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delirious-donna · 1 month

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The Duality of Men [Part Five]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

chapter summary: Being cooped up all day with Kento isn't as easy as it sounds. Time to tempt the stick in the mud out for a drink. What could go wrong?

pairings: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: suggestive, mentions of previous masturbation, humour, two idiots pining, mentions of alcohol, toxic male behaviour (not Kento), misunderstandings, white knight Kento, also very oblivious Kento

Part Four | Series Masterlist | Part Six

The morning dawned–bright and fresh. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the events of the previous evening almost felt like some lucid dream rather than reality. Only the dull ache that remained between your thighs served as a reminder of your toying fingers. Whilst you might have found release, it was temporary at best, and the encounter with Kento in the kitchen had only served to rekindle your desire for the man who was quickly becoming less of a stranger to you.

In an attempt to occupy your mind, turning it onto more pressing matters other than the slew of questions about the stoic male—his interests, occupation, and preferences in a far more intimate manner—you decided that focusing on schoolwork would be for the best.

That was how you came to find yourself seated in one of the two tall chairs that lined one side of the kitchen island, your coursework spread out in a sea of paper and textbooks. It was an organised mess, or so you would say, others might disagree, but it worked for you and that was all that mattered. Or it might have been had it not been for the appearance of your host.

Kento shuffled into the kitchen, his hair dishevelled from sleep and yawning widely. A glance at the clock told you it was an early start to the day for someone who was meant to be on vacation. He reached his arms overhead into a delicious looking stretch, and paused when his eyes blinked open to spy you fully dressed with a pen between your teeth.

“Morning,” he offered once he too glanced at the clock with a slight squint. It made you wonder if he needed glasses and if so, why didn’t he wear them? His voice was gruff, laden with sleep, and you did your best not to squirm at the effect it caused in your stomach. “You’re awake early, no?”

“I could say the same to you. Didn’t you say you were on mandated vacation? Oh, and good morning. There is coffee in the pot if you’d like some?” You added, leaning your cheek onto your fist whilst you admired him, emboldened by the knowledge he wasn’t awake enough to notice.

He grunted in response. Deliberately not looking whilst you smacked your pen against your pursed lips, and instead made a beeline to the source of caffeine that had roused him from his slumber in the first place. He admired your dedication at being awake to study so early. The question of what you were studying tickled the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. The more he knew, the harder it would be to keep his distance as he had vowed to himself.

Lazing in bed wasn’t on his agenda, it would be a waste of time when he could be reading or getting in a morning run on the treadmill. Perhaps in another life, he would have savoured the idea of remaining nestled within warm sheets, the morning sun streaming across the rumpled bed from the gap in the curtains, and… He paused, knowing that his mind was conjuring another body beside him, one that was across the room from him.

A distraction was what he needed.

“You study like… this?” Kento asked, nose wrinkled in distaste.

The pen in your hand was no longer gently patting at your lips, it was smacking hard against the marble counter edge and his eyebrow quirked at your clear irritation. He fought the smile that tried to rise, wisely hiding it behind his mug whilst he took another long sip.

“It… makes sense to me.” Your eyes narrowed, shifting your hips forward on the chair to lean over the counter, pen wagging in admonishment.

Kento held up his unoccupied hand in surrender, not wishing to cause you any further annoyance and longing for a slice of solitude that he wasn’t going to find in here. “Let me get out of your hair, I wouldn’t wish to distract you from your studies.”

You scowled after him, annoyed at yourself for finding that you were fixated on the dips at his lower back and the way his muscles shifted and bunched as he moved away and out of sight. It was far worse in the clear morning light; you could no longer fool yourself into believing that the broad expanse of his shoulders and the strength of his torso was simply a trick of the low lighting. It was simply him, and you rested your head on your folded arms while you processed that nugget of information.

The rest of the morning was spent in some semblance of peaceful cohabitation. Kento contented himself with running in his home gym, earbuds in place and you wondered what kind of music he enjoyed on your trip to the bathroom, peeking inside only for a moment before darting away, scared to be caught.

It wasn’t until lunchtime approached that he reemerged into the living room, fully dressed in a cream sweater and navy trousers.

By this point, you were curled up into the far corner of the couch with a book in hand. Whilst peeking over the top, you watched as he manoeuvred around the kitchen to make lunch. You must have read the same passage at least a dozen times and still, the words wouldn’t sink in. It wasn’t until he turned to eat, that he froze–plate in hand.

Of course, your coursework was still splayed out and possibly looking even more disorderly than before if that was at all possible. You waited, counting internally for the snarky comment, but as you reached fifteen… you glanced at him again.

“Are you really standing over the sink to eat?”

“I’m sure you have a suggestion as to what I should do instead,” he sighed in resignation with the plate balanced on his palm and half his sandwich clutched in his other hand.

“You could, y’know, sit on the couch like a normal person,” you chided with a roll of your eyes. “Or are you that afraid of crumbs that you’d rather stand over there?”

If truth be told, he did despise crumbs and unnecessary dirt. However, he wasn’t about to get into it with you about something you’d find trivial and likely tease him over. As if accepting your challenge, he marched stiffly to the other end of the couch from you and rested his plate precariously on his knees to finish his sandwich. His forehead wrinkled into a scowl, and you fought the urge to tell him to ease up or he’d prematurely wrinkle his face. Something told you he wouldn’t take too kindly to such an accusation.

Unfortunately, the calm of the morning didn’t last into the afternoon. For such a spacious apartment it felt awfully cramped when the two of you tried to focus on your individual interests. It was like walking on eggshells and your nerves were on a razor's edge for no good reason. More often than not you found yourself studying the uptight man rather than reviewing your seminar notes.

Nanami prowled from room to room like a caged predator, one that was not accustomed to enforced captivity and was losing its sanity with each continued tick of the kitchen clock. You were certain he had sat on every part of the couch, first seemingly engrossed in the newspaper delivered to his door but it didn’t last. Before you knew it he was back on his feet and standing at the panoramic window with both hands clasped behind his back.

He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, ignoring the beautiful sight of the late afternoon sun turning dark and fiery across the city. It would have been what you studied in his position but no, Kento watched the hundreds of commuters down on the streets. Was he… envious?

It appeared that way and he only strengthened the idea when he huffed, leaving a cloud of breath against the clean glass and turned on his heel to retrieve his discarded newspaper. The crisp pages snapped apart harshly under his grip and you nearly laughed at what you could only describe as rage reading.

You rolled your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time and threw down your pen in defeat. After stretching your arms overhead and rotating your stiff wrists, you gathered your courage and rounded on the man who couldn’t settle into anything remotely relaxing.

“Wanna go grab a drink?”

Kento paused on the sentence he had already read ten times over. Was he hearing you correctly? “Pardon?”

Hopping down from the stool you’d sat at for most of the day, you approached slowly and shrugged. “It’s been a long day and I think we could both use a drink to relax us a bit.”

Why would you need to relax? He was the one wound tighter than a spring-loaded toy but he couldn’t even blame you, not rationally anyway. You’d spent the day studying diligently, only breaking to stretch your limbs, refill your water bottle or read your book. A book he was unfamiliar with, squirrelling away the title and author to look up later.

After his morning run and shower, the day had slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. No matter how tightly he tried to cling to them, the minuscule grains escaped through the cracks until the hours were lost and he felt a sick sensation in his stomach. He tried not to consider the accounts he could have handled had he been in the office, or the clients he could have snared if he’d been permitted to admit the conference as planned. It wasn’t worth the turmoil it caused.

“I have a well-stocked liquor cabinet and there is wine in the fridge if it’s a drink you’d like,” he offered, moving closer to you and ignoring the desire to splay his hand at the small of your back to guide you towards his prized collection.

You shuffled your feet looking decidedly more nervous. His head cocked in curiosity, noting your habit to chew on your lips. He bet they tasted sweet.

“Kento… can we get out of the apartment? I bet there are a few nice bars around here, and well… c’mon, I don’t want to go alone.”

He may as well have sighed at the sound of his name on your lips for the second time. You might not know it, but he would have agreed to just about anything at that moment. For that reason alone, he found himself perched on a bar stool in a noisy but thankfully well-lit bar a few streets away from the apartment complex.

Your face was a picture of excitement, and he laughed discreetly whilst you leant on the bar waiting for the bartender to notice and take your order. Kento did his best not to appreciate how your light blue jeans hugged your backside, averting his eyes to admire the décor instead. He scolded his rapidly diminishing restraint, feeling more like a hormonal young man than he did when he was a hormonal young man.

“Vodka cranberry please, light on the ice. What would you like, Kento? It’s my treat.”

Oh hell no. He wasn’t about to let a student pay for his drink, no matter the circumstances. Meeting the eye of the young man behind the counter, he bristled at the amusement that was evident in his expression.

“Laphroaig, neat. Make it a double, please,” he rattled off whilst fishing his card from the wallet in his back pocket. At his side, you were beginning to protest, tugging on his sleeve and damn near bouncing on your stool. The bartender nodded and wisely chose to remain silent as he accepted the card and hurried away to fulfil the order.

“Nanami, I said I was going to pay!”

Kento huffed. “So, I’m Nanami again… where did Kento go?”

Two glasses were set down on folded paper napkins and it was enough to distract you, your fingers slipping free from his sweater. The amused bartender returned Nanami’s card with a receipt and discreetly moved away. Another wise decision.

“You’re a student and I am not. End of discussion,” he said with enough finality in his voice that you nearly acquiesced–nearly.

You couldn’t help but gawk at him in incredulity. Was he so unaccustomed to such gestures that he didn’t realise this was your attempt to say thank you for letting you stay in his apartment? He swallowed a long sip of his whisky that you had already forgotten the name of, but you were sure was extremely expensive. His Adam’s apple bobbed and your mouth ran dry.

“It was meant to be a thank you, dummy,” you groused, pouting as you raised your straw to your lips and sipped the crimson concoction you’d ordered. “Y’know, for letting me stay at your place?”

“Did you know that you say y’know rather a lot?”

Blinking, you met his hazel eyes and nearly whimpered at the warm glow that shone from their depths. It was like standing before a roaring fire, logs popping merrily from the leaping flames and they had a way of making you feel… special. His face softened when he teased you like this, with no scowls wrinkling his face. For a man who was definitely manly–all sharp jaw and angular cheekbones–those mischievous eyes cast a boyish charm over him and you found yourself leaning closer, your elbow resting on the bar until he cleared his throat and looked away.

Thankfully, you were able to navigate the rough seas of casual conversation without incident. Kento spoke about his work with a passion that didn’t seem likely for what sounded like a rather mundane office job. You teased him for his dedication and the long hours he spent behind a desk with limited social interaction. He took it well, or perhaps it was the alcohol that loosened him up.

His cheeks were warming nicely whilst the bar picked up around you. The steady stream of corporate slaves traipsed in and out with colleagues in tow looking to warm their bellies with a drink or two before the final trek home. Kento spoke fondly of his sister and told you enough embarrassing stories from their childhood that the simmering hurt from not even knowing Karin had a brother, melted away.

The atmosphere was a pleasant one and Kento was a pleasure to converse with when he wasn’t acting like he had a stick up his butt. In fact, it was surprisingly fun to goad him into huffing and puffing at whatever nonsense took your fancy, simply to see him stiffen and frown, his chest barrelling in indignation until he realised you were baiting him and easily so.

Kento couldn’t recall a time he enjoyed more than this one right now. He was never one for taking up the invites from colleagues to go bar hopping on a Friday night, often staying late in the office and catching up on emails rather than drinking himself into a stupor. Only now did he wonder if he was missing out on something better than what he thought would be no more than a nasty headache and clouded memories. Perhaps, if the right people—or person—it could be enjoyable.

You were funny, animated and scathing but not in a cruel way, or at least that was his interpretation. He appreciated your wit and your unique take on the world caused more than one or two belly laughs, which were worth it just to see how your face lit up in reaction. You were clever too, always quick off the mark when he deliberately tried to trip you up and honestly… he was falling.

Love was far too soon to even consider but mild infatuation? Maybe.

With your drinks now empty, he asked if you would like another and after giving an enthusiastic nod, he ordered two more before standing to find the restroom. The solitude gave you a moment to collect your thoughts, staring into the depths of the polished bar edge as you wondered how to proceed. You liked him, that couldn’t be denied now but it still felt too soon, not to mention the guilt you felt over lusting after your best friend’s brother.

Your reverie was interrupted when fresh drinks were set in front of you and a presence settled by your side. Glancing sideways you expected to find Kento but it wasn’t him. A young man in his early twenties smirked at you, swiping a hand through his slicked-back black hair. He was suited and booted like the majority of the patrons but you stiffened instinctively with how closely he leaned into you.

“Can I buy you a drink, sweetheart?” He offered, clearly ignoring the fresh set of drinks under your nose whilst his arm draped over the back of your chair. The tips of his fingers brushed your shoulder, making you shudder and twist your torso away so he could no longer reach.

“No thanks. I have a drink and that seat is taken.” You pointed to the one he was occupying after lifting both drinks in what you hoped was an obvious show of disinterest.

The man laughed; a dirty smoker’s laugh that raised the hairs on your arms and roiled the contents of your stomach. “C’mon, sweetheart, don’t lie. Liars aren’t as cute as you. I bet you bought both drinks so no one bothered you, right? I’m too smart to fall for that, all the girls are doing that these days.”

Every warning sign and alarm blared obnoxiously loud inside your head. If your instincts hadn’t tipped you off, his words certainly did. You were not the first woman to be subjected to his unwanted presence and you prayed that no one had fallen victim to his overbearing advances.

Undeterred by your previous movement to escape his touch, the man turned his body into you and this time, instead of trying to put his arm around your shoulder, he landed a heavy palm on your thigh. You openly grimaced at the unsolicited move, brushing his hand away and crossing your legs. Any sensible man would understand this as a sign to quit but of course, he seemed to only take it as some kind of sick challenge.

“Someone’s a little frigid. Let me warm you up a bit, I promise to be gentle,” he sneered, showing teeth stained from years of cigarettes and lacklustre oral hygiene.

You caught the eye of the bartender, he was watching closely and you were grateful that he was attentive.

Your mouth snapped open to retort sarcastically about his lack of perception skills, but at that moment the bartender, who you considered your safety net, moved away to the other end of the bar to serve a new customer.

What you didn’t know was that the man behind the bar knew that you were completely safe, he had seen what you had not. Nanami Kento was striding across the room and he was pissed.

At first, he had waited to see how you reacted to the man and his clear advances, unsure if you were into this kind of thing or not, but the second he could see your grimace and how your entire body leaned away from the man in his seat, fire filled his veins. The very second he touched you without invitation and continued to advance when it was obvious you weren’t interested, he saw red.

He would never understand the self-righteousness of some men, and their seeming belief that all women were fair game if they tried hard enough. It was not foreign to him, and this wasn’t the first time he stepped in to ensure the safety of a woman, often women he didn’t even know. This time was different and he was consumed with both rage and confusion at his reaction.

You weren’t his, he reminded himself as he stopped behind the man still leering at you.

A dark shadow fell over your harasser and your head snapped up at the same moment the man glanced around when someone tapped his shoulder. Nanami’s face was twisted with barely restrained fury, a thick vein popped on his temple and you gasped as the heavy waves of anger crashed outward from his stance. It was potent stuff, enough to tighten your chest when the edges licked at you just for being so close to the source.

Kento appeared broader, taller, and more angular. It must have been a trick of the light, but your heart pounded all the same. You weren’t even watching the man suddenly swallow dryly in the wake of Kento’s fury, no, you couldn’t rip your eyes away from him. The second heartbeat from the previous night was returning with vigour and you crossed your legs to draw your thighs tighter together.

“Leave.”

One single word imbued with enough power and natural dominance the man turned tail and ran for the door without even a backward glance.

“Are you alright?” Kento asked, retaking his seat and throwing back half his drink in one swallow. You watched as he sucked his teeth, his fingers digging into his eyes as if he were suddenly weary of the entire world. Not until he turned to you in question, gaze searching your face with uncertainty did you realise you hadn’t answered.

It was your turn to swallow the runny saliva in your mouth. “Yes… yes, don’t worry. He was a jerk but it could have been worse. I mean, it doesn’t happen often—”

“It shouldn’t happen at all,” he interjected.

“I know, but it’s okay.”

He grimaced but said no more. His anger was still palpable, but once where the flames had licked at you for daring to be too close, they now seemed to cocoon around the pair of you and it was a comfort. A comfort you fought against leaning into, failing when your frame swayed closer and your eyelids sagged.

The thought of how you might act if he were your man rose like oil on water, swirling images of clutching the front of his expensive cream sweater to pull him into a kiss that demonstrated a sliver of your gratitude. The kaleidoscope of colours shifted to the interior of his apartment, kicking hastily out of shoes whilst your tongues tangled and your hands roamed with abandon. Decadent heat caressed your chest, prickling your skin and causing you to squirm in your seat, all to the carefully guarded gaze of Kento.

He didn’t know what to make of your sudden shift in demeanour. You were jittery where you once had been perfectly comfortable, he wondered if perhaps you were experiencing a delayed reaction to what had transpired but what he didn’t expect was for you to reach out and run a finger along his forearm.

It was a bold move and one that you didn’t fully think through before you were in full flow. To hell with being Karin’s brother, you wanted to take the chance of seeing if you were compatible. He was ticking more and more boxes the longer you remained in his company and honestly, you wanted to know if he’d loosen up for you if given the right incentive.

“Do you make a habit of coming to the rescue of damsels in distress?”

His nostrils flared and immediately you knew that these were not the right words to use. “Don’t… I’m not interested in pity.”

All you could do was stare, slack-jawed at the absolute stupidity of this man. Did he honestly think you were the type to come on to any guy that came to your rescue? The anger that leaked from Kento seeped into you, fuelling your own and you puffed your chest in response. The man was dense, that much was clear but it was the slight against your assumed reasoning that bothered you the most.

“Are you for real? You think I would do this to just anyone that came along and helped me out of a bad situation?” You hissed through clenched teeth, letting your anger surround you like armour.

Nanami blinked, once and then again. He loathed to be seen as some heroic white knight figure, especially when he didn’t feel like one. Doing the bare minimum should not be praised, not when it is the very least all decent humans should be doing. It wasn’t the first time a woman had tried to proposition him after he chased some creep off, but it was the first time when he actually knew the woman in question.

Perhaps he misread the situation, yet that couldn’t be true either because that would mean that you were interested in him and most likely from before he had returned from the restroom. His head was pounding and it had nothing to do with the music in the bar or the alcohol that filled his stomach.

“I don’t–”

The legs of your chair scraped across the floor as you pushed up and out, halfway towards the door before he could even react to your hasty exit. It was your turn to be pissed and boy did you let it show. A couple leapt apart as they blocked your exit, and Kento was quick to down the final swallow of his whisky and threw down some cash on the bar before jogging after you.

You heard your name being called and knew that he was right on your heels. The feeling of foolishness made you want to cry and that only intensified how furious you were. How dare he make assumptions like that without warrant. A hand caught beneath your elbow and you whirled around only to be met with those uncertain eyes once more. Exhaling deeply through your nose, you reined in your temper and waited.

“I’m sorry?” Kento said, dropping his hand away from your elbow and rubbing at his neck sheepishly.

“Are you? Sorry, that is, because that sounded like a question to me. If you don’t mean it, don’t say it.” You tapped your foot against the pavement, holding his stare with unwavering determination not to be the first to look away.

“I made an assumption and that was wrong of me. This isn’t… it's not the first time I’ve been spoken to like that and I reacted out of instinct.”

