader #yone lol #x reader #yone lol x reader #yone league of legends #lol x reader #yone league of legends x reader #league of legends x reader

278 notes · View notes

comicaurora · 1 year

Text

I've noticed a bit of a language-barrier and am very curious, so-

#polls

906 notes · View notes

furst1ded · 1 month

Text

Thoughts on Shipping Alastor from an AroAce person

(this entire thing is copy and pasted excerpts from a Discord rant so if the grammar is funky, that's why, I just felt like giving my 2 cents on the topic)

Aroace people can still participate in romantic and sexual interactions. All being aro/ace/aroace means is you don't feel romantic/sexual attraction upon seeing other people. You can feel it later on or in waves or could never feel that attraction but still can participate and love others in a fulfilling way. Some aroace people are fine performing intimacy onto others but dislike reciprocation, others are the opposite where they're fine receiving but not giving. It's a spectrum.

The nuances of asexuality and aromanticism aside, you can be in a relationship without being in a relationship. Platonic relationships beyond friendship are a thing (QPRs for example). But like, I get it. Not everyone who ships Alastor keeps it confined to a QPR. And his character seems pretty sex-repulsed and romance-averse. But here's the other thing. He's fictional. As long as his character remains aroace in canon, fans taking the silly radio man and making him kiss the devil isn't taking away from aroace representation.

This next bit is coming from me as an AroAce person myself. I ship Alastor. I write/read him kissing people and fucking and acting romantic. And guess what? It's related to expressing my sexuality. Alastor is one of my favorite characters in anything ever and I love that there's a character that represents a facet of myself in a popular media. I relate to him so goddamn much and that's why I ship him. He's a fictional character I like that I project onto, so I use him as a way to navigate and explore romantic/sexual relationships that I'm never going to participate in myself. He's not real so I just puppet him around to live through vicariously in the scenarios I don't want to be a part of myself but find super interesting. It's not anything new, I do the same with my own characters in the stories I write them in, it's part of storytelling, I just use him for a specific type of story for a specfic part of myself.

It's not like we're hurting anybody by shipping him. We're not drastically effecting canon and making him an alloromantic. I've seen plenty of fics that ship him that either make it a QPR or they thoroughly explore the nuances of his asexuality and what subtype of sexuality he is and how he navigates it and I love those fics because they speak to me on a spiritual level. Grayromantic Alastor, demisexual alastor, sex-repulsed but romance-favorable Alastor, sex-repulsed and romance-averse Alastor in a one-sided ship fic, etc they're all so important to me because it helps me live out my own sexuality and romantic orientation and explore myself.

I get it. Not everyone is respectful. Not everyone feels the way I do and use characters in this way. It can suck seeing people just ignore his sexuality when asexuals and aromantics don't get much in terms of screen-time. But you can't control everybody and what work they put out. And trying to censor stuff like that does more harm than good. I just explained why fics involving Alastor are so important to me. They normalize QPRs and aroaces being in relationships. That's probably what pisses me off the fucking most. If we're not allowed to write about aroaces being in relationships or romantic/sexual situations, you put aroaces into a box. A box where every aroace is perceived as sexless and loveless, which just isn't true. A box where aroaces are prudes or infants who can't handle hearing the word "sex". It's just so frustrating. You can be mad at fics that expressly rewrite or stomp on his sexuality, sure. You can't stop them, but you can disapprove of them. But let the rest of us have our fun making the literal devil and TV head man have the hots for a man whose teeth are yellower than the sun, Jesus Christ.

TL;DR: asexuality is a spectrum, I'm aroace and use shipping as a way to explore and express myself and I know I'm not the only one, trying to suppress works where an Aroace character is seen participating in romance or sex can actually be harmful in that it promotes only one idea of what being aroace is, and at the end of the day the character I'm talking about doesn't even exist.

