#who actually existed and who's life was cut so. so fucking short.

[seilon]

i usually dont comment on these kinds of things because they shouldnt be treated with the level of weird parasocial interest they tend to be on social media generally but. claire (lil tay) was so fucking young. it doesnt take knowing her personally to feel just how jarring and genuinely tragic her sudden death is. like shit. she was only 14. she didnt even get to live her own life. sorry if this is pointless and theres no call to action or anything here but. jesus.

#kibumblabs #cw death #havent looked too deep into it because im still conflicted over it feeling voyeuristic and disrespectful to do so or not but #from what i have heard it seems sketchy re: her brother and idk i dont want to accuse anyone of anything without proper basis especially #when that someone also passed away but. considering his history of controlling behavior over her image and how it put her in some #serious danger at worst - situations a child should not be in at best... if he did have any part in this i. well i dont know. #cant exactly say he needs to see justice considering its a bit late for that but. i dont know #depending on the circumstances one of her parents may need to answer to some neglect charges. but anyway it all feels so trivial when its #already too late. #you know what. what i think i can say for sure is that i hope she's properly remembered and honored for who she actually was and not as #'lil tay the worlds youngest flexer'. a persona her brother made up that put her in dangerous situation for the sake of clout. by no means #is the public entitled to anything but if anything more is put out there in memorium i hope its something #letting the world know who she was as a real teenage girl with her own interests and personality and favorite songs and teenage obsessions #she looked like such a sweet girl. i hope her friends and family who actually knew her are haunted as little as possible by her #bastardized image on the internet. i hope they– as well as anyone else really– can separate that character from the innocent young girl #who actually existed and who's life was cut so. so fucking short. #i know i said i didnt want to comment too much about this but idk man. it really got to me. maybe because its such a novel situation thats #never exactly happened before- the way her image was on in the internet and how this case will inevitably be treated on the internet #how young she was and how little say she had in how she'd be portrayed on line– much less now how she'd be REMEMBERED. #its disturbing. and deeply deeply tragic. #2009. she was born in 2009. fuck. thats just. wrong

[simpjaes]

FIRST DATE ETIQUETTE (p.sh)

Park Sunghoon is not dull, nor is he the clean cut neighbor your mother thinks he is. Oh, the horrors of if she found out that the man she set you up on this date with immediately took you home and rendered you unable to walk...he'd never be able to defend himself without a swift slap to the head.

៸៸៸ minors do not interact! 

៸៸៸ PARING:  park sunghoon x afab reader

៸៸៸WC: 9.3k

៸៸៸ TAGS: mentions of food (meat), strangers to fucking immediately to the possibility of dating later, brat taming, mocking and making fun of each other, sneaky sex, flirting and bullying in the same instance, cocky sunghoon, um…they’re kind of competitive in bed

៸៸៸ A/N: what’s that? you’ve read this before? that’s bc i wrote it! I’ve revised the original now to fit sunghoon because I am insatiable in my lust for him. (original title: the bore next door)

smut tags under cut::​​​

SMUT TAGS: dom sunghoon, bratty/sub reader, huge cock agenda (again), he gets the best head he’s ever had, he calls you messy a lot (he likes it messy),  face fucking, pussy eating, nipple biting, finger fucking, squirting,  dirty talk, wow i can’t believe I actually wrote a condom being used this time!!!!, sunghoon tries to make you moan because his horny brain wants your parents to know, dirty talk, praise, hair pulling.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

23rd street. The restaurant is on 23rd street, and you can honestly say you’ve managed to hit every street but this one. From 13th to 35th, does the street in question even truly exist? Were you set up by your parents?

In short, you have been single since high school. Maybe a few flings here or there throughout college but you never truly settled on one man or woman in a relationship. You’re almost shocked that your parents are pushing so hard for you to find love. They want you to somehow feel the love from the movies, something like they had felt when they met. In this century, unfortunately, love isn’t quite as predictable.

 You can’t just pick a person who has a good job and a decent face and assume love will settle in someday. 

Not only is it not predictable but it isn’t a priority in your life. You have no interest in meeting the standard a man could hold for you, nor a woman, or family member. You’re here to exist in your own way, work your way up through the corporate food chain, and live in a home with over thirteen cats before dying a peaceful death in your late eighties. Why do you need a man to do any of this? Why do you need to settle for one cock, one set of hands, and one personality?

Right, because mom wants you to at least try to experience what love is. Surely, it’s just because she desperately wants a grandchild from her one and only daughter. Sorry to disappoint, but that will not happen any time soon. Children were never a thought in your mind, nor was marriage, a honeymoon, or a burial plot next to another person. Your mother knows this, but the least you can do is show some effort to please her, right? To prove that relationships just aren’t your thing, and you’d much rather have the funds to live a comfortable life all on your own.

23rd street is the small thumb tack on a map where there is a restaurant that holds a very, very, annoying arrangement. 

Your mother had really sold the idea to you. She says the nice neighbor boy next to her seems to be around your age, he brings her the mail sometimes. He seems to have a job, his own car, his own home that sits in a plot next to theirs. His lawn stays mowed, the siding on his house stays clean, and apparently he seems quite lonely considering your mother appears to have watched him enough to know he doesn’t bring any girls home.

At least that she’s aware of.

She doesn’t mention what he looks like and of course, when you’d asked because, in all honesty, that’s the most important thing to you if you’re going to get anything out of this, she simply states that he dresses well, is handsome, and has dark hair.

For all you know, she just set you up on a date with Antonio Banderas. 

What you weren’t expecting though, is to find this restaurant almost an hour late and walk in to find an already half-eaten meal in front of a man who looked at you as if you were any stranger on the street.

 A stranger you were, and so was he, but honestly, he is attractive. That alone made you feel a bit guilty for not having found this place sooner. The idea that the man in front of you did not wait for you shows that he also has priorities that aren’t you. This is probably a huge inconvenience for him too, if anything. 

Imagine your nice neighbor lady telling you to go to a restaurant to meet her daughter? God. The first words out of your mouth are an apology. Not for being late, and not for not even wanting to be here, but for your mother for even trying.

“Sorry about my mom,” you mutter, plopping down into the booth with a sigh. You eye over his food, already knowing that the check will likely be split. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Why the rush?” The man immediately says, pushing an untouched glass of water your way. “I don’t mind that you were late, I was just really hungry.”

You hum at him, waiting for the waitress to come over so you can place the most obnoxious order in the world because you’re really not in the mood to even look at the menu or the prices. Chicken strips and fries, obviously.

“So, what did you order?” You state, eyeing his plate. 

“Steak?” He says it like a question, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world and it definitely is. Clearly there is a half-eaten steak that probably costs over twenty dollars on his plate. Still, you were just trying to make small talk.

The man says nothing after this, offering nothing but an awkward atmosphere. It doesn’t take long at all for you to stop caring about the entire arrangement, as if you cared in the first place.

“Look—” You try to offer, and the handsome man in front of you doesn’t even quirk a brow as he sips his own drink. “I don’t even remember your name, and I know my mom is trying to set us up but—”

“You’re not interested, and you have better places to be?” The man finishes for you as he sits his drink down with a gulp that makes much less sound than your own. “That’s fair. My name is Sunghoon, by the way.”

You nod at him, already deciding that you’ll get chicken strips somewhere else on your own so that you can eat them in the comfort of your own home, alone, without a stupidly handsome man in front of you that has, probably, less interest than you do.

“Well, I’m interested, and I don’t have anywhere better to be,” Sunghoon says, shooting his eyes up at you. “And to be quite honest with you, your mother was right. You are pretty.” 

Taken aback, you’re somehow comforted by his forwardness towards you. He acts just as uninterested as you do but counters that demeanor with his words. You can’t imagine that this is how the man picks up women, there’s honestly no way he would win that way. No wonder he is single.  Then again, you kind of do the same thing. You see an attractive person and you act much the same as Sunghoon right now. Uninterested in anything long-term but clearly interested in something. 

“I’m pretty, huh?” You laugh, sipping the water and internally giving this man an extra three minutes to fully sell the idea of this date to you. “Imagine my surprise to walk in and find that I was set up on a date with someone that is actually attractive.”

“Oh?” Sunghoon quirks a brow. “Is this how you return a compliment?” 

You shrug. 

“Is this how a date normally goes for you—you know, where you’ve already eaten your food and would probably rather pay and leave before she even gets a chance to order?”

“No,” he responds pointedly. “Would you rather me throw a tantrum that you were late?”

“You’d be a lot less dull if you did.” You throw back, eyeing a waitress as she heads over. 

Sunghoon watches as you place your order and watches a bit harder at the way you smirk at yourself through nearly everything you say. You must think you’re clever, you must think he’s willing to chase you or something.

“I’m dull?” He questions, staring you down with narrowed eyes when the waitress walks away. “You just ordered chicken strips at one of the most expensive restaurants in town.”

You’re taken aback a bit, shaking off his little insults and sitting straight up. Interesting date, truly.

“Okay then, Sunghoon—” You say his name as if it’s a joke or something, but you don’t really let him react to it. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a systems software developer,” he deadpans, swirling his very nonalcoholic water in his hand. “Not that you’d know what that is or anything. And you?”

In all honesty, you don’t really know what that means, but it isn’t hard to figure it out. Assuming he must make programs or something, assuming he probably flew through college in order to do it in the way he seems proud of what he does. In all honesty, it still sounds like such a bore. He must talk in code or something in his free time. 

“I’m—uh—I’m a teacher.” You try to laugh, realizing that you’re kind of putting him down when he very clearly must make more money than you do. 

Only now does it set in that your mother stated he has his own home. One that sits directly beside theirs in a neighborhood that you grew up in. One that you tried to find your own home in but ended up in a shitty apartment in the city because it is all you could afford. Sunghoon must make good money. 

“Oh yeah? What do you teach?” He perks up in interest, no longer acting as if he is trying to insult you and instead offering conversation to you with such ease that you almost forget you’re supposed to be getting through the date in discomfort. 

“I teach everything, I guess. It’s just first grade. I swear, I teach them how to pull up their pants properly more than how to spell words.” You smile to yourself thinking of the loud and obnoxious children you teach five days a week. 

Your job is why you don’t want children though. Your job is why you’d rather stay single. All you hear about is how the third-grade english teacher is fucking the fifth-grade science teacher even though he has a wife who is pregnant with their second child. Sometimes you hear gossip about the students themselves. Who in their right mind as an adult would gossip about elementary school kids? It’s no wonder you’re not a favored teacher. You’re sure they’ve said something about you for not having a significant other or a child on the way too. 

Sunghoon smiles through your endearment towards your class, eyes perking up at the plate of chicken strips on their way to you. He doesn’t say much when you thank the waitress and doesn’t really pay attention to the way you devour the first strip in nearly one bite. 

“Seems like a lively job. I just sit around all day staring at a computer screen…” He begins to drone on about his own job, sounding more like background noise in your head if you’re being honest. You can barely hear him over the crunching of your chicken and you’re a bit thankful for that.

“And I think that it was really worth the—” You interrupt his long string of sentences with a call of his name. “Sunghoon, do you have any other interests?” You ask, sipping your water.

He deadpans at your rudeness of interrupting him. Sunghoon doesn’t often go out on dates, nor does he often get asked about these types of things so, he goes quiet, flicking his eyes down to his hands and then back up to you.

“I like to go hiking, I guess? Watching movies? Sometimes I like to cook—”

Ah. He’s one of those guys. 

“Those are like, the most common interests a person can have. You don’t have any special hobbies or weird quirky things you like to do?” You question, trying to see something in him past the fact that he’s nice to look at and has a decent paycheck. 

“I don’t really have the time to put into other things. When I’m not working, I’m busy cleaning my house or doing yard work since I’m usually too tired during the week to do it.”

“God, you are such a bore.” 

Sunghoon realizes now that maybe you’re not just throwing around banter. Sure, neither of you really wanted to come on this date but he could have used the time away from a computer screen to look at his neighbor’s daughter. If anything, it was an interesting offer, and those don’t come by him too often. He had seen photos of you. He knew you were pretty, and he also should have known you were a bit stubborn with the way your mother warned him before the date.

“If I was so boring, would I be sitting here on a date with a woman I don’t know?” He glares over at you. 

“I don’t know, probably. It isn’t the riskiest thing in the world. What? You don’t have tinder?”

Sunghoon looks down again, because no, he doesn’t have fucking tinder and he doesn’t understand why that matters.  “Why does that matter?” 

“Ah, so we are similar.” You smile to yourself in a small win, and you’re not even sure if it’s even an argument at this point. “No time for hobbies, so no time for dating either?” 

He nods slowly at you, completely confused by the way you go from picking his personality apart to finding some way to connect with him. 

“We can wrap this up then if you want?” You offer, still picking at the food on your plate. “I can pay for mine, so I release you from this arrangement.” 

He just sits there staring at you. What a peculiar woman. Do you really assume he isn’t somehow finding the fun in all of this? In all honesty, this date is going off without a hitch compared to many other dates he’s been on. He has never been on a date where he is criticized, nor has he ever criticized a date himself before.

 It’s almost kind of nice, like a breath of fresh air being able to meet someone who isn’t trying to show their best aspects. Someone who is sitting in front of him being as real as they possibly can be. Sure, you’re attractive, but your lack of interest in this date is somehow—flooring.

“What if I want to stay?” He makes eye contact with you. “What if I want to pay for your overcooked chicken?” 

“I’d be letting you win if you pay for me, but you’re free to stay.” You wave him off with your hand, realizing that the chicken is very dry and wasn’t hitting the spot like you’d been pretending. “So, what now then?” You add with a tilt of the head. 

“Admitting I’m interested in you?” He says it with so much confidence that you’re a little bit surprised, because this entire time you’ve been trying to act as uninterested as possible, despite finding some amount of attraction to Sunghoon.

“Poor you,” You coo, pushing your plate away from you and pulling your almost-empty water closer. “Okay, let’s try and make this worth something then.” 

Sunghoon prepares himself to listen, but honestly, he couldn’t have prepared for what you’re about to say to him.

“Neither of us are looking for anything serious right?” You ask, continuing after he nods. “So,” you pause briefly, thinking a bit too hard on how to word it. “Why don’t we just treat it like a tinder date?”

You’re definitely implying that the night could continue together, only to never speak of or see each other again after the sun rises. 

“Are you suggesting I bring you home with me?” He looks at you with a face you can’t really read. 

“Isn’t that what people do when they’re on a date, find each other attractive, but want nothing more?” You reiterate for him, because he seems to have trouble processing what you’re trying to get across to him. “Unless this isn’t your thing?”

Sunghoon pulls his hand up and pushes his hair out of his face for a moment. He’s thinking about it, barely even realizing that you’ve known each other for less than an hour.

“I didn’t take you for the type of fuck on the first date.” He cocks his head, looking at you in a lazy way.

It feels a little painful that the first curse word he says out loud is describing something that involves you and your offer. 

“I’m not, usually, but it has been a while for me and I can’t help but think we could have fun with it.”

He nods, eyeing you down. “Do you want to drive to my house then? Or do I need to bring you back to get your car?”

“Nah, I can drive. I know where you live, considering I grew up next door and all. I can just crash at my parent’s house once we are done.”

Sunghoon kind of shifts his eyes nervously, looking down at the table and then back at you with a lick against his bottom lip. “Speaking of, your parents—” He pauses, fiddling with his hands. “Look, they probably wouldn’t expect me to be the type to uh, get intimate with their daughter on the first date.”

“Only date,” you correct him, amused. “What, you thought we would meet again after this?”

Sunghoon waves you off dismissively. “That’s not the point. I don’t want my neighbors thinking I’m some fuckboy, and I’d rather them not find out because I’m sure your mom would slap the shit out of me the next time I bring her the mail.”

“Sunghoon—” You snort in a mocking tone. “My mom set you up on a date with me, you’re gonna take me home and show me a good time within an hour of meeting me. Imagine if she found out you’re not as sweet and innocent as she thinks–”

His face goes warm, but his eyes darken a bit as he looks at you. “Listen, I don’t usually do this.” 

“Well yeah, you seem too boring to actually have some fun.” 

Offense taken. 

And when he says nothing else to that, you speak up again, this time a bit more gentle. 

“Don’t feel like you have to. I can go home and we can pretend this never happened.”

“No, no,” Sunghoon assures, making eye contact with the waitress as if to silently ask for the check. “I could use the distraction.” 

He was slim when he stood up, obnoxiously attractive getting into his stupidly expensive car, and even the way he drove in front of you pissed you off. He drove the speed limit all the way to the familiar street of your childhood. What a boring, boring man.

When he pulls into his driveway, you aren’t sure if you should park at his house or your own. You realize if you park at either your parents will wonder why you’re parking in their driveway but not in their living room, or wonder why you’re parked in the clean-cut Sunghoon’s driveway because he would never fuck their daughter on the first date. 

You opt to park a block away, walking to Sunghoon’s house and feeling a bit silly for hiding. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Fitting,” you say as you step into his living room and scan the way he is entirely boring.

“What?” He asks from behind you, watching you judge his space.

“Very monotonous, very you.”

Sunghoon sighs at your constant critiques of him, but he’s smiling through it because you’re still here, and you’re the one who suggested coming home with him.

“I’ve gotta say, I’ve never brought a woman home just to have her insult me,” he laughs, stepping around you and placing his jacket on the end of the couch. “I can imagine that your place hasn’t been cleaned since you moved in.”

You glare at him, slipping your own jacket off and throwing it on his floor out of spite.

“I am a comfortable mess, Sunghoon, and you–” you scan the room once more, “are very clearly uncomfortable.”

He shifts his eyes for a second because, yeah. It’s not that he wouldn’t enjoy having colorful photos on the walls or a couple of knick-knacks lying around. Arguing about it isn’t your purpose for being here though, and he’d much rather skip the banter at this point.

“I can admit that your jacket looks good on my floor,” he takes a step forward, attempting to be as bold as he typically would be with a woman who knows how he is in bed. He’s never had to play off of his own cleanliness though. “I’m willing to make a mess of this house if you take more off.”

Oh, okay.

“Oh, so you can be interesting?” You mock him once again, reaching for the hem of your dress (yes, dress.) and looking at him. “You want to see my clothes on your floor?”

Sunghoon watches you intently, seeing your thighs being exposed more and more as the dress raises. His body is already reacting, becoming more attracted to your witty sense of displeasure toward his entire personality and lifestyle. After all, he’s a computer whizz and you deal with screaming children all day. He wonders why he expected anything less. Little do you know though, he fully intends to have you praising him before the night is up.

“I’d like to see you on my floor,” he answers, reaching for your dress and pulling it up further and above your head. “If I’m being honest, anyway.”

You were trying to go slow with the removal of your dress, mostly to see how he reacts to seeing a woman nearly naked in front of him but damn. You weren’t quite expecting how forward he’s being about it. Here you were expecting to be fucked missionary without any foreplay in a bed with all white sheets, right next to a washer and dryer, socks on, lights off. 

“Oh,” you gasp, slightly out of character in his opinion but his body reacts even more to that. He’s already allowing himself to get aroused so, naturally, his confidence is also bubbling up through each thought and word he decides to say to you. 

“What, you’re shocked?” He laughs, dropping your dress to the floor and scanning your body. “I can admit that I’m a little shocked too.” 

You look at him in confusion, moving your arms over your chest and wondering what the fuck he’s talking about. 

“You wore a matching set for a first date? With a complete stranger?” He mocks you this time, stepping even closer and running his fingers along the hem of your bra. You can feel the warmth from his thumb gently rubbing the skin as he does it and instantly your body tells on you in the form of goosebumps. 

“I’ll have you know,” you’re the one stepping closer this time, “I always wear matching sets, because I like to feel sexy.” 

You’re a liar. You definitely wore them just in case.

He hums, mere inches from your face as he looks down at you. It feels like he’s fucking looming, it feels like he must have his heat set too high or something.

 It gets even worse when his eyes don’t leave yours, but you feel his hand drop from your chest only to hear the familiar sound of a belt being unbuckled. He stares at you while he does it, his hair falling in his face at the movement of what he’s doing waist down. For some reason, that does it for you, and you’re already rubbing your legs together as you stare right back at him. 

“I think that’s bullshit,” he smirks, slipping his belt from the loops of his pants and tossing that to the floor as well, and then he brings his face another inch closer, “and don’t think I can’t tell that you’re turned on.” 

You don’t back down, nor do you admit that he’s absolutely right. You just look at him, watching a strand of his hair fall in front of his eyes that are beginning to darken by the second. 

“I’m not turned on, believe me, it’ll take a lot more than–” You’re cut off by him planting his hand directly between your legs, two fingers pressing your panties slightly into you. 

“Hm?” He encourages you to say that again, but you’ve got your breath caught in your throat at his extreme change in demeanor.

Still, he’s looking directly at your face, watching the way you try to think of a lie. 

“You wanna keep pretending that I’m boring?” He asks, sliding his fingers up and pressing against your clit. 

You shake your head, finally dropping the act and blinking at him with empty thoughts. 

“That’s what I thought,” He ticks his tongue at you, now pulling his fingers away and showing you that even through your panties, his fingers are already soaked. “Now take the rest off.”

You do as he says, watching him step away with his shirt untucked and his pants undone. You note that he grabs a condom, which for some reason reminds you that you’re definitely about to get railed into the next dimension if that bulge behind those pants implies anything. 

Standing there with all of your clothes thrown around his living room, you watch him harder than you already had been. He’s slow when he sets the condom down on the table, and even slower when he walks up to you and places a hand on the top of your head before guiding you to sink down.

“Wha–right here?” You ask, feeling the clean carpet offer relief for your knees rather than the hard wood floors of the room over. 

“I said I wanted to see you on my floor, didn’t I?” He smiles, already admiring how shameful you’d appear to be if your parents saw you naked and on your knees for him. 

You nod, looking up at him. When you reach forward to actually lower his pants though, he steps back and continues to create distance between the two of you as he backs himself up to the wall and lounges against it. 

“Crawl to me,” he instructs, wondering if it’s too much for you but letting out a pleased sound of relief when you instantly do it.

Would you normally let a man tell you to do that? No. Would you ever actually listen to a man who speaks to you like this? Fuck no. You can’t defend your actions when you do it and you also can’t lie that you’re absolutely fucking dripping over it. Like, honestly, he’s going to have to deep clean this fucking carpet by the time you leave this house. 

When you reach him, you can feel the heat in your cheeks at the very idea of him from this angle. You sit on your knees, lifting your hands to his pants and lowering them before he can try to draw the process out even longer. You can hear him let out a short chuckle at the way you try to be quick with it, and you already know he’s about to say some shit.

“I didn’t expect you to be this eager.” He talks down to you with a deep and raspy voice, one that sounds entirely sensual. In terms of what he says though, honestly, you shouldn’t expect much more considering how the two of you practically roasted each other before this very instant. 