“Yeah, well, I bet they hadn’t…” You clapped a hand across your mouth, startled by what you very nearly admitted and so casually too.

As quickly as your anger arrived, it dissipated just as fast. Instead, you were overcome with the memory of bedsheets twisted around your knees and your fingers busy between your thighs. You throbbed, remembering how you imagined Kento’s handsome face between your thighs, his chin and mouth swollen and sticky from the mess he’d made, and your fingers tangled in his hair to encourage him.

The image of your fantasy Kento blurred with the man standing in front of you looking perplexed. How on earth could you have nearly admitted stuffing yourself with your fingers whilst thinking of him and what it might be like if you invited him into your bed? It was comical, really it was.

“Hadn’t what?” Kento asked in confusion, if not at the sentence you left hanging then the way you seemed to double over as if you were in pain. You waved away his attempts to step closer, and he wasn’t certain if what he heard was a delirious giggle or a noise of anguish. What hadn’t those other women done that you had? There were a hundred possibilities surely, and yet, what popped into his head was the sticky mess he had made last night whilst thinking of you.

No, it couldn’t be that… it would be stupid to even think that you might have both sought relief whilst so close yet so far, only a wall keeping you apart. It was wishful thinking on his part, or so he thought. The way you burst into spontaneous laughter gave him further pause. He was grateful when you straightened and bumped your shoulder into his arm, and walked with him back to the apartment. Your anger forgotten and the atmosphere between you clearer than it had been moments ago.

But what if..?

#delirious writes #nanami x reader #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami smut #nanami fluff #nanami kento smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #tw toxic behavior #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut

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redflagshipwriter · 3 months

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Check Yes (to go on a date with a dead guy) ch3

“So, what’s your deal?” Jason asked, when Danny’s mouth was full of food. “You’re dead, I notice.”

Danny choked. He gave Jason a betrayed look with big blue eyes, a hand clapped over his mouth to contain any mess.

Jason smirked back, unrepentant. “I died once,” he shared. “Got better though.”

“You got be-”

“You were surprised about what it’s like to fight humans,” Jason continued. It was hard not to laugh at the confused outrage on his date’s face. “So that implies you fight someone else? You’re fighting ghosts or something? Or do ghosts have some kinda natural enemy? Vampires or some shit?” He might have been a bit flippant but sue him, it sounded a lot more magical than his daily life.

Danny opened his mouth and no words came out. He looked like he was in pain when he grudgingly admitted, “I do have a lot of beef with this one vampire guy, Vlad.”

Jason threw his head back and laughed. That was such a vampire guy name, what the hell?

“No, no, it’s not funny,” Danny protested. He waved his hands wildly, flinging a bit of bean from his burrito across the roof they were perched on. “He’s also a ghost- well, he’s a half of a ghost, but that’s a long story from when he was in college.”

“The half-ghost vampire has an undergraduate degree?” Jason interrupted. He needed to know what this fucker studied. Was it like, social science? Literature? Theater? That might explain Danny’s implied belief that a theme was an inherent rogue thing. No, wait, business administration?

Danny gave him a withering look. “He’s got a Doctorate.”

Jason flung his hands up in defeat against the world. That made more sense than an undergraduate degree somehow. There was just something about the type of person who got a Doctorate that made them, you know, creeps.

‘Or maybe they’ve just got enough specialized knowledge to act on latent creepiness,’ he mused. ‘...Shit, am I developing an anti education stance? Can I blame this on Crane and Quinn?’

Danny was continuing with his explanation of the vampire’s background. Every word made it nuttier. “He’s a scientist, actually, and the mayor of a small town. And he lives in a cheese mansion.”

This was a sharp divergence from vampire stereotypes and he needed to know everything.

“Is the mansion made of cheese?” Jason interrupted. He was leaning in, intent on every word. Why was this vampire the most interesting man in the world?

He got a weird look for that. “No, it just belonged to the Dairy King,” Danny said, like it was everyday knowledge that you could expect a layperson to have.

“Of course, the Dairy King,” Jason said wisely.

"Enough about me though!" Danny flailed a bit. "How did you get my uh, number?"

Ah. Jason took a big bite to delay while he chose his words.

There was no point in trying to hide his vigilante identity from Danny. The guy probably didn't even understand the concept.

So he might as well top whatever story Danny had.

"The bat guy who taught me all about being a child soldier got grabbed by this group of loser cultists, right?" He gestured in a way that did absolutely nothing to illustrate the situation.

Danny cocked his head. "This is off to a good start."

"They tried to sacrifice him. You gotta remember him - big ugly guy, dressed in black and gray, underwear on the outside of his pants in a way that's never been cool?"

Danny didn't seem to have words, but he lifted his hands to make two ears on top of his head.

He pointed with both hands. "That's the guy," Jason agreed. "At the time, we didn't know what kind of sacrifice it was. We were thinking more along the lines of blood sacrifice?" He shrugged as if the idea of B biting it meant nothing to him.

Danny made a pffft sound of air escaping between his lips. "I tossed him back." He flailed in place. "I- isn't- wasn't that- that was a while ago," he stuttered. "I kinda forgot about him."

"...You got offered a cape, then a few weeks later a bunch of others, and you didn't make a mental connection?" Jason checked.

Danny flushed. "Time doesn't match up between the realms and anyway, I'm really busy!" He crossed his arms and accidentally knocked over his drink. "I've got a lot going on in my life. Anyway, for a ghost?" Danny blew a raspberry. "I'm sorry to break your heart, but none of you dress wild enough to stand out in the Infinite Realms. We've got robot dudes and child pirates and giant eyeballs and stuff." He gave Jason a smug look. It was cute.

Jason acted on impulse and reached out to ruffle Danny's hair. He realized what he was doing too late. His hand froze above Danny's head.

Danny tilted his face up and made an inquisitive sound.

"There was a bug." Jason pulled his hand back. What was wrong with him? He didn't go touching other people just because they were cute. "It flew off."

"...Right," Danny said. "You're being very normal." He seemed delighted by this, the little gremlin. "So. You were a child soldier too?"

Jason nearly fell off his perch.

Danny shrieked a laugh and pointed. "Ha!" He crowed. "I win! I shocked you first!"

"There wasn't a competition!" Jason lied. His face was bright red. It was too late to save face. "What do you mean too?" He demanded. "Were you a child?"

"Somewhat recently," Danny said. He gave Jason a catlike smile. "Adults come from teenagers, teenagers come from kids, kids come from babies. Do you need to know-"

"I know where babies come from." Jason cut him off. He tried to look off put at the way Danny laughed at him but fuck it, it was funny, in a dumb way. "Of course you were a kid, that was silly of me," he admitted. "Ghosts are made from humans, right?"

"Well yes, but actually no," Danny said, philosophical. "Some of us. I was. Other ghosts are made from like, vultures, or ideas."

It kinda seemed like ghost taxonomy was more complicated than he was ready to get into at the moment. Those two things were pretty fuckin disparate.

Jason sighed heavily and picked up his food again, just to have something to do with his hands.

A thought occurred. He didn't let it show on his face but he felt sick to his stomach.

Danny was dead. Danny said he'd been a child recently, and a child soldier.

Someone needed their ass kicked.

Danny: we are having such a whimsical time!

Jason: sirens screaming

#dp x dc #red check yes #dead on main

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romanoffsdarling · 6 months

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Later Never Comes

Pairing: CEO!Silver-Fox!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your love for her knew no bounds, but there’s only so long you can hold on— only so many empty promises you can stand— before you finally have to let go. Before you finally realize that later may never become real.

Word Count: 4,779

Warnings: G!P Wanda, legal age gap, brief oral (R receiving), dirty (and slightly possessive) talk, mommy kink, slightly rough sex, neglect, and angst (with a bittersweet ending). 18+, Minors DNI.

Author’s Note: I know I promised a second part to Summertime Sadness and Time To Say (Goodbye), but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head. I hope you can forgive me!

Great love always ends in tragedy.

That’s the saying, right? A stupid one if you had anything to say about it. What’s so great about love if it only ends in heartbreak? If you don’t end up with the person that makes your entire being thrum? If everything that had once been so colorful is suddenly black-and-white due to their absence?

Is the love great due to the story? To the emotions, the events, that occur throughout its long winded saga? Or is it great because it was doomed from the start? Because, even though it’d end one way, two people were still willing to fight the odds, to fight fate, even if they’d never end up winning.

You’re not sure, nor do you care, because there’s no way a love of that kind could be anything except terrible— except bone-chillingly agonizing in the way you’d have to figure out how to move on without it. Figure out how to be without the person that made everything make sense, that made you feel like the person you were always meant to be.

Even if it’s been years since you’ve seen her, years since you’ve felt her lips against yours, an elegantly lithe body pressed to your own, and the sweet scent of sandalwood and lavender mixed perfectly in your nose, you haven’t been able to figure that out. Haven’t been able to get her out of your system, no matter how much you may try.

How could you? When you’ve loved, and been loved by, Wanda Maximoff?

[Past]

“I’m just saying she’s been interested to meet you since she saw our group picture from Fiji.” Your best friend, Agatha, relayed, jovially leading you towards the small, yet upscale, café that Wanda Maximoff— CEO of Scarlet Entertainment— agreed to meet you. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, sweetie. Especially one that came about due to my own propensity to lose bets with that witch.”

Your brow furrows. “I’m just not sure what exactly this meeting is supposed to be about. I just graduated college, I barely have any experience under my belt.”

“But you have me as a mentor,” she rebukes, a small smirk on her lips. “And that’s all that you need to get into Wanda’s head.”

“Ah, yes.” You roll your eyes, amusement welling within your chest. “How could I forget about your age-old rivalry?”

“Don’t phrase it like that. Makes me sound old.” Agatha bumps her shoulder against yours, eyes narrowed.

“And mentor doesn’t?”

“Nope.” She pops the ‘p’. “That makes me sound wise.”

“And what does wisdom come from again?”

You’re just able to dodge the swat directed at your arm, a bright smile tugging your lips upward, as you finally enter the quaint café— the aromatic smell of coffee, a hint of cinnamon, and something slightly citrusy, hits you all at once. A combination that shouldn’t have worked as well it did.

Once you placed your order— a simple coffee with your usual additions— you turned back to Agatha with an expectant expression. “Anything I should know about this meetings, Ags?”

She shakes her head, tendrils of brown hair escaping the haphazard bun she had thrown them in. “You’re here.” Agatha hands you the drink the barista had just put beside you, a wane smile on her lips. “That’s the important part to achieve for any date.”

Your steps stutter, nearly causing you to trip into a nearby table. “W-What?” Widened eyes meet Agatha’s unaffected one, a certain level of calmness that you found irritating. “What do you mean date? I thought this was a meeting?”

Agatha waves her hand. “Lunch meeting, lunch date. Means the same thing in the end.” She shoulders her purse, clearly not planning on staying any longer than she has to. “You’ll be fine, Y/N. You’re a catch. Maximoff would have to be a bigger idiot than I think she already is if she lets you go.”

Before you’re able to respond, Agatha places a chaste kiss to your cheek, offers one last cheeky wink, and saunters her way out of the café, leaving you completely alone. You’re honestly tempted to just abandon ship and get out of dodge— you weren’t good on dates, let alone blind dates. Something your best friend is well aware of, and would definitely be getting in an earful about this later.

However, before you’re able to make a concrete decision on your exit strategy, a husky voice speaks up from behind you.

“Are you Y/N?”

The most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen stood in front of you when you turned around: long auburn hair, speckled with the beginning signs of gray, paired perfectly with the sharp emerald green of her gaze. An elegantly lithe body, encased in a form-fitting suit, tailored made to enhance every perfect curve, relaxed in a way that almost seemed arrogant— if it was for the confidence that exudes from her very being.

“Yes.” Your brain finally catches up with you, remembering the question she had asked. “Y/N.” You hold out your hand for her to shake. “Y/N L/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

A small smile catches full lips, a slender hand grasping your own in a firm shake. “Wanda Maximoff.” Green eyes trail down your body. “And, trust me, the pleasure is all mine.”

The months that followed the blind date went by in a blur. You could honestly say that you’ve never met anyone else like Wanda Maximoff— a woman that personified ice and fire. Watching her work— whether it be as you’re lounged on her large leather sectional, laptop balanced on her lap as slender fingers gently stroke your back, or she’s pacing back and forth with her phone pressed to her ear; voice dripping with barely concealed annoyance, underlined by a calm collectiveness that never failed to make you swoon— was an art form in itself, but being able to see the woman that appeared at the end of the day?

Where an icy facade of professionalism melts into warm smile and gentle eyes. Sharp words being replaced by sweet nothings and gentle humming.

In Wanda’s arms you’ve found a place you never even knew you were missing— home. You had a couple relationships in the past, but none of them made you feel the way Wanda does; all paling in comparison to the beautiful Sokovian.

The one thing you hadn’t expected upon beginning to date the older woman was how insatiable she was— not that you were complaining— but Wanda needed to have you as often as she could. Taking you the bedroom of your apartment, the various rooms in her penthouse, in her office within Scarlet Entertainment, hell even in the back of a limo on the way to an event. Wanda needed to have you and you needed to have her right back.

Another little thing you’ve learned about her? Or, you should say, not so little? The Sokovian sported an extra appendage that had quickly become your new best friend— not that you were going to tell Agatha that— who seemed to want you as much as Wanda did.

Which is how you found yourself where you are now— on your back, thighs clamped around Wanda’s head, as she thoroughly ate you out on the couch of her office.

“Yes.” You arch sharply, a sob being torn from your throat as Wanda’s tongue plunges even deeper into you. Your girlfriend hums happily at the sound, the vibrations sending a shockwave across your clit, and another wave of wetness gushes out of you— something that Wanda is all too happy to lap up. She had told you on more than one occasion, after she spent hours upon hours between your thighs, that you beat out even the finest of wines to her. “Please. I need you.”

With clear reluctance to leave, Wanda pulls back and easily settles on top of you. Lips and chin shining lewdly in the dim lighting of her office, darkened emerald eyes sparkling even brighter.

“You taste great, detka.” She lowers her head, offering her tongue for you to suck on. Giving you a taste of yourself, mixed intoxicatingly with her own natural one. “Could spend hours eating up your perfect pussy, but that’s not what you want, huh?” She jerks her hips, rubbing her cock against your wetness. “You want mommy to be inside you, right? Want her to stretch you out and make you scream?” Another roll of her hips causes you to arch, a breathless gasp leaving you, but Wanda doesn’t relent. “Answer me, detka. Be my good girl and I’ll give you what you crave. What do you want mommy to do?”

“Fuck me.” The cry is practically wrenched from your chest, a deep felt plea for her to just plunge into you and ruin you for anyone else. Not that she hasn’t been able to accomplish that already. “I want you to slam your cock into my pussy and make me yours, mommy. I want your cock to make my pussy its own, to shape me in its image.”

A deep, almost rumbling, snarl erupts from Wanda in response, her hips snapping forward and you’re finally filled; stretched out so fucking perfectly, an obscene slurp echoed across the room the moment Wanda’s hips met your own. She hadn’t made you cum with her mouth, but you had been so close, she had given you a mini orgasm just by entering— a feat that brings a smug smile to Wanda’s lips.

“You feel that, detka.” She takes your hand and brings it down to the slight bulge in your lower abdomen. “That’s my cock ruining you for anyone else. No one will ever be able to fill you the way I do, make you scream yourself hoarse.” Wanda snaps her hips forward after a shallow pull-back, giving out a satisfied hum at the feeling of your slick walls pressed around her. “Your pussy belongs to me, your pleasure belongs to me, and you belong to me.”

Wanda lowers her head, lips pressed firmly to your own, giving you even more of a taste of yourself than before, as her tongue practically fucks your mouth while her cock fucks your pussy. When she detaches her lips from yours, only a thin trail of saliva is left, before she’s far enough away for it to snap.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh permeates the air, an occasional grunt or moan intercepting it, and you’d be concerned about the noise level if Wanda hadn’t sent Peter, her assistant, home early— having planned to have you like this from the very moment she had invited you over.

“Just like that, mommy. Keep fucking me like that,” you babble, drunk on pleasure as Wanda kept driving her hips forward, one slender finger roughly rubbing your clit in time with each thrust. It’s of no surprise that you find your release quickly after, gushing over Wanda’s cock.

The tight contractions around her cock— as your second orgasm was much more powerful than your first— causes Wanda to groan, hips stuttering in their brutal pace. It’s clear that she was close, sweat slicked brow, causing strands of silver hair to cling to fair skin, but she obviously wanted you to come one last time— to be tossed over the edge with her.

With a shake breath, Wanda roughly brings you to the brink of your third orgasm, not even giving you time to fully get through the second. “One more, detka. You’ve got one more in you for mommy.” She dips her head, lips tenderly brushing across your forehead. “And when you come around mommy’s cock, I’m gonna fill you up like the good girl you are. Would you like that?”

You nod, practically whining. “Yes. Please.”

The older woman snarls once more, clearly affected by the look on your face, and, before you’re even aware of it, you’re crashing over the edge again— a cry of Wanda’s name passing over your lips as you spasm around her. Barely being able to catch Wanda’s own groan in response: “Yes.”

Jets of her cum paint your inner walls white, warming you up. It’s a feeling you don’t think you’ll ever get used to— or want to get used to, if you’re being honest.

Once she’s spent, Wanda gently lowers herself onto your still slightly spasming body, lips pressed softly against your cheek. “You did so good. So perfect for me. My beautiful girl.”

You happily nuzzle into Wanda’s neck, eyes drooping out of contented exhaustion. “I love you.”

You’re too out of it to feel Wanda stiffen in surprise, or to really understand what you had just whispered, but you are aware of Wanda’s arms tightening around you, her lips pressing more firmly against your skin, as she cuddles you closer to her.

And, as you begin to drift off completely, happy in Wanda’s arms, you faintly feel Wanda exhale across the shell of your ear, a shaky breath, uncharacteristic for the older woman, before her soft voice breaks through the silence: “I love you too. More than I ever thought I’d love anyone.”

[A Few Months Later…]

“How many do you want?”

It’s asked softly, one of Wanda’s hand gently running up-and-down your back in a soothing motion. Her lips pressed against the crown of your head, your face nuzzled against the crook of her neck, a place you don’t feel like leaving anytime soon.

“How many what?” You snuggle closer, delighted in the way her arms tighten instinctively. “I want a lot of things, Wands.”

Wanda huffs out a light chuckle. “Children, Y/N. How many children do you want?”

You stiffen in surprise at the question— Wanda hadn’t made it a secret that she didn’t plan on having kids. That she didn’t think she’d make a good mother due to her childhood and her busy lifestyle, but you also know that your girlfriend wouldn’t ask something unless she’s serious about the answer. Something you’ve figured out after all these months together. Regrettably, you pull your face away from the warm nest it had made so you’re able to look at her, and Wanda met your eyes calmly, sharp green softened in a way that’s only ever meant for you.

“What’s this about, Wanda?” You roll your lips, trying to process your next words carefully. “I thought you didn’t want kids?”

Emerald eyes flash warmly. “I didn’t want a lot of things, Y/N.” She easily tugs you back into her arms, lips pressed to your forehead. “But that was all before I met you.”

Touched by her words— and the clear sincerity within them— you decide to just bite the bullet, there wasn’t a point in delaying your answer. Especially if Wanda expected it.

“Two.” A gentle kiss is placed to her collarbone. “I want two boys. Twins.”

She breathes out another chuckle. “Twins, huh?” Maneuvering you both, you’re suddenly pressed against the mattress, Wanda hovering over you, smile still in place, with a familiar hardness nestled between your thighs. “That seems like something we’d have to get just right, correct?”