#sorry to flood the aro and ace tags with more hazbin stuff but I feel like what I said can be important to the community outside of hazbin #asexual representation #asexual #aromantic #aromantic asexual #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel #radioapple #radiosilence #radiostatic #one sided radiostatic

102 notes · View notes

syd-djarin · 6 months

Text

Sugar, Spice & Please Fuck Me Nice (neighbor!joel AU)

chapter two: sex and candy

*18+ minors DNI*

tags: mentions of anxiety, religious shame/guilt, reader being insecure, mentions of (negative) past sexual experiences and partners, brief mention of alcohol consumption, v fingering, oral (f receiving) joel is a cunnilinguist, 2000’s nostalgia, mentions of the patriarchy (booooo) squirting (sue me), Joel-Land™️™️™️

reader has hair that she fidgets with, "grows warm" /"cheeks burning" but not necessarily blushing, with embarrassment - minor edits to make this more inclusive for my readers <3

word count: ~4.5k

Author/s notes: Sorry it took longer to get ch. 2 out than I anticipated. I've had a lot going on in my personal life (I got a new job!) But I promise it won't be as long for ch. 3 hehe. this is a lengthy chapter, hope y'all enjoy!!

had to name reader's bestie after my dear friend @katiexpunk <3 thanks for always letting me run ideas by you and being a peach in general.

and thank you to @softiedingo for being a beta reader as well <333

It has been two weeks since you introduced yourself to Joel and Sarah. You hate to admit it, but you haven’t been able to stop thinking about Joel. Your mind will stay preoccupied temporarily, then they circle back to him.

Throwing clothes in the washer? Joel.

Boiling water for pasta? Joel.

Doing the dishes? Joel.

In the shower? Yep, definitely Joel.

And this morning is no different.

You’re staring at yourself in your bathroom mirror, brushing your teeth, mind deep into Joel-Land, then your thoughts take a sharp turn - for the worst. You’re thinking about all of your past sexual encounters.

How unsatisfying and selfish your past partners were. You hadn’t been romantically involved with any of your past partners, all of them casual-no-strings-attached type of arrangements.

Even if the sex was casual, did that mean the pleasure had to be one-sided? Of course not.

However, after each encounter you found yourself feeling disappointed, and truthfully, it made you feel…..icky. Was it religious shame? Even though you don’t participate or believe in any religion anymore, your formative years were spent in a conservative, Christian church; where sex is bad, and sin is bad. And you don’t want to be bad, because you will go to hell. You don’t even believe in hell, yet, there is a small voice in your head that still worries about eternal damnation. Jeez, I should really see a therapist about that.

Perhaps it’s the misogyny and sexism, rampant and hard-wired into society and into mind’s since the beginning of time.

Your internal theological and philosophical debate gives you a throbbing headache.

+++

It’s Friday. Halloween falls on a Tuesday this year, so most Halloween celebrations would occur this weekend.

If you were still in college, you’d most likely attend a costume party at a frat party and drink until the sun came up. These days, you don’t recover from hangovers as easily and find the anxiety spiral that follows a night of drinking to be too debilitating so you’re planning on keeping it chill this year.

You’re pouring out a bag of candy into a bowl, so candy is easily accessible for your sweet tooth cravings when you hear a strong, loud cluster of knocks at your front door.

Knock. Knock. Knock-knock.

Shaking off your initial startling from the sudden knocks, you open your front door to find Joel. He’s leaning his shoulder on the doorframe, one half of his body bears all his weight. He swiftly straightens upright again when you greet him. He looks even more handsome from the last time you saw him. He’s wearing dark wash jeans that accentuate his body in the most delectable way and a black t-shirt with a faded MILLER CONSTRUCTION graphic that is just barely legible.

You have the urge to steal the well-worn shirt so you can sleep in it, relish his scent, and let it become a metaphorical embrace of Joel.

Fuck, I really am down bad, you internally scold yourself to come back to the present moment.

“Joel! Ho-how are you?” you manage to creak out through nerves and surprise.

His beautiful, dark brown eyes are staring right into yours. His eyes could compel you to do anything.