You ignore his words, letting his pants drop to the floor and now reaching to pull his briefs down. You were incredibly unprepared for his size as you watched it stand stiff and raging in front of your face. Not a single hint of precum is seen, and it makes you feel kind of pathetic for how wet you’ve already gotten. It almost feels like a challenge now, to make him feel just as desperate as you do now. 

Thankfully, your throat is fairly trained for sucking men until they’re trembling. Hopefully, all those dudes you’ve fucked around with before come in handy and don’t let you down this time around. 

Sunghoon watches you from above, smiling over the way you stare at his length before finally touching it. He keeps his cool though, wondering how just over an hour ago you were ordering the worst food a restaurant has to offer, scoffing at his job, his hobbies, and now look at you. What a sight. 

“Go on,” he encourages you, pressing his hips forward so that the head of his cock hits your cheek, “let me see how messy you are.”

You roll your eyes at him, gripping the base before closing your eyes and breathing in through your nose. The very second you wrap your lips around him, he has both hands on your head, not moving it, not pushing you down or anything, just resting there. You’d think it was sweet if it weren’t for the fact that he pushes his hips forward after four whole seconds.

So, he’s not going to guide your mouth, he’s going to hold it there? Okay, you guess. Thankfully, he’s not being super rough with it like you anticipated. If anything, he’s sliding himself into your mouth much as you’d do on your own. 

He hums out at the feeling of your inner cheeks hugging against his length, pressing in more and more with each thrust of his hips until he finally gets the majority of his length past your lips. He can see you breathe through your nose, but he doesn’t feel resistance at all so he presses his hips in even more, essentially until he’s blocking your airways and your throat is restricted around him in a gag. 

Instead of pulling your head back though, he feels your fingers grip the back of his legs, you’re trying. He holds your head there in place, feeling your throat massage his cock in probably one of the best ways he’s ever felt. 

“Shit,” he seethes out between a bite of his lip, “you’ve done this before?” 

The very thought of you letting your throat be used is enough for him to want to keep doing it, but hearing your response as a half-moaned gag vibrating around his length is a whole other story. 

He releases his hands from behind your head just to see if what he thinks you’re implying with those vibrations of sounds is right, and god is he thrown for a loop. You stay there, and even when he pulls his hips back before fucking into your throat once more, you still stay there.

He’s going to lose his goddamn mind because never has a woman been able to withstand this amount in their throat for this long for him. Enough to actually have him a little worried that you’re essentially suffocating on him. 

Sunghoon snaps his hips back, pulling out of your mouth and leaning down just a bit to grab your chin and guide your eyes up to him. 

“Breathe,” he says, watching the way you smirk at him as if you’ve won some sort of award. He narrows his eyes at you, “You can choke all you want babe, but you’re gonna have to not be this cock drunk if you want to pretend that you’ve got the upper hand.”

That motherfucker. You’re trying to make him show just a hint of desperation for you and he completely flips the tables on you? 

Before you can even argue again, he’s guiding your lips back on him. You decide that it’s not over yet, he can talk down to you all he wants, but you’re going to be the one laughing at him by the end of the night. 

You allow him to place his hands back on your head, and you kind of like the weight of his cock on your tongue if you’re being honest, but god damn does he have a harsh rhythm. His hips snap languidly but he buries himself deep.  Even when you try to look up at him as your nose presses against his pubic bone, he’s looking down at you so casually. Like he feels okay. Just okay. 

This time, when he pulls his hips back, he doesn’t have to hold your head steady. You chase his length even as it tries to slide from your mouth, and you start to move your head back and forth in time with his hips. You finally receive a moan from him when you reach a hand up and cup his balls, massaging them in one hand as your saliva bubbles out from around your lips.

“So fucking messy–” he chokes out in a surprised moan, praising you for somehow making this feel even better than it already did. 

You hum around him again, feeling the weight of his cock pulse against your tongue and you start to taste more of his precum. Shamefully, you’re starting to want this more and more. You want him to call you messy, you want him to bruise your throat. You don’t mind, now that you’ve seen a snippet of what he’s like when he shows his pleasure.

Just a moment goes by when you feel his hands grip your hair, pulling slightly and following the rhythm of your movements, just putting a bit more force behind them until he finally presses you one last time against his pelvic bone, swirling his hips and stretching out your throat impossibly more around him. 

“Just like that, yeah,” his moans echo throughout his empty walls and it causes your eyes to flutter as you try to breathe in through your nose. When you gag, he moans again. “Fuck, you know exactly what you’re doing.”

Then, he releases you and watches with a smirk at the way you pull back in a deep breath before wiping your mouth. 

You’re not sure why, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel proud. Maybe it’s because he’s managed to pull out this weird, needy side of you, or maybe it’s because he looks incredibly good looking at you like this after the two of you spit insults at each other all night. 

“Do you want me to return the favor?” He asks, finally unbuttoning and removing his shirt.

Seeing him now, you stare at his chest and toned arms, wanting to grab onto them and feel him do whatever it is he wants to do to you. He, on the other hand, can’t tell if you’re nodding to his question or looking him up and down slowly. 

“You were so talkative earlier, what happened?” He smiles, stepping forward and falling to his knees himself, nudging your legs open in one go as he presses you back against his floor. “Do you want to fuck my tongue, or no?”

He continues to smile at your silence, eyes trained between your legs as he spreads them and then looks up at your face. “No?” 

You shake your head, leaning back on your elbows to watch him and take a breath in.

“It’s hard to talk when you’re like,” you motions towards him, “that.”

He chuckles, taking it as a compliment before snatching a pillow off of his couch and tapping your thigh to get you to lift up. You do so, allowing him to place the pillow under your ass before he settles himself there.

His eyes stay locked on yours as his fingers start to trail to your core, slipping through your folds with such ease that your embarrassment shows plainly on your face. 

“Messy,” he compliments, lightly tapping against your clit before lowering his head and blowing softly against the glistening heat you offer to him. “Keep your legs spread for me, darling.”

You still watch him, his eyes glaring up from between your spread thighs as he lets his tongue fall from his mouth and lick one long and languid stripe up your slit, stopping just before your clit and pulling back as if he’s tasting. You’re not sure what it is about him but goddamn, he must know he looks good when he’s pleasuring a woman. 

Despite him asking you to keep your legs spread for him, it appears that he doesn’t trust you to do it because he’s still got one hand prying one of your legs apart and his head moving in all sorts of ways as he allows his tongue to lap every part of you besides your clit. Even his other hand, exploring and gently placing pressure against your entrance– the way he’s doing this makes you want to press forward, it makes you want to do exactly as he asked. 

You roll your hips forward, and he instantly attaches his lips to your clit. You stop, and he trails back down and flicks his tongue against your folds in a teasing way. You grind forward, he’s right back on your clit, flicking his muscle the same way and eliciting a whine from you. 

This time though, when you roll your hips back, he takes both hands and presses your legs open as far as he can get them, spreading your pussy out across his lips for him to take full control of. He nips at your clit before licking down, pressing the pointed muscle into you and only then does he release your legs. Now, he’s sliding both hands under your ass and rocking you against his face, angling his head so that he can lick inside to taste your plush and wet walls.

God, you’re gonna lose it. Even if you didn’t want to, you’d think the way he’s moving his mouth is enough to get anyone to take advantage of it. You moan, pressing forward and back against his mouth as your own fingers fall to your clit. You rub when you press forward, feeling his warm and wet saliva drip from your slit and down to your ass, and you rub harder when you pull back, watching his eyes flutter open and still somehow manage to glare at you.

And just as soon as it started, you blink and his face is right there. You would have let out a shocked sound, because jumpscare much? But you moan instead, because he hovers over you with a smirk and an arm between the two of you, his fingers instantly sliding into you as he attaches his lips to yours with little more than a moan of his own. 

“Have you ever tasted yourself?” He asks, licking against your lips and scissoring his fingers open inside of you.

You have, but for some reason it tasted better this time when he prods his tongue against yours. Perhaps it’s because it’s from him, or maybe it’s because you are a little obsessed with the way he navigates sex. 

When he pulls back from your mouth, now losing himself a little bit in the heat of the faces you make when you feel good, he can’t help but give you a moan along with your own. You sound so fucking good when you’re not talking your shit, and god he knew that mouth could do more than be annoying. 

“Open up,” he whispers against your lips, licking your bottom lip as he thrusts his fingers deeper into you, “let me hear you.”

You can’t really help it. When you open your mouth, you’re practically panting for him. His arm is moving harshly as he fucks his fingers into you and causing you to nearly lose balance on your elbows, but he holds you there with his other arm wrapped around your waist, still licking against your lip and smirking when you still can’t say anything. 

“Louder,” He instructs, at least wanting you to moan louder for him if you’re going to act like this when he’s touching you. “Let your momma hear how good it feels, babe, go on.” 

Your eyes shoot open after that, and god, he is the fucking worst. Or maybe not, you can tell he does it on purpose. His fingers curling up inside of you and putting intense pressure against a spot that takes every man ages to find if they manage to even remember it.

“Sunghoon,” you groan, rolling your eyes back while rolling your hips forward, hand shooting to his and holding it there, “can’t you just fuck me already?”

He chuckles, dipping his head down to give a sharp bite against your nipple, his fingers still curling up into that spot. 

“Soak my fingers first.” He says, floored by how good your voice sounds when you want to get fucked. 

He continues to suck and bite against your nipple, and that sends shocks of pleasure straight down to where his fingers meet your g-spot. You could come right now if he’d just–

You roll your hips forward harder, grinding your clit against his wrist and essentially fucking yourself on his fingers now. He moans against your nipple at the movement, biting down harder as he hears you just above him holding your breath. It seems like you like not being able to breath, which is just fucking great for him. Your mom would be so heartbroken, honestly. 

“You think you can ride my cock like this?” He asks, popping your nipple out of his mouth and moving those bites up your neck and to your ear, “Think you can take it?”

You nod with heat rushing through your body, feeling his wrist stiffen up for your pleasure to grind against. 

Fuck, he can feel your cunt gripping his fingers as you work yourself up and it takes everything in him not to pull his fingers from you and absolutely bury himself into the tight heat you’re offering, but he holds back, pulling from your neck and watching the way your brows furrow and your mouth falls slack.

“Yeah, that’s it babe, ride it.” he encourages, hearing your wet slide against his fingers with each movement of your body.

You shake as it washes through you, feeling his fingers remain in their spot against your little bundle of pleasure inside of you. You feel like you can explode from this alone and he practically forces it out of you, pulling his fingers out and immediately rubbing circles on your clit. 

“Let it go for me,” he encourages in a pleasured sigh, watching your body tremble involuntarily as your face contorts to what anyone else would assume is pain. He moves further back and watches your body soak both him and his floor. “Fuck, yes, such a fucking mess.”

Well, that’s never happened before and the fact that you’re still orgasming is also new. You feel so sensitive, releasing in waves that offer little in terms of self control. Your hands shoot to his arm, gripping him so tightly as you try to hear his moans for you, but to be honest, you can’t hear a fucking thing through this wall of arousal in your head. 

Finally, you open your eyes and he’s just looking at you, smirking at the dripping against his legs and the wet spot on the floor. 

“Messy, messy girl.” He says with a chuckle. “Dirtying up my living room like this? Come on, get up.”

This is the first time Sunghoon has ever had a woman squirt for him, and honestly he’s been trying for ages to let someone experience this through him, goddamn was it sexy to see. You look absolutely fucking gone at this moment, and he might be fucking in love with the image. So badly does he want to see those shaking legs try to stand for him, so badly, does he want to see you fucking buckle.

“Come on,” he says again, not giving you enough time to even think about standing before he’s pulling you up on wobbling legs and pressing your toward the couch.

He watches how you wobble over, shuffling your feet with your knees turned inward with each step. He can’t help but lick his lips, seeing how your arousal drips down both of your legs in a shameless show of how much his fingers alone could do for you. 

“Sorry,” You rasp out as you make your way over, brain fogged from the orgasm and unable to feel much at all outside of the pulsing inside of you. “I’ve never–”

“Don’t worry, I like the mess.” He smiles, snatching up the condom and tearing the wrapper open with ease before rolling it down his length, staring at you.

Oh, right, he still hasn’t even fucked you yet. Fuck, he’s good.

He sits himself next to you, pulling an arm around your waist and guiding you on top of him. He doesn’t even think twice at your shaking legs, soothing them as you follow his hand and position yourself against his long neglected cock being held up with his other hand. 

“Gonna keep that promise?” he asks, still smoothing his hands over your legs and looking up at you. “Gonna take my cock better than you did my fingers?” 

You nod, feeling a pulse of electricity inside of you. Willing you to take more, wanting to be stretched further.

Besides, you know that once you’re seated with his length fucking impaling you, you’ll at least have his broad shoulders to hold onto if you need to stay steady.  

And when you sink down, you hear the sound you’ve been trying to pull from him all night. He lets out a soft moan, almost a whimper if you think hard enough about it, and it ignites a brand new fire in you as you take him in inch by inch. Feeling the searing stretch offer a bit of pain despite the sheer amount of wet you have collected between your legs. 

He can feel you clench around him in the attempt to adjust, and your legs shaking only offer even more in terms of pleasure as you envelope him entirely with your heat. He can’t help but moan, almost unable to keep up his dominant persona with a pussy so sweet wrapped around him. God, he loves blind dates, honestly. 

“Mhm,” he hums, rubbing both of his hands now against your thighs as you sit yourself flush against him and wait to adjust to his size, “I definitely like you.”

You fall forward with a small laugh, the irony of the situation a bit too much on top of your mind falling helplessly and embarrassingly fast at how lucky you are to have a mother to set you up with such a man. 

He’s a bit soft at this moment, wrapping both arms around your waist and listening to your breathless laughs against his neck. Loving the way each inhaled chuckle forces your body to squeeze his cock delightfully tight. 

God, You’re pretty, and so fucking annoying. Just his type. 

“I’m still going to fuck you senseless though.” he finally says, feeling your body still at his words as you lift a bit, just to slide back down on him.

“Is that a promise?” You ask weakly, pretending that he didn’t already manage to do it with his hands alone. 

He nods, the softness in his eyes disappearing instantly when he feels the drag of your cunt hug his length. He doesn’t hold back his moaning for you this time though, and he shows no shame in slapping your ass, and guiding you even closer to his chest. 

You stand on your knees a bit on top of him, watching his eyes zone in on your tits in his face. Hopefully, he’s going to keep that promise too.

His hips snap up harshly as his hands grope your ass and spread you apart. He snaps his hips again and again, nearly pulling his entire length out of you each time just to fill you up once again. Stretching you open and loosening you up, the pleasure of it hitting him right in the throat each time with small grunts against your nipple when you bounce at the movement. 

You whimper out, the sounds still echoing throughout his house along with the sounds of your thighs slapping against his. His grunts are deeper, and all of the sounds together sound like a desperate soundtrack of what you’ve always wished sex was like. He fucks you good, despite your legs still shaking, and despite the pain of his teeth biting against your skin now. 

You can’t help it when you fall forward again, hugging around his head as he starts to relentlessly fuck into you at a faster pace, the thrusts going from slow and deep to tight and pointed. His thick cock easily pressing against that same spot his fingers had been teasing earlier. You choke out at the feeling, legs jolting and causing you to sit again out of sensitivity.

He doesn’t falter at your failure to stay in position for him, and instead he gropes your ass harder, swirling your hips around him. You can feel how hard he is inside of you, splitting you open and pulsing at a near constant pace. 

“Ride it,” he instructs, much like he did with his fingers and you follow suit, lifting just slightly and sliding back down again. “Harder,” he demands, pulling his head from your grasp and looking up at you with a wild smirk. 

You look down at him, wondering how pitiful you must look up here. He appears to be loving it though, absolutely in love with the way you struggle to do what you swore you’d be able to. 

Trying again, you begin to bounce on him and he grants you his fingers on your clit for that, moaning at your own choice of rhythm and leaning forward yet again to pop his presumed favorite nipple back into his mouth.

The ministrations of his fingers paired with his mouth sends you spiraling once again into a world of pleasure. The shaking in your legs become more of a driving factor than anything as you ride him better than you’ve ever ridden anyone.

Finally, he’s the one moaning out and trying to string together choked words of praise.

“Your grip is so tight,” he mutters out, kissing up your chest and to your neck, “i can fucking feel you dripping down my legs.” He adds in a moan, losing himself in the way you move your hands through his hair and scratch at the nape of his neck. He wants to ruin you so badly, and he’s already drenched in you. He wants more. 

You knew you’d have him just as desperate as you by the end of the night. Now look at him, muttering out strings of curse words as you do nothing but ride and pet him. He’s melting under you, and you’ll be damned if he comes before you get that second orgasm. 

Shooting your hand to your clit to replace his lazy movements, you work yourself up to your second orgasm and he just watches you, taking in the image of you practically riding him into oblivion until you’re clenching even tighter around him, throwing your head back and shooting your hands to his shoulders as you harshly roll your hips into his. You’re working yourself through it when he starts pumping into you again, short and tight thrusts pushing you through your orgasm until he’s gripping you equally as hard, holding you down on him as he spills out and into the condom in more of a purr than a moan.

You watch him, dazed out of your fucking mind as he bites against his bottom lip and slowly blinks through his orgasm as you. Part of you wishes he just did it raw, wanting so badly for him to make a mess of you like you did to him.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You find yourself with him at your parent’s house just a week later, eating lunch in the chaotic mess of your mother’s kitchen. It’s funny, really, how he’s trying to be polite to her as if he’s not about to take you next door and probably fuck you against an open window just to blow his own cover.

“I told you he was a keeper,” your mother compliments him as she lays a plate of croissants on the table. “Just yesterday he offered to mow our lawn when we head off for vacation this weekend!”

She’s praising him much like you wouldn’t, and you kick him under the table for trying to suck up to her even more now that he’s fucked you several times already. 

“Did he now?” You ask, glaring over at him and then smiling sweetly at your mother. “Guess he is kind of a keeper, maybe.”

His eyes shoot to you and he smiles around his bite of croissant at you. 

“You were right though,” he counters you towards your mother, “she’s definitely a handful.”

Your mother crosses her arms as she leans against the counter, looking between the both of you. 

“How many dates have you been on without telling me?” She asks, looking at you.

“A few…” If she considers it a date to meet up and fuck every other day this week.

“We had lunch a few days ago.” he adds, backing you up. It’s just that the lunch wasn’t exactly like–you know, at a restaurant, and if she knew that cum was on the menu, perhaps you both would be slapped shitless. 

“So, are you guys going to be exclusive, or?”

Sunghoon looks at you curiously, and you look back at him. 

“I dunno, it’s only been a week, Mom.”

She nods, clapping once before pushing off of the counter and leaving the kitchen. 

It’s silent between you and Sunghoon for a few moments before he speaks up.

“I wouldn’t be against it.”

“Against what?” You ask, looking at him with a raised brow. 

“You know, like, dating. I can’t imagine anyone actually putting up with you besides me, anyway.”

You kick him again from under the table, causing him to wince out in pain before glaring at you. You smile in return though, giving him a shrug and now rubbing your foot against the bruise you probably just caused. 

“I find myself agreeing with that statement,” You laugh thinking hard about your next words. “But for some reason, agreeing with you pisses me off more.”

Sunghoon nods, smiling through the pain of the bruise forming on his shin. 

“Good thing I know how to fix that, huh?” He finishes the conversation, fully aware that he knows how to shut you up and make you love it. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

#enhypen smut #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #enha smut

[anonymouscheeses]

Even more and more of obvious shit I point out because I want an excuse to rant while not interacting with actual people in real life who also like this show because I'm masking 😍💜💜

BARELY STARTED AND BRO. YOU JUST LET HER DO THAT TO YOU, ME PERSONALLY-

HE'S PETTING KEE-KEE I LOVE HIM SMM

HER HOOVES. I LOVE IT. NOT LIKE THAT, IM JUST A FURRY-

*grabs pen*

ANGRY CHARLIE FOR THE WIN. I LOVE WHEN THE HAPPY CHARACTER GETS ANGSTY (Cough. Luz. Cough).

The people writing fanfics where she gets FURIOUS. Omg. That was something I read. I LOVE MY FELLOW FANFIC WRITERS BUT OH MY- YALL REALLY HAD CHARLIE M A D.

"Uh-"

I love his reaction lmao look at his goofy face.

HER BOW BECAME HORNS (my "redesign" is now 100% worse)

SAD VAGGIE. THE BOW. DROOPY.

Oh and the angel dust fellow back there 🤯

I LOVE ROSIE SO MUCH HUH

Tall.

No explanation needed. <3

PLEASE HELP???

CUTIE PATOOTIE. I LOVE HER SM UGGHHH

CHARLIE HATES OLD PEOPLE COMFIRMED YAY 😍😍💅💅

Hot

That's it.

IN SYNC. I LOVE THIS SONG AND THE ENTIRE SCENE. WHY IS IT RANKED SO LOW WITH SOME OF YALL?? Okay well-

I thought this song was gonna be a Charlie and Vaggie duet- tbh I still preferred that BUT I LOVE CARMILLA SO I KINDA DONT CARE.

BUT I WAS ROBBED OF AN ACTUAL FULL CHAGGIE DUET (REPRISE DOESNT COUNT) IF H*SKERDUST GETS A FULL ONE WHY CAN'T CHAGGIE? *SOB* uhh anyway-

Is that. Like. How she thinks actually 😰

I know there's been a lot of the lack of Vaggie's self-worth, which I wish was explored into more. I just think the Vaggie(3rd) episode just wasn't needed at all if it didn't even have an impact. Don't get me started on that episode, it was rushed, too early to have character arcs already, and overall not needed or even should have existed periodt.

I hope they explore it next season because GOD this woman needs TO LOVE HERSELF. OR ATLEAST CARE ABOUT HERSELF LIKE????

SWEET MAMA PLEASE. TAKE ME IN YOUR WINGS AAAAAAAAA

Charlie, sharing is caring <3

Out of all the people I thought Charlie would vent to I didn't think it would be ROSIE. It's a nice surprise tho I love her <3

bisexuality.

That's it.

HE'S DANCING. ALASTOR IS DANCING. THEY ARE SLAYING BESTIES. THE MAN IS DANCING. HELP.

Season 2 is going to be Charlie in her villain era and Alastor's reputation era 😍

I LOVE VAGGIE'S FACE. PRECIOUS BABY UGHH... THEN THE WINGS REPLACE THE BOW AND DROOP UGGHH I HOPE IN SEASON 2 WE SEE MORE OF HER WINGS. OR CUT HER HAIR SHORT SO WE CAN HAVE IT ALL THE TIME. Also so Husk and Vaggie can bond over both having wings. Sorry I love their potential friendship so much. AND LUCIFER AND VAGGIE TOO!! BOTH BEING FALLEN ANGELS OMG. UGH THE POTENTIAL OF VAGGIE'S RELATIONSHIPS WITH NOT JUST CHARLIE ARE SO GOOD AND I HAVE BEEN ROBBED OF SEEING HER AS AN ACTUALLY MORE FLESHED OUT CHARACTER. I AM SCREAMING AAAAAAAA.