Even though it’s posed as question, you can tell that Wanda meant it rhetorically. That she already knew the answered you’d both settle on— an answer you always agreed upon.

Wiggling your hips, grinning mischievously at the sharp gasp that leaves Wanda’s lips at the added pressure, you throw your arms loosely around her neck.

“Yes.” You pull her closer, lips millimeters from her own. “I think it’s something we’re going to have practice quite a bit.”

Not needing any more prompting Wanda descends onto you with a ravenous hunger. One that you’re all too happy to match.

You can’t wait to experience your future if this is what’ll be waiting for you there.

The phone is cold against your overheated flesh— a concoction of anger and disappointment courses through you like lava.

“Wanda—” You pinch the bridge of your nose to stem the tide of anger. “This is the eighth time this week alone. What the hell am I supposed to tell the caterers? Again.”

A soft sigh resounds through the speaker. “Just tell them that I won’t be able to make it, Y/N.” The response, in a clearly distracted tone, does little to ease your growing ire. “I know you’ll be able to handle it.”

“I don’t want to handle it, Wanda. This is our wedding, I’d like for you to also have a say in it.” From the time on the clock, you didn’t have much time left to leave the penthouse. Not if you wanted to get to the appointment on time. “I’ve been planning this entire thing by myself, I want your help. I want to hear your opinions. I want you.”

To care goes without words, but you’re certain it rings out just the same. You had been so happy when Wanda had suddenly proposed, seemingly out of the blue. Though wasn’t that the point? Taking you to a rooftop restaurant, which she had rented out, and offered you the rare chance of getting to taste her impeccable cooking; all dishes she had learned from her mother back in Sokovia. It had been a night you’d forever cherish, memories forever ingrained in your heart: the way the stars made the green in Wanda’s eyes sparkle more, the subtle wind allowing you to be surrounded by her comforting scent, the bright smile she had given you when she dropped down to one knee, and the happy laugh that had escaped her when you said yes. It had been a fairytale, everything you had ever wanted.

Until you realized your Disney fairytale was beginning to turn into Brothers Grimm.

“You have me, Y/N.” Wanda lets out another sigh. “Look, I can’t keep talking the investors for the meeting just arrived and I need to get prepared. I promise that I’ll go over everything you discuss later, okay? I love you.”

“Wanda—”

You’re only met with the sound of the dial tone, barely getting the chance to reply before being hung up on, and the familiar aching sense of silence that follows— a hollow sound that distantly reminded you of what your heart has become.

It hadn’t always been like this. The penthouse, upon your first visit, had been cold, lifeless in a way that seemed almost inhuman, but slowly it had livened up— been filled with a sense of warmth and peace. Of love. It had been a place you could go to when you just needed an escape from the rest of the world, when you needed to be surrounded by things that remind you of the woman you love.

Now it’s suffocating in a way that you never wished for it to be.

You’re aware that Wanda is a busy woman— had been aware of it before your first date occurred— but she had always at least tried to be there. Always left you feeling like you were at least on the list of things that mattered, you didn’t necessarily need to be at the direct top; not when she had so many things to content with already. But, you’ve felt like nothing more than an afterthought lately.

Gentle kisses in the morning turned to brief parting words as she made her way quickly out the door.

Soft smiles, and inside jokes, turned to barely there quirks of full lips, and stretched out silences.

The warmth of her hold, the safety you felt from her touch, turned to an icy chill as she left you to the cold air— you don’t even remember when the last time was that you had been together properly. Since you had woken up in her arms.

You didn’t need a lot, you didn’t need all of her time, but you wanted to feel like you still mattered— that everything you have isn’t just another thing Wanda had marked off on her checklist of things to do before she turns 55.

Checking the time, a small curse leaves your lips once you realize that you’re going to be late, and, with one final glance towards the empty penthouse, you make your way out the door— hoping that the growing chill you feel isn’t indicative of a love grown cold.

Silence had become your greatest friend in the weeks that followed. The one thing that you’ve grown to count on as Wanda’s schedule only seemed to get busier and busier— hell, your relationship with her personal assistant had grown to the point that he’s been calling you by your first name now. Instead of the usually nervous ma’am or Ms. L/N.

Wedding appointments had come and gone, all of them spent alone, with Wanda barely perusing the choices that had been made before crashing out of sheer exhaustion. Conversation had grown stilted due to her own growing ire at you consistent worry— although she labeled it as nagging. That she’s been running her business for over thirty years, and she’s been doing fine.

Even now, on New Years Eve, as the clock moved ever closer to midnight, you were completely alone— expansive shadows, that seemed darker somehow, stretched out towards you like ghastly fingers, trying to tear whatever semblance of comfort you’ve found away. You’re not sure what you had been expecting, not even sure if you’d truly believed that Wanda would show herself, but you can’t lie and say that you hadn’t hoped.

Hoped that today, of all days, would be different. That you wouldn’t feel like a stranger, an intruder, within your own life, within your own home.

Fanciful musings and hopes of a lovestruck fool.

The small chirp of an incoming message pulls you from your reverie, a bright smile appearing instantly at the sight of who it’s from, before withering away once you read it: Sorry, I won’t be able to make it home tonight. Going to the Hamptons to meet some new business partners. I promise I’ll make it up to you later. I love you.

You don’t bother to send a message back— what could you possibly say? Yet another promise had been thrown to the wayside by the older woman. Even if it was just a cursory, and unspoken, one being as simple as not leaving your fiancé alone on New Years. Or waiting until the last minute to actually say anything about it.

A soft sigh escapes your lips, an acidic twang settling over your tongue, as bitterness seeps into your bloodstream, poisoning your heart and soul. You knew what you needed to do, have known since this had become your new normal, but hadn’t had the strength, or the courage, to make it a reality. Until now.

Until the heartbreak, the suffering, has become as close of a friend to you as the oppressive silence.

And, as the door to the penthouse gently closed behind you, never to be opened by your hand again, you feel a sense of bone-deep sorrow settle over you. For everything that could have been, for what you had hoped for, and all that you now had to live without. You could just step back inside, hide or destroy the letter, and Wanda would never know. She’d never find out how close you had been to giving up, but you couldn’t find the strength to do so. Could no longer gather up the power to keep fighting for something that’s been lost long ago— no matter how much your heart screams at it not being true.

Tears gather in your eyes as you take another step away from the door, away from the place you’ve lived in for the last two years, and your heart breaks with every step. But, it breaks even more at the knowledge that you were leaving your true home behind too— that doing this would destroy everything you have with Wanda, never to be salvaged. The penthouse may be expensive, and it may be beautiful, but it’d never be home to you like Wanda; it’d never offer you the same feeling of protection like her arms did.

You’ve been shut out of your home for months now, and being left out in the cold has finally frozen your heart enough for you to be able to do this. No matter how much more it was going to hurt once it thaws once more.

Shouldering your duffel bag, the only thing you’ve allowed yourself to bring, you step into the private elevator and press the button for the lobby. Hands tightening around the strap of the bag, trying to ignore the way your ring finger no longer felt the familiar press of metal against it as you do so.

It was time to look forward, to finally make your own laters, the things you had been pushing off, become an actuality.

Even if you wanted nothing more than to have never needed to say goodbye to Wanda Maximoff in the first place.

Losing the ring was one thing, but losing the love of your life?

It’s a wound you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to recover from.

[Present]

“Mom?” The small voice catches your attention, your eyes focused back in to see bright eyes, twin grins being sported between the pair. “Can we still get hot chocolate?”

Billy and Tommy had come into your life when you needed them to most— a blessing that you’d definitely been searching for after everything imploded with Wanda. And, even if how they were conceived didn’t lend itself to a happy tale, you’d never change a thing. They were your twin miracles. Your beautiful baby boys— even if they were eight years old now.

“I thought you decided to get caramel popcorn instead?” You poke Billy’s side gently, delighted in the giggle the actions caused. “That’s what you both told me at the theater.”

Tommy’s eyes widened dramatically, in full puppy-dog mode. “But that was before you took us past our favorite store.” He points to the small café only a few feet away— one that you frequented with the twins when you could find the time. A place that you hadn’t even realized you’d be leading them towards. “Can we please get hot chocolate.”

The twins chime in unison: “Please.”

You chance a glance towards the café— deliberating your options— but you know that you’re going to cave. After all, the reason you had gone to the movies was to celebrate their stellar report cards. What harm could some extra hot chocolate do?

So, with a faux long-suffering sigh, you relent. “I suppose.”

“Yes!” Twin cheers are your immediate response, brightening the smile on your lips, and you soon find yourself in the quaint café— one that held so many memories for you. Phantoms of your past the whispered in your ear as you placed your order and directed your boys to their usual spot.

Only half-listening to their chatter about the movie you had just seen— some superhero film— you simply bask in the simplicity their joy brought you. Observing their small faces light up, little hands waving around as they discussed various points, and your heart swells with more love than you ever thought you could feel.

“—What did you think, mom?”

Billy’s sudden question tears you from your musings, his widened eyes, alight with excitement, giving you the impression that he really wanted to hear what you thought.

“About the movie?” They both nod. “I thought it was good, bug.”

Tommy pouts. “Yeah, but what did you like most about it? Did you have a favorite scene?”

“I—”

“Order for Y/N.”

Saved by the bell, you think. A wave of relief crashing over you. “You two stay put.” Standing, you ruffle their hair. “I’ll be right back with our drinks.”

At the prospect of their hot chocolate they don’t seem to mind that you didn’t answer their question— though you’d certain Tommy would ask you again. Though you’d have more than enough time to google some things about the movie before then. Small miracles.

Stopping at the counter, you take the tray with the drinks with a smile and a nod in greeting to the server you’ve grown quite fond of.

“Y/N?”

Breath catching in your throat at the husky voice sounding out behind you, the cadence and tone so familiar that your heart still burns from it. Hesitating only slightly, you turn and meet the shimmering emerald eyes you haven’t seen in a little over eight years. Her face still as beautiful as you’d last seen it, if a bit older now.

“Wanda.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #avengers imagine #mcu imagine #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #marvel imagines #later never comes

1K notes · View notes

dyaz-stories · 4 months

Text

an indentation in the shape of you || Cha Hyun-Su x f!Reader

summary: Hyun-Su wants to learn how to make you feel good. The two of you experiment some more.

word count: 2.8k

warnings & tags: fluff, smut, reader is afab, explicit consent, pwp, porn with feelings, fingering, dry-humping i guess?, they're both virgins and pretty awkward but they're getting better at this, all very vanilla.

first one-shot · previous one-shot

This one-shot can be read independently as there is nothing intense plot-wise that requires having read the other parts, but I do recommend reading them for context.

A/N: this is my first hyun-su one-shot without angst lol (...don't get too used to it). anyway, this is more smut, and i think it's more intense than the previous one. hyun-su is more confident in this one, and he takes charge a little more (but in other ways he's pretty subby, so do with that what you want). hope you enjoy!

There is something about watching Hyun-Su moving around in your house that warms your heart in a way you can’t quite explain. He’s seemed more confident there lately, no longer tiptoeing or stiffening around you like you could kick him out any second. It reminds you of days forever gone, when your mom used to sit at the table while doing her crosswords and your dad put music on the second he walked in through the door.

It reminds you of when this house was a home.

Right now, Hyun-Su’s fixing up a spear he’s brought here with some of your dad’s tools. It’s not his, you know that much. ‘Yi-Kyeong asked me to take care of it’, he’d said when he had set to fix it. There was something to his tone that had stopped you from asking for more, even if you think he’d have told you. He’d said her name respectfully, but with deep sadness, and you had known that there was a lot more to this story. You’d get there some day, you were sure, but not tonight.

Hyun-Su glances up at you, and you almost whip your head away to pretend you weren’t looking at him, like you’re a highschooler with a crush. Instead, you don’t even try to make it look like the long forgotten book in your lap is of any interest to you, and you give him a smile.

He stills his movements.

“Is something wrong?”

His voice is calm and deep. He sure has come a long way.

“Just like looking at you,” you answer, because it’s true, and even with all that progress, you’re not surprised when Hyun-Su looks away from you, cheeks turning red.

When he gets the courage to look back at you, though, a bashful smile illuminates his features, and you don’t think that would have happened even as recently as a few weeks ago.

“You do?”

There’s just something in the air. Something fresh and sweet and new, something that makes you bite your lower lip while you nod, suppressing the giggle that’s forming in the back of your throat. Hyun-Su’s eyes on you feel intense, and you’re not used to getting that kind of look from him. After a few seconds of that, he abandons the spear behind him to stand up and walk towards you, eyes not leaving yours for a second.

A long, intense shiver runs down your back. Under his hoodie, you can see the muscles of his shoulders moving as he walks, and fleetingly, you wonder if you’d have had a chance with him, in a world without the Apocalypse, but even that is quickly swallowed by the fact that you have him now.

He puts a hand on the back of the couch as he leans close to you to kiss you, the other coming to rest on your waist and oh, if he keeps doing things like that, you think you’ll just turn into a puddle. Your heart is fluttering, and when his hand sneaks under your t-shirt, long, cold fingers carefully caressing your skin, you think it just might fly out of your chest.

His lips move slowly against yours, and you tilt your head back as he towers over you. You feel like you’re going into overdrive from how sensual he’s being, how his tongue dances with yours as the soft sounds of the kiss fill the room. It’s not long before he’s gently pushing you onto your back on the couch, and he goes down with you, putting one knee between your legs to support himself.

And it’s all just so much. Hyun-Su’s lips, his taste on your tongue, his warm body half-covering yours, his fingers running over your ribs, and, fuck, now his knee just almost, almost pressing right where you need him to.

But this feels nice, too, and you’re not trying to initiate anything sexual just yet, so you do your best to be patient. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, and find some satisfaction in the way Hyun-Su loses his rhythm at that. Knowing that you still have that kind of effect on him, even as you’re unraveling completely under his touch, makes you just a little more confident in what you’re doing.

It isn’t long before Hyun-Su’s gotten his bearings back though, and then he kisses you with renewed passion. The kiss turns less controlled, mouth crashing against yours harder, his hand tightens on your waist— before he pulls away, panting.

“Sorry,” he says before he can catch himself, cheeks flushed.

“I didn’t mind,” you answer, but your voice is squeakier than you had intended.

“I didn’t mean to— I wanted to ask you something.”

His black eyes are wide, and as much as the blue eyes are like an electric shock running through you, you love them so much. You love how you drown in them, you love how kind they are, love that they are, truly, a window to his soul.

“What is it?” you whisper, not trusting your voice anymore.

“Just— What we did. Last time.”

No need to be a rocket scientist to figure that one out, so, even if you feel blood rushing to your face, you nod.

“I wanted to, uh, return the favor. If you don’t mind.”

It’s your eyes’ turn to widen, and you push yourself onto your elbows to better read his expression. The skin of your face tingles with how burning hot it is.

“I mean I— Sure but you don’t— You don’t have to do anything—”

“I know,” he says, shaking his head. His voice is soft. “But I want to.”

You swallow, but you lay back down. You’re more nervous in this situation than you would have expected, feel vulnerable, exposed, even if you’re all clothed for now. But you trust Hyun-Su, you do, with all of your heart, and you cannot imagine a better person to have this experience with. So, slowly, you nod.

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure,” you whisper.

“Then can I…?”

He pulls on your shirt, but without putting any force into it. His eyes are on you, waiting for your approval — or whatever you decide to answer with.

You swallow.

“Um, yes, but could you— could you also…?”

He understands your meaning without you having finished, and acts on it faster than you would have expected, almost immediately pulling his own hoodie over his head and letting it fall to the floor. You’d noticed before that, for all his shyness over other things, he doesn’t seem to care about nudity all that much, but you’re not sure what to do with it.

For now, you can at least admire the work of art that is his body, his well-defined muscles and hard pectorals, and since he’s out in the open now, you give him a nod.

“Go ahead.”

He takes off your shirt like you’re made of porcelain, pulling it slowly and softly over your head, and taking his time so it doesn’t get caught in your hair. It is such a sweet sight, how focused he gets on the task, on making sure he’s doing right, so that he doesn’t hurt you in any way. It’s only once he’s done that his gaze lands on your body. He stills, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and you can’t help but stiffen.

It might be silly, at this point in your relationship — and when the world has literally ended outside your window — but you’re feeling self-conscious. You want to fold your arms in front of your breasts, hide your stomach and any imperfection.

“You’re beautiful,” Hyun-Su says, so obviously in awe, and the weight on your stomach is replaced by sweet, sweet butterflies. “Is it— is it okay to—”

“Touch me,” you ask instead of letting him stutter through the rest of his sentence, and he almost gasps at that, pants suddenly feeling a lot tighter.

“You shouldn’t say things like that to me,” he mumbles, bright red once again, stealing a kiss from you when you open your mouth to tease.

Then he’s kissing down your neck, and you can tell that he’s mimicking the things you did to him the last time something like this happened between the two of you. You barely have time to find that sweet, though, because soon the only thing on your mind are the open-mouthed kisses he’s pressing against your skin, and how they make you so desperate to buck your hips against he’s oh so well placed thigh.

He doesn’t linger on your neck, though, soon moving down to your chest, sneaking a hand behind your back to try and unclasp your bra — something he ends up struggling you with so much that you’re the one that eventually reaches back to get it done. He’ll have all the time to learn that kind of things later. For now, there’s something on your mind, and you don’t want to have to wait any longer.

You let him slide it down your arms, then discard it, letting it fall with the rest of your clothes.

“Can I…?”

“You still don’t have to ask.”

He hesitates for a second, before going back down to press a shy kiss under your collarbone, right where your breast starts to form. He keeps kissing his way down, hands for now cautiously staying away. Finally, he reaches your nipple, and you cannot hold back a distinct gasp when he carefully wraps his mouth around it. It turns into a full moan when he flicks his tongue against it — and you could swear you feel his mouth stretching into a grin right after that.

It’s then that he cups your other breast with his hand, and you shiver. His body may be radiating heat, but his hands are cold. They don’t stay that way for long though, not with how hot you’re running right now yourself. He starts off shy over there too, at first massaging your breast gently, before his fingers dare brush against that nipple. It’s hard already, and with his mouth on the other side, all you can do is arch into his touch, moans still falling freely from your lips.

Pleasure’s running wild in your body, each and every sensation going straight down to your core, more so when his fingers experimentally pull on your nipple. You’re dripping wet already, desperate for relief, and it’s not long before you can no longer hold yourself back and buck your hips up against his leg.

He lets go of you almost immediately, glancing down at your lower body as if he doesn’t understand what’s happening. When he looks back at you, his eyes are impossibly wide, his pupils dilated.

“Did you— Did you just—”

“Hyun-Su,” you call out in a sigh, running your fingers over the nape of his neck. “Touch me.”

For a second, his whole body tenses and he just stares at you. Then he exhales.

“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath. “Fuck. Um. Then I’ll— I’ll just—” He starts fiddling with the button of your jeans, and just the anticipation of his touch where you need it the most sends pleasure rushing through you once more. This time, he manages to get them off of you without your help, and there’s another slow exhale. “You’re so— You’re so—”

Wet is the word you think he’s searching for, and he’s not wrong about that. The urge to reach down between your leg to take care of the ache you’re feeling is strong, but the desire to feel him down there is all-consuming, and so you wait for him, your breathing loud and ragged.

“Tell me, okay? Tell me what feels good to you.”

He doesn’t take off your panties, probably because he hasn’t gotten your jeans fully off, and instead just pushes them to the side. He’s cautious here too, at first barely brushing against the lips, which still makes the muscles of your thighs tense. It feels like you’ve been waiting for it for centuries when he finally inserts a long finger inside you, sliding in so easily from how dripping wet you are. Your hold on his shoulders tighten, fingers digging into his skin, and even with your lips pressed tightly together, your moan reverberates through your body.