“I’m doin’ alright, you?” The word ‘alright’ is drawn out making it sound like “awllll-right”

“Can’t complain. Y’all settling in okay?” tilting your head unconsciously, as if to convey genuinity.

“Oh yeah, ‘s a nice neighborhood. Sarah seems to be enjoyin’ her new school, I was a lil worried she’d have a hard time but she’s a smart kid and gets along with pretty much everyone. Awful silly of me to worry in the first place…” he’s rambling, hands moving at the same pace as his speech.

You find his rambling to be cute, it’s a bit of a juxtaposition from his strong, demanding presence.

Joel realizes he’s nervous after he concludes his tangent. When’s the last time he felt nervous around women? Especially a sweet, non-threatening woman like you?

“Anywho, I came over to uh- ask you somethin’... Sarah liked your cookies so much she wants to learn how to make them herself and was wondering if you’d teach her?”

“I’d love to!” You shoot him a flattered smile, learning that Sarah wanted you to teach her to bake makes your heart sing.

Joel is amazed at you. You agreed to teach a twelve year old, one who you hardly know, to bake. He shouldn’t be surprised given your sweet demeanor and generous heart, but he’s in awe of you.

“You sure? I mean, you obviously don’t have to if you don’t want—”

“Joel, I’d be honored to. Send her over in an hour,” you cut him off, hoping to convey your delight in teaching someone else to bake, the same way your grandma did for you.

Joel can’t stop the shit-eating grin that appears on his face.

“Sounds good. I’ll send her your way, sweetheart,” he lingers just for a moment to watch your reaction to the nickname, the one he’s used twice.

You desperately try to keep your composure cool and collected, but you’ve never had a good poker face. You wear your emotions like an accessory. And right now, you are flustered. You divert your attention to the ground as if looking into his eyes would expose your every thought.

“O-okay!” You can barely stammer out a response before he is pivoting off your porch, back to his own house.

You can’t see it with his back turned to you, but Joel is smirking to himself and feeling amused at his effect on you.

+++

“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

“Yes, dad. I don’t need a chaperone to bake cookies. I’m a big girl now, remember?”

Yes, he is acutely aware that she is a big girl now. Well, not really, to him she will always be his baby girl, but that doesn’t stop her from growing up. Too fast for his liking. The idea of her becoming a teenager almost gives him a coronary. It won’t be long before she’s driving, then graduating, and college. What if she wants to attend a school in another state? Across the country?

He feels queasy at that thought, afraid that she will grow out of thinking her dad is the coolest, afraid that she doesn’t want to spend time with her old man anymore.

He wills himself to think about something else. Anything else. Inevitably his thoughts wander to you.

Joel hates to admit it, but he was hoping to join Sarah for the baking lesson. He wants an excuse to be in your radiant, sweet, beautiful presence again.

While you can’t stop thinking about him, he can’t stop thinking about you.

Driving home from work? You.

Making dinner? You.

Making his morning coffee? You.

Laying in bed? Oh, yeah. Definitely you.

Exactly one hour passes when Sarah arrives at your house. You’ve already set up in your kitchen in preparation; already pre-measured the ingredients, setting out all the necessary baking equipment and you even found a spare apron for Sarah to wear. Ya know, to give her the full experience.

“Oooh, this apron makes me feel like a professional!” Sarah exclaims after tying the strings on her designated apron.

“Well, after this, you will be.”

You can’t remember the last time you felt this much joy. Sharing a passion of yours with someone who is eager to learn from you delights your heart and soul in a way you didn’t know you needed until now.

“So first, we’ll need to combine the butter and sugar,” Sarah dumps the butter and sugar into the mixing bowl. “Great, now we want to beat the mixture until it looks fluffy.”

She is completely engrossed in watching for the desired texture, furrowing her brows together in a way that mimics Joel. You find it adorable.

“Excellent, now we are going to add in the eggs and vanilla extract.”

She follows your instructions to a T, meticulous and concentrated as if she were mixing hazardous chemicals in a lab.