I can't say how much I love them. It's too much. I cant- yay the teaser image before the show came out <3 they are so fucking adorable. UGH SOME1 END ME

Charlie loves the wings hehehe. Vaggie looks nervous about it. It's probably a reminder to her about when she used to be an exterminator. The healing from everything will take a long time but hopefully Charlie will be there for her the entire time. And vice versa

Ayo- 😰

CHARLIE. T H E PRECIOUS BABY.

Uh next one tomorrow cuz yeah 🤯

#hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin charlie #hazbin vaggie #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel sir pentious #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel niffty #chaggie #rainbowmoth #varlie #vaggie x charlie #charlie x vaggie #charlie morningstar #vaggatha

[cythena]

IF I HAD TO CHOOSE . . .

warnings . . . tits ass or thighs? multi fandom blog post ( JJK, GENSHIN, KNY, BLLK, TOKYO REVENGERS ), pxrn links to twt, tit sucking, missionary, cowgirl + reverse, backshots lol, humping, thigh fucking is so hot, fingering, fem rec oral, mentions of taking nudes, spankings, all visuals show lighter skinned people but i would never try to exclude anyone

TITS 2 3 — the ultimate life source, he lives off of the existence of yours. there's not a day that will go by where you won't catch him staring. he loves how soft they feel in his hands and how you let him squeeze them. it gets him so hard when you walk around braless or wear a tight or low cut shirt. truthfully, anything you wear is enough to get his cock stirring in his pants. he loves to worship them and dedicates time to showing you how much he loves them. sucking and slurping on your nipples is how he wants to spend his days. he fucks you extra hard to see them bounce when you're on your back. he holds you close to his chest and fucks up into you just to get his lips around your tit. pics of you in his shirt that's been pulled all the way up are his favorites. his collection of your tit pics range from selfies you sent and the dirtiest ones of you covered his cum.

satoru gojo, kento nanami, toge inumaki

kaedehara kazuha, xiao, diluc ragnivdr, thoma, venti, albedo, kamisato ayato, neuvillete

akaza, muzan, obanai iguro

yoichi isagi, rin itoshi, meguru bachira

takemichi hanagaki, seishu inui, takashi mitsuya, shinichiro sano, hajime kokonoi

ASS 2 3 — tight jeans and short skirts are his favorite, really anything that let him admire the curve of your ass. actually even baggier clothing made him feel proud of being the only one who knows what's underneath. he palms your ass every second of the day no matter where or who was around. he would hold it and playfully slap it whenever you were in arms reach. he would grip onto it like he would lose you and slam it against his pelvis desperately. he just needed to have his hands on your body in some way. when you were on top, he liked having your back to him so he could watch the ripples in your gorgeous ass. he would get so needy when it came to bending you over. especially when he had such quick access with you only in a shirt and panties. he'd have your back arched and all clothing pulled out of his way immediately.

toji fushiguro, ryomen sukuna, yuuji itadori, aoi todo, naoya zennin

scaramouche, kaeya, arataki itto, tartaglia, wriothesley, gorou

sanemi shinazugawa, tengen uzui

reo mikage, sae itoshi, shoei barou, ryusei shido, micheal kaiser

ken ryuguji, nahoya kawata, taiju shiba, kazutora hanemiya, shuji hanma

THIGHS 2 3 — he's so proud to admit his love for thighs. he thinks they're the most versatile. he can use them for whatever he needs. he takes naps on them, he lays on them to talk to you, he can fuck them super easily. they also look the cutest in little skirts that he buys you just to see them. then he pairs them with socks that squeeze in a way that gets his mouth watering. he gets to dress you up and take pictures of your pretty skin before his cum spills all over it. as much as he loves filling you up, he would never complain about finishing over your thighs. he'd even go as far as to clean it up then spend the rest of the night with his tongue between your folds. he'd drink ever drop you had to offer while your hands tangled in his hair. if his fingers weren't spreading you open then he'd push your thighs around his head.

choso kamo, megumi fushiguro, yuta okkotsu, hiromi higuruma

zhongli, cyno, kaveh, tighnari

giyuu tomioka, kyojuro rengoku, sabito, douma

hyoma chigiri, seoshiro nagi, rensuke kunigami

manjiro sano, chifuyu matsuno, hakkai shiba, souya kawata

#♡ ⌢ ₊ cy. writes #jujutsu kaisen #genshin impact #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #blue lock #tokyo revengers #jujutsu kaisen smut #genshin impact smut #kimetsu no yaiba smut #demon slayer smut #blue lock smut #tokyo revengers smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #genshin impact x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #blue lock x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #jjk x reader #genshin x reader #kny x reader #bllk x reader #tokyo rev x reader

[ncteez]

the bore next door (j.ww)

Jeon Wonwoo is not dull, nor is he the clean and polite neighbor that your mother assumed he was when she set you up on this awful date. 

or the one where wonwoo takes you home on the first date and renders you unable to walk, hoping to god that you don’t expose him to your parents.

ao3 | minors dni! | kindly leave feedback and reblog, i will kiss your forehead so fucking fast if you do. 

WORDCOUNT― 8.8k

PAIRING― wonwoo x afab reader

CONTENT― strangers to fucking immediately to the possibility of dating later, reader is a teacher but this is not a school setting, mocking and making fun, sneaky sex, flirting and bullying in the same instance, cocky wonwoo, um…they’re kind of competitive in bed

WARNINGS― small mention of other teachers cheating on their spouses (very tiny mention), the resistance of pressure to fall in love/have children

NOTE― I repurposed an old wip for this because putting this mf in the main role hit harder than it should have. that being said, don’t expect me to write men often like this, i just thought it would be neat to make him take control. this is not proof read.

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― dom(ish) wonwoo, bratty/sub reader, huge cock agenda (again), he gets the best head he’s ever had, he calls you messy a lot (he likes it messy),  face fucking, pussy eating, nipple biting, finger fucking, squirting,  dirty talk, wow i can’t believe I actually wrote a condom being used this time!!!!, wonwoo tries to make you moan because his horny brain wants your parents to know, dirty talk, praise, hair pulling.

~

23rd street. The restaurant is on 23rd street, and you can honestly say you’ve managed to hit every street but this one. From 13th street to 35th street, does the street in question even truly exist? Were you set up by your parents?

           In short, you have been single since high school. Maybe a few flings here or there throughout college but never truly settling on one man or woman in a relationship. You’re almost shocked that your parents are pushing so hard for you to find love. They want you to somehow feel the love from the movies, something like they had felt when they met. In this century, unfortunately, love isn’t quite as predictable. You can’t just pick a person who has a good job and a decent face and assume love will settle in someday.

           Not only is it not predictable but it isn’t a priority in your life. You have no interest in meeting the standard a man could hold for you, nor a woman, or family member. You’re here to exist in your own way, work your way up through the corporate food chain, and live in a home with over thirteen cats before dying a peaceful death in your late eighties. Why do you need a man to do any of this? Why do you need to settle for one cock, one set of hands, and one personality?

           Right, because mom wants you to at least try to experience what love is. Surely, it’s just because she desperately wants a grandchild from her one and only daughter. Sorry to disappoint, but that will not be you. Children were never a thought in your mind, nor was marriage, a honeymoon, or a burial plot next to another person. Your mother knows this, but the least you can do is show some effort to please her, right? To prove that relationships just aren’t your thing, and you’d much rather have the funds to live a comfortable life all on your own. 

           23rd street is the small thumb tack on a map where there is a restaurant that holds a very, very, annoying arrangement. Your mother had really sold the idea to you. She says the nice neighbor boy next to her seems to be around your age, he brings her the mail sometimes. He seems to have a job, his own car, his own home that sits in a plot next to theirs. His lawn stays mowed, and he even seems to have a dog that he walks at the same time three times a day. 

           She doesn’t mention what he looks like, and of course, when you’d asked because, in all honesty, that’s the most important thing to you if you’re going to get anything out of this, she simply states that he is tall, handsome, and has dark hair.

           For all you know, she just set you up on a date with Antonio Banderas. 

           What you weren’t expecting though, is to find this restaurant almost an hour late and walk in to find an already half-eaten meal in front of a man who looked at you as if you were any stranger on the street. A stranger you were, and so was he, but honestly, he is attractive. That alone made you feel a bit guilty for not having found this place sooner. The idea that the man in front of you did not wait for you shows that he also has priorities that aren’t you. This is probably a huge inconvenience for him too, if anything. Imagine your nice neighbor lady telling you to go to a restaurant to meet their daughter? God. The first words out of your mouth are an apology. Not for being late, and not for not even wanting to be here, but for your mother for even trying.

“Sorry about my mom,” you mutter, plopping down into the booth with a sigh. You eye over his food, already knowing that the check will likely be split. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Why the rush?” The man immediately says, pushing an untouched glass of water your way. “I don’t mind that you were late, I was just really hungry.”

           You hum at him, waiting for the waitress to come over so you can place the most obnoxious order in the world because you’re really not in the mood to even look at the menu or the prices. Chicken strips and fries, obviously.

“So, what did you order?” You state, eyeing his plate. 

“Steak?” He says it like a question, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world and it definitely was. Clearly there is a half-eaten steak that probably costs over twenty dollars on his plate. Still, you were just trying to make small talk.

           The man says nothing after this, offering nothing but an awkward atmosphere. It doesn’t take long at all for you to stop caring about the entire arrangement, as if you cared in the first place. 

“Look—” You try to offer, and the handsome man in front of you doesn’t even quirk a brow as he sips his own drink. “I don’t even remember your name, and I know my mom is trying to set us up but—”

“You’re not interested, and you have better places to be?” The man finishes for you as he sits his drink down with a gulp that makes much less sound than your own. “That’s fair. My name is Wonwoo, by the way.”

           You nod at him, already deciding that you’ll get chicken strips somewhere else on your own so that you can eat them in the comfort of your own home, alone, without a stupidly handsome man in front of you that has, probably, less interest than you do.

“Well, I’m interested, and I don’t have anywhere better to be,” Wonwoo says, shooting his eyes up at you. “And to be quite honest with you, your mother was right. You are pretty.” 

           Taken aback, you’re somehow comforted by his forwardness towards you. He acts just as uninterested as you do but counters that demeanor with his words. You can’t imagine that this is how the man picks up women, there’s honestly no way he would win that way. No wonder he is single.  Then again, you kind of do the same thing. You see an attractive person and you act much the same as Wonwoo right now. Uninterested in anything long-term but clearly interested in something. 

“I’m pretty, huh?” You laugh, sipping the water and internally giving this man an extra three minutes to fully sell the idea of this date to you. “Imagine my surprise to walk in and find that I was set up on a date with someone that is actually attractive.”

“Oh?” Wonwoo quirks a brow. “Is this how you return a compliment?” 

           You shrug. “Is this how a date normally goes for you—you know, where you’ve already eaten your food and would probably rather pay and leave before she even gets a chance to order?”

“No,” he responds pointedly. “Would you rather me throw a tantrum that you were late?”

“You’d be a lot less dull if you did.” You throw back, eyeing a waitress as she heads over. 

           Wonwoo watches as you place your order and watches a bit harder at the way you smirk at yourself through nearly everything you say. You must think you’re clever, you must think he’s willing to chase you or something.

“I’m dull?” He questions, staring you down with narrowed eyes. “You just ordered chicken strips at one of the most expensive restaurants in town.”

           You’re taken aback a bit, shaking off his little insults and sitting straight up. Interesting date, truly.

“Okay then, Wonwoo—” You say his name as if it’s a joke or something, but you don’t really let him react to it. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a systems software developer,” he deadpans, swirling his very nonalcoholic water in his hand. “Not that you’d know what that is or anything. And you?”

           In all honesty, you don’t really know what that means, but it isn’t hard to figure it out. Assuming he must make programs or something, assuming he probably flew through college in order to do it in the way he seems proud of what he does. In all honesty, it still sounds like such a bore. He must talk in code or something in his free time. 

“I’m—uh—I’m a teacher.” You try to laugh, realizing that you’re kind of putting him down when he very clearly must make more money than you do. 

           Only now does it set in that your mother stated he has his own home. One that sits directly beside theirs in a neighborhood that you grew up in. One that you tried to find your own home in but ended up in a shitty apartment in the city because it is all you could afford. Wonwoo must make good money. 

“Oh yeah? What do you teach?” He perks up in interest, no longer acting as if he is trying to insult you and instead offering conversation to you with such ease that you almost forget you’re supposed to be getting through the date in discomfort. 

“I teach everything, I guess. It’s just first grade. I swear, I teach them how to pull up their pants properly more than how to spell words.” You smile to yourself thinking of the loud and obnoxious children you teach five days a week. Your job is why you don’t want children though. Your job is why you’d rather stay single. All you hear about is how the third-grade English teacher is fucking the fifth-grade science teacher even though he has a wife who is pregnant with their second child. Sometimes you hear gossip about the students themselves. Who in their right mind as an adult would gossip about elementary school kids? It’s no wonder you’re not a favored teacher. You’re sure they’ve said something about you for not having a significant other or a child on the way. 

           Wonwoo smiles through your endearment towards your class, eyes perking up at the plate of chicken strips on their way to you. He doesn’t say much when you thank the waitress and doesn’t really pay attention to the way you devour the first strip in nearly one bite. 

“Seems like a lively job. I just sit around all day staring at a computer screen…” He begins to drone on about his own job, sounding more like background noise in your head if you’re being honest. You can barely hear him over the crunching of your chicken and you’re a bit thankful for that.

“And I think that it was really worth the—” You interrupt his long string of sentences with a call of his name. “Wonwoo, do you have any other interests?” You ask, sipping your water.

           He deadpans at your rudeness of interrupting him. Wonwoo doesn’t often go out on dates, nor does he often get asked about these types of things so, he goes quiet, flicking his eyes down to his hands and then back up to you.

“I like to go hiking, I guess? Watching movies? Sometimes I like to cook—”

           Ah. He’s one of those guys. 

“Those are like, the most common interests a person can have. You don’t have any special hobbies or weird quirky things you like to do?” You question, trying to see something in him past the fact that he’s nice to look at and has a decent paycheck. 

“I don’t really have the time to put into other things. When I’m not working, I’m busy cleaning my house or doing yard work since I’m usually too tired during the week to do it.”

“God, you are such a bore.” 

           Wonwoo realizes now that maybe you’re not just throwing around banter. Sure, neither of you really wanted to come on this date but he could have used the time away from a computer screen to look at his neighbor’s daughter. If anything, it was an interesting offer, and those don’t come by him too often. He had seen photos of you. He knew you were pretty, and he also should have known you were a bit stubborn with the way your mother warned him before the date.

“If I was so boring, would I be sitting here on a date with a woman I don’t know?” He glares over at you. 

“I don’t know, probably. It isn’t the riskiest thing in the world. What? You don’t have tinder?”

           Wonwoo looks down again, because no, he doesn’t have fucking tinder and he doesn’t understand why that matters.  “Why does that matter?” 

“Ah, so we are similar.” You smile to yourself in a small win, and you’re not even sure if it’s even an argument at this point. “No time for hobbies, so no time for dating either?” 

           He nods slowly at you, completely confused by the way you go from picking his personality apart to finding some way to connect with him. 

“We can wrap this up then if you want?” You offer, still picking at the food on your plate. “I can pay for mine, so I release you from this arrangement.” 

           He just sits there staring at you. What a peculiar woman. Do you really assume he isn’t somehow finding the fun in all of this? In all honesty, this date is going off without a hitch compared to many other dates he’s been on. He has never been on a date where he is criticized, nor has he ever criticized a date himself before. It’s almost kind of nice, like a breath of fresh air being able to meet someone who isn’t trying to show their best aspects. Someone who is sitting in front of him being as real as they possibly can be. Sure, you’re attractive, but your lack of interest in this date is somehow—flooring.

“What if I want to stay?” He makes eye contact with you. “What if I want to pay for your overcooked chicken?” 

“I’d be letting you win if you pay for me, but you’re free to stay.” You wave him off with your hand, realizing that the chicken is very dry and wasn’t hitting the spot like you’d been pretending. “So, what now then?” You add with a tilt of the head. 

“Admitting I’m interested in you, I guess?” He says it with so much confidence that you barely notice the ‘I guess’ at the end of his sentence. It surprises you a little bit, because this entire time you’ve been trying to act as uninterested as possible, despite finding some amount of attraction to Wonwoo..

“Poor you,” You coo, pushing your plate away from you and pulling your almost-empty water closer. “Okay, let’s try and make this worth something then.” 

           Wonwoo prepares himself to listen, but honestly, he couldn’t have prepared for what you’re about to say to him.

“Neither of us are looking for anything serious right?” You ask, continuing after he nods. “So,” you pause briefly, thinking a bit too hard on how to word it. “Why don’t we just pretend this is a tinder date or something?”

           You’re definitely implying that the night could continue together, only to never speak of or see each other again after the sun rises. 

“Are you suggesting I bring you home with me?” He looks at you with a face you can’t really read. 

“Isn’t that what people do when they’re on a date, find each other attractive, but want nothing more?” You reiterate for him, because he seems to have trouble processing what you’re trying to get across to him. “Unless this isn’t your thing?”

           Wonwoo pulls his hand up and pushes his hair out of his face for a moment. He’s thinking about it, barely even realizing that you’ve known each other for less than an hour.

“I didn’t take you for the type of fuck on the first date.” He cocks his head, looking at you in a lazy way.

           It feels a little painful that the first curse word he says out loud is describing something that involves you and your offer. 

“I’m not, usually, but it has been a while for me and I can’t help but think we could have fun with it.”

           He nods, eyeing you down. “Do you want to just drive to my house then? Or do I need to bring you back to get your car?”

“Nah, I can drive. I know where you live, considering I grew up next door and all. I can just crash at my parent’s house once we are done.”

           Wonwoo kind of shifts his eyes nervously, looking down at the table and then back at you with a lick against his bottom lip. “Speaking of your parents—” He pauses, fiddling with his hands. “Look, they probably wouldn’t expect me to be the type to uh, get intimate with their daughter on the first date.”

“Only date,” you correct him, amused. “What, you thought we would meet again after this?”

           Wonwoo waves you off dismissively. “That’s not the point. I don’t want my neighbors thinking I’m some fuckboy, and I’d rather them not find out because I’m sure your mom would slap the shit out of me the next time I bring her the mail.”

“Wonwoo—” You snort in a mocking tone. “My mom set you up on a date with me, you’re gonna take me home and show me a good time within an hour of meeting me. Imagine if she found out you’re not as sweet and innocent as she thinks–”

           His face goes warm, but his eyes darken a bit as he looks at you. “Listen, I don’t usually do this.” 

“Well yeah, you seem too boring to actually have some fun.” 

           Offense taken. 

           And when he says nothing else to that, you speak up again, this time a bit more gentle. 

“Don’t feel like you have to. I can go home and we can pretend this never happened.”

“No, no,” Wonwoo assures, making eye contact with the waitress as if to silently ask for the check. “I could use the distraction.” 

           He was slim when he stood up, obnoxiously attractive getting into his stupid expensive car, and even the way he drove in front of you pissed you off. He drove the speed limit all the way to the familiar street of your childhood. What a boring, boring man.

           When he pulls into his driveway, you aren’t sure if you should park at his house or your own. You realize if you park at either your parents will wonder why you’re parking in their driveway but not in their living room, or wonder why you’re parked in the clean-cut Wonwoo’s driveway because he would never fuck their daughter on the first date. 

           You opt to park two houses away. You already know who the person is who lives in this house and surely they’d only raise a brow at your car being there. You shoot them a text just in case though, because god forbid if they mention it to your parents.

 ~

 “Fitting,” you say as you step into his living room and scan the way he is entirely fucking boring.

 “What?” He asks from behind you, watching you judge his space.

 “Very boring, very you.”

             Wonwoo sighs at your constant critiques of him, but he’s still smiling through it because you’re still here, and you’re the one who suggested coming home with him.

 “I’ve gotta say, I’ve never brought a woman home just to have her insult me,” he laughs, stepping around you and placing his jacket on the end of the couch. “I can imagine that your place hasn’t been cleaned since you moved in.”

             You glare at him, slipping your own jacket off and throwing it on his floor out of spite.

 “I am a comfortable mess, Wonwoo, and you–” you scan the room once more, “are very clearly uncomfortable.”

             He shifts his eyes for a second because, yeah. It’s not that he wouldn’t enjoy having colorful photos on the walls or a couple of knick-knacks lying around. Arguing about it isn’t your purpose for being here though, and he’d much rather skip the banter at this point.

 “I can admit that your jacket looks good on my floor,” he takes a step forward, attempting to be as bold as he typically would be with a woman who knows how he is in bed. He’s never had to play off of his own cleanliness though. “I’m willing to make a mess of this house if you take more off.”

             Oh, okay.

 “Oh, so you can be interesting?” You mock him once again, reaching for the hem of your dress (yes, dress.) and looking at him. “You want to see my clothes on your floor?”

             Wonwoo watches you intently, seeing your thighs being exposed more and more as the dress raises. His body is already reacting, becoming more and more attracted to your witty sense of displeasure toward his entire personality and lifestyle. After all, he’s a computer whizz and you deal with screaming children all day. He wonders why he expected anything less. Little do you know though, he fully intends to have you praising him before the night is up.

 “I’d like to see you on my floor,” he answers, reaching for your dress and pulling it up further and above your head. “If I’m being honest, anyway.”

             You were trying to go slow with the removal of your dress, mostly to see how he reacts to seeing a woman nearly naked in front of him but damn. You weren’t quite expecting how forward he’s being about it. Here you were expecting to be fucked missionary without any foreplay in a bed with all white sheets, right next to a washer and dryer.

 “Oh,” you gasp, slightly out of character in his opinion but his body reacts even more to that. He’s entering into his horny brain, confidence bubbling up through each thought and word he decides to say to you.

 “What, you’re shocked?” He laughs, dropping your dress to the floor and scanning your body. “I can admit that I’m a little shocked too.” 

             You look at him in confusion, moving your arms over your chest and wondering what the fuck he’s talking about. 

 “You wore a matching set for a first date? With a stranger?” He mocks you this time, stepping even closer and running his fingers along the hem of your bra. You can feel the warmth from his thumb gently rubbing the skin as he does it and instantly your body tells on you in the form of goosebumps. 

 “I’ll have you know,” you’re the one stepping closer this time, “I always wear matching sets, because I like to feel sexy.” 

             You’re a liar. You definitely wore them just in case.