“Good?” Hyun-Su asks, and his low voice in your ears does absolute wonders to you right now.

“You can add another one,” you say, except it’s probably more of a whine, but you can’t tell for sure, not with how much your head is buzzing right now.

Hyun-Su obeys almost immediately, and you bury your head in his neck to muffle the groan that follows. You feel so good, so full, and he hasn’t even moved yet. You let yourself adjust, before giving him more instructions.

“You can— You can spread them open and— ah!— m-move them in and— Ah!”

Hyun-Su follows your advice diligently, and soon you no longer even have the strength to hold on to him, falling down onto your back with your whole body arching into his touch, following after him if he pulls out. It’s so, so fucking good, nothing you’ve ever done on your own can compare to this and you don’t know how you’ll be able to go back after that.

You’re gasping and writhing underneath him for you don’t know how long, and you’re so, so close to the edge, but you need— You just need something more, so you push yourself back up on your elbows, something harder than you’d think, when your muscles feel like jelly, and that’s when you realize that his hips are bucking against your leg. You hadn’t paid any attention to it, but now you see how obviously hard he is, and the small, almost shy movements of his hips as he ruts against you.

“Hyun-Su,” you call — you’re no longer paying attention to how your voice is coming out —, “here—”

You grab his wrist, and even if it means he pulls his hand out, something that immediately has your walls clenching around nothing at the loss, guide him so his fingers brush against your clit.

“There,” you whisper. “You can keep, uh, keep your fingers inside and— and touch me there, too.”

He nods, pushes the fingers back inside. There are a few seconds as he figures out how to best put his hand, and then when he strokes your clit with his thumb, you almost immediately lose it. You only have the presence of mind to lift your leg up, just a little, so it presses against his hard cock.

It’s his turn to freeze and to let out a moan then, one obviously surprised out of him.

“You should feel good too,” you manage to mumble through the haze of pleasure.

“But I— I want to make you feel—”

“We can both feel good,” you answer, and Hyun-Su just cannot resist kissing you again. It’s messy, tongues clashing together without much control, but fuck, he cannot explain or control the way he feels about you.

You come just a few moments later, waves of pleasure crashing through you all at once as his thumb circles your clit, fingers deep inside you, moving at a tranquil pace that lets you feel all of his movements inside you.

When you open your eyes again, he’s above you, staring at you lovingly.

“Good?” he asks.

Better than that.

“That was incredible,” you tell him though even that feels like an understatement. You love the way he obviously preens under your compliment. “But— But what about you? Didn’t you—”

You reach out, but he grabs your wrist before you can touch him.

“I, um, I’ve already—”

He’s turning bright red again, but you understand without another word. His jeans are still on, and you haven’t even actually touched him, and yet he still came in his pants, against your thigh, while fingering you.

Blood rushes to your face so fast you feel light-headed.

“Oh,” is all you can truly think to say. Then, shyly, “Want to go get cleaned up?”

“Together?” His voice is soft, questioning, but his eyes are in yours, comfortable instead of avoiding. You nod.

Later, you’re still in his arms, your back pressed against his chest, his face buried in your neck. And you, too, are comfortable.

There’s just something in the air, something fresh and sweet and familiar, and you think something you haven’t let yourself explore all that much, even if you’ve known, deep down, for a long time.

It just might be love.

and here we are! this one felt a lot smuttier to me than the previous part, but it was fun to write about this relationship in a less angsty way, too. maybe i should let them be happy a little more lol. anyway, i hope you liked it! next part probably won't be smut, but i don't know when it will be out. i have a new, time consuming internship that doesn't give me a lot of free time, so i don't know how much/when i'll have time to write. but i definitely have more stuff i want to write for this couple! so don't hesitate to comment and/or reblog to give me the motivation to write after work lol, and i'll also be answering my asks when i have time!

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joonberriess · 1 year

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𓆩♡𓆪 “booty so big, lord have mercy,” — jock!jk

·˚ ༘ 💌 TAGS — creampies!! , protected and then unprotected sex, mean jk, smutty smut, based off of a ask, talks of pregnancy, pouty y/n bc she hates condoms, a little degradation, jk’s ass obsession plays a big part here !

It's soft and it jiggled. A lot.

Jungkook had this weird obsession with your tits sure, but your ass? That man worshipped it. You in general fit as his ideal type, he loved every single part of you. From your pretty little smile down to your soft plushy thighs.

If Jungkook had to name something he loved (body wise) it had to be both your ass and tits. You were so soft all over he couldn't resist himself. Whenever he'd come over after a long day in classes or at work the first thing he did was lay down and bury his face between those soft mounds of pure heaven.

An added bonus was the fact that you smelled like strawberries. As for your ass, now that was a whole different story.

He always had his hand resting on it, occasionally squeezing or slapping it for fun. He liked the way it jiggled a lot, especially when he fucked you. Whenever he fucked you from behind his eyes would drift down and watch as your cheeks clapped back against his pelvis. He loved it even more whenever he left handprints..

Jungkook knew he was lucky, and he was always smug about it whenever he heard other men complain about how you were taken already. He didn't have to lay his claim over you, one call of your name and you were running to him like a lovesick puppy. You losing interest? Not a chance.

You didn't seem to mind the obsession with your bottom, in fact you welcomed it! You always felt safe and sound in his arms, but him holding your ass cheek in his sleep? That was a win. You almost couldn't sleep if he didn't have his hand on you.

The same thing could be said about your tits. You loved having his marks all over and didn't seem to mind if he slept on them. One of your guilty pleasures you enjoyed was whenever he suckled on your nipple like a baby while he dozed off. It made you sleepy if anything.

Which leads you to your next point, the sex. Now, you both never used condoms or bothered with them because you were on birth control and so far nothing out of the ordinary happened. There was always that tiny percentage of pregnancy happening but you two just said fuck it.

It was highly risky given the amount of times Jungkook came in you. By some miracle from the Gods above somehow you still hadn't gotten pregnant. Jennie would nag about using protection and taking the extra measure to secure no pregnancy. You would whine to her that condoms didn't feel the same!

"But-but, Jennie!" You whine loudly, "I hate the rubber, I hate it, I hate it." You fuss angrily as you give her a little glare.

Jennie rose a brow, "Do you like babies y/n? Would you like to throw your twenties away for a brat?" She puts her hands on her hips disappointedly.

You stare at her with a sad look, "But my baby would be cute."

"And you look cuter without a child, your point?" She rolls her eyes, "You're barely even completing your second year of college you are not ready for a child."

"How about next year?" You tilt your head, giving her a ditzy smile.

Jennie sighs, "How 'bout no?" Your pout deepens and you turn away.

Needless to say you thought about it a lot, and while you did want a baby sometime and would be happy to be pregnant with Jungkook, Jennie was right. You needed to finish school first and start your career before settling down. Plus if you were pregnant that meant you couldn't go to parties with Jungkook anymore.

.... :(

You begrudgingly agreed to the condom idea, reciting in your head this was for your own good and his own good. You bring it up to him over dinner one night when he takes you out to get some late night food.

Jungkook was in the middle of grilling the meat when you spoke up, "Jennie said we should use condoms." You softly say as you watch him flip the meat to grill on the other side.

"Did she?" Jungkook says, not looking up from the task at hand, "And how do you feel about that?"

"I think we should.." You trail off, already grumpy and sour from thinking about having to use them, " 's to make sure I don't get pregnant."

Jungkook hums, "Okay." He says as he looks up at you, "If it's what you want we'll go get some after this."

You whine, "But-but," you pout sadly and give him puppy eyes, "you're not supposed to agree! I hate them."

"Baby," he laughs, "what do you mean? I don't think you know how it works, if you don't like something you have the ultimate say. I'm not going to get angry because you want to use protection." He says calmly whilst placing a few pieces of meat on your plate.

You begrudgingly glare at him, "I know.." You mumble softly and pick your chopsticks up, "I'll think about it, and when I feel ready can we stop?"

"I don't know baby, will we? Up to you." Jungkook says with a hum, "We'll do whatever you want."

The rest of dinner goes smoothly, he pays and drives you both to the nearest convenience store that's a block away from your apartment. "I'm going to get snacks." You smile giddily, already forgetting about what you two originally came for.

"Shit get me some starbursts or something." Jungkook calls out as you both split up to get your respective items.

You eagerly grab your beloved snacks, carrying a little basket around as you grab a cup of ice for a peach tea or something. Jungkook occasionally looks back at you but doesn't say anything when you push past him with a tiny "excuse me".

"Ready?" Jungkook grins, box of condoms already tossed into basket.

"Yeah." You mumble softly, snuggling into his side as you wait for the person in line to pay for their items.

Luckily the cashier doesn't care much about the condoms given that some have the tendency to be nosy and judgmental. You both pay for your items and head out to the car.

"Wait," you fuss over Jungkook and reach over to clean his cheek, "there."

He chuckles softly and starts the car, "You're cute." He sets his hand on your thigh like usual and gets going back to your apartment.

Jennie's car isn't in the parking lot lucky for you, you both head up and go right into your bedroom. "Hi Luna," you coo softly at your little bunny who's sitting in your bed thumping her little legs on the bed excitedly.

"I missed you too." You softly pout, leaning over the bed to caress her little head and smooch it. You don't bat an eye when Jungkook passes by and smacks your ass as he flops on the other side of the bed.

"You want one?" He offers, holding out the bag of candies you had picked out for him.

You shake your head and climb into bed with him, gently setting Luna on the floor as she hops away to her tiny home you have set up somewhere off next to your desk. "I wanna watch My Hero, the villain arc was pretty cool.." You mumbled softly and grabbed your remote.

Jungkook hums with a nod, not verbally replying as he's busy eating his candy. You manage to put the episode on and then turn to snuggle into his side, a leg tossed over his waist as you hug him. "Can I have one now?"

He tilts the bag towards you and you happily take a few to snack on while the episode starts. Jungkook gets comfy with you and wraps a arm around your waist, setting his hand flat against your ass, squeezing the cheek and rubbing his thumb against it.

You smile happily and snuggle close. Like every other night when you're with him Jungkook rubs his hand on your ass and occasionally squeezes it. He's touchy so you don't mind, but you know he's getting horny when he starts to lose all interest in the anime and starts kissing on your neck.

His lips press against your neck and sucks on a small patch of skin. His hand squeezes you tighter before trailing up to the curve of your waist, squeezing you there instead. You quietly sigh, eyes fluttering closed as you lean into his touch, "Jungkook," you whine.

Jungkook hums quietly, pulling away and going to another unmarked area on your neck to leave hickeys. His fingers press deeply on your hips as he noisily sucks on your neck. You can feel your pussy quiver and begin to grow wetter from his teasing.

"Turn over for me." Jungkook whispers against your neck, "Want to see that pretty ass baby."

You bite back a mewl and slowly turn over, raising your hips as you reach to yank your panties down. Jungkook easily helps you with that as he tears them down and tosses them into a random corner in your room. He lifts your hips up so your ass is in the air and your chest is on the bed.

"Damn," he mutters as he massages your soft cheek before suddenly bringing his hand down to smack it, watching it ripple in satisfaction. "So fucking sexy." He licks his lips.

A little groan escapes your lips as you turn to eye him with a pleading gaze. "Want it," you wiggle your ass side to side, "please?"

Jungkook smacks your ass one more time before he leans over to rummage through the bag of snacks, looking for the box of condoms. "Shit, give me a sec baby," he grunts as he finally finds the box and brings it out, tearing it open and tossing it somewhere as he brings the condom up to his mouth, tearing the foil.

You giggle quietly and lift yourself on your elbows, "You're so slowwww."

"Hush," Jungkook slips his sweats down to reveal his hard cock, "you're just a whiny little slut." He grins teasingly as he rolls the condom down on his cock.

You bite your lip in arousal from his words, pussy practically dripping. He taps the tip against your pussy, rubbing up and down your folds. You brace your hands on the bed in anticipation and look back at him, “Kook,” you plead softly.

Jungkook hums, “Stay still.” He reaches down with his free hand to steady you, cock against your hole before he presses in.

You inhale sharply, biting down on your lip as you suppress a quiet little moan. He fills you slowly, cock breaching your little pussy as you struggle to take him all in a smooth stride. His cock throbs a little and you’re angrily reminded of the stupid rubber in the way.

“I said to sit still,” Jungkook smacks your ass hard, “haven’t even fucked you yet and you’re cock drunk.” He gives a disappointed ‘tsk’ as he swats at your other ass cheek.

A loud cry escapes your lips and you deep your arch, hands fisting the sheets tightly. “B-But-But, I want it!” You angrily kick your feet, turning your head to shoot him a deep glare.

Jungkook grabs the back of your head and forces you back down, “And I said to wait.” He licks his lips, “Dumb little slut can’t even listen to simple instructions. Isn’t that right? ‘s long as you got a cock in you you’re happy aren’t you baby?” He coos.

You drool a little into the pillow and you find yourself pushing back against him despite the latter telling you not to. You force his cock deeper inside, ass flush to his hips as you wiggle around. Jungkook grunts in surprise as he manages to swat you once more before holding you still.

“Little brat.” He grunts, “You want my cock that badly? Was going to treat you like the princess you are,” he tuts as he then uses you for leverage, hips slamming into yours, “looks like that’s not happening.”

A loud cry bubbles out of your throat, you feel him start up a brutal pace. Right from the get-go the room is filled with wet smacks and loud thumping. He drives his cock into you, hitting those spots you love. It causes your pussy to grow wetter around him.

“Look at you,” he huffs out breathlessly, “always so good to me, taking me like a good girl.” He licks his lips and grabs both of your ass cheeks as he holds each cheek, “That’s right baby, throw it back for me.”

You whine loudly and brace your hands on the bed as you do your best to move back on him. Your ass jiggles in his hold as you manage to fuck yourself back on his cock. You set the pace, mewling and moaning in pleasure as he fills you over and over again.

“J-Jungkook..!” You gasp out, eyes teary and thighs shaky.

He hums lowly and smacks both of your cheeks, hips still as he watches you fuck yourself on his cock. There’s a audible squelching noises whenever you push back, a ring of creamy white forms around the base of his cock. He suddenly misses the feeling of you making a mess around him.

Jungkook slaps your ass harshly and pins you down, taking over once again as he slams his hips into yours. You cry out in pleasure and brace yourself against the headboard. Jungkook fucks you with all he’s got, like he’s taking his anger out on you or something.

“Fuck,” he moans out, “doing so good for me, wish I could fill your pretty pussy up.” His hips stutter at the mention of coming inside of you.

Your eyes water, vision blurred from the pleasure as you bite down on the pillow to muffle your moans. Jungkook moves his hands up to grip your waist, pounding you deeply as he aims his cock to hit your g-spot with every brush.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” He coos softly.

You nod rapidly and reach between your shaky thighs to rub your clit in fast circles. The pleasure spikes up drastically and Jungkook lets out a soft moan when your pussy tightens around his cock.

“So tight,” he whispers out as he rolls his hips faster and faster.

Your hips jolt, pushing back on his cock firmly as you suddenly cum. Your toes curl and you yelp loudly in pleasure, “Jungkook,” you gasp, “J-Jungkook..!” You whimper loudly.

“What is it baby?” He breathlessly asks.

“C-Cum,” you whimper loudly and squirm around, “want your cum in me.” You mewl.

Jungkook groans, “Fuck,” he wants to so badly but you had told him already, “wish I could baby.” He whispers, stomach coiling as he feels his cock twitch.

You turn to give him a teary puppy gaze, “Please,” you whisper back and reach behind you to part your cheeks for him, “want your cum in me, don’t care about the condom.”

He moans loudly and swiftly pulls out, yanking the condom off as he strokes his cock rapidly. “Fuck baby, hold yourself open for me.” His eyes focus on the way your small hands struggle to hold both of your cheeks apart for him.

Both of your holes were exposed for him, and it didn’t help that the fat of your ass spilled through your fingers. He threw his head back and suddenly pushed in, coming deep inside. “Fuck!”

You mewl happily and let your cheeks go, feeling them jiggle a little as you happily take all of his cum inside. “Mmmm,” you close your eyes and wiggle your hips side to side.

“So much for the condoms.” Jungkook murmured as he ran his palm over your ass slowly.

You smack your lips together sleepily and turn around to smile at him, “I hate them, can we never use them again?”

“Do you want to be my baby mama?” Jungkook smirks back at you.

“Hmmmm… maybe. Not yet.” You giggle loudly as he tackles you, planting face kisses all over you as the night goes on.

TAG LIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @jungkookminthairwhen @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar

#bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut

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msbigredmachine · 20 days

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Power Couple: The Aftermath (Roman Reigns)

When the Tribal Chief falls, no one helps him back up better than you do. Set after the epic main event of Wrestlemania XL.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/OC

Warnings: Excess fluff and of course, smut.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Yes, I'm still in my feelings, and there was only one pairing I could properly convey my feelings with, because this has also been their story all along. For new readers, I strongly suggest reading the first two one-shots before delving into this one. Hope you enjoy!

Banner made by me. Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs

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1,316 days.

All wiped away with three slaps of the referee’s hand to the hard canvas.

Even after Cody rolled away from him, Roman could not move. Hell, he couldn’t breathe. Not when the air had been punched out of his lungs, literally and figuratively. It was only when Dwayne pulled him out of the ring by his pants leg that his body managed to kickstart itself into some sort of motion. And even then, all he could do was turn his head to look back and watch as Cody celebrated in the ring with his wife Brandi, holding his title belt aloft for the whole world to behold as the ultimate symbol of his victory.

It should have been you and him up there. It should have been him. Again. But it wasn’t. Because the one time he got careless in battle, it cost him everything. Throwing years of hard work down the drain.

And it made him sick to his stomach.

The sound of ‘Kingdom’ blaring through the Lincoln Financial Field Stadium was torture to the former champion’s ears. His legs felt like lead as he dragged his battered body up the ramp, ignoring Dwayne’s baseless, performative complaints about nothing, as he put distance to the tableau of triumph of his opponent. The weight of this defeat was heavy, suffocating even, and he was desperate to get the fuck out of there, to get out of Philadelphia, out of Pennsylvania and all its environs. As he reached the top of the vast WrestleMania stage, pain surged through his abdomen, forcing him to recoil into himself and double over in pain.

His Wise Man noticed his plight and paused to observe his charge. "My Tribal Chief, are you alright? Do you need-"

Roman shook his head. "I'm fine,” he snapped, willing himself to keep walking until he made it past the curtain. He leaned against the wall and bent over, resting his hands on his knees.

“What can I do, my Tribal Chief?” Paul implored.

“Just…get my wife on the bus and make sure everything’s ready to go. I’ll be there soon."

“Right away my Tribal Chief,” Paul replied eagerly, scurrying off to do as he was told.

It was a good long minute before Roman managed to pull himself back upright, staggering towards his locker room. Walking was so hard, his body hurt so much, but none of it hurt as much as the gut punch of failure. Much worse than any of the bumps he took was the shame, the disappointment engulfing him; so much so that he couldn’t bear to look anyone else in the eye right now.

Because he had failed everyone who cared about him.

He had failed you.

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All good things come to an end. That’s how the saying goes, right? The interesting part of that was that on the surface, it was a throwaway little trope, harmless and benign, until something that meant a great deal to you got taken away in the blink of an eye, or in this case, a three-count. The moment the bell signaled the pinfall that confirmed your husband's time as the Undisputed WWE Universal Champion had come to an end, you knew he would never be the same again.