“You’re doing great. Now let’s add our dry ingredients, half of it at a time.”

Her eyes light up when it’s time to fold in the chocolate chips. You both agree it’s the best part, both of you indulging in a few before adding them to the dough.

You assist Sarah in rolling the dough into little balls and placing them onto the baking sheet.

While waiting for the cookies to bake, you learn more about Sarah and Joel. She tells you about their old house, the camping trip they went on this past summer, the catchy pop songs on the radio that Joel will pretend to hate but she catches him humming the tune later, how Joel makes a big breakfast for the two of them every Sunday, a ritual they started when Sarah started school - he makes pancakes just for her.

Getting a snapshot of Joel and Sarah’s lives and their dynamic makes your mega crush on Joel that much bigger. From what Sarah has shared with you, he seems like a caring, protective yet fun dad. You’re aching to learn everything about him.

“Do you have any plans for Halloween?” Sarah asks as you’re pulling the baking sheet out of the oven.

“Oh um, I usually just hand out candy to trick-or-treaters. Nothing super exciting. What about you?”

“We always order pizza and watch a scary movie - nothing super scary though. We dress up too. Well, I dress up but dad thinks he is too cool to do that so he wears the same boring mask every year,” she has a mischievous grin on her face, concocting a plan when she asks, “do you want to come over and join us?”

On one hand you’d love nothing more than to spend more time with your new friend and Joel, but on the other hand the thought of being in the same room as Joel, in his house, makes you both anxious and aroused. Dizzy, nervous, and horny makes for an unpleasant combination.

Gaining a sliver of bravery, you swallow your apprehension and say yes.

“Sure, yeah, what time should I come over?”

“6:30. And you better wear a costume!”

+++

You’ve spent the past hour trying to put a costume together. Not making any progress, you decide to seek external advice - your best friend Katie.

You both met as freshman and have been close friends ever since, even rooming together in your first off-campus apartment. She moved to the West Coast shortly after graduation, though you still keep in touch via email and phone. You give her the scoop on Joel - him moving into the neighborhood, your gigantic crush on him, how you baked cookies with Sarah yesterday. She’s impatiently waiting for you to bone your hot neighbor. Girl, I’m waiting too.

“Do you still have that bunny costume you wore junior year?”

You rummage through your tote of seasonal clothing in search of said costume. Pulling it out, you now realize just how skimpy the costume really is. Bunny ears and a tail paired with a skin tight black bodysuit leaves virtually nothing to the imagination and definitely too much skin for this occasion.

“Dude, I can’t wear this! His daughter will be there! I can’t believe I wore this out in public. This is X-Rated,” you’re growing agitated in having no success in your costume, to the point that you are tempted to tell Sarah you came down with something so you don’t have to go.

“Okay, okay, the ears and tail are still salvageable. Do you have something besides the bodysuit?”

“Ummm…” you trail off into the phone, frantically searching for something to replace the risque bodysuit. You find a plain white baby tee amongst the sea of clothing, deciding you can pair it with your favorite jeans, the ones that accentuate your body in all the right places.

“This could work..” muttering to yourself when a devious thought pops into your head. White shirt, no bra.

“Found it! Gotta go, loveyoubye!” You hang up the call before Katie has a chance to respond, tossing your pink Razr on your bed. Your body hums in anticipation and jitters, feeling emboldened by your no bra plot.

After throwing on your outfit, you style your hair differently than you normally do. You add several coats of mascara to your lashes, sweep on some blush that complements your skin and add a sparkly lip gloss to your lips, making them appear extra plump and juicy.

You grab a bag of Halloween candy and you practically skip across the street. Reaching the front door of your new bestie and her gorgeous dad, your confidence is replaced with a furious ball of anxiety. Your heart is palpitating and you feel your stomach churn.

Would Joel think you looked stupid? Or worse, childish? Fuck, you should’ve stayed home.