             He hums, mere inches from your face as he looks down at you. It feels like he’s fucking looming, and even worse, it feels like he must have his heat set too high or something. It gets even worse when his eyes don’t leave yours, but you feel his hand drop from your chest only to hear the familiar sound of a belt being unbuckled. He stares at you while he does it, his hair falling in his face at the movement of what he’s doing waist down. For some reason, that does it for you, and you’re already rubbing your legs together as you stare right back at him. 

 “I think that’s bullshit,” he smirks, slipping his belt from the loops of his pants and tossing that to the floor as well, and then he brings his face another inch closer, “and don’t think I can’t tell that you’re turned on.” 

             You don’t back down, nor do you admit that he’s absolutely right. You just look at him, watching a strand of his hair fall in front of his eyes that are beginning to darken by the second. 

 “I’m not turned on, believe me, it’ll take a lot more than–” You’re cut off by him planting his hand directly between your legs, two fingers pressing your panties slightly into you. 

 “Hm?” He encourages you to say that again, but you’ve got your breath caught in your throat at his extreme change in demeanor.

             Still, he’s looking directly at your face, watching the way you try to think of a lie. 

 “You wanna keep pretending that I’m boring?” He asks, sliding his fingers up and pressing against your clit. 

             You shake your head, finally dropping the act and blinking at him with empty thoughts. 

 “That’s what I thought,” He ticks his tongue at you, now pulling his fingers away and showing you that even through your panties, his fingers are already soaked. “Now take the rest off.”

             You do as he says, watching him step away with his shirt untucked and his pants undone. You note that he grabs a condom, which for some reason reminds you that you’re definitely about to get railed into the next dimension if that bulge behind those pants implies anything. 

             Standing there with all of your clothes thrown around his living room, you watch him harder than you already had been. He’s slow when he sets the condom down on the table, and even slower when he walks up to you and places a hand on the top of your head before guiding you to sink down.

 “Wha–right here?” You ask, feeling the clean carpet offer relief for your knees rather than the hard wood floors of the room over. 

 “I said I wanted to see you on my floor, didn’t I?” He smiles, already admiring how shameful you’d appear to be if your parents saw you naked and on your knees for him. 

             You nod, looking up at him. When you reach forward to actually lower his pants though, he steps back and continues to create distance between the two of you as he backs himself up to the wall and lounges against it. 

 “Crawl to me,” he instructs, wondering if it’s too much for you but letting out a pleased sound of relief when you instantly do it.

             Would you normally let a man tell you to do that? No. Would you ever actually listen to a man who speaks to you like this? Fuck no. You can’t defend your actions when you do it and you also can’t lie that you’re absolutely fucking dripping over it. Like, honestly, he’s going to have to deep clean this fucking carpet by the time you leave this house. 

             When you reach him, you can feel the heat in your cheeks at the very idea of him from this angle. You sit on your knees, lifting your hands to his pants and lowering them before he can try to draw the process out even longer. You can hear him let out a short chuckle at the way you try to be quick with it, and you already know he’s about to say some shit.

 “I didn’t expect you to be this eager.” He talks down to you with a deep and raspy voice, one that sounds entirely sensual. In terms of what he says though, honestly, you shouldn’t expect much more considering how the two of you practically roasted each other on a fire before this very instant. 

             You ignore his words, letting his pants drop to the floor and now reaching to pull his briefs down. You were incredibly unprepared for his size as you watched it stand stiff and raging in front of your face. Not a single hint of precum is seen, and it makes you feel kind of pathetic for how wet you’ve already gotten. It almost feels like a challenge now, to make him feel just as desperate as you do now. 

             Thankfully, your throat is fairly trained for sucking men until they’re trembling. Hopefully, all those dudes you’ve fucked around with before come in handy, and don’t let you down this time around. 

             Wonwoo watches you from above, smiling over the way you stare at his length before finally touching it. He keeps his cool though, wondering how just over an hour ago you were ordering the worst food a restaurant has to offer, scoffing at his job, his hobbies, and now look at you. What a sight. 

 “Go on,” he encourages you, pressing his hips forward so that the head of his cock hits your cheek, “let me see how messy you are.”

             You roll your eyes at him, gripping the base before closing your eyes and breathing in through your nose. The very second you wrap your lips around him, he has both hands on your head, not moving it, not pushing you down or anything, just resting there. You’d think it was sweet if it weren’t for the fact that he pushes his hips forward after four whole seconds.

             So, he’s not going to guide your mouth, he’s going to hold it there? Okay, you guess. Thankfully, he’s not being super rough with it like you anticipated. If anything, he’s sliding himself into your mouth much as you’d do on your own. 

             He hums out at the feeling of your mouth, pressing in more and more with each thrust of his hips until he finally gets the majority of his length past your lips. He can see you breathe through your nose, but he doesn’t feel resistance at all so he presses his hips in even more, essentially until he’s blocking your airways and your throat is restricted around him in a gag. 

             Instead of pulling your head back though, he feels your fingers grip the back of his legs, you’re trying. He holds your head there in place, feeling your throat massage his cock in probably one of the best ways he’s ever felt. 

 “Shit,” he seethes out between a bite of his lip, “you’ve done this before?” 

             The very thought of you letting your throat be used is enough for him to want to keep doing it, but hearing your response as a half-moaned gag vibrating around his length is a whole other story. 

             He releases his hands from behind your head just to see if what he thinks you’re implying with those vibrations of sounds is right, and god is he thrown for a loop. You stay there, and even when he pulls his hips back before fucking into your throat once more, you still stay there.

             He’s going to lose his goddamn mind because never has a woman been able to withstand this amount in their throat for this long for him. Enough to actually have him a little worried that you’re essentially suffocating on him. 

             Wonwoo snaps his hips back, pulling out of your mouth and leaning down just a bit to grab your chin and guide your eyes up to him. 

 “Breathe,” he says, watching the way you smirk at him as if you’ve won some sort of award. He narrows his eyes at you, “you can choke all you want babe, but you’re gonna have to not be this cock drunk if you want to pretend that you’ve got the upper hand.”

           That motherfucker. You’re trying to make him show just a hint of desperation for you and he completely flips the tables on you? 

             Before you can even argue again, he’s guiding your lips back on him. You decide that it’s not over yet, he can talk down to you all he wants, but you’re going to be the one laughing at him by the end of the night. 

             You allow him to place his hands back on your head, and you kind of like the weight of his cock on your tongue if you’re being honest, but god damn does he have a harsh rhythm. His hips snap languidly but he buries himself deep.  Even when you try to look up at him as your nose presses against his pubic bone, he’s looking down at you so casually. Like he feels okay. Just okay. 

             This time, when he pulls his hips back, he doesn’t have to hold your head steady. You chase his length even as it tries to slide from your mouth, and you start to move your head back and forth in time with his hips. You finally receive a moan from him when you reach a hand up and cup his balls, massaging them in one hand as your saliva bubbles out from around your lips.

 “So fucking messy–” he chokes out in a surprised moan, praising you for somehow making this feel even better than it already did. 

             You hum around him again, feeling the weight of his cock pulse against your tongue and you start to taste more and more of his precum. Shamefully, you’re starting to want this more and more. You want him to call you messy, you want him to bruise your throat. You don’t mind, now that you’ve seen a snippet of what he’s like when he shows his pleasure.

             Just a moment goes by when you feel his hands grip your hair, pulling slightly and following the rhythm of your movements, just putting a bit more force behind them until he finally presses you one last time against his pelvic bone, swirling his hips and stretching out your throat impossibly more around him. 

 “Just like that, yeah,” his moans echo throughout his empty walls and it causes your eyes to flutter as you try to breathe in through your nose. When you gag, he moans again. “Fuck, you know exactly what you’re doing.”

             Then, he releases you and watches with a smirk at the way you pull back in a deep breath before wiping your mouth. 

             You’re not sure why, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel proud. Maybe it’s because he’s managed to pull out this weird, needy side of you, or maybe it’s because he looks incredibly good looking at you like this after the two of you spit insults at each other all right. 

 “Do you want me to return the favor?” He asks, finally unbuttoning and removing his shirt.

             Seeing him now, you stare at his chest and toned arms, wanting to grab onto them and feel him do whatever it is he wants to do to you. He, on the other hand, can’t tell if you’re nodding to his question or looking him up and down slowly. 

 “You were so talkative earlier, what happened?” He smiles, stepping forward and falling to his knees himself, nudging your legs open in one go, “do you want to fuck my tongue, or no?”

             He continues to smile at your silence, eyes trained between your legs as he spreads them and then looks up at your face. “No?” 

             You shake your head, leaning back on your elbows to watch him and take a breath in.

 “It’s hard to talk when you’re like,” you motions towards him, “that.”

             He chuckles, taking it as a compliment before snatching a pillow off of his couch and tapping your thigh to get you to lift up. You do so, allowing him to place the pillow under your ass before he settles himself there.

           His eyes stay locked on yours as his fingers start to trail to your core, slipping through your folds with such ease that your embarrassment shows plainly on your face. 

 “Messy,” he compliments, lightly tapping against your clit before lowering his head and blowing softly against the glistening heat you offer to him. “Keep your legs spread for me babe.”

             You still watch him, his eyes glaring up from between your spread thighs as he lets his tongue fall from his mouth and lick one long and languid stripe up your core, stopping just before your clit and pulling back as if he’s tasting. You’re not sure what it is about him but goddamn, he must know he looks good when he’s pleasuring a woman. 

             Despite him asking you to keep your legs spread for him, it appears that he doesn’t trust you to do it because he’s still got one hand prying one of your legs apart and his head moving in all sorts of ways as he allows his tongue to lap every part of you besides your clit. Even his other hand, exploring and gently placing pressure against your entrance– the way he’s doing this makes you want to press forward, it makes you want to do exactly as he asked. 

             You roll your hips forward, and he instantly attaches his lips to your clit. You stop, and he trails back down and flicks his tongue against your folds in a teasing way. You grind forward, he’s right back on your clit, flicking his muscle the same way and eliciting a whine from you. 

             This time though, when you roll your hips back, he takes both hands and presses your legs open as far as he can get them, spreading your pussy out across his lips for him to take full control of. He nips at your clit before licking down, pressing the pointed muscle into you and only then does he release your legs. Now, he’s sliding both hands under your ass and rocking you against his face, angling his head so that he can lick inside of your walls to truly taste you.

             God, you’re gonna lose it. Even if you didn’t want to, you’d think the way he’s moving his mouth is enough to get anyone to take advantage of it. You moan, pressing forward and back against his mouth as your own fingers fall to your clit. You rub when you press forward, feeling his warm and wet saliva drip down your slit and down to your ass, and you rub harder when you pull back, watching his eyes flutter open and still somehow manage to glare at you.

             And just as soon as it started, you blink and his face is right there. You would have let out a shocked sound, because jumpscare much? But you moan instead, because he hovers over you with a smirk and an arm between the two of you, his fingers instantly sliding into you as he attaches his lips to yours with little more than a moan of his own. 

 “Have you ever tasted yourself?” He asks, licking against your lips and scissoring his fingers open inside of you.

             You have, but for some reason it tasted better this time when he prods his tongue against yours. Perhaps because it’s from him, or maybe it’s because you’re a little obsessed with the way he navigates sex. 

             When he pulls back from your mouth, now losing himself a little bit in the heat of the faces you make when you feel good, he can’t help but give you a moan along with your own. You sound so fucking good when you’re not talking your shit, and god he knew that mouth could do more than be annoying. 

 “Open up,” he says, licking against your bottom lip as he thrusts his fingers deeper into you, “let me hear you.”

             You can’t really help it. When you open your mouth, you’re practically panting for him. His arm is moving harshly as he fucks his fingers into you and causing you to nearly lose balance on your elbows, but he holds you there with his other arm wrapped around your waist, still licking against your lip and smirking when you still can’t say anything. 

 “Louder,” He instructs, at least wanting you to moan louder for him if you’re going to act like this when he’s touching you. “Let your parents hear you get fucked.” 

             Your eyes shoot open after that, and god, he is the fucking worst. Or maybe not, you can tell he does it on purpose. His fingers curling up inside of you and putting intense pressure against a spot that takes every man ages to find if they manage to even remember it.

 “Wonwoo,” you groan, rolling your eyes back while rolling your hips forward, hand shooting to his and holding it there, “can’t you just fuck me already?”

             He chuckles, dipping his head down to give a sharp bite against your nipple, his fingers still curling up into that spot. 

 “Come on my fingers first.” He says, floored by how good your voice sounds when you want to get fucked. 

             He continues to suck and bite against your nipple, and that sends shocks of pleasure straight down to where his fingers meet your g-spot. You could come right now if he’d just–

             You roll your hips forward harder, grinding your clit against his wrist and essentially fucking yourself on his fingers now. He moans against your nipple at the movement, biting down harder as he hears you just above him holding your breath. It seems like you like not being able to breath, which is just fucking great for him. Your mom would be so heartbroken, honestly. 

 “You think you can ride my cock like this?” He asks, popping your nipple out of his mouth and moving those bites up your neck and to your ear, “think you can come around me twice tonight?”

             You nod with heat rushing through your body, feeling his wrist stiffen up for your pleasure to grind against. 

           Fuck, he can feel your pussy gripping his fingers as you work yourself up and it takes everything in him not to pull his fingers from you and absolutely bury himself into the tight heat you’re offering, but he holds back, pulling from your neck and watching the way your brows furrow and your mouth falls slack.

 “That’s it babe, ride it.” he encourages, hearing your wet slide against his fingers with each movement of your body.

             You shake as it washes through you, feeling his fingers remain in their spot against your little bundle of pleasure inside of you. You feel like you can explode from this alone and he practically forces it out of you, pulling his fingers out and immediately rubbing circles on your clit. 

 “Let it go,” he encourages in a pleasured sigh, watching your body tremble involuntarily as your face contorts to what anyone else would assume is pain. He moves further back and watches your body soak both him and his floor. “Fuck, yes, such a fucking mess.”

             Well, that’s never happened before and the fact that you’re still orgasming is also new. You feel so sensitive, releasing in waves that offer little in terms of self control. Your hands shoot to his arm, gripping him so tightly as you try to hear his moans for you, but to be honest, you can’t hear a fucking thing through this wall of arousal in your head. 

             Finally, you open your eyes and he’s just looking at you, smirking at the dripping against his legs and the wet spot on the floor. 

 “Can you stand?” He asks with a chuckle, but his face is slightly amazed.

             This is the first time Wonwoo has ever had a woman squirt for him, and honestly he’s been trying for ages to let someone experience this through him, goddamn was it sexy to see. You look absolutely fucking gone at this moment, and he might be fucking in love with the image. 

 “Come on,” he says, not giving you enough time to even think about standing before he’s pulling you up on wobbling legs and guiding you to his couch. “Don’t worry, I like the mess.” He smiles, snatching up the condom and tearing the wrapper open with ease before rolling it down his length.

             Oh, right, he still hasn’t even fucked you yet. Fuck, he’s good.

             He sits himself next to you, pulling an arm around your waist and guiding you on top of him. He doesn’t even think twice at your shaking legs, soothing them as you follow his hand and position yourself against his long neglected cock being held up with his other hand. 

 “Can you ride me?” he genuinely asks this time, still seeing the shine against your legs from your recent orgasm, he continues to soothe the shaking in them though, hoping to god you’ll do the same thing on his cock. 

             You nod, knowing that once you’re seated, you have both his broad chest and the back of the couch to keep you steady. And when you sink down, you hear the sound you’ve been trying to pull from him all night. He lets out a soft moan, almost a whimper if you think hard enough about it, and it ignites a brand new fire in you as you take him in inch by inch.

             He can feel you clench, and your legs shaking only offer even more in terms of pleasure as you envelope him entirely with your heat. He can’t help but moan, almost unable to keep up his dominant persona with a pussy so sweet wrapped around him. God, he loves blind dates, honestly. 

 “Mhm,” he hums, rubbing both of his hands now against your thighs as you sit yourself flush against him and wait to adjust to his size, “I definitely like you.”

             You fall forward with a small laugh, the irony of the situation a bit too much on top of your mind falling helplessly and embarrassingly fast at how lucky you are to have a mother to set you up with such a man. 

             He’s a bit soft at this moment, wrapping both arms around your waist and listening to your breathless laughs against his neck. You’re pretty, and so fucking annoying. Just his type. 

 “I’m still going to fuck you senseless though.” he finally says, feeling your body still at his words as you lift a bit, just to slide back down on him.

 “Is that a promise?” You ask weakly, pretending that he didn’t already manage to do it with his hands alone. 

             He nods, the softness in his eyes disappearing instantly when he feels the drag of your pussy hug his length. He doesn’t hold back his moaning for you this time though, and he shows no shame in slapping your ass and guiding you even closer to his chest. 

             You stand on your knees a bit on top of him, watching his eyes zone in on your tits in his face. Hopefully, he’s going to keep that promise. 

             His hips snap up harshly as his hands grope your ass and spreads you apart. He snaps his hips again and again, nearly pulling his entire length out of you each time just to fill you up once again. You bounce a bit each time, and you can also feel his lips graze against your nipple each time he does it. 

             You whimper out, the sounds still echoing throughout his house along with the sounds of your thighs slapping against his. His grunts are deeper, and all of the sounds together sound like a desperate soundtrack of what you’ve always wished sex was like. He fucks you good, despite your legs still shaking, and despite the pain of his teeth biting against your skin now. 

             You can’t help it when you fall forward again, hugging around his head as he starts to relentlessly fuck into you at a faster pace, the thrusts going from slow and deep to tight and pointed. His thick cock easily pressing against that same spot his fingers had been teasing earlier. You choke out at the feeling, legs jolting and causing you to sit again. 

             He doesn’t falter at your failure to stay in position for him, and instead he gropes your ass harder, swirling your hips around him. You can feel how hard he is inside of you, splitting you open and pulsing at a near constant pace. 

 “Ride it,” he instructs, much like he did with his fingers and you follow suit, lifting just slightly and sliding back down again. “Harder,” he demands, pulling his head from your grasp and looking up at you with a wild smirk. 

             You look down at him, wondering how pitiful you must look up here. He appears to be loving it though, absolutely in love with the way you struggle to do what you swore you’d be able to. 

             Trying again, you begin to bounce on him and he grants you his fingers on your clit for that, moaning at your own choice of rhythm and leaning forward yet again to pop his presumed favorite nipple back into his mouth.

             The ministrations of his fingers paired with his mouth sends you spiraling once again into a world of pleasure. The shaking in your legs become more of a driving factor than anything as you ride him better than you’ve ever ridden anyone.

             Finally, he’s the one moaning out and trying to string together choked words of praise.

 “Your grip is so tight,” he mutters out, kissing up your chest and to your neck, “i can fucking feel you dripping down my legs.” He adds in a moan, losing himself in the way you move your hands through his hair and scratch at the nape of his neck. He wants to ruin you so badly, and he’s already drenched in you. He wants more. 

             You could have sworn he said he was going to make you come twice, now look at him, muttering out strings of curse words as you do nothing but ride and pet him. He’s melting under you, and you’ll be damned if he comes before you get that second orgasm. 

             Shooting your hand to your clit to replace his lazy movements, you work yourself up to your second orgasm and he just watches you, taking in the image of you practically riding him into oblivion until you’re clenching even tighter around him, throwing your head back and shooting your hands to his shoulders as you harshly roll your hips into his. You’re working yourself through it when he starts pumping into you, short and tight thrusts pushing you through your orgasm until he’s gripping you equally as hard, holding you down on him as he spills out and into the condom in more of a purr than a moan.

             You watch him, dazed out of your fucking mind as he bites against his bottom lip and slowly blinks through his orgasm as you. Part of you wishes he just did it raw, wanting so badly for him to make a mess of you like you did to him.

 ~

             You find yourself with him at your parent’s house just a week later, eating lunch in the chaotic mess of your mother’s kitchen. It’s funny, really, how he’s trying to be polite to her as if he’s not about to take you next door and probably fuck you against an open window just to blow his own cover.

 “I told you he was a keeper,” your mother compliments him as she lays a plate of croissants on the table. “Just yesterday he offered to mow our lawn when we head off for vacation this weekend!”

             She’s praising him much like you wouldn’t, and you kick him under the table for trying to suck up to her even more now that he’s fucked you already. 

 “Did he now?” You ask, glaring over at him and then smiling sweetly at your mother. “Guess he is kind of a keeper, maybe.”

             His eyes shoot to you and he smiles around his bite of croissant at you. 

 “You were right though,” he counters you towards your mother, “she’s definitely a handful.”

             Your mother crosses her arms as she leans against the counter, looking between the both of you. 

 “How many dates have you been on without telling me?” She asks, looking at you.

 “A few…” If she considers it a date to meet up and fuck every other day this week.

 “We had lunch a few days ago.” he adds, backing you up. It’s just that the lunch wasn’t exactly like–you know, at a restaurant, and maybe it wasn’t food…

 “So, are you guys going to be exclusive, or?”

             Wonwoo looks at you curiously, and you look back at him. 

 “I dunno, it’s only been a week, Mom.”

             She nods, clapping once before pushing off of the counter and leaving the kitchen. 

             It’s silent between you and Wonwoo for a few moments before he speaks up.

 “I wouldn’t be against it.”

 “Against what?” You ask, looking at him with a raised brow. 

 “You know, like, dating. I can’t imagine anyone actually putting up with you besides me, anyway.”

             You kick him again from under the table, causing him to wince out in pain before glaring at you. You smile in return though, giving him a shrug and now rubbing your foot against the bruise you probably just caused. 

 “I can’t imagine anyone would want to put up with you either,” You laugh thinking hard about your next words. “Lucky for you, I already put up with you.”

 ~

#wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #wonwoo x reader

[tabithatwo]

It’s actually so painfully brilliant the way yellowjackets sets up their un-stereotype-able characters. I could (and might) do this for all of them, but because she’s on my mind right now—the show tells us that jackie taylor is the type of girl who has high expectations put on her and WILL be analyzed constantly (from coach, her parents, jeff, shauna (if only by way of shauna’s reflective habits and her personal narrative construction), the team (by way of being captain).

Then they show us so many instances of Jackie being good and kind. Is she perfect? NO, BECAUSE THEN SHE’D BE ANOTHER STEREOTYPE (THE PERFECT DEAD GIRL/WIFE), SILLY! She has enough edge to be believable as a teenage girl.

And what do people do with that edge? They sharpen it and sharpen it and use it to cut out every moment where Jackie is being kind or trying her hardest! Because what do we like?? Feeling confident in our stereotypical assumptions of people! And what did the show do? Give us scenes with blocking that suggests the popular girl/loner best friend stereotype and absolutely turn them on their head, because what’s not very realistic?? The popular girl who is mean to her loser best friend stereotype in media! (Is it impossible in life? NO, nothing is! But it’s not a standard set up. It’s not as common as media makes it out to be.)