It wasn't unlike Roman to be a little on edge weeks before a big premium live event. And given the nature of the two main event matches he was locked in for the fortieth annual WrestleMania, you expected he would be grouchy. But this time around seemed different, and not in a good way. He’d been surly towards everybody, including you. He disappeared for hours working out obsessively. He’d even thrown out a female member of the press who had dared to boo him at the press conference on Saturday night. Now, despite the final match of the weekend concluding nearly an hour ago, Roman was yet to return to his tour bus. That only meant one thing; he was not taking this defeat well, and it was up to you to lift him up, like you always did.

When you found the door boasting your husband's name, Heyman was outside, pacing back and forth. The Undisputed title, which you had grown accustomed to seeing on his shoulders on behalf of his Tribal Chief, was missing; a stark, prickly reminder of the outcome of tonight’s proceedings.

"That bad, huh?" you asked, reading the Wise Man’s expression in a second. In fact, he looked on the verge of tears, his shoulders sagging with despair. The weekend had taken an emotional toll on him, too.

"He won’t come out," he informed you, his usually confident voice shaky and helpless. “He won’t let anyone in and he won’t speak to anyone…”

You raised your index finger to cut him off. "Correction, he won’t speak to anyone that’s not me," you stated, shooting him a warm smile, one among countless others you had shared with him since burying the hatchet after years of friction between you. "Go be with your family, Paul. I’ll handle my husband.”

“He’s my family, too,” he declared softly, the conviction in what you used to call his beady eyes, palpable and heartbreaking, “Both of you are.”

Touched and at a loss for words, you could only look on as he turned around slowly and made the lonely walk down the hallway. Turning back to the locker room door, you sucked a breath between your teeth and blew it out, mentally preparing to confront this task head-on.

You knocked timidly and stuck your head inside. If Roman was in as foul a mood as Paul let on, even you did not want to be there. It had taken a few unfortunate incidents over the years for you to learn that even a kiss from his wife wasn't enough when he got too stressed. It never stopped you from trying, though. Kissing was one of your favorite things to do with him after all.

"Knock, knock," you called out softly, listening for signs of movement as you stepped inside and closed the door. The room that was bustling just a few hours ago was now stripped bare and cloaked in dead quiet. It was an eerie contrast to the majestic, sweeping grandiosity that encompassed his entrance to the ring tonight. “Babe?”

Venturing further inside the room, you found him on the couch, his strong, broad back to you, his shoulders slumped dejectedly. An open bottle of Jack Daniels sat on the coffee table in front of him. His ula fala was draped over the headrest, where his title belt would surely have been.

This was the reality no one warned you about after a monumental loss. It plunged you into a cold, dark abyss, wrought with biting silence and dreary loneliness now that the show was over and the lights were no longer bright. The what ifs, buts and maybes crooning in your ear like a morbid symphony. It was an experience all too familiar to you unfortunately, and recently, too; you and your husband had traveled down this terrible road following the tragic miscarriage of your son in the summer of 2022.

Stepping in front of him, you wiggled into his personal space and made yourself at home on his lap. Gently wrapping your arms around him, you sighed with relief when he instantly melted into you and his huge arms enveloped your waist, holding on to you like his life depended on it.

“My baby,” you cooed soothingly, the sound of your lips meeting the side of his head piercing through the emptiness of the locker room. “My love.”

The audible hitch of his breath at your soft words was expected. In the course of your lifetime, those two little phrases had garnered a poignant significance. As words of comfort and solace first uttered by your mother when you were a child, you murmured those words regularly to Roman between sweet, playful kisses when he was courting you, basking in the bliss of newfound love, and again as part of your wedding vows as you became man and wife. They were the first words you whispered to Laleia the first time she was placed in your arms. They were the words that you had cried yourself to sleep with as you mourned the baby boy you had lost. You and Roman had seen each other at your absolute best and worst, and now, in the isolation of this room, with just the two of you and nobody else, this was another bad moment you had to overcome.

“On Matt’s birthday, too,” Roman finally spoke, wiping at his nose with a sniffle. “Fuck, man.”

“I know,” you replied, running your hand comfortingly up and down his upper arm. As he met your gaze at last, you saw that his eyes were bloodshot. Seeing him like this broke your heart afresh. You held him as close as possible, willing all his pain and his hurt into your soul, wanting nothing more than to take it all away.

"I fucked up," he breathed, his voice raw and choked with misery, "I fucked up out there, babe...I let Dwayne down...I let y'all down. I lost the title and I'm sorry."

"Sorry? For what? Over thirteen hundred days as champion?" you countered, "Nine WrestleMania main events? Billions of dollars in revenue? A roof over your child's head and three square meals a day? One loss will never wipe any of that away, don't ever get it twisted."

He exhaled tiredly as he hugged you tighter, resting his head on your shoulder. "I really wish I felt that way right now," he mumbled.

"It'll take some time, but you will," you asserted, running his fingers through his loose hair before tugging it lightly, making him look at you again. "Roman, you changed the industry, just like you said you would when we started this. No one will ever, ever forget what you've done these past four years. Be proud of all of it. You've been through so much, you sacrificed too much to not be proud."

Roman nodded in understanding. He just wished he didn't feel so down. "Baby, I...I want you to know how sorry I am. I know how much you wanted this. And I've been such a dick to you lately-"

You kissed your teeth and waved his apology away. "Nah. That don't matter no more. And I don't care that you didn't win. All I care about is you being safe when you're out there. Being healthy for our family and our daughter, who will be very happy to have her Daddy home, by the way. So we took an L. Okay, we'll only come back stronger. We had one bad night. Guess what? I plan on giving you a better morning, if you know what I mean." You rounded off your words with a wink, your heart blooming when he chuckled in response. "See, there's that smile I love so much. Keep your head up, baby. You did so good tonight. I couldn't be more proud of you."

Roman leaned into you, his forehead pressed to yours, breathing you in and filling his head with your scent. It was like breathing fresh air. “I love you, Y/N. I love you with all of my heart. I don’t deserve you, I never have.”

The tears you'd been fighting all night resurfaced, but you blinked them away as you captured his lips with yours, your hand sliding over the back of his neck. He clung to you, a different emotion quickly overtaking him as he returned your kiss with a bit of aggression, his tongue whipping hungrily against yours, savoring your mouth as though he was tasting it for the very first time. You surrendered to his every whim, your other hand raking through his hair then caressing gently down to his chest, resting your palm over the spot where his heart pumped for you. You could feel how much he needed this moment of intimacy, and you had no qualms giving him anything he asked for.

With one quick tug of your legs, Roman had you straddling him on the couch, bringing you chest to chest with your lush backside resting on his growing bulge. He paused for a moment to take a deep breath, then sealed your mouths again, his tongue invading, probing, a moan rumbling in his chest when you matched his energy, the emotions take over this loving embrace. He could never get enough of you, of the passion that overwhelmed him by your mere presence, immersing him in a love and gratitude he would always feel for you no matter what state of mind he was in.

Eventually, you pulled away from each other, breathless, panting, lips glistening with each other’s saliva. His heart raced at the familiar gleam in your darkened eyes. You weren’t done with him, not just yet, and this was confirmed as you slowly slid off him and sank to your knees between his spread thighs, pushing the front of his shirt up to expose his newly honed six-pack abs.

“Do you know how fucking hot you looked tonight, Daddy?” you purred to him, leaning in to run your tongue over the ridges of muscle on his taut belly. “Last night? All week? Do you have any idea of all the nasty shit I’m gonna do to you on the bus?”

Roman’s dick jumped in his joggers as his imagination ran wild. He squirmed in his seat, his bottom lip slipping between his teeth as your tongue lapped at his belly, your mouth warm on his skin, all while you rubbed the fullness of his bulge straining eagerly against your touch. “Baby girl…” he choked out, as your fingers peeled the waistband of his pants, unveiling his big, beautiful brown dick.

“Hmm, commando. I like it,” you commented with a smirk, curling your fist around his turgid length.

“Babe, wait…ain’t Paul outside?”

“I sent him home. Plus, won't be the first time he's seen me suck you off.” Your small hand massaged his blunt, plum-shaped head as you licked a trail along the underside of his dick, enjoying the gasps of pleasure that he made. Licking up the pre-cum that had gathered at the tip, your mouth opened wider to take him in. He stared you down with an intense look in his dark irises, which soon fluttered shut as your lips wrapped tight around his flesh, his stomach tensing as he felt himself slide deeper inside. “Awww, fuuuck,” he moaned.

Pulling back for a second, you held his lust-filled stare and stroked his dick a little harder, giggling when it twitched in your grip. A defiant look clouded your eyes as you licked at his tip before pushing him back into your mouth. It was enough for him to nut by just watching you, the visual of your lips sliding slowly up and down his length, that sexy mouth of yours making sweet love to his dick. It felt so good that he sank further into the plush leather of the couch, his head rolling back lazily against the headrest, his toes curling inside his brand new Air Reigns sneakers. All the pain and punishment his body had endured tonight melted away and was replaced with much more pleasurable sensations.

“I love the way you suck my dick, wifey,” he praised you, forcing himself to observe you through his barely open eyelids. “Mmm, that slutty little mouth is warm as fuck…You so sexy, baby, keep lookin’ up at me like that...”

His raspy growls had you glancing back up at him, batting your pretty eyelashes as you sucked him off. Wetness pooled between your thighs at his famished expression. Completely aroused, you picked up the pace as your hands and your mouth worked in tandem, sucking and stroking his dick, pleasuring him from tip to base. His breathing became heavier as he throbbed against your tongue, his hands finding the back of your head as he got lost in the paradise of your warm, wet mouth.

“Damn, baby. I bet that pussy leakin’ for me right now. You gettin’ wet sucking Daddy off, beautiful?” he taunted, his tongue swishing over his bottom lip at the same time your tongue swirled around the base of his shaft. The little moan that escaped your throat told him he was right. Of course he was; he knew his wife better than anybody else. “Good girl. Keep goin', I want that pussy extra wet. I’ma lick all that shit up when we get on the bus.”

With another soft moan, you crawled closer to his body and bore down on him, bobbing your head up and down that long, fat cock. Scooping your hair up into his large fist for leverage, Roman rocked his hips upwards from his seated position, thrusting in and out of your mouth. You relaxed your throat to take him deeper, moaning around his dick and letting him know how much you were enjoying him fucking your face. You rolled his balls in your hand, caressing the heavy, tightened sac to send him over the edge. It was working, as he began thrusting faster, his husky groans of pleasure amplifying as he neared his release.

“Unnnhh, baby, here it comes…Fuck, open your mouth,” he gasped, not waiting for you to do so as he yanked you by your hair to free himself from your intoxicating mouth. You quickly opened wide as he grabbed his cock and jerked it desperately against your tongue. He caught sight of the glazed-over quality of your gaze, and he knew that your panties were completely ruined, your pussy dripping with your need for him. He planned to take care of that very soon.

It was a show more spectacular than Mania, the sight of his gorgeous face contorted with pleasure, his head thrown back, eyes rolled to the heavens as his orgasm washed over his big body. Your moans harmonized together with each spasm of his cum down your throat, making you swallow every drop he unleashed. His grip on your hair was tight and almost painful, but you were turned on anyway, aroused by the knowledge that no one brought him to this state of paramount pleasure like you did. Licking your lips, you scooped him back into your mouth to clean him up, released him with a soft pop when you finished, and tucked him back inside the confines of his joggers. You giggled as he stared dazedly at the ceiling, licking his lips to catch his breath, his big frame slack and helpless as he recovered from the intense orgasm.

"Goddamn, baby...Shit," he groaned.

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you stood up and sat back on his lap, welcoming the gentle press of his mouth to yours in a sweet, grateful kiss. “You feel better, Daddy?” you asked.

"Much better. I needed that so much. Thanks, baby," he smiled up at you, his stomach doing flips as you smiled back. He truly was the luckiest man in the world.

“Mm-hmm. Luckily, there’s more where that came from,” you assured him with another kiss before getting to your feet and pulling him up to his. “Come on, Daddy. Let's go home. We got a toddler to take care of. We'll figure out all the other stuff when it's time."

He nodded in agreement and squeezed your hand. “Okay, baby. Home it is.”

A new chapter in your story had been opened tonight, and the path ahead seemed uncertain and even scary. But you both took pride in the fact that as long as you kept writing it together, your love story was going to remain as beautiful as it already was.

But make no mistake about it; Roman Reigns was going to rule the wrestling world again. That was one story that was never going to end.

THE END

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Thoughts? How sappy was this😢Was quite cathartic for me, loved writing it.

Thank you all so much for reading and commenting!

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#roman reigns #wwe #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman reigns fanfic #the bloodline #wrestlemania #wrestlemania 40 #power couple #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns x black reader

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doumadono · 1 year

Text

Many things to discover - Douma x fem!reader

Warnings: smut w/o plot, fingerfucking Word count: ~2,4k

MASTERLIST

The moonlight bathed the temple in a soft, silver light. The only sound that could be heard was the gentle murmur of the wind rustling through the leaves.

You were nervous as you crept up to Douma's chamber. You had heard stories of the wise guru and was curious to see him in person. Taking a deep breath, you carefully slided the shoji door open and peered inside.

Douma was asleep, or at least he looked like it, and you could barely make out his features in the dim light. You were mesmerized by his beauty and, before you knew it, you were standing right next to him. You wanted to touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. Finally yet, you reached out and gently put a hand on his chest, biting the inner side of your cheek at the feeling of a tensed muscles, so well defined.

Little did you know Douma had often pretended to be asleep, with his eyes gently closed, giving off the impression of peaceful slumber. His senses were heightened, and he was acutely aware of his surroundings, even when it appeared that he was in a deep sleep. He listened to the gentle rustle of the wind, the pitter-patter of the rain on the roof; he would remain in that state of simulated sleep, for hours on end, until he felt it was safe to rise and continue his nocturnal activities.

Douma stirred and opened his eyes, grasped your wrist and pulled you down on his bed, but instead of getting angry, he smiled at you, cocking his eyebrow. "Well, well, well, what brings you here?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, as he leaned back against the pillows on his bed.

Your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to find the right words. "I...I just wanted to check up on you," you stammered, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his intense gaze.

Douma's smile widened, and he chuckled softly. "Is that so?" he replied, his hand reaching out to brush a lock of hair away from your face. "Or perhaps you came to see me because you couldn't resist my charm?"

Douma's presence was both comforting and alluring, and you found yourself drawn to him.

As you looked up at him, his eyes met yours, and you could see the genuine curiosity and interest in them. "So, tell me," he whispered, his tone playful yet sincere. "What's been on your mind lately?"

"I was curious about you. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but there was something intriguing about you."

Douma tilted his head slightly, his gaze fixed on you. "Oh? And what was it that piqued your curiosity?" he chuckled rather darkly.

"It was the way you carried yourself," you replied, your voice soft but steady. "You seemed so confident, so sure of yourself. I couldn't help but wonder who you were and what you were capable of."

A small smile played at the corners of Douma's lips, and he reached out to gently brush his fingers against your cheek. "I see," he murmured. "Well, I'm glad that you found me interesting. And I'm even happier that you decided to stick around." As you sat on his bed, he paused and stared at you with an intense gaze, his eyes searching for recognition. Suddenly, his eyes widened in realization, and a soft gasp escaped his lips. "I remember you now," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Yes, I remember now. Your parents were devoted followers of mine for many years, and they brought you here some time ago to be a new member of my cult," Douma tapped his chin with his long, sharp nail. Douma's expression softened, and he reached out to gently touch your cheek. "And now here you are, all grown up and by my side once again. It's like we were always meant to be together."

As he spoke, you felt a strange sense of deja vu wash over you. It was as if you had known Douma your entire life, and yet at the same time, he was still a complete mystery to you.

"Don't be afraid," he said in a soft voice, "I won't hurt you." He extended a hand towards you, and as you hesitated, he gave you an encouraging smile. "Come closer." As you moved towards him, he took your hand in his and held it gently, his fingers entwining with yours. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek.

Without a word, he pulled you closer and your lips met. The kiss was soft and warm, full of passion and longing. Douma pulled you closer and the intensity of the moment was palpable. He explored you with his hands and felt your body tremble. His desire for you was growing with each passing second. He leaned in and kissed the side of your neck, feeling your breathing became more rapid. His hands moved lower and he could feel your body quiver in anticipation. He wanted more and you apparently wanted the same.

Finally, you found the courage to take a step forward. Without breaking eye contact, you slowly moved to straddle him, feeling the coldness of his body against yours. You could feel his breath on your face as you leaned in closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

He responded with a low chuckle, his eyes still fixed on yours. "Don't be shy, my dear," he murmured, his hand moving to rest on the small of your back.

Encouraged by his words, you leaned in further, your lips brushing against his. The touch was electrifying, and you felt your entire body tremble with desire. As the kiss deepened, you found yourself lost in the sensation, the coldness of his lips against yours, the feel of his hands on your body. You had never felt so alive. Finally, you broke away, gasping for air. Douma's eyes were filled with a hunger that matched your own, and you knew that this was only the beginning of a wild, thrilling journey with the Upper Moon Two. "I know about your secret," you whispered quietly. "I know you're a demon."

As you spoke the words about Douma being a demon, he couldn't help but chuckle darkly, his lips curling into a sly smirk. He raised a brow and leaned back, propping himself on his elbows, the soft sound of his laughter filling the room. "You're not wrong," he said in a carefree tone, his eyes glinting with a mischievous gleam. "I am a demon, after all." He tilted his head slightly, his expression still playful as he gazed at you. "Does that scare you, my dear? Or does it make you curious?" he teased, his voice low and seductive.

A hint of fear was lingering in your voice as you spoke. "I've heard that demons eat humans, and I don't want to end up as your next meal."

Douma chuckled softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "You don't have to worry about that. I have no interest in eating anyone right now, especially not sweet and courageous as you."

Despite your initial fear, you found yourself drawn to Douma's otherworldly charm. Without thinking, you reached out and gently brushed your lips against his cheek, feeling the coldness of his skin beneath your lips.

Douma watched you hungrily; your body so close that he could feel the heat radiating from it. You moved your hands up his chest, teasing his nipples with your fingertips. He shivered in anticipation as your lips brushed lightly against his neck and he let out a moan of pleasure, curling his lips in a grin.

Your hands moved lower, tracing a path of fire across his abdomen. You looked up at him, your dark eyes filled with passion and desire. You couldn't help but smile at him, feeling a rush of warmth spread through your body. "I just wanted to show you how much I appreciate you," you replied softly, your gaze locked on his. "And I was curious about you"

Douma's lips curved into a small smile as he reached up to cup your cheek in his hand. "I appreciate you too," he said, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. Douma pulled you closer, tasting your lips as his hands roamed over your body. He felt you responding to his touch and he knew he wanted you more than anything.

You unbuttoned your kimono and let it slide off your shoulders, revealing the soft curves of your body. Next, you unclasped your bra and let it fall to the ground, feeling the cool air brush against your bare skin. There was no piece of clothing protecting you from his hungry eyes anymore.

Douma's lips curved into a smirk. "Am I to assume you are enjoying the freedom of not wearing panties?" he asked, amusement lacing his voice. "No need to be embarrassed, my dear. I rather enjoy the sight," he said, his fingers tracing along the exposed skin of your calf, moving up to soon knead the warm fesh of your thighs. "Look at you. You're so beautiful and eager." Douma suddenly placed his hands on your waist and with a swift motion, he flipped you effortlessly, leaving you stunned. "You're light as a feather," Douma remarked, grinning widely as he pinned you down to the bed.

As you watched him, your teeth found your lower lip, and you bit down gently, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight before you. "I think you're content with my late night visit."