Joel opening the door snaps you out of your thought spiral but only briefly, because he’s staring at you like you’ve started growing extra limbs. He looks both puzzled and pissed?

“What uh-what’re you doing here?”

His voice has a sharpness you haven’t heard before and it stings.

You have a moment of realization.

Sarah didn’t run the invitation by her dad.

You deduct that he isn’t a fan of surprises.

Before you can formulate a response, Sarah saves you from having to do so.

“You dressed up! I’m glad you came,” she squeals while wrapping her arms around your middle in an embrace.

She looks up at Joel from where she’s latched onto you and gives her confused dad an explanation.

“Dad, it’s okay, I invited her.”

That seems to alleviate his confusion. You, on the other hand, not so much. You’re internally screaming at yourself. It’s obvious to you that Joel wasn’t expecting you, and in conclusion, doesn’t want you here.

“I didn’t mean to impose, I—I’m sorry, I’ll uh— just go back home,” fighting back tears of embarrassment, looking everywhere except at Joel. You think now is a superb time to move across the country, change your name, dye your hair, somewhere far away from this humiliation.

Joel senses you’re feeling rejected in some way.

“No, no, come on in. Jus’ wasn’t expectin’ you s’all,” he gives you his most reassuring smile.

You swallow the lump of emotions in your throat.

He didn’t expect you to come over, nor did he expect you’d show up as his personal version of a Playboy bunny. He almost busted in his jeans when he could see your nipples through your very thin white t-shirt. He thinks you’re trying to kill him.

+++

You’re starting to relax once you three settle on the couch, Sarah nestling between you and Joel, Alien on the TV. Turns out, you and Joel share a love for the film. You may or may not have gotten into a heated (playful) debate about the other films in the franchise.

Joel gets an influx of trick-or-treaters, more than you usually get, residents of the neighborhood taking advantage of this opportunity to be nosy. Again.

In between costume clad visitors, you sneak glances at Joel, who looks absolutely scrumptious tonight. His hair had been damp and combed back when you arrived, his curls now almost dry and in all their glory. He’s wearing an obviously well-loved, faded Pearl Jam concert tee that clings to his arms and grey sweatpants that sit dangerously low on his hips. You wonder if all his shirts fit like that. When he stands, you can see the outline of his dick through his sweatpants. You have to manually restrain yourself from pouncing on him. You’re soaking through your panties and you’re a little worried that if you stand, the seat beneath you will be soaked too.

The scent of his body wash invades your nostrils, a heavenly mix of sandalwood and cinnamon. You’re imagining yourself running your hands through his hair and burying your nose into his neck, alternating between kissing and sucking on the skin there. You want to taste every inch of his skin, taking your time to savor him.

Joel’s stealing glances at you, too. He’s never seen someone look so sweet and seductive, divine even. You smell warm and sweet, amber and vanilla. Not the artificial, manufactured type vanilla scent, it’s like vanilla straight from the bean. When you readjust your position on the couch to get more comfortable, your tits lightly bounce, unrestrained by a bra. He has to stifle a groan, disguising it as a cough. He wonders how much they’d bounce if you were riding his cock. Your lips are absolutely sinful. Pouty and plump, juicy from the lip gloss. The bunny ears are the nail in his coffin. He’s picturing you bent over on his couch, still wearing the bunny ears as he devours your pussy from behind.

Only a quarter of the way through the movie, a few of Sarah’s friends from her old school pop in to invite her over for an impromptu sleepover to which Joel agrees to, since they no longer go to school together.

Which means you and Joel are left alone. Together. Your body is aching to close space between you and the man you’re enamored with. You don’t know that Joel is itching to do the same.

“Sarah couldn’t stop talkin’ bout yesterday. She loved hangin’ out with ya, thanks again for doin’ that.”

“She’s welcome to come over anytime. She’s a sweet kid,” you’re beaming at the fact she enjoyed baking with you. Joel notices the way your eyes gleam, overflowing with delight.

You finally have the courage to meet his eyes. The way his eyes are raking over your entire body makes your clit throb in anticipation. Your heartbeat is erratic, thumping loudly in your ears.