What is one of Jackie’s primary fears as a character? Being held to INSANELY high standards and not meeting them! And what do the viewers commonly do to jackie? Why, they hold her to INSANELY high standards and show how she doesn’t meet them, of course!

Jackie cannot slip up, every instance where she falls short is catalogued as a gotcha moment. She was never allowed to fully develop on the screen because we often get her through the filter of shauna.

She gets deeply depressed, that depression is largely ignored in the show (lottie doesn’t pitch in much either, but her brand of being unwell is observed and understood as existing more so than Jackie’s), and then it is often ignored by viewers (“why didn’t she just come inside, she’s stubborn and dumb!” rather than “wow, look at this consistent descent into deep depression and suicidal ideation we’ve seen since episode 3, culminating in Jackie choosing to stay outside, what can we glean from that?”)

Jackie dies and she is literally consumed in totality—her memory is obscured, the hallucination form of her is filtered through Shauna’s psyche, her corpse is a doll, her flesh is digested. And a photo of her at 18 years old is posted at the 25 year reunion, looking perfect, attached to nothing of her life or who she was, used to facilitate a dance between her ex boyfriend and her best friend, who betrayed her in a way that most people would never get over, (but as we’re shown in the death dream Jackie ultimately would).

Allie literally says, “While I know she isn’t here with us, I know that this is what Jackie would have wanted.” She says that! In the show! To punctuate the absurdity of it all! The very relationship that broke Jackie’s heart, crushed her spirit, destroyed her will to live, being touted as something she would’ve wanted to hundreds of people.

And if that doesn’t strike you as a fucking horrifying tragedy, as emblematic of the reduction of women to whatever those around them need them to be, in order to fit their narrative, in order to be useful to them, then baby this show is sailing over your head.

#jackie taylor #shauna shipman #jackie x shauna #yellowjackets #shauna x jackie #jackieshauna

[teaboot]

What are "transmasc" and "genderqueer"?

I just woke up so bear with me, but like

Western society has invented this idea of "man" and "woman", right? And we SAY it's actually real, and based on tangible things like sex characteristics- primary, like dicks n' hoo-has- and secondary, like tiddies an facial hair an cellulite.

Well, it turns out that those things ain't divided "correctly" into the man and woman categories all the time.

People with dicks sometimes get tiddies, people without dicks sometimes grow beards and chest hair, beauty standards like "woman thin and hairless and short with small nose and tiny feet" and "man tall and muscular with a beard and broad shoulders" aren't appearing in nature the way we say they should.

(These gendered standards also change over time, but that's a different post.)

What's more, some people have multiple primary characteristics, and it's not even super rare! (Again, worth a different post, and not one I'm really in a position to make.)

So, we say that we didn't just "invent" two exclusive boxes to sort a wide variety and spectrum of characteristics into by pure brute force, but evidence says otherwise. So do we change the rules of our society to fit that evidence?

No, we pick something else to support our beliefs.

Learning about genes and DNA and chromosomes came much later in the game, so most people's grasp of it is this: Men have XY chromosomes, women have XX chromosomes, and no matter what your body is shaped like, that determines which box you go in. Whatever you look like should be padded or amputated or shaved away until you fit in your box.

Except.... we now know that people who outwardly appear to be the perfect ideal poster children of "man" and "woman" are living full, natural, healthy and unbothered lives totally unaware that they have the "wrong" chromosomes. No visibly "mixed" characteristics at all. So there goes that idea out the window.

Unless we say that no, our invention which is fact still holds up- there's just a few mutants and freaks and dysfunctional anomalies that just sort of happen sometimes, like factory flaws that wouldn't exist if things were running as they should.

So what do we do with factory flaws? We "fix" them. Or pressure them to fix themselves. Or, if they can "pass" one way or another, shove them into that box and tell them to shut up about it. Don't fit into either? Then pick one, and make yourself fit.

But... then, if we can pick... if hairy women with flat chests and small hips can shave themselves down and throw on some padding and powder her face to be accepted.... why can't anyone else?

Or, if that same "woman" went, fuck it, cut his hair short and embraced all the "man" characteristics, went by different pronouns and stepped into the "man" box... wouldn't that be okay, too?

And, he'll, what if they changed nothing about themselves and decided to opt out? We've proven that these "universal facts" don't *actually* exist and exceptions are everywhere, so fuck it, right? "Man" and "woman" don't really mean anything tangible anyways, so why not do what makes you happy?

And since, again, evidence shows that "man" and "women" aren't perfect binary boxes with perfect binary traits- why bother living up to those traits at all? Why can't someone assigned to the "woman" box live in the "man" box with long hair and heels on? If I makes him happy, what's the harm?

We don't like this, though, because when you build two boxes that contain the whole world, and people start escaping, or slipping out to live in the one they like more, or switching, or building their own, people begin to wonder why they're living in boxes at all. If we even need boxes.

And the people who maintain the boxes tell us, it's because the boxes are safe, and the boxes are natural, and the boxes have been here exactly as they are since the beginning of time anyways, and NO, they aren't just terrified of life outside the shelter of the box, you're the weird one.

Meanwhile, if we really looked into it, I imagine we'd find more people who don't fit their box criteria, or don't even like their box, at least as often as we find people who do.

Transgender means "someone who isn't in their assigned box".

Genderqueer means, "someone who isn't in their assigned box", but in a the same broad way that "transgender" is- Maybe a him, maybe a her, maybe both, maybe a they, perhaps a xey, and sometimes some of us move around.

I say I'm genderqueer, 'cause that fits me, but "Transmasc" to me personally means, "I know I'm not a woman, and I'm closer to the "man" box, but I'm happier wandering outside the "man" box than I am stepping fully inside. (Dysphoria is part of that, but again, in my opinion it's not vital to the experience.)

And I'm not one for destroying those two boxes entirely- they bring joy to a lot of people.

Just, you know. Maybe making more, different boxes. And maybe little camps out between them. And not treating people who roam the wilderness instead like rabid animals. Is the thing.

Long answer

#Long post #Text post #Gender #Transgender #Transmasc #Genderqueer #Correct me if I'm wrong I'm not fully awake and also wrong sometimes and also a lil dumb on top o that

[bakubunny]

a/n: i’ve written daddy!shota plenty of times, but i’ve never written about how it might have happened. so here’s a hc dump? there’s a lil smutty drabble at the end.

if this isn’t your kind of thing, pls just scroll and ignore.

tw: f!reader, daddy kink (obv), ddlg, mentioned age play, d/s dynamics, pet names: baby, babygirl, sweetheart, good girl

totally blindsided the first time someone whined out a shaky “daddy” underneath him in his early twenties. almost busted instantly. he knew daddy kinks were a thing, but that was something people joked about, wasn’t it?… at least that’s what he knew. he also knew he needed to hear it again, but shoved the thought away as the life of an underground hero took hold.

kayama was the one who called him out on it jokingly when she snickered and threw out an offhand, “okay, daddy,” in response to his being demanding and she earned a nasty glare. she proceeded to do that for the next week, and every time, shota had half a mind to shove her face into any surface he could find and fuck the attitude out of her. but he never did.

got absolutely shitfaced with some friends and drunkenly confided in kamaya as uncomfortable as it was. he wanted answers, wanted to know that he wasn’t some disgusting perv, and if anyone could understand, it would be her. while much more crass than he liked on the matter, she still had compassion.

thanks to kayama, shota soon finds places on the internet where real people are involved in “ddlg,” and a comfort settles in his chest knowing that what’s in his head actually exists.

there’s something that makes his body run hot seeing real people in innocent, frilly clothes, printed, childish panties, maybe an oversized pacifier between their lips, snuggling with the cutest plushies he’s ever seen…. he’s not sure what to make of that, and it takes time for him to figure it out.

by the time you meet shota a few years later, he’s figured out most of his likes and dislikes, he thinks. he’s considered or been in a d/s dynamic once or twice, but most of his “daddy kink” experience falls into “something i like to hear in the bedroom.”

he’s pretty perceptive and picked up that you might be that kind of person long before it came up. it’s in the small things - the way you get flustered with certain nicknames or a particular tone of voice, how much you enjoy it when he’s forceful or takes control, the way he can almost watch your brain short circuit with certain phrases, with how he insists on taking care of you, etc.

he’s probably not gonna tell you until you bring it up or it happens naturally; yeah, he wants it, but until you push him, he’s not the type to demand what he wants out of sex (or in general) in a romantic relationship because that takes work… and because most sex doesn’t involve romantic relationships for him.

when it does come out, there’s plenty of discussion. he’s open with you for the most part because he doesn’t see a reason not to be. no matter how hesitant you might be, he’s unfazed by anything you bring up; he’s been around the internet enough that he’s at least seen the whole spectrum - everything from “daddy is a nickname” to 24/7 dynamics heavy on age play.

the first time you let it slip and call him daddy is probably in bed. he’s just fucking you that good. your head is spinning and fuzzy at the same time. your voice is muffled by pillows or maybe you’re tucked into the crook of his neck, biting into his sweatshirt. it’s soft, hardly intelligible; in fact, you were desperately hoping he hadn’t heard you at all.

but shota’s hearing is sharp, and he knows that what just left your mouth sure as shit was not “baby.”

so he leans in, his lips grazing your ear. “what’s that, sweetheart?”

“huh? n-nothin, jus’ feels go-” you’re cut off as your jaw drops and you moan.

shota angles his hips slightly, pounding harder into the spot that had you trembling and seeing white moments ago.

“c’mon babygirl, what did you call me?”

you whine. heat rushes to your cheeks. “no, sho st-stop, please,” you plead softly.

“if you wanna fucking cum, you’re gonna repeat what you said,” he growls. “you hear me?”

another hesitant whimper as you clench around his thick cock. shota grunts from the sensation and concedes, opting for a bit of encouragement.

his tone is soft and low. “i need it. let daddy hear you, baby.”

a shudder runs over your skin, your voice more akin to a broken sob. “fuck daddy, fuc-nngh, please don’t stop.”

shota’s heavy groan hits your skin as he pants, and you keen in response.

“that’s it. that’s my good girl, shit.” he presses soft, warm kisses into your skin. “say it again.”

if you’d like to join my tag list, let me know. ♡

gremlins: @arlerts-angel @dcsiremc @darkstarlight82 @bookcluberror @neon-gothicc @zazter-den @breadandbutter33 @i-literally-cant-with-this @rinalouu @stvrfir3 @r4td0lll @emmab3mma @aria-chikage @mhadabiandhawks4eva @yazminetrahan @doumadono @dreamcastgirl99 @maddietries @jazzafayesworld @karebear5118 @unofficialmuilover @cherriluvs35 @erensslut @ruu-https @hana-yuri @keiva1000 @katsul0vr @trickster-kat @ayeohoh-blog @dinomeow @flamgosstuff @mistressreaper @angelltheninth @anonymously-ominous @amberexe2 @hisconsistency @nanamisbigassschlong @223princess @honeeslust @naughtygobbo @acenanxious @blumoonwisteria @chaos-gem @levizonlywife @nuttyunknowndetective

#this is way too real i’m so sorry #pls forgive me hori for i have sinned #need him like i need air #im blushing #embarrassed #unable to function #BYE #aizawa shouta #aizawa shota #aizawa x reader #aizawa smut #tw daddy kink #x reader #f!reader #💖 #bakubunny

[louvemione]

illicit affairs (part two) — d. malfoy (draco's pov)

synopsis : Draco watched as Y/n slowly walked out of his life and wonders why their relationship is considered illicit.

warning/s : angst, fluff if you squint hard enough, profanity, written in first person, pureblood! reader (this isn't really important & would only be implied)

author's note : like promised, here is part two of illicit affairs 🥳 but i feel like i didn't write it properly 🥲 hopefully, you guys get the message i'm trying to get through!

<- part one | part three ->

leave the perfume on the shelf

that you picked out just for him

sixth year

"why is it that you no longer wear your signature perfume? I used to love it" that was probably a dumb and unnecessary question to ask

but can you blame me? I just need the slightest reasons and I would gladly start a conversation with her. as crazy as it sounds, I'd most definitely take every opportunity to talk to her.

she was silent for a moment, luckily it was only us sitting by the fire, "there's absolutely no reason for me to wear it but i'm glad you loved it"

i hate this. i hate the awkward silence between me and her, i hate that she's distancing herself from me and i hate that i am pretty much aware of it, i hate not being able to tell her how much i adore her, i hate not being true to myself, i hate—

"i'll go to my dorms now, it was nice talking to you" she didn't wait for my response and continued to walk to her dormitory, i hate when she's formal, it's as if we weren't friends.

so you leave no trace behind

like you don't even exist

"good morning!" I say, rather awkwardly than I hoped for it to

"hello, Draco" she smiled and walked past me

I watched her retreating figure like I always do now that she tries to cut every interaction short.

I hate it.

I hate it when she acts as if nothing ever happened between us. I hate that she no longer wears her perfume. I hate that she's slowly starting to slip past my finger tips.

I fucking hate it.

because she was leaving my life, slowly. so slow that I could see her disappear bit by bit. like, she was packing her things to move else where.

from her presence, to her perfume. it's as if she never even existed with how carefully everything connecting to her disappeared from my life.

take the words for what they are

a dwindling, mercurial high

"you look gorgeous" I whispered, hoping that it was loud enough for y/n to hear, hoping that she knew that it was directed at her, not Astoria.

I felt guilty for dancing with my soon-to-be wife and wishing it was y/n I'm holding.

soon enough, when Harry and Y/n stopped dancing, I excused myself.

"I'll go out for a moment" not waiting for Astoria's reply, I started walking away. I walked behind Y/n, grazing my hand against her waist in the process, hoping that she gets the message.

and that's how we ended up in the restricted section of the library, where we spent the next hour hugging and exchanging kisses and i love you's while looking through the different books in the shelves.

i love you, looking back, I started to wonder whether or not she took my words seriously.

"impossible! he can't...actually mean it!"

but according to the conversation I overheard, she took it as a dwindling, mercurial high.

a drug that only worked

"we're okay, we'll figure this out together, but let's not think of that for now" my kisses were denied when she pushed my head away and sat up.

"we all know we can't do anything about it" she argued and pushed me off, "listen, baby, we shouldn't restrict ourselves from loving who we want and I definitely won't spend my life married to someone I don't love, so believe me, I'll do something about it"

"but you two are set for marriage—"

"but I love you, not her" she stayed silent and I smiled, "so, do you trust me?"

"yeah, of course, I do"

the first few hundred times

"do you not trust me?!"

"NO! I FUCKING DON'T!"

and that's the thing about illicit affairs

and clandestine meetings and stolen stares

illicit? our relationship is nowhere near illicit.

it's not wrong to love someone, what's wrong is to pretend to love someone.

if it were Astoria I'm in a relationship with, that's illicit. but y/n? why would our relationship be illicit? because I'm bound to marry someone I don't want to marry?

"you okay, mate?" only then did I realize that I have been gripping my knife so tightly as I watched as she laughed with Saint Potter.

"we know you've been...feeling bad since she ended things with you but—"

"I just don't understand! why now? why—"

"why not now, Draco? did you think she'd want to wait 'til your wedding before breaking it off?"

"there will be no wedding!"

"oh I wouldn't be so sure if I were you" Daphne says, "my mum wrote to me this morning and mentioned that they might start planning yours and Astoria's wedding, if I were you, I'd start getting into action"

I spent the rest of supper thinking and secretly staring at y/n, who seemed to be doing the same.

they show their truth one single time

"i love you"

but they lie, and they lie, and they lie

"do you love me, still?" I say, not too bothered by the students who I knew were eavesdropping in our conversation

"as a friend, yeah"

we both know she's lying. and I know she's aware of the fact that I know she's lying.

a million little times

© louvemione on tumblr | do not steal, copy, translate or repost

#not too proud of this 🥹 #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fic #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco #draco angst #draco one shot #draco fanfiction #draco x y/n #draco x reader #draco x you #draco x female reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x reader

[fhrlclln]

Hello! I read your angsty Miguel fic and I need more immediatelyyyyy

Basically I’ve been seeing some tiktoks pointing out that when Miguel talks about the Peter from Miles universe, he sounds very emotional. Like heartbroken emotional. Some ppl theorize “hey what if they knew each other and that’s why Miguel is even more pissed?” My head ran with it and what if it was spider!fem! reader who was the Spider-Man on Miles’ universe who died?

Miguel and reader were hardcore pining for each other but he never made a move cuz he was terrified of anything happening and still had his heart closed off. Only to get hit with the intense feelings of grief and anger when the news arrives that she’s dead and only serves as a motivator to stop Miles

miguel o’hara x spider!fem! reader

OOOH THIS IS AN INTERESTING APPROACH ON THAT. and also, 🤌 angst 🤌, we are on an angst train now HEHE.

on that note, i’m changing the lore a bit again, since in my understanding the first time miguel leaped through the multiverse is after the events of into the spiderverseee. i find it so cute that what if miguel would actually just observe in a dimension and hang around a bit before the main events will transpire. T_T

anways enjoy, anon babes!! i had fun researching and writing this. <3

angst under the cut

｡･:*˚:✧｡

when miguel first leaped into the spider-verse, it was way before when miles was bitten by the spider. the multiverse to him at that time, was a working experiment for him; and still had room for improvement as he created a prototype of the dimensional time watch for the big dimension leap he was studying with lyla. sure, it made him able to leap into certain dimensions, though only for a short amount of time since the prototype still had the faulty feature of preventing his molecules from destabilizing. lyla told him it was dangerous to stay so long in a separate dimension, since they still had to study the part to prevent that faulty feature. overall, this minimal dimension leaps were just a trial for both. sort of a observation trial. yet…

he just hadn’t expected to meet you so early in his life.

earth-1610B, in calculations, he wasn’t expecting much from this variant dimension, it was already normal as he can tell. typical setting and typical story that runs along from previous spider dimensions he leaped into. miguel only chastised himself to explore the dimension for at least an hour or so, knowing the longer he stays, he might disappear from existence and he wasn’t going to risk that. lyla would beat his ass if they don’t complete the watch. in his observation though, he found it comforting to be hanging around a different location than in the futuristic nueva york. it was more… comforting he thinks.

cars honked, the sound of new yorkers chatting along talking about everything, the lights at night was an absolute scene to behold when he sits atop of the empire state building; a little hard to climb up there but he managed to climb without recking the building with his claws. everything was an interesting sight to look at, even watching the neighborhood’s own spider-woman fight sometimes.

you were interesting and perfect, as miguel deemed. everyone loved you, always fighting hard and though you sometimes get beaten down, there was always this sheer determination for you to stand up. which was something he admired even though he won’t admit it. and you’re pretty. too pretty in fact when he got a glimpse of your face at some point. tonight however, he might have fucked up big time the rules he set himself to not fiddle with any dimension he had visited. talk to their spider-people.

he was unmasked and dressed in casual clothing with a hat on, blending with the crowd. miguel enjoyed a stroll along times square, holding a classic new york hotdog in his hand as he takes a bite out of it. he took the time to observe times square, completely not noticing you silently speed-walking by as you collided with him on accident, both your attentions caught by the sudden disturbance.

“ay, watch where—“

“i’m sorry!” you squeak, alarmed at his harsh tone as you frantically glanced up, eyes wide staring at him. his eyes widened as well hearing your voice, your pretty face staring at him as you apologize profusely for not looking as miguel told himself he was screwed right there and now.

“god, sorry! you have mustard on your t-shirt, shit, shit, shit—“ you frowned seeing the stain as miguel glanced down to it, cheeks blooming hot. was he embarrassed? he wanted to roll his eyes and tell you it was fine but you just had to wipe it with your own handkerchief before he could say anything.

“glad you’re wearing black. mustard stains are pretty fucking hard to wash out. learned it from personal experience with a white tee.” you babbled, smiling at it as miguel silently lets you wipe it off, admiring how serious you are to getting the mustard off, that look of determination.

“and there! done!” you smiled again, setting his heart racing, he was quiet for a moment until you just started talking again, embarrassed this time. “sorry if—“

“no, it’s fine. thanks.” he cuts you off, a smug smile tugging on his lips as you shied away from his gaze. the spider-woman shy before him? unbelievable, it was cute to think that without your mask you’d be this cute thing. he gulps as you nodded, he was expecting you to leave but you just started something about you rarely bumping into people these days awkwardly. miguel listens of course, actually only a little as he was too focused on staring at every feature of your face, dumbly nodding along silently until you introduced yourself with your star smile.

“i’m y/n by the way.” you shyly offer your hand for a simple handshake as he accepts it, saying his own in greeting.

“miguel.”

“nice to meet you, miguel.”

it was bliss that he had met you before. though he remained distant, putting this silent wall between the two of you as he knows that quiet thump in his heart is threatening him somehow. but who wouldn’t like you? you’re beautiful and you have that kind laughter he’d like to hear every time he would visit or the fact that he’d soften when you smile at him, making him feel content. sure, he was presenting himself as dodgy and mysterious knowing you would ask him about certain things of his personal life as you two got to know each other more and he’d discretely dodge some. it was a frequent thing for the two of you to only meet by times square, sort of a unknown thought between the both of you for it to be deemed a meet-up place. he enjoyed every single time you’d greet him, though he remained closed-off a bit, trying not to get too attached yet sometimes he’d wished for more with you as the longer you two spend time with each other. but he knew better than to pursue what his mind was telling him again and again.

was it dangerous? yes. did he care? maybe so. but that wouldn’t stop him from always picking your dimension every time he’d ‘test’ the watch again.

and now he wishes you didn’t bump into him that day as he chases miles up the speed train heading to the moon.

“you’re a mistake!” miguel yells as he slams miles on the train, the poor boy yelped at his rough handling as miguel pinned him down. the sudden wave of sadness taking over as he remembers you. your smile, your awkward jokes, your laughter, your eyes… everything.

“if you hadn’t been bit, your spider-woman would’ve lived!” he shouts, anger rushing through his veins, his brows furrowed as miles struggled in his grasp. the teenage boy’s face flashed a wave of sadness remembering you. miguel can feel the tears threatening to well in his eyes yet only anger and frustration were present as he blamed everything on miles now.

“instead she died, saving you.” his tone faltered a bit despite the harshness he puts on. his heart clenched, memories flooding in, grief striking his heart again. the hollowness had been there since you died and hollowed further when his daughter had as well, crumpling his once self. the mere time you two had together was cut short and he blamed it on miles dumbly. his own emotions blinding him to put the blame on the poor boy who’s just trying to save his dad now.

“she would’ve stopped the collider before it would have ever been off. spot wouldn’t exist and none of this wouldn’t have happened.” he punctuates every single word, holding himself back as miles tried to wiggle out of his grasp again, only for him to slam him down again for the boy to listen to him. he ignores the yells from peter and gwen pleading for him to let miles go yet he pesters further, determined to let it all out.