As his finger ventured into the warmth of your wet folds, you couldn't help but notice how slick your arousal had made you. Douma's middle finger glided along your slick walls with such ease, it was as if it was coated in a fine layer of massage oil. He continued his exploration, sliding his slender finger down to the very depths of your core. Your eyes widened with a mix of surprise and pleasure, causing your abdominal muscles to flex as you arched your back in response. "Oh!" Douma applied more pressure to your slit, parting your lips with his fingers. As his digit hooked inside you, you couldn't help but gasp at the sensation of him penetrating you. Slowly, he delved deeper and deeper, eliciting a silent response from you as your pussy walls gripped his finger tightly. Your hips began to wiggle, instinctively trying to retreat from the sensation, only to press back down onto Douma's hand in surrender.

Douma leaned in, his lips closing around your left nipple. You gasped as you watched him lick and suck at the sensitive bud, sending waves of pleasure through your body. His other hand rubbed around the side of your breast, squeezing and massaging the soft flesh beneath his cold palm. You could feel the coldness of his body against your own delicate, curvy form. As he pulled his finger out, you moaned softly, already missing the feeling of him inside you. But then he plunged it back in, and you were transported to a new level of ecstasy. Your hips instinctively began to move, riding his finger with a rhythm you had never known before. Each thrust sent you closer and closer to the edge, and you could feel your body start to tremble in anticipation of what was to come.

"Don't stop, don't stop, my master," you moaned, your voice shaky with pleasure.

Douma's finger continued to pump into you with an increasing pace.

You could hear the wet sounds of his finger moving in and out of your pussy, and it only turned you on more. As he added a second finger, your back arched and your moans grew louder. Your breasts bounced with each thrust of his fingers, and you couldn't help but grip onto his shoulders tightly. His fingers filled you up so completely, and the sensation was overwhelming. "Don't stop, Douma," you begged, your eyes closed in ecstasy. "Please, don't stop." Your body convulsed with pleasure as the orgasmic waves crashed through you. You gasped for air and clenched your teeth, trying to hold back the moans that threatened to escape your lips. Your thighs trembled as they pressed tightly against Douma's hand, his long fingers still buried deep inside your soaking wet pussy. Your entire body shook as the climax consumed you, and you cried out in ecstasy, "Oh God, yes!" Your juices gushed out onto his hand, coating it in your essence as you continued to shudder with pleasure.

With a dark chuckle, Douma brought his hand, drenched in your essence, straight to his mouth. Not breaking eye contact with you, he slipped his fingers between his lips and let out a low moan as he tasted your juices. His grin widened as he savored the flavor, relishing in the sensation. "Well, well, Y/N," he purred, his voice laced with desire. "I must admit, you are absolutely delicious."

You felt your cheeks flush and the only sound that escaped your parted lips was a quiet groan as you watched Douma.

His cold hand caressed the curve of your waist, his sharp nails grazing the soft skin of your hip, sending shivers down your spine. Douma leaned in, his breath hot on your lips, and captured them with a deep, passionate kiss. Your tongues intertwined in a seductive dance, and you tasted the faint sweetness of yourself on his tongue. The taste of your own essence on his tongue only intensified the intimate moment, causing your senses to ignite with an unquenchable desire.

As he pulled back, his fingers trailed down your side, and he whispered into your ear., "I think there are many things I have yet to discover about you tonight," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "And I must say, my dear lotus, I am so fucking curious to find out."

In that moment, you knew that the night would be filled with endless exploration and pleasure, as Douma's insatiable hunger for you could not be quenched. The promise of new discoveries and indulgences filled you with a heady excitement, as you eagerly anticipated what was yet to come.

#douma #doma #douma x reader #douma x reader smut #douma x you #douma x y/n #doma x reader #kny doma #kny douma #kny smut #upper moon two #demon slayer smut #demon slayer #kny #kimetsu no yaiba

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tc-doherty · 3 months

Text

TC's Practical Writing Tips

Like I said before, I'm not gonna sit here and pretend that I can teach anyone how to write – that's a level of hubris even I'm not capable of –but in honor of my rapidly approaching ~quarter century of writing original fiction anniversary~, I did figure I would share the tips that I live by when it comes to the act of writing.

So without further ado:

Write it now, fix it later

2. It is always permissible – and usually enjoyable – to write the stupidest possible version

3. "Inspiration" is great for poets, but poison for people who write prose

3.1: if you want to write often, you need to write often, and then you will find that you don't need to be "inspired" because you will have made a habit of it and it will come naturally 3.2: even one sentence a day is still one sentence a day. And even one sentence a week is still one sentence a week. It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop 3.3: believing in the concept that you need to be inspired to write will trap you into believing in the concept of writer's block 3.4: if you are having difficulty getting out words that satisfy you, lower your standards and keep writing (see point one)

4. A few months down the line you will not remember which words came easily and which words did not

5. It is always permissible to set a project aside for now, or forever, if you need a break

6. Read widely and often, both in your favorite genres and outside of them

6.1: pay special attention to both things that you love and things that you hate - study them, engage with them, learn what makes yourself tick and your writing can only get stronger

7. Never write for the lowest common denominator, via wise words I once heard: "if you open the window and make love to the world, your story will get pneumonia", have an audience in mind and the people who like what you write will find it

8. Never write for the bad faith critic, those people will always exist and you will need to deal with them at some point if you put your writing in the world, but they don't matter and you cannot live in fear of them

9. It's fine and normal to want engagement and praise, however you must find a way to make the act of writing joyful in and of itself – make the praise the cherry on top, not the entire sunday

9.1: writing is hard work, and it's a lot of work, if you lose the ability to enjoy the journey and are proceeding only for external rewards from others, you will gradually write less and less if the ratio of work to rewards is unsatisfying

10. For anything other than final copy editing, always write a new draft into a new document, or else the words you have already written will trap you from being able to make large, sweeping changes

10.1: any change you make will invariably snowball, and you must give space for that snowball to roll

11. If someone tells you that something doesn't work for them, believe them, because people know what they like. But if people try to tell you what to do to fix it, take that with an entire serving of salt because you are the author, not them

12. It is always morally correct to look at a critique that you received, even if you asked for opinions via beta reading, and decide that it's bullshit and doesn't apply to you

13. "write what you know" means "write what you're interested in"

14. "Show don't tell" applies to screenwriting, not novels. This is the thing that drives me the most insane every time I see it. Novels are words on a page, not images on a screen. They require a lot of telling. Not all telling, but a lot of telling. Become comfortable with that.

15. It is always, ALWAYS acceptable to use "said", do not listen to the lies of others

16. Have fun, do it out of love and you will never go astray

17. Become comfortable with who you are. Your work is always going to be yours and it is always going to sound like you wrote it, and this is a good thing! No one else is ever going to write exactly like you, and you should be proud of that

17.1: the concept of "originality" is vastly overrated, every culture has some version of Cinderella and we still love it. Your writing is yours because you wrote it, and it will always be unique because of that

#writeblr #writing #long post #writing tips #writing advice

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cryptotheism · 5 months

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wtf even is hermeticism? I heard of a comic book that showcases hermeticism, and it turns out it was mostly cabala and some stuff about higher dimensions, and the fuzzy line between stories and reality.

The thing about the fuzzy line between stories and reality cropped up in a youtuber's analysis of a different comic book series that revolved around hermeticism, like empowering yourself by telling a story.

Is it like, tricking reality into being a different way by acting on the basis of the Nous?? Is that how Hermes Trismegistus became a god, by ascending to and becoming one with the Nous/Monad/whatever?

If he never existed, the stories about him created him, on the basis of the Nous?

Hermetica is a body of ancient texts attributed to Legendary Sage Hermes Trismegistus. They're extremely difficult to date, and you see guesses anywhere from the 4th century BCE to the 4th century CE.

Hermeticism is quite eclectic. It exists as a blend of Greek, Egyptian, and Jewish, and other north-African mythologies and philosophies all rolled into one. The important thing to remember, is that Trismegistus is portrayed as being the source of all wisdom ever forever. All knowledge came from him. Everything cool or interesting about Egyptian, Greek, or Jewish theology is supposed to be his doing.

Hermeticism is a blend of several different religious currents that would be difficult to summarize in a tumblr post, but Hermetic doctrine is honestly less important than HOW Hermeticism syncretizes these disparate currents into a single theology. Its VERY good at sniffing out similarities between theologies, and gluing them together. Additionally, it really likes math. Hermeticism is really good at using math and science to reinforce its mythology.

So when people say "Hermetic" they generally mean one of three things:

1 - Classical Hermetica, as in the ancient body of work attributed to Hermes Trismegistus.

2 - Renaissance Hermetica. The theology was lost for a hot minute, and reintroduced to Europe in the 15th century via a weird Italian named Ludovico Lazzarelli. This was the first guy to identify as a "Hermetic Christian." (There were also some Islamic mystics around the 8th-10th century who really liked Hermetica, but they're oddballs even by the standards of Islamic mystics. #isma-ilimoment)

3 - "Neo-Hermeticism" This is the version of Hermetica that came back in the 17th-18th century. This is where you got folks like the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, who rediscovered just how good Hermetic theology was as a conceptual mortar. They just went hog-wild with it. That's where you get "Hermetic Quabbala." Europe at the time had just seen an explosion of interest in ancient Egypt, and thats why a lot of Quabbalistic texts have a bunch of Egyptian stuff.

So the stuff about higher dimensions and the lines between reality and fiction? That sounds like 1970s Chaos Magic, which itself was highly influenced by Hermetica, specifically Neo-Hermeticism.

As for the nature of Trismegistus himself, even classical Hermetica has like nine different backstories for him. Depending on the text, hes Hermes, Thoth, a combination of Hermes and Thoth, a normal sage who was very wise, a man who achieved godhood, the tutor of Moses, etc, etc. There's no set mythology for Trismegistus beyond "Legendary Sage of Sages."

I'm gonna plug my patreon here because I'm writing about Trismegistus in an alchemical context on Patreon right now.

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iamnotoriginalphil · 2 months

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hi!! I was wondering if you could write a melissa schemmenti x fem!reader fic where r is a teacher and at some point she's reading smut in the break room when no one is around but melissa finds out? whether it ends up nsfw or not is up to you :)

thank you 💖

Red Haired Protagonist (Melissa Schemmenti x f!Reader)

Words: 3k

Warnings: mentions of smut, anxiety, mentions of blood

It might not have been a wise use of your time, but using your single free period to sit in the break room, book in hand, indulging in the spicer side of fantasy was what you found yourself doing. You sighed, the red haired protagonist sweeping up the love interest. Kisses exchanged in shadows, fingertips running over skin, growling into ears as hands explored previously unmapped skin. Your lower lip was caught between teeth as you read, caught up in the world being created on the page.

The bell rang and you startled, book falling from your hands. You scrambled to pick it up, only managing to push it further under the sofa as footsteps began to sound outside the door. You sat up straight as the door was pushed open, cheeks heated and embarrassment curdling in you gut.

“There ya are, hon,” Melissa said, striding into the room, “one of your kids is with the nurse. Took a dodgeball to the face. Blood everywhere. He’ll be fine but don’t panic when you see it on his clothes.”

“Oh, thanks. If it’s Kenny I’m sure he’ll be fine. He once ran into a wall face first and barely seemed to notice. He’s got a skull made of concrete,” you said.

She huffed out a laugh as she sat beside you. You shared a smile, book forgotten as you basked in her attention. Whenever you were on the receiving end of her attention, you felt privileged, your heart beating a little harder, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Knowing she’d chosen you to give her time to when so few were worthy of that privilege filled you with such a sense of pride, wonder making you flush under her assessing gaze.

“The kid’ll be fine. I’m more worried about you. What were doing in here while your kids were in the gym?” she asked, leaning back, one leg curled up on the sofa cushion between the two of you.

“Nothing. Just lesson planning,” you replied, trying not to break eye contact. She could smell a lie from a mile away.

Her arm came to rest on the back of the sofa, leaning towards you. You held your breath, her sparkling green eyes drawing closer, leaving you in danger of drowning in them.

“You ain’t got any paper or a pen,” she said.

“I was doing it on my phone,” you said, a slightly breathless giggle leaving your lips.

“Whatever you say, hon,” she said, leaning back again.

You made your excuses as Barbra entered the room, leaving the two women to talk. Scuttling back to your classroom, you did your best to ignore the way your heart was beating so fast from her close presence. And thanks to her heads up you didn’t have a panic attack when you saw Kenny’s blood splattered shirt after lunch.

You managed to make it to the end of the day, the book left behind slipping your mind. Between dealing with a glue crisis and trying to explain fractions through the use of pictures of apples the passionate embraces of two women on the pages of a fantasy story stopped being in the forefront of your mind, replaced with your kids and the questions they were asking. Which meant, when Melissa knocked on your door about twenty minutes after the kids had left for the day, you wondered what she was doing there.

“Hey there, hon,” she said, sauntering into your classroom.

“Hi,” you said, leaning back in your seat, letting out a long breath.

She perched on the edge of your desk, turning your mouth dry and your heart pumping fast. She crossed her arms, staring down at you, lips pulling up into a secretive smile that had your heart skipping a beat. You found yourself leaning towards her, the centre of gravity shifting to revolve around her.

“What are you doing here?” you asked her, “not that I never enjoy seeing you.”

You cursed your unfiltered thoughts slipping past your lips.

“I think you left something behind in the break room today,” she said.

“What?” You felt your smile freeze on your face.

“I’m no chump. I know when someone is trying to keep a secret. Now usually I don’t care.” She shrugged, hands in the pockets of her leather jacket, “but it’s you. Found it under the sofa. Not the best hiding place. You really want something to disappear try the wall behind the cafeteria.”

“What?” you repeated, not sure you were following her train of thought. All you could focus on was that you were the exception to the rule about caring. You were special.

“That poster about the fruit is covering a hole. No one can reach anything down there anymore,” she said, “I dug out your contraband.”

“Is it contraband if I’m not in prison?” you asked, not needing an answer.

“Why’d you hide it? You think I’ll make fun of you for reading? I love reading,” she said.

“No, I just…” You fumbled for words, trying to explain it without explaining the real reason, “I figured maybe the content would be… I don’t want people seeing me reading it.”

“What’s in it? Is it porn?” she asked, her interest level seeming to peak.

Your flushed cheeks and inability to look her in the eye seemed to only make her more interested. She laughed, that same laugh that gave you butterflies and made you seek her out. When your eyes darted up to her again, she was leaning towards you, as if trying to read you like the book that was now in her possession.

“I think I’m gonna keep it over the weekend. Call it a finder’s fee,” she said, “can’t wait to see what kind of dirty books you enjoy.”

“Mel, no, please don’t,” you said, fingers grasping onto the cuff of her jacket.

She looked down at it as your fingertip grazed her skin. The way her eyes looked as she turned them back to you had your breath catching.

“How bad can it be, hon?” she asked, voice taking on a husky tone.

“I just…” You didn’t want to admit exactly how much it would reveal.

“Come on, hon. It’ll be fun. We can talk about all the dirty details on Monday,” she said.

“We sharing dirty details in here?” Ava asked, surprising both of you.

She was standing in the doorway, looking in at the two of you. You hadn’t realised how close Melissa had grown to you, how close she was leaning until you jerked back, putting more distance between the two of you.

“Girl, you know I got the tea,” she said, sauntering into the room.

“I don’t wanna know it,” Melissa said, getting up from the edge of your desk.

“Aw, c’mon girl, let’s spill. Guess who I got grinding up on me in the club last night,” she said.

“See ya Monday,” Melissa called over her shoulder before Ava could go any further.

“Come on, guess,” she said, turning her entire attention onto you.

“No thank you,” you said, rising from your seat and collecting your bag.

“You’re no fun,” she called after your retreating back, “now you’ll never know who wanted this fine piece of ass.”

It wasn’t until you were home that you realised you hadn’t managed to get your book back from Melissa before she read it. You cursed Ava for distracting you when you’d been so close to getting it back before she knew. Before she knew exactly the kind of books you read and what they said about you.

You held out until Sunday night.

The anxiety had been building and you couldn’t take it anymore. Thoughts had been swirling in your head all weekend. Thoughts about what she’d think about you after seeing exactly the kind of thing you’d been reading. You didn’t want to know what she’d say on Monday. You weren’t sure you could ever look her in the eye again if she knew.

The thought of her asking you questions about it was too much.

Your fist was insistent as you hammered on her front door. You stumbled through it as she pulled it open, looking less than pleased to be disturbed. Her anger morphed into surprise as she caught you around the elbow, keeping you from landing on your face.

“Hon? What are you doing here?” she asked, slow to close the door on the outside world.

“I need that book back,” you said, so focused you couldn’t even feel embarrassment for almost falling.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“The book. The one you found. I need it back,” you said, “have you read it? Please say no.”

“Calm down, hon,” she said, her hand rubbing your arm.

“I can’t. Not until I have the book back,” you said.

“This couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“No.”

She looked down at you, concern swimming in those green eyes. You couldn’t catch your breath and you needed to know if she’d read it but you also didn’t want to know.

“Alright, hon. Come on. Sit down and I’ll bring it to you.”

She was gentle as she guided you into her living room, lowering you onto her plastic covered sofa. Your knee was bobbing as you were left to your own devices, Melissa slipping from the room. You listened to her footsteps on the stairs, ascending above your head. The floorboards above creaked and all you could focus on was the well of anxiety in your chest making you want to chase her.

You pressed your hands beneath your thighs, eyes flitting around the room. Picture after picture filled the room, showing Melissa with all of her family. You focused on them, trying to piece together Melissa’s life story if only to keep from hyper focusing on her footsteps above.

“Here it is,” she said, startling you.

You stood, snatching the book out of her hand. Your thumb traced over the cover, the words splashed over the front, the two women on the front embracing. Your cheeks heated and you looked up at her.

“Did you read it?” you asked.

“What do you take me for?” she replied. You let out a long relieved breath of air, “I haven’t had time to read all of it yet.”

“What?” Your head snapped up.

Those green eyes were twinkling and your stomach fell out your ass. She chuckled, low in her throat, placing her hands back on the book and tugging you a step closer.

“You’ve been a naughty girl, haven’t you hon?” she murmured.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, not able to admit it.

“You left your bookmark in it, hon,” she said, tapping the cover.

“I don’t…” You tried again, before your shoulders slumped, giving up before you even started.

“Hey,” she said, gently tugging on the end of your hair, “no shame. We all get off to something.”

“I don’t get off to it,” you snapped, “it’s… I like the story.”

“Sure, hon.”

You shook your head, stepping back from her. You knew she wouldn’t get it. No one ever got it. Better to keep it secret rather than have people think you were some kind of deviant freak. When everyone else found out you’d be ostracised. No more shared donuts in the break room.

“You know, I couldn’t help notice that the characters in that… story seemed a bit familiar,” she said, clearly not noticing you wilting.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you muttered, “thanks for the book. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You wanted to slink out of her house, tail between your legs, to worry about the impact knowing she’d read it would have on you. Warm fingers closed around your wrist, making you freeze. You couldn’t even look at her, the shame curling around your heart, squeezing it painfully.

“Hon, where are you going?” she asked.

“Home,” you whispered.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I’m trying to lighten the mood,” she said, fingers tightening around your wrist, “don’t leave yet.”

“Why? So you can make fun of me some more?” you snapped, whirling towards her.

“No,” she said, “so I can do this.”

Fingers curled around your chin and you found soft lips pressed against yours. You froze again, every synapse in your brain firing at once and yet your entire nervous system seemed to stop working. Your hand landed on her hip, not quite pulling her closer but not quite pushing her away either. You needed to ground yourself, to not feel as if this was happening to someone else or in your imagination.