The energy in the room is magnetic, pulling you and Joel closer together.

“You can uh-scoot closer t’me if ya want,” he gruffs out, beckoning you to scoot closer to him. Joel wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but you make him feel like a flustered teenage boy about to kiss a girl for the first time.

You scoot closer to Joel, hoping he doesn’t notice your body trembling from nerves.

With your body flush next to his, he stretches one of his toned arms behind your head, resting it on the back of the couch. You can feel the warmth radiating from his body and it sends a shiver down your spine, straight to your aching core.

The tension in the air is palpable, both of your bodies buzzing in arousal. You’re both pretending to watch the movie in front of you, but your minds are elsewhere. He gently removes his arm from the couch and rests it across your shoulders. It’s a seemingly innocuous gesture, but its impact makes you clench around nothing, more arousal dripping into your panties.

He leans his head down close to yours, his mouth behind your ear.

“No bra? You’re a naughty lil bunny aren’t ya?” His hot breath tickles your ear, your eyes clamp shut involuntarily and you whimper. A high-pitched, whiny whimper, and Joel’s never heard anything sweeter.

He places his other large palm on your thigh, gently squeezing it. Your skin prickling in goosebumps and your nipples are hard enough to cut glass. The wetness pooled in your panties is beyond the point of comfort.

Joel presses a chaste kiss behind your ear, eliciting another whimper from you. He peppers kisses from your neck all the way to your collarbones.

“This okay?”

“Mhmmm…” You’re already so keyed up you feel hazy. Your whole body feels hot, lit aflame by Joel’s lips on your skin.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” he rasps while his hand is caressing your thigh, intentionally not too close to where you want him. Need him.

“Mhmmm,” you moan, still unable to form words, arousal taking over all of your bodily functions.

“Need you to use your words, honey.” He squeezes your thigh again.

He pulls his face back from your neck to look you in the eyes, and slows his movements on your thigh so you can tell him to back off or give him the green light to continue. You grab his hand on your thigh and squeeze it, to keep him from removing it.

“Joel, pleeease. Want it so bad. Need you so fuckin’ bad.”

You beg in the most sultry voice you can muster, emphasizing every syllable.

Your lust laden eyes and the way you mewl for him ignites something ravenous, primal, carnal in him. He hasn’t heard you cuss before and it sounds so filthy in your honeyed voice. His rock hard cock twitches in his pants.

He presses his plush lips against yours. It’s hesitant at first, but his apprehension dissipates when you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back with fervor. Joel deepens the kiss, one hand gripping your hip, the other hand splayed between your shoulder blades, pressing your body further into his. You tangle one of your hands in his luscious curls. He tastes like sweet peppermint and a hint of black coffee. You feel dizzy, tasting him, finally feeling him.

He breaks the kiss, guiding you to lie down on your back and props your head up on one of the couch armrests.

He’s looking down at you and he’s never seen anything more beautiful. You’re always pretty, effortlessly so. But seeing you underneath him, sweet and desperate for him? He’d do anything you ask him to.

“You’re the prettiest lil bunny. So fuckin’ pretty.”

You’re bashful under his gaze and his compliment, cheeks burning.

Joel notices you trying to shy away and he places a thumb under your chin, forcing you to keep looking at him.

Now you feel embarrassed for trying to shy away in the first place.

“Sorry I’m—”

“Nothing to ‘pologize for, sweetheart,” he’s caressing your chin with his thumb, alleviating all of the embarrassment from you.

“Wanna taste you. You’ve no idea how bad I’ve wanted to taste you. Needed to know if you were as sweet as your cookies.”

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe out, “yes - yes please, taste me, Joel”

He chuckles softly at your enthusiasm and promptly rids you of your jeans, making the leather of the couch feel cool to the back of your thighs.

Joel lets out a guttural moan when he sees your sky blue satin panties soaked through. He runs a finger over the damp spot, making you quiver. His touch is featherlight and it’s maddening. You’re squirming, hips lifting off the couch, chasing for more.