“and she—“ he tries to find the words for you, remembering every single detail and every conversation you had with him. his mind flashing memories of that glint in your eyes when you passionately tell him about something you liked and how you would get this look of awe when he says or asks something about it. how kind and caring you are to him even though you barely knew each other before. remembering the time when he observed from afar as you swung around the neighborhood, bringing smiles on every person’s face, bringing it to him as well. and he regretted so much for not ever telling you about how you made him smile. miles’ eyes widened seeing this new look of vulnerability on miguel’s face as he stops struggling for a moment in surprise. miguel blinks, shaking his head as all came weighing down. you, his daughter, everyone, the multiverse as his own voice cracks despite the searing anger laced within it.

“she was everything.“

｡･:*˚:✧｡

😭😭😭

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara imagine #oscar isaac #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #fnhrlcllnwrites #eri’s request box 📦 ｡･:*˚:✧｡

[irlmagicalart]

to the crew member who is responsible for the Sprig plush in Hunter's room — i love you i owe you my life <3

(please pretend I finished and posted these last August before Thanks to Them aired - k thanks byyyyyeeeee~)

bonus doodle, thoughts, and reference credits under the readmore :)

POV grimwalker #58 is 8 years and frew up at 3am

Once I caught up on season 2 of TOH last summer and saw the Sprig plush in Hunter's room, my brain went BRRRRRRRR. Even though it's just an easter egg/cute reference someone snuck in, I immediately thought that Amphibia existing as a children's book or book series on the Boiling Isles would be a fun in-universe reason for him to have a Sprig plush; especially since Hunter canonically loves to read, like Luz. I thought it would have been nice for the Amphibia books to have been one of the few genuine childhood experiences he got to have before being fully indoctrinated by Belos. Since we don't have a full canon timeline for Hunter, I made a few artistic choices when I was originally doodling these. 1. His ear notch is from creation, and not an injury. I got the image stuck in my mind of a still clay-like toddler grimwalker, and Belos accidentally clipping his ear in the process of trying to cut his hair 💀 2. Hunter's face scar happens later on, maybe around age 12 or 13 (and almost definitely due to an outburst from Belos). 3. Before Flapjack (❤️), Hunter monologued to Sprig 4. While the thought of Darius, Lilith, or Belos being the adult to help make the plush is extremely funny, I couldn't imagine any of them actually doing that, LMAO. Darius and Lilith might not have even been a coven heads yet, and while Belos may have indulged the fresh child grimwalkers a little, I couldn't see him being kind or patient enough to do more than just allow them to have some of their own childhood interests for a short while. Gotta let your child soldiers have the illusion of personal choice and love so they stay loyal :,) SO, I thought to myself, "Who the fuck would be in the castle, but wouldn't hate Hunter for existing??" and then I thought about how Amity volunteered with the public Library to read to kids and help them with projects, and how amazing librarians are, in general. So I decided the castle library had this kind witch as an employee for a while during Hunter's childhood, and he is the one who helped Hunter make Sprig :,,,) Credits Non-native procreate brushes used: Star Brush Set for Procreate by CK Art & Design Ultimate Dynamic Comic Panels, Balloons and SFX Toolkit for Procreate By Ittai Manero

Hunter's bedroom layout referenced from Hunting Palismen (S2E6), and Leland Goodman's original design for Lilith's room (which it seems was re-used for Hunter's room later on in production).

#the owl house #hunter toh #hunter #amphibia #sprig plantar #hunter noceda #hunter deamonne #the golden guard #hunter the golden guard #i refuse to tag him as a wittebane; he doesn't deserve that disrespect lmao #consistent art style??? dunno her #i spent way too much time on these. plz clap 💛

[tojisbbg]

𝙢𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙪𝙨𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙙

❝and i am the idiot with the painted face, in the corner, taking up space.❞  

♡ izana kurokawa ♡

pt. 1

a/n: i love putting mikey and izana stans through pain lolz. 

content: royal! au, prince izana x princess y/n (reader), arranged marriage, shitty/toxic parenting, angst, cheating, izana’s a jerk, swearing/cursing, maybe smut (?), strangers to enemies to lovers, not checked for grammatical errors. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

nothing ever lasts forever. 

you looked at the roses that were becoming shriveled up, slowly withering. the cold, unforgiving winter was soon to come. the grassy fields filled with flowers and little creatures of mother nature would be embraced by cold arms, blanketed with snow. 

you bitterly grimaced at how this pathetic flower was used as a symbol of love. ironically, it fits. 

love?

no such thing truly exists, and even if it does, it’s either fake or bound to die in the future. 

you leaned down, picking up one of the sorrowful roses from the royal garden, looking at it with pity. while plucking off the petals, you accidentally pricked your finger from one of the thorns on the stem. 

you were startled from the short-lived pain, looking at your index finger as you saw the small droplet of the crimson red liquid. 

“you truly are evil.” you whispered, throwing the stupid flower on the ground just like any other worthless piece of trash. 

“princess! what are you doing out here in such weather?! you’ll catch a cold!” one of the maids rushed in, concern and fear written all over her face. 

“could i never get a second of peace and quiet? what is it that you need?” you harshly spat out, knowing that these stupid women didn’t care for your actual well-being. 

they were ordered to for the sake of their pockets being filled. 

of course, the world had to revolve around money and green of us filthy human beings. 

“the king and queen has requested for you.” she spoke with a low voice, eyes not meeting your glaring ones. 

“tell them to fuck off.” you bluntly replied, getting up to walk towards the orchid tree that was located way far back towards the end of the garden. suddenly, you felt the maid drop on her knees, holding one of your legs. 

“what the fuck, get off of me!” you tried to wiggle her off, but she shook her head in refusal. 

“please, princess! your father has already threatened all of us to have our heads chopped off because of not having you follow your daily routine. you must come or else our lives are at stake!” she sobbed, making you look down at them with a disgusted expression. 

“you sick morons.” you grumbled under your breath, agreeing to head inside which made her thank you as if you were god himself granting her a blessing. 

the maid escorted you to your parent’s room, afraid that you might not stay true to your words. regardless, you decided to have it her way to save her sanity. after reaching the door of your parent’s room, the maid knocked on the door before entering. 

“the princess is here, your highness.” she informed before taking her leave which was your cue to enter. you closed the door behind you, seeing the both of them sitting on the edge of their bed, looking at you with a small smile. 

“why did you call me?” you asked, cutting straight to the chase. you knew that your parents were filled with bullshit, all they cared about is being the most powerful kingdom to ever exist. 

power, money, fame. 

they wanted it all and it made you sick to your stomach. your morals and view on topics that were flaming hot to them largely differed. you just wanted to live a simple life, and it’s not that you’re an ungrateful brat. 

you just have the world’s shittiest parents. 

“is that how you were taught to speak to people, y/n?” you father snapped back at you, clearly displeased by your response. 

“i don’t even speak to anyone in general, so who cares?” you commented with a shrug, making your mother sigh in disappointment. 

“well, you will eventually one day in the future. you’ll inherit the throne, have a husband and lead your joined kingdoms until you pass it down to your kids.” she explained to you with a soft tone, nearly making you gag. 

“me? marriage? as if.” you laughed, but your parents only looked at you with a serious expression. your voiced died down, now looking at them with nothing but shock and disbelief. 

“why are you both quiet? tell me it’s a joke, what’s wrong with you?” you angrily scoweled, but they remained quiet. 

“y/n, you’re no longer our little girl anymore. you’re a young woman now, who’s ready to fulfill her duties as the future queen and as someone’s wife.” your father tried to caress your cheek in a loving manner, but you swatted his hand away, on the brink of tears. 

“how dare you! does my voice or opinion not have any worth to you guys? how can you decide such a big thing for me without even thinking about if i want it or not!” you raged, wanting to dig yourself a small grave right on the spot you were standing in. 

“you don’t have a say, y/n! what don’t you understand?! you must get married, it’s an order by our law and nature. you’re a princess for god’s sake!” your mother scolded you, getting fed up from such childish behavior from you. 

“then fuck being a princess, i’ll run away.” you threatened, your tears streaming down your face as your heart ached. 

“you know that’ll never work, so stop being immature and try to accept things as how it is.” your father snickered, making you wanna rip your hair out. 

“then i’ll end my life.” it was a rather rash thing to say, but it caught the attention of your parents, especially your father. he clutched onto his chest, breathing heavily, which alarmed your mother. she quickly rushed to his side, laying him down on the mattress while you watched with a blank expression.

“how dramatic. he should’ve signed up to become a theater entertainer than be a king.” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“y/n! that’s enough.” your mother said through gritted teeth, fanning your father who coughed like a man that’s been smoking thirty cigars a day. 

“if you both are done wasting my time, may i leave?” you yawned, getting bored of the same kind of shit that you had to go through nearly every day. 

she didn’t bother looking up at you, ignoring your words as a way to indicate that she didn’t care. 

“could’ve just said yes, y’know.” with that being said, you turned your heels and walked out, making sure to slam the door extra hard to piss them off even more. 

you giggled after hearing the noise echoing through the empty halls, knowing for sure that your parents are probably talking shit about you right now. you hummed a small tune as you walked to your room. 

“they’re crazy to think that i would actually agree to this shit.” you talked to yourself as you began to strip out of your gown, throwing it on your bed before walking inside your bathroom. 

you shoved a finger inside the tub, checking if the temperature was right. you grinned in content, feeling the warmth of the water as you eagerly stepped in, lowering yourself slowly. 

you couldn’t help but feel sorry for yourself. there are thousands of people out there who wished to be in your spot right now, living the life as a princess. 

but, they only see your life from a small glass window, not being able to peak further deep inside. 

they think that just because you bathe in luxury every day, your life is perfect. what they don’t see is how trapped you feel, how your parents are so controlling over your life, almost as if you were their very own puppet. 

why?

you were hidden away from your whole life, envying the lives of commoners. you were homeschooled while everyone else went to public schools. you had no friends nor were you allowed to explore the village because it makes you appear improper. you have to wear bigass, itchy and uncomfortable gowns every day. 

you hated it, absolutely hated it with every fiber in your body. if only all of your problems could be drowned like this, then maybe life wouldn’t have been so bad.

“i don’t care what it takes, i won’t be getting married.” you promised yourself, sinking deeper into the tub until you were completely submerged in the water. 

...

“no, no! you can’t do this to me! i’m your fucking daughter, not a puppet. please, don’t do this. i’ll do anything, just don’t give me away.” you pleaded to your mother as you sat on your bed, dressed into the wedding dress that the maids successfully had shoved you inside. 

“y/n, my baby, please just listen to me. your father and i love you so mu-”

“bullshit! absolute bullshit, stop lying to me! god, all you both ever do is lie! fuck, i hate you guys so much.” you wept, not caring that you had streaks of mascara running down your face. 

“you need to understand that your father isn’t in the best condition to rule the kingdom. his heart problems are getting worse, and i won’t be able to take care of everything all by myself. joining our kingdom with the kurokawa’s would lessen the burden on us.” she tried to reason, taking a napkin to wipe away your ruined makeup as you looked up at her with glossy eyes, seeing not a single hint of care or adoration. 

her eyes looked empty and you knew that these people would not hesitate to sell you off like some kind of livestock if they needed some money. 

“you guys disgust me. all you care about is your benefits and never about me. you want me to get married? fine, i’ll get fucking married. since you guys along with that fucker that agreed to this shit basically ruined my life, i’ll make sure to return the favor.” you smirked, getting up as you grabbed the smashed bouquet of flowers. 

“y/n-”

“don’t wanna hear it.” you cut her off, walking off to head downstairs where the chapel was. you saw your father waiting down by the stairs for you, looking at you with a horrified face. 

“y/n? your makeup is-”

“does it look like i care? are you gonna walk me down the aisle or should i go by myself?” you impatiently said, making your father’s jaw drop from the sudden change of attitude. you avoided eye contact with him, not being able to bear the sight of how your father looked pleased with the change of heart you had, completely overlooking the fact of how your eyes screamed in despair. 

“of course not, dear. come on.” he heartily chuckled, linking your arms together before leading you inside the chapel. your body burned with hatred, every step that you took felt like your legs were chained with weights. 

“you could hate me all you want, y/n, but one day you’ll realize that everything that i have done for you is for the best.” your father said, his words completely flying over your head as you knew that it would be no use of saying anything to him. 

it’s too late anyways. 

the doors opened, a blinding ray of light hitting you as you could picture the chapel looking as beautiful as ever, knowing that your mother hired the best in town to decorate everything. however, you kept your eyes on the ground, being led up the few step as your father finally let go of your arm. 

the priest began to read the wedding vows and midway there was a pause to allow the exchange of rings to occur. 

your soon-to-be husband extended his hand, waiting for you to place yours on his palm. his skin was tan, long slender fingers with a few veins being painted on the surface of his hand as well. with a heavy heart, you lightly placed your hand on his, making sure to have minimal skin-to-skin contact with him. 

“izana?” the priest called out, and for the first time, you’ve heard what your husband’s name was. 

“yes?” he answered, his voice deep and smooth like honey. 

“do you take y/n as your wife, promising to stay by her side through better or worse, sickness and in health, till death pulls you both apart?” the familiar lines were recited, making your vision become a blur with tears. 

those vows, these same sacred words to prove one’s faith and love to each other, it wasn’t meant for you or this izana guy. you had the right to wait for your knight and shining armor, your romeo and your prince charming. 

“i do.” izana said firmly, his voice not shaking at all as he was ready to seal the deal. 

“y/n?” the sudden intrusion of the voice startled you as you were deeply indulged in your train of thoughts. 

“what?” you blurted out without any thought, hearing gasps around the room as you swore at yourself before muttering a quick apology to the priest. 

“that’s quite alright, dear. do you take izana as your husband, promising to stay by his side through better or worse, sickness and in health, till death pulls you both apart?” the same lines almost seemed taunting you know, as if it was mocking your situation. you were thankful that the veil was covering your face, as your face was now covered with streaks of your dried tears. 

it was never supposed to be this way. 

you shouldn’t be up here getting married to some stranger whom you’ve never met before. as the crowd began to silently gossip among themselves, you felt like your knees would give up any minute from how anxious you felt. 

you had two choices. 

you still had the chance to run away, maybe even go abroad to another village far away from here and keep your identity hidden until you could get on a ship to go overseas. 

you don’t take izana kurokawa as your loving husband whom you swear to spend the rest of your life with through sickness and in health. 

you’re no princess, and you’re most certainly not qualified to be a queen who should rule such a vast kingdom. to all those stuck up people that are like loyal dogs under royal laws, you’re their puppet that’s being trained to become a loyal dog just like them. 

but you weren’t one of them nor did you wish to become like them. you’re not a dog who’ll abide by the rules, trained to serve their husband and a piece of land. 

no, absolutely not. 

you were a caged bird who wished to be free. you read many books that were stored in the castle’s library. there are about 18,000 species of birds out there, roaming freely to their heart’s desire. 

beautiful and colorful wings that allow them to explore different place in the earth. you wished to be like them, you too want to spread your wings and take a leap of faith in life. you want to go to the amazon forest, see the creation of mother nature. 

and you knew well enough that in order to do that, you must take a risk. it was a 50/50, but at this point, who cares about the odds?

“i do.”

...

the wedding was over and you were now headed towards the kurokawa kingdom, which wasn’t too far off from your own. it was a two hour car ride, you thought you would be able to rest in the comforts of your own room for the night. 

to your dismay, your parents had other plans. 

they had the maids pack up your things and have it waiting for you already at your new “home”. to you it seemed like your parents were only counting how much time was left till you would finally depart from them. 

assholes. 

it was an awful wedding. 

all the dishes that were served were shit that you were forced to eat as a child. it’s true that you were a picky eater but you weren’t always like this. the castle’s diet consisted of eating only clean foods to prevent health concerns like obesity or heart problems since they both ran in the family. 

to which you weren’t against at first. 

but you could vividly remember how when you went down to the village and stopped by a small udon shop to try their delicious meat udon special, your mother soon arrived and ripped you away from the shop before threatening to have you skip dinner. 

she would give the same lecture about how men like women who have a nice figure, long lucious hair along with a shy and soft demeanor. 

to which you would simply just walk off while she kept on going off, pretty much talking to herself since you didn’t even bother to listen to her bullshit. 

the guests were snobby, from both sides of the family. while izana was busying himself on entertaining those fools with a charming smile and soft eyes, you gave everyone who tried to approach you a death stare.

izana kurokawa. 

after you both exchanged your vows, it was time to show the god awful crowd the love and devotion you both have towards each other. 

a kiss. 

you were going to kiss izana kurokawa, who was now your husband. you were going to kiss a man whom you’ve never seen or heard of before until an hour ago. 

gentle hands lifted your veil as you slowly looked up, eyes meeting for the first time. it felt like time had stopped, you couldn’t stop staring at him. 

he was gorgeous. 

the title of a prince was meant for izana kurokawa. he was responsible, kind and caring. snowy white hair that was parted, mesmerizing amethyst eyes with soft white lashes, honey glazed skin and a small smile on his lips. 

izana bent down, his face hovering above yours as you could feel his warm breath fanning over your flesh. you closed your eyes, waiting his lips to meet yours. 

however, no such thing ever happened. 

his lips weren’t touching yours, barely brushing against them to say the least. yet, the guests roared with cheers and you soon came to realization. you opened your eyes, only to see those same lips curl into a smirk as he lazily eyed down at you. 

izana kurokawa was not your husband because he too didn’t want to fulfill that role in your life. 

you were not his wife nor would you ever be. 

“we’re here, sir.” the drive came to a stop as the driver announced the arrival to the destination, pulling up to the castle doors. izana hummed in acknowledgment, as one of the guards opened the door for him. without a word, he left with the slam of the door, leaving you alone in the car. 

“what a fucking jerk.” you grumbled to yourself, hearing the driver faintly chuckle as you shot him a glare from the backseat, knowing that he’d see it on the car’s rear mirror. 

“the hell are you laughing at, huh?” you boldly spoke up, making him look back with a small smile. 

“princess, do not be so naive. our prince is not like those whom you’ve read about in tales like cinderella or sleeping beauty. it’s not my place to talk ill about our soon to be king, but you’ll find out soon enough, so don’t be deceived.” he warned, making you harshly gulp. 

the driver was nice enough to pull the door open for you, offering a rough hand to help your get out of the car since your dress seemed like it weighed over a thousand pounds. 

the kurokawa kingdom was north from your own kingdom, but you never thought that it would make this much of a difference in weather. your wedding dress was sleeveless, making the cold breeze hit your skin as you shivered. 

you noticed how the castle was built on a hill, the grass was barely alive, most likely due to the cold weather. it was a mountainous area after all. 

“shall we?” one of the butler interrupted your thoughts, waiting with the door opened as you nodded. 

you entered the castle doors, seeing how the interiors were nothing like your boring castle design. it was purple and gold, art works of famous artists hung up on the wall of angelic beings, and the halls smelled faintly of lavender. 

“shall i take you to your room, prince-”

“that won’t be necessary, we have to talk about a few things. don’t worry, i’ll take it from here.” izana cut him off, walking down the grand stairs. 

“of course, sir.” the butler bowed his head before leaving. 

“we have nothing to talk about. it’s nearly midnight and i’m tired, i want to go to bed.” you groaned, trailing behind him as you were now in the living room. 

“there’s some rules that you must follow now that you live with me.” he informed, sitting down as he crossed one leg over the other. 

“how lovely, i came from one prison to another. life truly loves me, huh?” you bitterly chuckled, crossing your arms over your chest as you glared at him. 

“how pitiful.” faux sympathy was painted all over his features, making your blood boil. 

“hey bitchface, who do take me as? you think that just because we’re married now, you could do whatever you want with me as you wish? please, don’t make me laugh.” you giggled, getting up as you walked over to him. izana’s face remained unfazed with his previous smug look. 

you bent down to come at eye level with his sitting stature.

“i never listened to my own parents rules, so, the fuck made you think that i’d listen to yours?” you taunted, cocking an eyebrow as he maintained eye contact with you. 

“unlike your parents, i could have you out of this castle with the snap of a finger. i’m not as sympathetic nor do i give a single shit about you like your parents. you are their child whom they tolerated, but to me, you’re nothing but a nobody. so, mind your tone when speaking to me.” izana strictly said, giving you a sarcastic smile as he was able to see that he made his point across. 

you sighed as you walked back to the sofa, plopping down while you waited for him to open his shitty mouth once again to tell you about his so-called rules. 

“your room is located on the east wing of the castle and my room is in the west wing, so there shouldn’t be a reason why i should ever see yo-”

“first of all, how fucking self-centered are you to even think that i’d go to your room? you think i’m some kind of bimbo who’ll be all dolled up on your bed or clean up after your ass? i’d rather die than go to you.” you angrily spat out, in complete disbelief that this jackass had the audacity to even think of you like that. 

“well that’s a relief, it’s good that you aren’t stupid. the problem is, your manners are so shit.” he scoffed, looking at you like you’re some kind of alien. 

“weren’t you taught to never cut people off mid sentence? especially, to your husband.” izana mocked, tilting his head to the side as he knew he was slowly pushing all of your buttons. 

“you want me to ruin the price worthy face of your so bad, huh?” you kissed your teeth in annoyance. 

“anyways, you should almost never come to my room unless absolutely necessary. we have many maids and butlers, so feel free to ask them about any concerns. second, i really don’t give a shit.” he blurted out, making you choke on your spit. 

“what?” you gasped. 

“you don’t understand basic english? i said, i don’t give a shit. you’re free to do whatever you please with yourself, you could go wherever you want with whomever you want. your life doesn’t concern me nor should mine concern you. we didn’t marry each other out of love, nor do we consider each other as husband and wife. just don’t make things too obvious. deal?” he stuck out a hand, looking at you with anticipation. 

“you got yourself a deal, prince jackass.” you stood up and began to make your way to your room. 

all you wanted to do was just sleep everything away. you wanted to drift inside a good dream where there was no mom or dad, no izana, no royal duties and no sadness. 

just you and only you. 

...

you rolled around in bed, not wanting to open your eyes and have the bright sunlight hit your sight and blind you. but, soon enough, someone barged into your room and it nearly sent you into a coma. 

you eyes went wide as you sat up, startled when you saw a few of the maids coming in. you grumbled under your breath, looking at them with a pissed facial expression. 

“god, don’t you people know how to knock?” you scolded, making them apologize as you let out a sigh. 

“it’s past lunchtime, your highness.” one of them informed you, making you look at them like they had three heads. 

“what?!” you screamed, sitting up as your hair was a tangled mess. you were still in your wedding dress, too tired the night before to even have the energy to take it off. 

“your bath is ready and breakfast has been served as well. lord kurokawa has gone out for royal duties if you were wondering.” the butler from yesterday butted in, making you scoff. 

lord kurokawa? what an arrogant asshole. 