She let you go, worry overtaking her expression as she drew away. You blinked then surged forward as she opened her mouth to say something. Your teeth clashed with hers and she chuckled as you winced. Her tongue licked into your mouth as she took control of the kiss. You melted, the hand on her hip pulling her closer, wanting to feel all those gorgeous curves against your body.

She mumbled something into your mouth but you were beyond caring. After months of imagining kissing her, sinking into fantasy any chance you could get, this was a dream come true. Only this was better than any dream you could have come up with.

“Fuck, hon,” she murmured against your lips, “do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?”

You kissed her deeper, your self-control all but in tatters. She groaned into your mouth, the fingers on your chin sliding up to tangle in your hair. The thump of the book dropping from your hand was muffled in your mind, so focused on her. Your newly free hand pressed between her shoulder blades, arm curling around her body to hold her closer.

She was slow to draw back, ignoring your whimper. She was soft as she gently tucked a strand of hair behind you ear. You were looking at her like she was the stars, beautiful and untouchable and yet right there still in your arms.

“Are you okay?” she asked, voice raspy and lips kiss stung.

“No,” you replied, “you stopped kissing me.”

Her throaty chuckle made your own smile spread across your face. She lent forward, giving you another chaste kiss. You hummed, arms tightening around her.

“Really, hon, are you okay?” she asked again.

“I think so,” you replied, really thinking about it, “I mean, I’ve wanted to kiss you since we met. I just didn’t know if that was something you’d want too.”

“Course I wanna kiss you. You’re hot. But more importantly, I like ya, hon. Barb says I’ve been obvious and you must be blind not to notice,” she said.

“Maybe I just didn’t want to get my hopes up in case I was wrong,” you said.

“You’re not wrong,” she said, softening before your very eyes.

Your breath caught, being offered the chance to see Melissa being so soft. She was smiling at you, and her eyes were sparkling, and all you wanted was to melt against her. She tugged on the end of your hair.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“That I’m really lucky,” you replied, “and I guess I’m wondering why now? I mean, you see me almost every day and you’ve never said anything. So what’s changed?”

“That book of yours, hon. I meant it when I said the characters seemed familiar. The descriptions are kinda similar to two people in this room right now. I don’t know if you noticed that but I sorta thought it was because you wanted to do those kind of things with me at least a little bit,” she said, “you gotta think I’m sexy if you want someone who looks like me to do that to someone who looks like you.”

“I do think you’re sexy,” you said, voice a bit faint.

Admittedly, you hadn’t wanted her to figure out that you had been reading a smutty book with two characters who bared more than a passing resemblance to the two of you. You thought it would gross her out and she’d never look you in the eye again. You hadn’t thought it would encourage her to kiss you. Certainly not when you were in the process of fleeing her house.

“It’s because I am,” she said, but you could see her relax with your words.

“You really like me?” you asked, needing some more reassurance of your own.

“I like you a whole lot, hon,” she replied, her eyes twinkling at you as she smiled, soft and engaging, making your heart flutter.

“Okay, good,” you said, “because I like you a whole lot too.”

Both of your hands settled on her hips, pulling her closer again, not able to stop yourself from touching her. Her own arms found their way around your neck, seemingly not able to stop herself either.

“And I guess I do want to do those things in the book with you,” you admitted, “but maybe not right now. Maybe after I’ve taken you on a date.”

“You’re going to take me on a date?” she asked, the pleasant surprise evident in her voice.

“I am. But you need to give me some time to plan it. I wasn’t expecting this to happen tonight and I want it to be special. Friday night?”

“Friday night,” she agreed.

You stared at her a moment longer before pressing your lips to hers, a desperation you weren’t used to feeling taking over. She sighed into your mouth and you thought you might be in heaven.

“You should go,” she mumbled against your lips, “or else I might not be convinced we shouldn’t do those things tonight.”

You chuckled, pressing another lingering kiss to her lips before stepping back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” you murmured.

You bent to retrieve your book, intending to take it home with you.

“Leave the book,” she said, “I’m going to need to study up if we’re going to be doing those things on Friday.”

Your mouth fell open but you left the book there, on the carpet of her living room, waiting to be read by your red haired protagonist when she swept you off your feet.

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti imagine

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thewriteadviceforwriters · 10 months

Text

The Writer's Guide to Mastering Dialogue

You've heard it a thousand times—show, don't tell. One of the most effective ways to do this in your writing is through dialogue. Dialogue helps bring your story and characters to life, propels the action forward, and engages readers. But crafting realistic, compelling dialogue is an art form that takes practice. Don't worry, Rin's got you covered. In this guide, you'll discover techniques for writing dialogue that sparkles. You'll learn how to make conversations sound natural, differentiate character voices, convey subtext and emotion, and use dialog for exposition. By the end, you'll be writing dialogue with confidence and watching your characters come to life on the page. So grab a cup of coffee or mocha (my favorite), settle in, and let's chat about the art of conversation.

Why Dialogue Matters in Your Novel

Dialogue is one of the most powerful tools in a writer's arsenal. It brings your story to life and creates realistic characters that readers can connect with. If you want to master the art of fiction writing, you need to know how to write compelling dialogue.

Dialogue reveals character and moves the story forward. Through dialogue, readers get a sense of your characters' personalities, backgrounds, and motivations. It's a chance to show, not tell, what your characters are like. Dialogue also propels the action and builds suspense, as characters chat about the events unfolding in the story.

There are a few keys to crafting believable and engaging dialog:

•Make it sound natural. Listen to real conversations for inspiration. Dialogue should flow and feel spontaneous, not stiff or forced. Use contractions, interruptions, and imperfect speech.

•Give each character a unique voice. The way people speak depends a lot on their background, education level, profession, and personality. Capture the subtleties of different speaking styles to bring your characters to life.

•Use dialogue tags and actions. Adding "he said/she said" and descriptions of characters' actions and expressions during conversations helps readers keep track of who's talking and provides context. Use a variety of tags like asked, exclaimed, and murmured.

•Move the conversation along. Keep dialog concise and avoid unnecessary filler words. Get to the point so readers stay interested in what's being said. Dialogue should always move the story forward.

•Show tension and conflict. Interesting conversations often involve disagreement, sarcasm, arguing, or questioning. Create tension through dialogue to keep readers engaged.

With the right techniques, you can make dialogue a pivotal part of your story. So listen, observe, and practice the art of great conversation - your readers will thank you!

Developing Distinctive Character Voices Through Dialogue

To develop distinctive voices for your characters, focus on how they speak. Dialogue is one of the best ways to bring your characters to life and propel your story forward.

Pay attention to your characters’ backgrounds, experiences, education levels, and attitudes. All of these factors influence how people talk in real life, so apply that to your characters. Maybe your wise-cracking character uses a lot of humor and sarcasm, while your shy character speaks hesitantly in short sentences.

Listen for speech patterns, accents, and catchphrases in real conversations and note them for inspiration. Capture the rhythm and flow of natural dialogue.

Give each character their own vocabulary based on their interests, jobs, and lifestyles. The tech geek’s dialogue will differ from the history professor’s.

Establish characters’ voices from their first lines of dialog. Look for a memorable way for them to express themselves. The impatient character may frequently use phrases like “spit it out already!” while the pessimist’s go-to is “what could possibly go wrong?”

Use dialog to reveal aspects of characters’ personalities and backgrounds without telling readers directly. Show, don’t tell. For example, a character who says “please” and “thank you” in every sentence likely has a polite and courteous nature.

Read dialogue aloud to make sure it sounds natural. Get friends or family members to read different characters’ lines. If anything sounds off, rework it.

With practice, crafting distinct voices for your characters through dialog will become second nature. Your characters' voices, conveyed through the words they say and the way they say them, will make your story come alive for readers. So take the time to get to know your characters by how they speak. Their voices are worth developing.

Using Dialogue to Reveal Character

Reveal Character Through Dialogue

Dialog is one of the best ways to reveal details about your characters and show their personalities. Carefully crafted conversations can expose a character's background, values, education level, and more without telling the reader outright.

As your characters talk, think about what kinds of words and phrases they would use based on who they are. An older British gentleman will speak very differently than a teenage skateboarder from California. Listen to people with similar backgrounds and life experiences to your characters for inspiration.

Also consider:

The rhythm and cadence of their speech. Do they speak quickly or slowly? Formally or casually?

Their vocabulary. Does your character use complex words and jargon or simpler language?

Grammar and pronunciation. Does your character follow the rules or have their own way of speaking?

For example, here's a short exchange that shows the contrast between two characters:

Jenny (teenage skateboarder): "Hey, you gonna drop in on the half pipe today or just pose by the ramp again?"

Mr. Edwards (older British gentleman): "I'm afraid vert skating is a young man's game, my dear. I'm quite content to watch you whippersnappers from the sidelines."

Even from this brief conversation, you get a sense of each character's age, background, and attitude without the author explicitly telling you. Mastering the art of subtext in dialog will make your stories come alive and allow readers to discover the depth in your characters for themselves.

Driving the Plot Forward With Meaningful Dialogue

To keep your readers engaged, your dialog needs to propel the story forward. Meaningful exchanges between characters should reveal information, create conflict, and raise the stakes.

Share Relevant Details

Use dialogue as an opportunity to share important details about the characters, their relationships, backstories, and the world they inhabit. For example:

“Did you hear they’re raising tuition again next semester?” Jenny asked.

“Ugh, not again,” Mark groaned. “How are we supposed to afford another five percent?”

This exchange informs the reader that Jenny and Mark are college students struggling with the costs. Look for natural ways to slip in context through dialog without sounding forced.

Create Conflict

Interesting stories thrive on tension, disagreement, and clashing perspectives. Have your characters bicker, argue, and challenge each other. For example:

“You never listen to me!” Alice shouted. “You always have to be right.”

“I’m not trying to be right,” Brian retorted. “I’m trying to protect you, but you’re too stubborn to see that.”

The quarrel fuels the underlying conflict in their relationship and keeps readers wondering how they’ll resolve their differences.

Raise the Stakes

Use meaningful dialog at key moments to increase the urgency, suspense or importance of what’s happening in the story. For example:

“The test results came back—it’s not good news,” the doctor said grimly.

Not only does this distressing announcement raise the stakes for the character’s health issue but it also creates a cliffhanger, leaving the reader wondering about the diagnosis and anxiously awaiting more details.

Meaningful dialog is essential for crafting an engaging story. Use it to inform readers, create conflict between characters, raise the stakes, and propel the plot toward a climax. With practice, writing authentic dialog will become second nature.

Creating Tension and Conflict Through Dialogue

To keep readers engaged, effective dialog should create tension and conflict between characters. As in real life, the conversations in your story should have stakes and push characters outside their comfort zone.

Show underlying tensions

Have characters disagree and argue to reveal underlying tensions. For example:

“You never listen to me. It’s always about what you want.”

“That’s not fair and you know it. I’ve sacrificed a lot for this family.”

This type of emotionally-charged exchange shows the couple has deeper issues to work through regarding resentment and lack of appreciation.

Create awkward situations

Put characters in awkward situations through dialog to ramp up the tension. For example:

“How’s the job search going?”

“Um, still looking. The market’s tough right now.”

“Really? I heard your company is hiring. I put in a good word for you with some people I know there.”

“Oh. Thanks, I guess.”

The second character is now in the difficult position of admitting the job search isn’t going well and they don’t actually have any leads. This cringeworthy moment translates the tension to readers.

Issue challenges and ultimatums

Have characters challenge each other by issuing warnings, demands or ultimatums, for example:

“If you walk out that door, we’re through. I mean it this time.”

“Don’t threaten me. You need me more than I need you.”

Throwing down the gauntlet in this way forces characters to back up their words with actions, which heightens the tension and conflict. Readers will keep reading to see who comes out on top!

Using dialog that highlights tension, creates awkwardness, and issues challenges is a great way to craft page-turning scenes that keep readers on the edge of their seats. Mastering the art of writing gripping dialogue is key to writing a story that resonates.

Avoiding Common Dialogue Mistakes

One of the biggest mistakes new writers make is crafting unrealistic or clichéd dialog. Your characters’ conversations should flow naturally and sound believable to readers. Avoid these common dialog doners:

Repeating Characters' Names

In real life, we rarely use someone's name in every sentence when talking to them. Only use a character's name when beginning a new exchange or for emphasis. Repeating names too often makes the dialog sound unnatural.

Overusing Exposition

Don't have characters explain things solely for the reader's benefit. Only include exposition that makes sense for the characters to actually say to each other. Find other creative ways to convey important backstory or worldbuilding details.

Forgetting Emotion

Dialog without emotional cues like facial expressions and body language can seem flat. Use emotive verbs and adverbs to show how the lines are delivered. For example, "she exclaimed" or "he muttered angrily." Also describe characters' physical reactions and behaviors to further bring the scene to life for readers.

Talking in Complete Sentences

Real conversations are often choppy, filled with interruptions, tangents, and imperfect grammar. Vary your sentence structure and length. Use fragments, run-ons, and breaks when appropriate. Not all dialog needs to be in perfectly punctuated full sentences.

Clichéd Phrases

Certain overused phrases like "it's quiet...too quiet" or "we've got company!" indicate lazy or clichéd writing. Come up with original ways for your characters to express themselves that fit with their unique personalities and situation. Avoid reusing trite or familiar sayings.

With practice, writing natural-sounding dialog will become second nature. Pay close attention to how real people speak, and aim to replicate the flow and cadence in your writing. Follow these tips, and your characters' conversations will truly come alive on the page!

Formatting Dialogue Correctly

When writing dialog, formatting it correctly is key to making it clear and compelling for readers. Here are some tips for formatting your dialogue effectively:

Use quotation marks

Place all dialogue between double quotation marks (“”). This indicates the character is speaking. For example:

“Hello,” she said. “How are you today?”

Start a new paragraph for each new speaker

Having each character's dialog on its own line makes it easy to follow who's talking. For example:

“Did you finish your homework?” Mom asked.

“I'm almost done,” I replied. “Just have some math problems left.”

Describe the speech

Use speech tags like "said", "asked", "replied" to indicate how the dialog was delivered. For example:

“I don't want to go to bed yet,” the little girl whined.

Punctuate properly

Place punctuation such as periods, commas, question marks, etc. within the quotation marks. For example:

“Where are you going?” she asked.

I said, “To the store. Do you need anything?”

Use beats

"Beats" are actions or descriptions that replace the "he/she said" tags. They make dialog more engaging and help set the scene. For example:

"I'm tired." John yawned and rubbed his eyes.

"Then go to sleep." Mary folded her arms, annoyance in her tone.

Avoid over-tagging

Don't tag every single line of dialog with "said" or the character's name. Let context and formatting do some of the work for you. For example:

"Did you talk to Mom today?"

"Yeah, she called this morning."

"What did she say?"

"That she'd be home in time for dinner."

Following these guidelines will make your dialogue clear, compelling, and help bring your story to life. Readers will appreciate dialog that flows naturally and is easy to follow.

Using Dialogue Tags Effectively

To write effective dialog, you need to master the use of dialog tags. Dialog tags are the parts of speech that indicate who is speaking, such as “he said” or “she asked”. When used properly, dialog tags can enhance your story without distracting the reader.

Choose tags that match the tone

Pick dialog tags that match the emotional tone of the dialog. For example, use “he whispered” for hushed speech or “she shouted” for loud, angry speech. Avoid reusing the same generic tags like “he said/she said” repeatedly, but don't get too creative either. Stick with simple verbs that imply the manner of speech.

Use action tags

Action tags describe a character's physical actions or expressions while speaking. For example, "“I’m not going,” he shook his head.” or ““What a day!” She ran her hands through her hair and sighed.” Action tags bring dialog to life and help the reader visualize the scene. They also give you an opportunity to reveal character details.

Drop the tag when implied

Once two characters establish a back-and-forth dialog, you can often drop the dialog tags altogether. As long as it's clear who is speaking, the tags become unnecessary. For example:

“Did you finish your homework?” Mom asked.

“Most of it,” I said.

“Most of it? What didn’t you finish?”

“Just some math problems. I’ll do them after dinner.”

“You’d better. I’m checking it tonight.”

After the first two lines, the reader understands that Mom and I are the speakers, so the remaining dialog does not need tags. Dropping implied tags creates a snappier feel and prevents repetitive, unnecessary tags.

Using a mix of well-placed dialog tags, action tags, and implied dialog, you can craft seamless conversations between characters that flow naturally, without distraction. Keep practicing and listening to real-world conversations for inspiration. With time, writing compelling dialog will become second nature.

FAQs About Writing Dialogue

When writing dialogue, questions inevitably come up. Here are some of the most frequently asked questions about crafting realistic and compelling dialogue.

Do I use quotation marks or italics?

In fiction writing, use quotation marks (“”) to denote direct speech. Only use italics for thoughts or emphasis. Quotation marks allow the reader to easily distinguish between dialog and narration.

How do I avoid “he said, she said”?

To prevent repetitive “he said/she said” tags, use action tags that describe the speaker's actions or expressions. For example:

“We should get out of here,” he whispered, glancing around nervously.

She slammed her fist on the table. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

You can also drop the dialog tag altogether if the speaker is clearly identified through context or action. The dialog itself and how you structure the conversation can imply the tone.

How do I make dialogue sound natural?

Pay attention to the cadence and rhythm of actual conversations. Dialog should:

Sound like natural speech, not formal writing. Contractions are okay!

Have an easy back-and-forth flow. Keep responses concise and avoid monologs.

Capture unique speech patterns based on a character's background and personality.

Include interruptions, changes in subject, and imperfect grammar. We don't speak perfectly in real life!

What are the rules for punctuating dialog?

Use a comma between the dialogue tag and the dialog: “Hello,” she said.

If the dialog tag comes before the dialog, end it with a comma: She said, “Hello.”

If the dialogue is interrupted by a dialog tag, use commas to separate it from the tag: “Hello,” she said, “how are you?”

Use a period to end a sentence of dialog: “Hello.”

Use a question mark for a question: “How are you?” she asked.

Use an exclamation point for excitement or emphasis: “Wow!” he exclaimed.

Start a new paragraph each time the speaker changes.

Following these tips will have you crafting dialog like a pro in no time. Let me know if you have any other questions!

Additional Tips For Writing Dialogue

Keep it concise

When writing dialog, less is more. Keep exchanges brief and avoid long speeches. Readers will get bored quickly if characters drone on and on. Focus on using just enough dialog to convey key information or advance the scene.

Use natural language

Write dialog like people really speak. Use casual language, contractions, slang, and imperfect grammar. Drop words like “um”, “like”, and “you know” into conversations to make them sound authentic. Read your dialog aloud to ensure it flows naturally. If it sounds stilted or awkward when spoken, it will come across that way to readers as well.

Share emotions

Dialog should reveal characters’ emotions and attitudes. Have characters express feelings like excitement, frustration, fear or affection through their word choice, tone, and body language. For example, a character who sighs, rolls their eyes or speaks in a sarcastic tone conveys a very different emotion than one who smiles, makes eye contact and speaks enthusiastically.

Keep it relevant

All dialog should serve a purpose, whether to reveal something about a character, advance the plot or set a mood. Avoid “empty” exchanges that fill space but add no value. If a conversation seems pointless or dull, cut or rewrite it.

Use action and description

Don't rely solely on dialog to carry a scene. Include action and descriptions to give readers a more complete picture. For example:

"Where were you?" Anna asked.

Mark sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I got stuck at work. I'm really sorry."

The description of Mark's actions and appearance helps the reader understand his emotional state and see the full context of the conversation.