He obliges, running a finger over your clit with added pressure.

“Joel, please–” You’re a whiny mess under him, and he’s just getting started. He’s rubbing gentle circles over your bud, still-panty clad.

He presses a kiss on your belly, just below your navel. The tenderness makes your body shudder.

He finally removes your panties and you gasp when the cool air hits your throbbing pussy.

“Pretty girl with a pretty pussy to match.” Joel’s admiring the way your pussy is glistening for him, begging to be touched.

He runs a finger through your drenched seam, your juices dripping onto his thick digit. He licks his finger, then shoves it into his mouth so he can taste every drop. His eyes clamp shut, groaning at how you taste. You commit the image to memory, not wanting to forget how he looks and sounds when he tastes you for the first time.

“Knew you’d taste sweet. So fuckin’ sweet.”

Your brain short circuits when you realize that means he’s thought about this before. That he’s imagined how you’d taste. Picturing him fantasizing about you makes you light-headed.

Joel spreads your legs wider, giving him full access to your pussy. He dives in without warning, licking from entrance up to your clit.

“Fuck, Joel!” You hoarsely shout with one hand gripping the couch cushion and one tugging onto Joel’s messy curls. His beard scratches the sensitive skin of your pussy as you grind your hips into his mouth, desperate for release.

You see stars while he expertly alternates between flicking his tongue and sucking on your clit. He’s keeping a steady rhythm, on the slower side, taking his time pleasuring you. He’s enjoying this.

Obscene sounds fill the room; Joel devouring your pussy like it’s the Last Supper and your chorus of moans and expletives.

“Fuck, don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop!”

“Shitshitshit–”

“Joelllll-”

He picks up the pace, your fingers cramping from their deathgrip on the couch. You feel your peak approaching - sweat beading on your forehead, chest heaving, head thrown back in ecstasy.

Joel senses your approaching release and pushes one of his thick, dexterous fingers into your weeping hole.

He reaches for your hand that’s tangled in his hair and intertwines your fingers with his, resting your connected hands on your inner thigh. It’s overwhelming; the intimacy of your interlocked fingers paired with the filthy onslaught of his mouth.

He speeds up as he adds another finger, hitting the spot that no one except you has reached before. You never knew it could feel this amazing. You thought you were doomed to a life of bad sex.

Apparently, you just needed Joel to show you differently. And you are so glad he proved you wrong.

Joel hooks his fingers inside you bringing you closer and closer to that peak you’ve been dying to reach. You’re squeezing his fingers, both the ones inside you and the ones interlaced with yours.

“Joel I-I’m close,” you manage to choke out, mind foggy from the intense pleasure.

He sucks on your clit, hard and you’re coming, entering a euphoric plane of existence. You’re floating, body trembling, coming harder than you’ve ever come before.

Joel slows his fingers and removes his mouth from your pussy, beard glistening with your release, gently bringing you back to reality. He keeps your fingers locked with his, grounding you in the present.

The orgasmic fog clears from your brain, regaining awareness of your surroundings when you feel how drenched your lower half is. Like, really drenched. You lift your head from the armrest and look down and you’re appalled by the scene.

You fucking squirted. Everywhere.

On yourself, on the couch, on Joel. His beard is soaked completely, to the point it’s dripping down his chin. He’s just as stunned as you are.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, fuck I-” you’re scrambling to get off the couch and Joel grabs your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

“What’re you sorry for? That was so fuckin’ hot, sweetheart.”

“I-I didn’t know I could do that…”

“Oh yeah? First time ever squirtin’?

“Yeah, the first time anyone else has made me come… like, ever.”

His gaze goes dark.

You get the feeling that he’s just getting started with you.

And just like your cookies, he’d never have enough.

THE END

#joel miller #joel fic #joel x f!reader #fanfic #first fanfic #joel miller is babygirl #joel miller smut

255 notes · View notes