“yeah to hell with him, i don’t care where he is.” you yawned, getting up as you shooed everyone out of your room. you hated noise, especially during mornings. 

mornings were meant to be peaceful and silent, relaxing and slow. they were only meant for you and only you. you stripped out of the poofy gown before detangling your hair and removing the remaining makeup smudged on your face. 

when you stepped inside the bathroom, a gasp of nothing but pure amazement and shock left your lips. it was a gorgeous bathroom, everything covered in marbel and polished. the bathtub looked like a swimming pool, making you quickly rush over to fill it up with hot water. 

as you sunk your naked body in the water, a blissful sigh left your lips as your eyes rolled back. 

this really hits the spot. 

you leaned back, closing your eyes as you began to fall into deep thought. you wondered, how would you spend the rest of your days in this castle? a part of you wished that izana was a little more friendlier, then perhaps you could’ve had a platonic relationship of enjoying life. 

well, that wasn’t that case, and maybe you liked it that way. 

you finished your royal bath and the rest of the consisted of you lounging in the castle. you had to admit that izana’s criteria and choice of the cooks had to be one of the finest, as both breakfast and lunch almost made you ascend to heaven. 

living away from your parents did rise some perks, and to make things even better, izana wasn’t around majority of the times. you were free to dress however you wished, no need for fancy dresses that squished your ribcages and made it hard to breathe. 

for once in your life, you were sitting in the living room with a huge bucket of ice cream in your lap while wearing a pair of shorts and tank-top. 

and no one could tell you shit about it. 

you heard the front door open, indicating that someone has arrived home. one of the maid’s rushed to your side as you shoved a huge mouthful of the sweet dairy treat in your mouth. 

“your highness, lord kurokawa has arrived.” she notified, making you lazily hum at her as you were more concerned about the plot of the drama you’re watching. 

“cool.” you shrugged before shooing her away, not caring that your fake husband came back from his royal duties. 

“is dinner ready?” the deep familiar voice questioned the butler who was removing his very expensive winter coat. 

“yes, sir. allow me to help you freshen up.” the butler offered, making izana hum in agreement. 

“god, do you wipe his ass after he takes a shit too?” you snickered, making the butler gasp as he looked at you with wide eyes. however, izana remained unfazed before turning to you with a small smirk. 

“oh, that’s not his job but my wife’s. however, it seems like she’s too busy being a pig.” he fired back, making you shoot him a hateful glare. 

“annoying piece of shit.” you mumbled under your breath before averting your focus back onto the huge tv screen. izana left to freshen up before sitting in the dining space, eating by himself. 

you couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him, knowing that he lived inside this castle by himself all his life and did pretty much everything alone. you didn’t know much about the kurokawa family, but you knew that izana was the last person in the bloodline to exist because his family was brutally murdered years ago in a war that nearly killed your father. 

your thoughts would soon be gone as you saw the man right in front of you, arms crossed over his chest. 

“go to bed, every electrical device that makes noise in this castle must be turned off. i have very sharp ears, so even the slightest sound will awaken me.” izana ordered, making you scoff. 

“well, i’m so sorry sleeping beauty, but that seems like a you problem. shove some cotton balls in your ears and go to sleep.” you replied, seeing his jaw lock in annoyance, making you internally high-five yourself. 

“you’re infuriating.” he grumbled, turning his heels before heading upstairs to his room. you laughed to yourself in satisfaction, throwing a few more popcorns in your mouth as you continued to watch your show. 

---

you groaned in pain, rolling over until you fell to the ground with a yelp. you winced in pain as you rubbed your ass. 

“fucking hell.” you cursed, not realizing when you fell asleep on the sofa. you heard a chuckle coming from behind you, opening your sleepy eyes to see the white haired fool sipping his tea while laughing. 

“i knew that was gonna happen, you stupid little girl.” izana shook his head in disbelief, continuing to fill out some paperwork. you stood up and marched your way towards him, glaring down at him. 

“you absolute jackass. this is why no woman would ever fall in love with you, stupid piece of shit.” you threw insult after insult at him, yet he seemed unfazed by your comments. 

“what a rough way to start your morning. you should go brush your teeth to get that bad breath and language out of your mouth.” he smirked, making you gasp in embarrassment as you covered your mouth, forgetting that morning breath exists. 

“i hope you choke on your tea and die.” you said in a muffled voice, rushing up to your room to freshen up so that you could give him a proper piece of your mind. but, to your dismay, by the time you came downstairs he was already gone. 

“coward.” you mumbled to yourself, settling down at your seat as the maids served you breakfast. you decided that you’ll have an outing to yourself today at the village, wanting to experience an adventure you never got the chance to fulfill. 

“excuse me, would you please drop me off by the village today after breakfast?” you asked izana’s butler, to which he gave you a polite smile. 

“it would be my pleasure.” he replied, making you contented with the answer as you finished your meal. 

you decided to dress in common clothing, a simple white dress that fell below your knees; decorated with strawberries. 

“you look lovely, my lady.” the butler complimented, and you thanked him, excited to try new things out. 

after reaching the village, you bid the butler goodbye as he promised to pick you up before sunset. 

your first stop was the flower shop, eyes glimmering at the colorful plants. there was roses, dhalias, petunias, marigolds and so much more!

“hello miss, how may i help you today?” the lady spoke, startling you a little. 

“your flowers are gorgeous! may i take a smell?” you asked, the lady giving you a warm smile before nodding. 

you went ahead and took a sniff of every one of them, sighing in bliss at the sweet scent of each of them. nature’s creation was truly heavenly and it made you wish if you could just run away to the woods and live in a cottage; away from the evil that resided in society. 

your eyes fell on the lilacs, sitting ever so prettily in the bouquet. you couldn’t help but think of how the color struck you and made you think of your evil husband. 

“would you like to buy any of them?” the lady asked and you nodded you head. 

“i’ll take those lilacs, please.” you said with a small smile, convincing yourself that it was because these pretty purple flowers would look great in the vase on top of the dining table. 

your next stop was to try all the food stalls, looking at your pocket watch and noticing how it was nearly lunch time. you decided to indulge yourself, ordering a bowl of seafood udon for yourself and a side of braised duck meat. 

your parents would’ve killed you if they saw you eating like this. 

but right now, food is life. 

you ate to your heart’s happiness, closing your eyes as you could feel tears of joy forming at the corner of your eyes. you’ve never tasted food this delicious before and it made you appreciate yourself for keeping your will to live still strong. 

you slurped the noodles like no tomorrow, gulping down the broth right after. you lipstick was gone, the corners of your mouth messy with the broth as you sniffled from the heat of the food. you quickly cleaned yourself up, not wanting to look like a pig in front of other although you did eat like one just now. 

you properly disposed the items and continued your little journey. 

suddenly, a weeping little toddler clung onto your legs. you bent down, trying to level your eyes with her glossy ones. 

“mama?” she cried, making your heart shatter. 

“did you lose her, honey?” you spoke with a soft voice, seeing the little girl nod her head. you embraced the tiny human, carrying her as you tried to calm her down. 

“let’s go find your mama then.” you smiled, patting her back as you began to walk around with the little girl in your arms. 

“ice cream!” you heard her squeal, amking you hum as your eyes followed the direction she pointed in. 

“oh, you want one?” you asked, to which she eagerly nodded, making you chuckle as you walked towards the small shop. you got the little girl a strawberry cone while you got mango. 

“so yummy.” she giggled, making your heart swell from her cuteness. you were walking towards the small flower garden, wanting to take a little break and finish your ice cream. 

until you noticed a familiar figure sitting on the bench with another person. you got a closer look and indeed it was izana.

with another woman. 

you saw him holding her hand while laughing, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she giggled. they both were sharing a slice of cake and you saw the way his eyes sparkled every time she breathed. 

was he always this sweet? how he tenderly caressed her skin like she was porcelain.

a foreign emotion of jealousy brewed inside you, a sudden wave of rage filled your insides. it was then that izana’s eyes fell on you, his smile dropping as he saw you with the child in your arms. 

“y/n?” he called out your name, and it sent chills down your spine as it felt so new to hear him call you without any insult. 

“izana.” you said his name back, making him swallow harshly. 

“do you both know each other?” the woman next to him asked, she looked and smelled like a princess, when you looked like a commoner. izana’s eyes begged you to make up some lie, to which you gave him a sly grin. 

“why of course we do, right izana?” you taunted, making the silver haired male grow nervous. 

“honey, i can explain.” izana turned to the woman, but she looked suspicious. 

“there’s nothing to explain. we’re cousins, that’s all. stop making everything so weird all the time.” you giggled, making your very much husband sigh in relief, not wanting his mistress to find about his little secret marriage. 

“ohh, nice to meet you. is that your daughter?” his mistress asked, and you contemplated on being truthful, but you wanted to spite izana more. 

“yup, this is my little princess. isn’t she the cutest?” you kissed the little girl’s head, making the woman squeal. izana’s eyes widened, not expecting you to lie like this. 

“she sure is! wow, you’re so young to be a mom though.” she commented, making fake sad eyes. 

“yeah, well, my husband loves me enough to give me such a precious gift. anyways, i should head back now. it was, uh, great meeting you.” you gave her a fake smile before throwing a side glare at izana. the expression on his face is one you couldn’t decipher, but you decided to not pick on it. 

you walked a good distance away from the horrid couple, until you felt the little girl squirm in your hold. 

“mama! mama!” she urged and you placed her on the ground, watching her run to the figure in the distance. 

“oh, my baby!” you heard the lady cry, picking up her daughter a kissing her lovingly. 

“thank you so much for keeping her safe, miss.” she noticed your presence, giving you a grateful smile. 

“no worries.” you nodded your head, ruffling the little girl’s hair before bidding them goodbye. 

---

you reached home, your mood not as uplifting as you had planned. you kicked your sandals off, walking towards the dining table as you placed the lilacs down. one of the maids rushed in, excited to see the bright and beautiful purple flower. 

“are these for lord kurokawa?” she asked, making you scoff. the thought of izana made your blood boil, especially after the shitshow that took place earlier. 

“no, you may dispose those in the garbage. i don’t want to see a single petal on my sight.” you strictly ordered, grabbing your purse to make your way up to your room. there you bumped into izana, who seemed like he’s been standing there the entire time. 

“move, fuckface.” you grumbled, shoving him to the side as you stormed upstairs. you felt him grab your wrist, turning your head to meet his lilac ones. 

“the hell is wrong with you? why are you acting like i’m diseased?” his eyebrows furrowed, making you roll your eyes. 

“say what you have to say because i want to rest.” you ignored his question, making him let out an irritated sigh. 

“since you already know about mai, i don’t think i need to explain myself further-”

“oh, don’t worry. i think i have enough brain cells to piece together that the almighty lord kurokawa has a side bitch.” you snickered, making him glare at you. 

“watch your mouth.” he scoweled, making you grin. 

“make me.” you challenged, watching him ball his fists as your words made his skin crawl. 

“you know what, i don’t even know why i thought i could have a simple conversation with you without wanting to murder you. your parents invited us for dinner this weekend, so act accordingly.” izana informed you before leaving, heading back downstairs. 

“got it! i’ll make sure that they don’t find out about your secret fuck buddy lover that you’re two-timing with, lord kurokawa.” you said in a mocking voice, knowing how much he probably wanted to kill himself right now because you wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. 

you didn’t know why the situation with izana and his mistress got you so riled up. 

you knew that he’s not in love with you nor are you in love with him. 

yet, the idea of him with another woman made you furious. 

#izana #izana kurokawa #izana x reader #izana x y/n #izana kurokawa x reader #izana smut #izana scenarios #izana headcanons #izana imagines #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev fluff #izana fluff #izana angst #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers izana #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev #tr #tokyo revenegers scenarios #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers headcanon #izana drabble #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev smut #tokyo rev x y/n #tenjiku #royal au #prince izana #tenjiku izana

[apomaro-mellow]

Demon!Eddie 5

At some point, Eddie had cleaned Steve up a little and dressed him in a tank top and shorts. The shirt had a band he’d never heard of but maybe Eddie would tell him about it sometime. Steve had tried to get up on his own only to immediately fall back onto the bed when he felt a sharp pain. That would be last night, coming back to literally bite him in the ass.

“Job hunting’s gonna have to wait”, Eddie grinned.

Eventually they migrated to the couch back in the apartment, Eddie lying on his back and Steve right on top of him. He found it very easy to imagine if the rest of his life was like this. In Eddie’s clothes, in his place, completely surrounded by him.

Steve didn't even know where his clothes from the first night went and he didn't give a flying fuck. Not when he was laying on top of Eddie, getting his lower back rubbed.

"Don't get a big head about it. That was the first dick I ever took."

“I didn’t say anything”, Eddie said.

“I can feel it in your hands”, Steve replied before letting out a soft hum as Eddie’s fingers pressed a spot on his spine. 

The morning was spent so lazily and for the first time in a long time, Steve wasn’t thinking about his future or what he was supposed to do about it. He just relaxed in Eddie’s hold. The only time he worried was when Eddie got up to say he was making breakfast. Steve ignored any soreness to confirm if his suspicions were correct.

And to his horror, Eddie dumped ground coffee into a pot, filled it with water, and then set it all on the stove. 

“You’re an animal”, Steve said.

“I think we established that last night”, Eddie smirked.

“I’m talking about your coffee set up. Where’s your coffee maker? Your filters?”

“What’s wrong with the way I make coffee?”

“Tony the tiger wouldn’t make it that way.”

Eddie’s retort was cut off by a knock on the door and a man’s voice. “Eddie? Edifice Edacity Edger you open this door right now!”

“Shit!”

“Who’s that?”, Steve asked.

“Uhh, that would be my uncle. Stay here for a second and don’t make a sound.” Eddie pushed Steve towards the magic door and before Steve knew it, he was floating in a dark abyss.

He wasn’t in the lavish bedroom from before, nor was he in any of the places Eddie took him yesterday. It was just an endless void with no gravity. Steve was no stranger to hiding in girls’ closets, but this was definitely different.

“His uncle, huh...”, Steve whispered just in case. He wondered what he was like. Probably terrifying if Eddie was trying to hide him. Maybe he was closer to a more traditional demon and would’ve eaten Steve up or sucked our his soul.

Steve felt like he was flying and floating and descending all at the same time and just as he was starting to feel disoriented, he saw the light of the door opening right next to him and Eddie reaching in. Steve took his hand and was pulled back into the apartment.

“Wayne, this is Steve, my current contractor. Steve, this is my Uncle Wayne.”

Uncle Wayne looked more like the kind of guy who spent his free time at hardware stores and bait shops than a demon. But now Steve felt like it would be rude to ask.

“Hi there, sir. Nice to meet you.”

Wayne’s hands were on his hips as he looked Steve up and down. “Hmph. He’s easy on the eyes, I’ll give ‘im that. But you should know better than to be swayed by a nice face.”

“I’m not being swayed”, Eddie said. “It’s just taking some time to fulfill his request.”

Wayne gave him a disappointed look. Steve knew they were talking about him but couldn’t see what the exact problem was.

“You know how this story ends, son.”

Eddie crossed his arms. “No actually, I don’t. Why don’t you enlighten us, oh wise storyteller.”

“Eddie, don’t be rude to your uncle”, Steve chastised. 

Wayne held up a hand. “He’s a brat, but he ain’t misbehavin’. But my official designation is ‘storykeeper’.”

“A what?”

Wayne waved a hand and glowing tomes materialized all around them. “Every single person that has ever existed, has a story to tell. Demons too. When a life ends, everything gets compiled and their story comes into my hands.”

“So...you know everything that’s ever going to happen?”, Steve asked in awe.

“I’m not omniscient. I only know what happens when the story’s over. But after doing this for as long as I have, you start to notice patterns.”

“And what’s my pattern?”, Eddie raised a brow.

“How does bullheaded young buck gets too caught up in one deal sound? Does that sound like a fit?”

“I’m not-” Eddie rolled his eyes but made the mistake of looking at Steve while doing so and had to quickly avert them.

“I don’t understand how any of this works, but is Eddie doing anything wrong? We have a deal and he’s seeing it through”, Steve said in his defense.

“Most demons ain’t so thorough”, Wayne answered.

“You and I both know most demons ain’t honest either”, Eddie said.

“Eddie, get the deal done. And move on.”

Eddie didn’t respond but Wayne wasn’t waiting for one, already on his way out the door. Steve waited for the door to close to speak again.

“Am I....are you breaking any rules because of me?”

“Rule breaking is a part of my creed, baby. But technically, no. Wayne’s right, most demons would’ve set you up in a new place with a new name and considered their job done. But I pride myself on my customer service.”

Steve smiled. “Right. You serve all your customers the same way?”

Eddie saw the way Steve was looking at him and faltered. “N-no. No, I don’t. But you’re special.”

It certainly made Steve feel special to hear it straight from Eddie. He got the deeper meaning of Wayne’s warning. They were both supposed to be very short chapters in each other’s lives. Ships passing in the night or whatever. Steve knew, once he had figured out what he wanted, Eddie would leave and he’d never hear from him again.

“I think I’m all rested up now. Let’s keep looking.”

“You sure?”, Eddie asked.

“Yeah. After we get some decent coffee.”

--------------------------

Maybe it was because of his uncle’s words, but Eddie kept his distance for the next few jobs. Steve tried not to mind too much. He was going to have to do whatever he chose without Eddie anyway. He spent the rest of the morning into the early afternoon in a summer camp, working as a sports counselor. 

He had plenty of fun teaching some boys the basics of basketball and running them through drills and even getting through a mini game that they all seemed to enjoy. After a couple periods though, he had a free moment and explored the camp. He ended up being wrangled by a group of boys who needed some muscle for a satellite project.

“I didn’t even know we did this kind of thing at this camp”, he admitted, while lugging around machinery he couldn’t even begin to name.

“Yeah, no duh. You sports counselors barely leave Jock Row”, one kid snarked.

“You should come by the Arts and Sciences building some time”, another said. “We’re always doing something cool.”

“Even if it’s not totally legal!”, the one who had grabbed Steve beamed.

“Uh, what’re you guys’ names again?”

“I’m Dustin, the nice one’s Will, and those two are Lucas and Mike.”

“How does Will get ‘nice one’?”, Lucas asked.

“You know Will’s the reason your cabin didn’t get Cinnamon Toast night, right?”, Mike said.

Dustin gave such a gasp, Steve was worried he’d swallowed a lung.

“Our cabin had to do it with biscuits! How could you?”

“They made it a competition and that’s the one kind I can win”, Will shrugged.

They made it to their destination and Steve followed their disjointed directions but eventually the satellite was built and they were talking to the girls camp across the lake. It was completely juvenile and fun and Steve couldn’t remember the last time he’d done something like this. 

The lunch bugle rang and Steve was approached by a black and red frog while the campers went off to eat.

“And what have you been up to? Frog stuff?”

Eddie croaked, then hopped a couple times in place. Steve crossed his arms.

“I’m not picking you up like this. You’re all, slimy. And you look poisonous.”

Frog-Eddie croaked and hopped onto his shoe, still urging at him but Steve was a rock. Eddie transformed back into himself, wearing the camp t-shirt and red shorts that was the counselor uniform.

“You weren’t so picky about my fluids last night”, Eddie smirked, while wrapping his arms around Steve.

“Yeah there’s a difference.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, beautiful~ Lunch and then on to the next?”

“Let’s.”

----------------------------

Eddie had zero idea why Steve wanted to work in an office. But hey, who was he to judge? At least he wasn’t trying to be a cop anymore. 

Steve really just wanted to experience office culture for himself. It was the sort of thing his father had been setting him up for. Before the ritual sacrifice of course. He was put on mailroom duty and that was where he met his worst enemy - Robin Buckley.

She sneered and scoffed at him most of the time. And when she deigned to use words, her comments were always biting. Delivering mail wasn’t too bad, except the fact that most of the employees barely looked him in the face while delivering. He came to the break room and Robin was already there. He tried to ignore her while getting a yogurt from the fridge.

He leaned against it when another guy came in. Steve was pretty sure his name was Kenneth.

“Hey, it’s the mailroom crew!”, he smarmed while refilling his mug with coffee. “You know Robin you should, maybe not scowl so much the boys here appreciate a nice smile.”

Kenneth walked out before he could see Robin’s megawatt dirty look. She glanced at Steve and saw he had the same look as her.

“What an asshole”, Steve said.

“That’s putting it lightly. There’s so much as, there’s no hole left”, Robin snarked.

Steve slid over closer to her so they could continue to talk in whispers. The people here were jerks but he might choose to work with them one day.

“At least he’s better than Nick.”

Robin wretched with her tongue out. “You know he slept with Norma at the Christmas party?”

Steve raised a brow. “Nick? With the ring on his finger and the happy family picture in his cubicle?”

“Yeah.”

“Scumbag.”

They spent more than was probably allowed on their break, trading gossip. Steve only got distracted when he saw a very attractive janitor roll by with his mop and bucket. Without a word, he walked off and followed him right into the closet.

“You’ve been wandering around more”, Steve said as the door closed.

“Just tryina give you space baby. Wouldn’t wanna influence your decision”, Eddie grinned, taking the cap off his head.

“And what if my decision was to blow off work and have some fun with the cleaning guy in the broom closet?”

“Sounds like the opposite of climbing the corporate ladder”, Eddie grinned while unzipping his jumpsuit.

“The opposite of climbing is what again?”, Steve said as he sank down to his knees.

Part 7

Tag Team

@swimmingbirdrunningrock @flustratedcas @estrellami-1 @weirdandabsurd42 @lololol-1234 @chaoticvictorianspirit @giopandaonice @marklee-blackmore @blackpanzy @kacatshi @stevesbipanic @goodolefashionedloverboi @panicatthediaz @gregre369 @littlewildflowerkitten @starryeyedpoet17 @envyadams-vs-me @abbiecadabi-blog @genderless-spoon  @stxrcrossed186 @l0st-strawberry @willowsmelody @bornonthesavage @mxmakessense @roaringgoodshow @potato-of-the-lord @actualwakingnightmare @meccaminayah @irregular-child  @cherr1ehead @anaibis @finalmoondragon @sani-86 @bestwifehaver @tinyplanet95 @mc-i-r @abstractnaturaldisaster @livgil273 @crowley--aziraphale @formacoon @slv-333 @just-a-tiny-void @beckkthewreck @awkwardgravity1 @plasticcrotches

#don't worry steve's thinkin some thoughts #eddie is tryin not to #but they get thunked anyway #apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #preeetty sure the next part is the last #but dont quote me on that #i want one more sex scene #we'll see if the board of directors (my brain) allows it

[beatrixstonehill2]

"When my daughter Holly first posted this picture alongside her new girlfriend, Giselle, I kind of figured something might be up. Her father and I actually decided to put a wager on whether or not Giselle fantasized about making Holly detransition. He thought I was being paranoid, but the second I met Giselle something seemed off. She kept asked me if Holly's cock was always so small and how gorgeous it'd be if she took supplements or 'something' to help it grow. I asked her what this something was and she just shrugged. The next day she was over, and Holly went to the bathroom, I went up to Giselle and told her, playing dumb, that I 'researched' ways to help Holly's cock grow. With my hubbie in earshot, I told Giselle that Google said my Holly could just go on testosterone. I said I had no idea how that would impact a trans girl like her but it's definitely worth a shot! Obviously anybody that knows about this stuff like Giselle clearly did would correct me and tell me doing that would detrans Holly and make her into a boy with a set of big estrogen-fattened boobs.

Giselle just smiled and said, 'Wow, that sounds great. I know Holly is a bit self-conscious of her penis but I think I can help her learn to love it, especially if it's really big!' My husband got up, grumbled to himself as he walked to his wallet, got out a fifty and handed it to me. Easiest bet of my life. Unshockingly, Giselle detransitioned Holly. It started slow, convincing our daughter to be more masculine, cut her hair, consider a beast reduction because her breasts 'make her look heavy', which was an ironic thing to criticize her about considering Giselle turned out to be a feeder. She slowly convinced Holly to stop wearing makeup, to not worry about painting her nails or feminizing her voice. I think Holly likes to be led, so having Giselle to boss her around probably doubled to help motivate her to care a lot about her relationship and to not have to worry about being ultra fem 99% of the time like she felt she had to after transitioning.

Before we knew it, Holly's voice dropped, we saw a giant bulge form in her shorts, she got constant erections she struggled with, and she started fondling her cock whenever she saw curvy girls or pregnant girls or a girl with big boobs in public or on TV. She became really crass and immature out of nowhere, very unfeminine, and we caught her masturbating to really hardcore pornography. She used to just watch lipstick lesbians kiss and scissor, now she was watching hugely pregnant girls get gangbanged as the men piss on them and beat them up for fun. We could only shake our heads and accept that Holly was at long last becoming a man. She started growing out a beard and complained about have big boobs, which she used to love.

Soon she looked nothing like a girl.... and before long Giselle was pregnant with quintuplets. Giselle bossed Holly, now Hunter again, around. She demanded sex from him constantly, teasing him, giving him blow jobs in public places. She'd even bring up his erections loudly when they went out and complain that Hunter 'expected her to deal with it' right then and there, although Hunter would protest and say it's fine, Giselle would always make a scene on purpose like Hunter's cock just had to be tended to, now a whopping fourteen inches.... Giselle's officially had almost twenty kids from our detrans son, and she feeds him like a pig. He's well on his way to 400lbs. She smacks his belly and plays with his body, utterly craving it, we can tell Giselle loves making Hunter fatter by the day and brags aout the feeling of his weight and big belly against her as they fuck. We aren't mad that Giselle made our Holly detransition, we're just disappointed she didn't put up a bit of a fight--nope! She just rolled over, dropped the feminine body she worked so hard for and let herself become an over-fattened bull who only exists to keep Giselle the cow pumped full of cum. No more interest in style, being pretty, fashion, looking her best. Nope! His only interests now are sex, masturbation, and cramming as much food down his throat as possible..... He's so submissive and dumb you can tell he's actually still a girl deep down. Totally hopeless. But we'll still love him no matter how fat or depraved he gets."

#detrans kink #mtf detrans kink #mtftm kink #weight gain kink #breeding k1nk

[cable-knit-sweater]

When you’re close up, give me the shivers

a moodboard by cable-knit-sweater

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Rating: T

Wordcount: 1.4k

Tags: au - model/photographer, au - modern, photographer Steve Rogers, model Bucky Barnes, age difference, slutty Bucky, flustered Steve

Written for: @stuckybingo | card: R4005 | Square: N5 - AU: Model/Photographer

A.N: This was gonna be a different fic. Then it was going to be a short blurb. Then it turned into a ficlet. I blame @late-to-the-party-81 😂💖

Summary:

Steve’s been a professional photographer for over a decade. His work has been featured in countless magazines, on billboards, in fashion articles and photography books. He’s shot some of the most beautiful, most interesting, most powerful people in the world. He’s won numerous awards, is sought after by so many for his work. It means his schedule is fully booked, like, always. It also means he earns enough money to afford a gorgeous loft apartment that can easily double as a studio when he wants to.

Steve’s mostly unfazed by the supposed glamor of his job or the world he inhabits. He can see how some of the models he’s photographed represent some sort of beauty ideal, even if he doesn’t necessarily always agree. He’s not actually always a fan of the circles he works in — because of the beauty ideals, but also because there’s some sort of toxicity in it sometimes, one he tries to avoid. It’s made him somewhat of a recluse, at times, which in turn has caused people to speculate a lot about him — and his personal life.

For some reason, there’s this assumption that he probably has hooked up with some of his models. Sure, he’s found some of his models attractive, but he’s never pursued anything. He’s aware of how he himself looks and he���s had models make a pass at him, or ask him to go out on a date after they finished shooting, but he’s always declined. Steve doesn’t mix business with pleasure. He’s seen how that goes. It’s a rule he put in place for himself long ago and it’s worked out fine.

He’s going to have to break that rule.

When the model he was supposed to shoot doesn’t show up…he’s annoyed, to put it mildly. It’s happened before. Most models are - even if they’re demanding sometimes - conscientious of his time. He doesn’t want to sound like an asshole, but standing him up like this is rude, and his time is valuable.

He calls the agency — and they apologize, telling him the model will be there in 15 minutes, almost half an hour after they should have started. Steve sighs. He can make it work, but they’ll lose some of the light. He’s frustrated for sure, but all he can do is wait.

When the model does show up… At first Steve is grateful for being patient for once, because the model is gorgeous. Then he curses everything in existence including himself because the model is gorgeous, and he’s not sure he’s going to be able to keep it together.

It’s not even the soft looking - albeit slightly messy - curly brown hair, or the gorgeous grey-blue of his eyes, or the dimple in his chin. It’s red bitten lips, the look in his half-lidded eyes that makes him look like pure sex, a jawline that could cut glass. He’s wearing a leather jacket over a black t-shirt, impossibly tight black jeans. Steve forgets to breathe for a moment, looking at the guy a little dumbly.

Those red lips curl into a slightly wicked smirk, like the guy knows exactly what kind of effect he has on people. On Steve.

“Sorry I’m late,” the guy says, looking up at Steve from below his eyelashes, with big blue eyes that have Steve entranced. “My cat locked me out of my apartment.”

It’s the dumbest reason, the dumbest lie, Steve has ever heard. No one in their right mind would believe that. “Th-that’s okay, no worries at all!” he stammers out. “It happens?”

What the fuck. Who is he?

The guy giggles a little. It’s a great sound. Steve wants to roll around in it. 

“I’m Bucky,” he says, “it’s an honor to get to work with you.” 

“I-uhm, I’m- me too, I mean, I’m Steve.” 

Steve needs to get himself together. Not in the least because Bucky bites his lower lip to stop from laughing, undoubtedly about how much of an idiot Steve is. It’s the worst thing he’s ever seen. He wants to pull that lip from between Bucky’s teeth. With his own. 

But Steve’s a professional.

So much of a professional he’s completely forgotten what the assignment for this shoot is by the time Bucky has gotten ready. 

This isn’t showing off clothes, or a formal portrait. Bucky is an actor – Steve will need to look up his work after this – and this shoot is for some sort of magazine article. They want Bucky to capitalize on the image he’s made for himself through some of the TV shows he’s been in and…

Steve remembers laughing when he’d first seen the note. “Ideally, a sorta messy twink look,” it actually says. That’s…that’s the idea they’re supposed to be going for here. He’s definitely not laughing anymore. He also definitely needs to watch more TV.  

It doesn’t start off too smoothly. At first, Steve is too tense to actually focus on Bucky enough for the photos to come out well. Then later, when Bucky “has an idea” – which apparently involves taking off everything but his jeans – it doesn’t go so smoothly because Steve’s heart goes into overdrive and his skin feels completely on fire.

He doesn’t usually get this flustered. But everything about Bucky just seems to make him lose a little bit of higher brain function.

The way the dog tags he’s wearing nestle between sparse chest hair covering toned pecs.

The way his hair gets even messier the more he runs long, elegant fingers through it.

The way he continues to bite his lips until they look positively indecent.

The way he touches Steve’s arms, telling him to relax, making Steve shiver instead.

The way he looks at Steve with a gaze so heated that it feels like it burns into Steve’s skin.

The way he says “where do you want me, Steve?” in a voice laced with so much innuendo…

Steve is only so strong. He’s barely hanging on. 

They do a couple of shots near the window, while there’s still enough light. The camera loves Bucky and it should be easy, but it really isn’t, given all the distractions.

They do a couple of shots with Bucky laying on Steve’s bed – Bucky’s idea, again. It almost makes Steve’s heart give out, makes his fingers itch to touch. He wants to scream. He’s a professional.

Bucky keeps making it worse with the looks he gives the camera - he gives Steve. He’s being a tease, Steve’s pretty sure of that by now, but he decides to stick to his rule. He’s never broken it before. He’s not gonna break it now, as much as he almost aches to give in. 

It’s not until they do some shots in the bathroom, that Steve’s resolve crumbles. Bucky has put on his tank top again. With the water pouring down on him, the fabric clings to his body. But it’s the way he looks up from underneath his wet lashes, with his mouth half open and his lips so red, looking like, like…

Bucky knows exactly what he looks like and he knows Steve knows it too. 

Then Bucky says, a smirk on his face, eyes knowing: “You wanna join me? Maybe a cold shower would be nice?” 

And Steve gives in. He cannot take it anymore. Bucky has completely broken him down.

He puts down his camera as calmly as possible – when he’s feeling so far from fucking calm – then breathes in, gives Bucky one more look, then takes a couple of quick steps towards him, crowding Bucky against the shower wall and pushing up against him. He barely spares a moment to look into Bucky’s eyes, to see if this is what he wants – whether he wasn’t just trying to rile Steve up without wanting to follow through on anything – before claiming his mouth with his own. 

Bucky kisses back eagerly, pressing up against Steve even more. Steve can’t bring himself to care about completely ruining his clothes. He finally gets to take Bucky’s lower lip between his teeth. He pulls on it a little in admonishment, growling: “Wanted to do that all fucking day.”

“Thought I was gonna have to spell it out for you,” Bucky chuckles a little breathily, “F-u-c-k m-“ 

Steve cuts him off by claiming his mouth again in a heated kiss, hands traveling down to unbutton Bucky’s jeans. 

Bucky ends up on his knees in the shower. His lips end up an even more indecent shade of red. 

And Steve ends up breaking his rule. Maybe some other things in his apartment too, in their rush to get to Steve’s bedroom later on. Who knows.

So what. Sometimes, rules are meant to be broken.

Faced with Bucky Barnes, Steve really never had any other choice.

#maya tries to write #stucky bingo #stucky fic #stucky #steve x bucky #ficlet

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Sunflower: Book 1, Chapter 1

Tom Hiddleston x ofc (Mia Sull) Chapter 2 Masterlist Series Rating: M Chapter Warnings: Mentions of sexual health items, alcohol use, Nudity Series warnings: Sexual content, alcohol use

RPF Note- This is a fictional version of Tom Hiddleston. I have and will continue to play with the timeline of his career. All characters are fictional. Out of respect for the actual Tom, I have fictionalized his family members beyond the most basic details as well as as past romantic entanglements. Please do NOT take this romantic work of fiction as disapproval of his current relationship. He appears happy, has a family and I am happy for him. I have a hundred and one fictional versions of him in my head, I don't need the real life man single.

Summary: Las Vegas drew in people like him. Heart broken, lonely and rejected while his ex married someone else. Here he could be anyone though, flying under the radar of his skyrocketing fame.

Las Vegas was home to people like her. Lonely, broke and with the weight of the world on her shoulders. There was never enough of anything except stress. She was one of the countless faces that lived in the shadow of the glittering lights.

Two worlds collide in a drunken night neither can remember. What do you do when what happens in Vegas is a legally binding marriage contract between two strangers?

Chapter One

Shrill ringing cut through the silence. Slitting open her eyes, Mia regretted it instantly. The bright sunlight of the day stabbed her eyes without care for the pain it caused. Blindly, she groped toward the cursed sound of her phone ringing. Pawing at it, she dismissed the alarm or call or alert- what exactly she didn’t know and didn’t care at that moment. 

“Fucking hell…” It was hard to talk. Her throat felt like someone had stuffed it full of cotton balls. Her head pounded and it felt like she was floating. 

“Agreed…” she could have sworn a voice mumbled behind her. She had had far too much to drink the night before and couldn’t trust her senses.

“Where are you?” The voice was a distant squawk. It turned out that it was a call and, rather than dismissing it she had answered it. 

“Fuck.” she said again, not registering much but dragging the phone to her ear. “What?”

“Breakfast. You’re missing from it. Where are you?” It was her sister Ashley on the other end of the call. 

Breakfast… shit. Breakfast. “I’ll get right on that.”

“Where are you?” Ashley’s voice was so loud. Was the phone on speaker or was the volume punishing her for the night before?

“Hotel room?” Mia said.

“Mandalay Bay.” The voice behind her offered slightly stronger. The bed shifted under the weight of another occupant moving. The voice earlier hadn’t been a figment of her imagination after all.

“Who was that?” Ashley asked.

“I don’t honestly know.” She admitted, not caring if she hurt the occupant’s feelings but trying to keep her voice down. 

If there wasn’t a thousand angry hornets surfing on shifting sand in her skull, it may have occurred to her that admitting that while in a hotel alone- she assumed they were alone at least- with a strange man was likely not the greatest choice. 

“Tom.” The mystery man supplied as if that actually gave her any information. Did he expect her to remember him? Did he remember her?

“He says his name is Tom.” Did she even know a Tom? She had no memory of a Tom. 

“I heard.” Ashley was not pleased. She was whatever existed below highly displeased was. “Who the hell is-”

“Give me ten to fifteen, kay?” Mia didn’t give her a chance to answer before disconnecting the call. 

“What the hell happened?” It took all the strength in her body to roll from her stomach to her back. Her limbs felt like they had been replaced with sacks of potatoes. How much did I drink?

The thought was cut off when she saw him. Light brown hair was lit up gold in the offensively bright Las Vegas morning sun, defining the curl to the short stands. He had a sharp jaw peppered with morning stubble and defined cheekbones. Most importantly, he was without a shirt. Hopefully that was all the clothes missing from him. 

He held his hand up over his chest, suspended and looking at it incredulously. A Simple gold ring reflected off his left hand. 

Fuck. Her leg brushed against his as she shifted to face him. She was very much naked and anything resembling pant legs did not cover his leg. Fuckity fuck fuck. She fucked a married man. When the fuck did she sink so low?

“I think we got married?” Tom’s voice had fewer cotton balls and gravel now as he shifted again in the bed. 

“Oh thank god, you’re not married.” The words slipped out in a breath before the real meaning of his words sank in and she bolted upright. “Wait, what? Fuck.” She yanked the too thin blankets up to her naked chest as soon as the overly cold hotel room air made contact with her bare breasts. In the process, she stole blankets from the mystery Tom. His long toned thigh and hip was reveled and yep- he was naked too.

“I believe we’re married.” The words came slowly, calmly as he watched her. Absently, he tugged the blanket to cover his hip and maintain his cover, though he seemed far less concerned with potential exposure than she was. Who could blame him? His chest and abdomen were toned. No wonder she fell into bed with him. 

But marry him? She wouldn’t. She didn’t know him. And they couldn’t, anyway. “There’s no way.”

“Shall we find out?” Muscles rippled and contracted as he sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. His back was as nice to look at as the rest of him. Quickly, she chastised herself for thinking that way. 

This was insanity. 

Look away, she reminded herself, as he leaned down and slipped on a pair of boxers. Before she could stop herself, she noticed how they hugged the curve of his ass. It was possible he had a nicer ass than her. 

Tom rummaged around as she tried to make a gown out of the blanket before handing her a white button-down shirt. It was too large for her and clearly was his. “Your dress is ripped down the zipper.” 

“Turn around.” 

He complied, but a chuckle slipped from him as he did so. “It’s a bit late for that, eh?” 

“We don’t know that.” It was a lie, she knew it was. Her hips ached in a way that made it impossible to lie to herself, but she sure as hell would lie to him.

“The condom in the trash over here says we did,” or maybe lying to him wasn’t an option. “It’s okay if you don’t remember- I only remember bits. We shouldn’t have.” 

“But we did.” It killed her to admit that. “Look, if we were so drunk we couldn’t remember having sex, they wouldn’t have given us a marriage license.”

“You think?” It didn’t sound like he was listening to her as he rummaged through some papers that were scattered on the floor. 

“I know, Tom- that’s your name, right? Look, these sorts of things happen in movies and books. Sure, you can walk into the clerk’s office and get a marriage license damn near 24/7 and walk out with a license within 30 minutes, but they’re trained to look for people too damn drunk to make that decision.”

“And what if I just found the paperwork?” When she faced him, he was looking at her intently and holding a stack of papers in his hand. 

“No.” He pulled the papers from her as she reached for them, eyebrow raised. 

“You don’t know me?” His whole demeanor changed with the question, body becoming rigid.

What the fuck sort of question was that? “Should I?”

“It doesn’t’ matter.” Sure, he was hot, but what the fuck was with that ‘do you know who I am?’ shit? But he seemed to relax with that answer. He didn’t look like a mafia throwback at least. 

When she reached for the papers again, he let her take them. She didn’t exactly have the right clothes on to try and climb the man to steal them if he had decided to be childish. The official papers were all there. Everything looked legit and the yellow carbon copies were present with the official white sheets missing. 

“Fuck me.” 

“I would make a joke, but I suspect now isn’t the time.” Tom cracked a slight smile, but she only returned a glare. 

“Not the time.” 

“So, are we married?” 

“I think so.” She wanted to puke. It wasn’t fair. She was so hung over and yet the adrenalin was letting her think through the shifting sands in her brain. There wasn’t anything she wanted to do more than puke in the moment, yet her mouth was dryer than the desert. 

“Maria, correct?” Tom spoke softer. “The paperwork said your name is Maria?”

“Mia,” She corrected absently. She was only Maria when someone was mad at her. “Hiddleston? That’s my new name? What the fuck kind of name is that?” Realizing how harsh her words were, she tacked on a quick, “Sorry.” 

“I can’t say none taken, but we’re under stress, so I’ll let it pass.” 

Fiddling with the ring on her finger, she stood in silence for a moment before sitting in a heap on the bed. It wasn’t her intention to insult his name, but she hadn’t expected to have woken up to a husband.

“Here.” A glass of water waved through the tears she hadn’t realized were gathering in her eyes. “You’re probably dehydrated. I know my head is pounding,  yours surely is too.” 

“Thank you.” She wasn’t aware of how thirsty she was until she took the first gulp of water to wash down the Advil he also handed to her.

“Slow down,” He cautioned, “or you’ll make yourself sick. 

Looking down at the last bit of water in the glass, she was silent as her stomach rolled. They had to do something. This shouldn’t have been able to happen. She couldn’t be married to a stranger. 

“We need to file for an annulment.” the words came out softly and silence hung in the air after. “The ring is pretty- hopefully it can be refunded. Do you think you picked it or me?” She was talking to fill the void in the room. 

“I did,” He sounded… something. Down. Perhaps the reality of the situation was weighing on him as well. “You wouldn’t have any part of picking it.” 

“You remember?” 

“Bits and pieces are coming back.” 

“You picked a nice one.” The ring fit her well, sparkling with promises fit for a princess she would never get to be. “Hopefully you can get a refund.” 

Silence again. There were no analog clocks in hotels anymore, but she could somehow still hear the ticking of a clock marking off the seconds in her soul.

“I can have Ashley, my sister, bring me some clothes and we can go get the paperwork filed.” The words were flowing out quickly, trying to fill the room. “We can get this taken care of and be done with it. You won’t have to see me again. I won’t make it dif-”

“What if we don’t?” Long nimble fingers that made her remember warmth twisted his simple band around his finger. 

“What?” Surely she didn’t hear him right.

“I was raised to believe things happened for a reason. The amount of things that should have stood in the way to prevent this- what if it happened for a reason?” He couldn’t be serious.

“So what, we just stay married?” 

“Well,” She cut him off. 

“We don’t even know eachother!” 

This was insanity. He was insane. Why would a man like him want to be married to some random woman he didn’t know? He looked like a goddamn god, surely women fall at his feet. She wasn’t special. Any woman could have fallen into his bed. It just happened to be her this time. 

“Hear me out,” He said. It was hard not to look at him. What woman wouldn’t want a tall, handsome man pleading with her while wearing nothing but his well fitted boxers? “Let’s take some time. Let’s get to know eachother. We don’t have to rush-”

“You’re actually insane.” In her exasperation, she flopped back on the bed. The hem of the shirt- his shirt- rode up her thighs, and she quickly sat back up and yanked the fabric down. “If we ‘take our time’, the window for annulment will close. Then-”

“Then we get a divorce.” He said it as if it was that simple. 

“Divorce means lawyers and court fees. I don’t exactly have shit to split but-” 

“I’m not concerned about my assets.” 

“How long do you want? A few days?” She ran her hands through her waves in frustration, but quickly yanked them down again as she felt the hem of the shirt creeping higher again. “I need some damn pants.”

“What about a year?” 

~~~~~~

Alcohol was burning in his throat even as he called for another. Ice clanked against the cold glass. Lights and sounds blinked and clanged around him and yet, thanks to the insulation, it sounded distant. Condensation dampened his fingertips.

It was childish; he knew that. He was far too grown to be drowning his sorrows in a bar. It was risky too- with the attention and influx of fans, he could only dream of it wouldn’t be unexpected for someone to recognize him. 

“Excuse me?” A soft voice called behind his shoulder. This was it, he was found out. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m on per-” She slipped into the empty seat next to him. The bar was packed, and it had only recently been vacated. Though he looked at her, she had her eyes on the bartender.

“Washington apple?” She ordered.

Brown waves cascaded down her back. Were they as soft as they looked? The scent of flowers clung to the surrounding air. 

“Mia!” The bartender knew her. “Shouldn’t you have gone home hours ago?” 

“No point. I wouldn’t sleep anyway.” The glass slid into her hand with practiced coordination that gave away a history between her and the bartender.

“Why’s that?” He shouldn’t be listening in on their conversation, but the whiskey buzzed in his head, making it hard not to.

“AC is down. No one would get any sleep, anyway.” 

Tom downed his whiskey and ordered another. His ex may be getting married, but why should he spend that time alone?

“I couldn’t imagine trying to sleep here with no air conditioning.” 

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