Leave room for interpretation

Don't have characters over-explain or outright state their feelings and motivations. Leave some details to the reader's imagination. For example, instead of:

"I'm angry that you lied to me," Amy said angrily.

Try:

Amy folded her arms and glared at him. "You lied to me."

The emotional context is clear without having to explicitly state Amy's anger. Subtlety and nuance in dialog make for a more engaging read.

Conclusion

So there you have it, the keys to mastering dialogue/dialog in your writing. I hope my extensive research was enough information for you all. Focus on listening to the voices around you, develop unique voices for your characters, keep your exchanges tight and impactful. Remember, dialog should always move the story forward, not just fill space on the page. With practice, writing compelling dialog can become second nature. Now go eavesdrop on conversations, study your favorite books and shows, and get to work crafting those conversations. Your characters and readers will thank you for it. Keep at it and before you know it, you'll be writing dialog with the best of them!

(Keep in mind I used both dialog and dialogue just in case there's a few who get annoyed with that.)

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TheWriteAdviceForWriters 2023

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avelera · 9 months

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It sounds so self-obvious when you say it aloud, but the key to writing romance is that the characters need to be into each other.

I've seen so many so-called "romances" in mainstream movies and shows that somehow fail to achieve this very simple principle. Usually they're het romances but not always. I've also seen established lgbt+ couples who we're told are married but who never show any particular interest in one another to confirm this supposed love in a show-don't-tell manner.

Below the cut I want to explore how to write love (romantic or otherwise), what makes it work in fiction, and the important difference between why characters fall in love vs. why they choose to pursue or stay with the person they fell in love with, because those distinctions matter.

Let's quickly touch on failed fictional relationships before moving onto functioning ones. Because the thing is, it's important to flesh out relationships and romances if they are written into the story even if they aren't the focus of the story or they are doomed to fail as part of the plot.

I see it a lot of times in fictional relationships that are clearly plot points and so the author doesn't bother to invest in them. If a relationship is established with the protagonist just because this current partner is going to break up with them, thus launching our actual romance plot, then there's a temptation not to fully flesh out that doomed-to-fail relationship.

But to skate over the failed relationship is a missed opportunity for a writer. Relationships reveal a great deal about us, as do failed ones. Even if the relationships don't work out, we get the chance to learn what the protagonist is looking for in a relationship, what didn't work in the failed one, and we get to learn more about their love language. This also requires that we see these romantic partners are into each other, or were into each other, and how, before it went sour. Even if it's one sided and doomed to fail, we need to see what the infatuated side of the pairing was into about the other person. Even if it's just physical, that too is revealing.

Romeo was in love with Rosaline before he fell in love with Juliet. But we don't skate over what he loved about her. We learn that Romeo frequently falls in love, he's often impetuous in love (which we will see carried forward later in the famous balcony scene with Juliet). We learn that he is poetic about that love. We learn how much he loved Rosaline, and whether or not we believe he was in love or think that love is wise, it is important for establishing later, when he meets Juliet, the order of magnitude difference between his love of Rosaline and of Juliet. One left him broken-hearted when he lost her, but he quickly recovered. But Juliet? He was willing to die for love of her. The love of Rosaline set up the contrast in how Romeo loves that would be massively important to the impact of the story later.

I bring up this example because many years ago in a high school lit class, the teacher said that Shakespeare never explains why characters fall in love, and so writers don't have to explain why characters fall in love.

It didn't quite sit with me right, because I think it's only half true. The full maxim, and what writers today can learn with regards to romance is:

You don't have to explain why characters fall in love. You do have to explain why they stay together and/or pursue that love.

Actually, it's often better to not explain why a character fell in love. It's ineffable. It just happens. How often have we met or been introduced to someone who is, on paper, perfect for us with similar interests and compatible families or lifestyles, only to not feel any sort of spark? How many grand romances, in contrast, are about people who on paper are terrible for each other but just can't seem to quit one another and keep being drawn back together?

This doesn't just have to apply to romantic love, by the way. How many people are inevitably drawn back to toxic or abusive parents, even though they know this person has a negative impact on their life? How many people stick it out for friendships that damage their health and self-esteem, all out of love?

Again, you don't need to explain why someone loves, but you do need to explain why they pursue it or stick with it. The reasons can be societal, they can be because of guilt, they can be because of adrenaline, or because of long history together, or if it's a successful romance, it can be because they don't just love each other, they also really really like each other!

Now, this might seem somewhat inherently self-contradictory. I'm saying you have to show that people are into each other but that you don't have to explain why they fell in love??

But showing that people are into each other is actually about why they pursue it and stay with the person. The falling in love itself is simply the gravity between them, the magnetic bond, what draws them together. In fiction, we want that to be powerful, overwhelming, inevitable. If the story is about love, we need to see why these people can't walk away, or can't walk away for long, or are miserable when they do. They are drawn to each other, powerfully, destructively or gloriously.

But you can be drawn to someone without having a single conversation or knowing anything about them. We initially fall in love with our image of a person, what they mean to us, what we think they will be in our lives. Real love is about learning who the real person is and continuing to love and to like that person. Real long-term love is loving that person even when they change from the one you first met, and they love you too as you change. But the opposite of love is not hate, it's apathy. The love is the pull.

Why characters are into each other, or why they like each other, is the force that makes them continue to pursue that person. The love itself can be the thing they're into, by the way! "I can't get this person out of my head, I can't put it in words, but they haunt me and I'm into them for that," is a totally valid way to build a romance or character relationship without any other things that they like about each other!

But as said, it can and probably should be more than that in a successful love story. The construction of the love and like of the relationship can also be Love + Long History + Physical Attraction + Deep Understanding. Gomez and Morticia Addams love each other, they'd love each other if the other was unconscious, they'd love each other to the grave and beyond. But they're also into the fact that they're both incredibly extra romantics who love demonstrating their fascination to each other, in ways presumably no other partner could keep up with. They waltz at odd hours, engage in thrilling sword fights, raise a family together based on their shared worldview, and stare deeply into each other's eyes at every opportunity. They don't suffer one another, they adore one another's presence and quirks and foibles. They are seriously whackadoodle into each other and we see it in the joy they take in one another, how much they like each other in addition to that love.

Characters who are in love should be obsessed with something about the person. Remember, these aren't real people, I'm not giving real world relationship advice. This is fiction. You can write a tepid relationship but it will be sort of boring to read. That might be the point! The tepid relationship might be in contrast to your protagonists, for example!

But my point is that in all fictional relationships there should be something in which the characters are each other's biggest fan. In mother/daughter familial love, they might love one another's outspokenness on what is important to them, we can see their eyes shine when the mother or her daughter gives that big important speech, filled with love and pride for them, and encouraging their outspokenness at every turn, inspired by it.

If the love is between two brothers, related or otherwise, we might see that love in darker times. A brother has to pick up the other from jail. It is painful, heartbreaking, but he can't turn away, he can't not do it. That's love. But, maybe the brother he picked up cracks a joke on the ride home, makes the other laugh despite himself, and suddenly, he remembers the good side of the love too, that his brother can always make him laugh. This is important because it shows us not just that these brothers love each other, but why they continue to interact with each other despite the pain and disappointment. That might actually be tragic rather than happy. One brother might not be able to escape because of the other's ability to make him laugh. That too is love, not just the magnetic attraction of it but the reason it continues to draw them together inevitably, that ability to understand one another and make the other laugh, when he really should probably walk away for his own sake.

The reason so much slash shipping exists in fanfiction is because very often, platonic love is fleshed out in the mainstream more often between two same-sex characters with greater depth than romantic love. A mainstream show might present us with a couple who we are told are attracted to each other and from there the writers assume that is enough to explain why they got together. Nothing deeper. No spark of liking one another in addition to wanting one another.

But in a buddy cop film, the buddy cops are usually obsessed with each other. They stand up for one another when the chips are down, they save one another in moments of peril, they look into each other's eyes and discuss what is important to them in life, like solving the mystery they're working on, and in doing so find understanding with one another's worldviews. That is infinitely more satisfying as a love story than simply telling me that a beautiful Barbie and Ken of main characters have slept with each other and therefore are dating and "in love".

Obsession is key. But don't get too bogged down in how the love exists. It exists because that's love. And we are fascinated in fiction by powerful love of all sorts. We love characters who don't just suffer each other but are into each other, ludicrously, obsessively, even tragically. Turn up the love to the whackadoodle maximum and break off the knob and I guarantee, you will at the very least have characters that people will watch with interest. We love characters who are obsessed with something, or someone. Their love reveals to us what is lovable about that character or thing, it makes us love them.

And then, because love alone is not always enough, show us the joy that keeps them coming back to each other. Show us some good times mixed in with the bad, tragic as they might be for how they prevent the cutting of ties that maybe should be severed. Show us why they can't give up and walk away. Show us too why they like each other. That is what draws a good love story together.

#maggie rambles #writing #writing advice #on romance

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annymation · 5 months

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Reimagining the characters in Wish

(Part 1- Asha)

Hey guys! I don’t really know how to start this, but let’s just say that I… Didn’t like how Disney’s 100th anniversary movie turned out, like at all.

But I can tell there was a lot of unexplored potential beneath this story, that in my opinion felt overly simple and bare bones.

But if you love it, that’s awesome, more power to you, I wish I could’ve loved it too. And I don’t want to rewrite it to show I’m “better than the writers at Disney” because I’m definitely not lol, I have no experience in writing, and I’m sure they put a lot of passion into the project and I respect them for that. But this movie inspired me with ideas for a different story that I think is worth telling.

But I won’t start telling it today, instead, I'll start a series of blogs sharing my ideas for changes in the characters and their stories, after I get some feedback I will start posting more of the story itself.

If you’re interested, then come along!

Asha✨

Personality

- Asha is a 18 year old girl, with a passion for drawing and helping those around her, sometimes even worrying more about helping others than helping herself

- She’s like a big sister to her 7 friends, always being the voice of reason and acting responsible, but not in a bossy way, she’s actually very playful with them

- To the people of Rosas tho, she's seen as kind of a weirdo, for you see, she spends almost every time of the day drawing in her sketchbook

- She practices everyday to become a better artist, and the people of Rosas find this to be very peculiar, after all, why would you take so much effort to perfect a talent when you can simply wait to turn 18 and wish for the king to make you an amazing artist?

- Asha doesn’t mind these comments, although they have made her less willing to share her drawings with others that aren’t her 7 friends

- As the story progresses we see Asha flourish from a shy and introverted girl to a brave woman who after discovering a terrifying secret about the kingdom’s rulers, steps in and inspires others to join her and fight an evil sorcerer king and his alchemist wife (yes, I made Amaya an alchemist, more on that on part 2 when I talk about how I’d change Magnifico and Amaya)

- Some Disney characters that share similarities with her personality wise are: Belle, Tiana, Pocahontas and Esmeralda

Main Traits:

Calm and mature

Determined

Passionate about her interests (drawing, dancing, philosophy and stars)

Helpful and generous

Perceptive and always questioning things around her that no one pays attention to (like why do all the artists only paint the King and Queen?)

Playful

Compassionate

Backstory

Oooh boy I gave this poor girl so much angst, okay let’s go

Asha grew up with her grandfather, her parents both died in a fire when she was just a baby

(this isn’t just to fit the “haha Disney princess has no parents” cliche, there’s plot relevance in this “mysterious fire” that I’ll talk about later)

Growing up with her grandpa, he’d always support her dream to be an artist, like her mother, who was an art teacher

Her mother not only drew really well, but she also was able to create the illusion that her drawings could move, by flipping through the pages of her sketch books

In other words, her mom was an animator

Asha saw this technic her mom used as a form of magic, so she would often tell her grandpa she wanted to “Do magic just like my mom”

Her father was a philosopher (this was established in the actual movie but never explored haha whyyyy), who taught people that working hard to achieve your dreams is not only rewarding, but also essential, because it’s part of the human nature to persevere and fight for what we believe, even if we fail, even if it’s hard, just keep moving forward.

This philosophy may sound very “umm duh” for me and you since we all know and hear everywhere nothing in life comes for free… But that’s not the case in Rosas

In this rewrite the kingdom wasn’t created by Magnifico, but rather the kingdom has existed for many generations, being ruled by different kings before Magnifico who also granted wishes… but I’m getting ahead of myself.

The point is that the culture of just asking the king to give you or make you whatever you want to be has been in this kingdom’s culture since forever, so when Asha’s dad comes out saying “hey! Maybe we should stop just relying on the king to make our dreams come true, right?” He’s actually being quite a revolutionary… and sharing a very dangerous belief to other people…

At this point you might suspect what caused that “mysterious fire”

So, back to Asha, growing up with her grandpa, they shared a lot of happy memories together. Reading her father's books and her mother's art books helped Asha connect with them even tho she never had them in her life.

But as her grandfather grew older, he became senile.

Asha went from being taken care of by her grandpa to being the one who took care of him when she was still around 13 years old, and when she turned 15 her grandfather passed away of old age

Asha went on to live with her best friend Dahlia, the two became like sisters.

Though she managed to move on from the loss of her grandfather, she could never shake the feeling that he died without getting his wish granted... But she had no way to prove that, it was just a feeling

The wish granting system works different in my rewrite, instead of there being a public wish granting ceremony once a month, there would only be a public wish TAKING ceremony, that would work just like in the movie, you turn 18, you go give your wish to the king yada yada yada.

But the wish granting part would work like this: Almost every night the king would release the wishes up in the sky, they would float down like balloons to their respective owners while they sleep, and once they woke up in the morning they'd feel that their wishes were granted, for they would wake up changed.

With this method, there's no way of confirming if someone really got their wish granted or not, unless you went to ask the king.

Asha never did ask the king if he granted her grandfather's wish, but her grandfather would sometimes express how he wasn't feeling completely fulfilled in his life, he felt like there was something... missing.

This feeling of hollowness persisted in him until the very end, no matter how hard Asha tried to help her grandfather, she never knew him as his real self, because he gave part of his soul to the king, the most beautiful part of his soul, his wish.

Asha had no proof that her grandfather didn't get his wish granted, only a gut feeling.

But because of this, Asha wasn't that thrilled to give her own wish to king magnifico, knowing there was the possibility of it never being granted.

Not to mention she didn’t even know what to wish for, “I’m just 18 and you guys expect me to already know what’s my heart’s deepest desire? I’m still figuring that out, all I know is that I wanna draw”

Plus she wanted to follow her father's philosophy and achieve her wish on her own, eventually, when she figured out what her wish even was.

Asha never rebelled against the system tho, she wasn't a confrontational person. She just accepted the people of Rosas preferred to rely on the king's magic, but that just wasn't for her.

However, on her 18 birthday, when it was expected of her to give her wish to the king, she simply said she didn't have a wish, and even if she did she wouldn’t want to hand it over, she wanted to make it come true on her own. This lead to an argument with the king, and after a series of events (that I don't have time to summarize here, but you can find out about it on my rewrite) leads to her finding out a terrible truth about her kingdom. And that's how her story begins.

Design

- I’d keep these braid ornaments that Asha had in the concept art

- Since in my rewrite she’s not that invested in the kingdom of Rosas, I’d remove all the Kingdom of Rosas symbols that are present in her design (there are a LOT of them)

- I’d replace these Rosas insignia with more star and constellations themed symbols, to reflect how Asha believes that the stars are connected to people and they can guide us, just like how her father believed.

Final Thoughts

My intentions with these changes were to give Asha a strong emotional hook, and something that makes her feel relatable.

The emotional hook here is how she spent so much of her life taking care of her grandfather that she kinda never had time to worry about her own desires, that alone can be relatable to caregivers of elderly people that watch their grandparents or even their own parents lose themselves as time passes, and end up worrying more about the person they’re taking care of than themselves.

Asha has this internal emotional conflict where she feels she needs to constantly help others the same way she helped her grandfather, and one of the things she’ll learn as the story progresses is that it’s not selfish of her to want more for HERSELF.

Another thing that would be relatable about Asha is her passion for drawing, and how most people in Rosas would say she’s wasting her time practicing so much when she can just wait until she turns 18 and wish to be amazing at drawing.

She’d never stop believing that taking her time to improve on her talent and trying again and again was worth every second of her time, because let me tell ya folks, drawing is HARD, and animating like Asha’s mom did is even HARDER, it takes a whole lot of practice, and Asha was determined to keep trying.

She’d be much like Belle, remaining true to herself even tho those around her considered her odd, and very passionate about drawing just as much Belle was passionate about reading.

I also find it funny how Asha’s motivations are fairly down to earth, like in Disney movies you usually have:

I want to be free from these palace walls!

I want to explore the ocean!

I want to open a restaurant!

I want to find true love!

And then there’s Asha here like

“My life is fine, I just wanna chill and draw stuff”

And that’s it, but, in her environment where everyone is expected to have this great wish that they have to give to the king so he’ll make it a reality, she’s kinda the odd one out, and I love that. Would be a great subversion of the Disney formula.

Of course after she learns Magnifico and Amaya’s true intentions she gets a lot more agency and the desire to save her people, her “call for adventure” if you will.

But what are Magnifico and Amaya’s true intentions? Click here for part 2 and find out!

Thank You For Reading!

#disney wish #wish #reimagined #rewrite #disney #wish 2023 #wish asha #wish star #king magnifico #wish movie #wish disney #wish rambles #wish rewrite #Asha #long post #wishrewrite

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pastxlscorp · 4 months

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Palia Character Characterizations/Impres.

(impres. is short for impressions btw! also big ass rambling)

I started Palia the other day and I'm amazed it's free. Aside from some obvious glitches, the game is pretty good and it's on par with some games that charge money. I've been doing some quests but I'm not too far into the story, but I have some strong feelings about some characters. This might not have a big fanbase but if there is only one fan, I am one! I'm just gonna give some first impressions and how I headcanon some characters personality wise based on other impressions of them from the villagers n shit. You should try it out if you already haven't!

Nai'O:

STARTING OFF WITH MY ANNOYANCE FOR THIS MAN. I know a big controversy with him is that he's in a monogamous relationship with another villager (spoilers: Kenyatta) yet he is still a romancable character. Although in his culture it is normal to have poly relationships, he has some pretty inconsistent writing (im gonna get into this more later with Reth). He argues that Reth flirts with everyone, which he clearly is annoyed by, but if he falls in love with the player, he actually is fine dating both you and Kenyatta depending on your dialogue choices. Seems inconsistent that he would get pissed at Reth while he was over here flirting with the player. ALSO— Kenyatta literally calls Reth hot, so she’s not even fully loyal to him either. He seems aware of this, since it honestly sounds like his disliking of Reth is more jealousy than anything. I personally don’t see the significance of having the two of them date monogamously if they’re clearly open to poly or having an open relationship. Aside from that, he's a very sweet villager who I knew I was gonna like from the start. Farm boy himbo that knows what he's doing until it comes to social cues. Romance him if you wish! He's a sweet boy who wants what's best for his family but aside from that, he's a fairly simple character. As far as I've explored the world and quests, I haven't found any deeper nuance or lore with him since his family is pretty wholesome. Nothing wrong with simplicity, but I love characters with a little more complexity and nuance since there is so much more to dive into, analyze, and admire.

Reth:

my boyfriend First impression was how this man was a flirt. It's pretty heavily implied imo that Reth is a womanizer and sleeps around. His boss, Ashura, mentions something about Reth likes having his nights free and Nai'O blatantly just says this man flirts with everyone in proximity. I find the beef between him and Nai'O interesting, as it implies either Reth is jealous of him or dislikes him because he considers him cowardly for hiding his relationship with Kenyatta. When Nai'O sends you off on a quest to deliver something to Reth, he calls Reth "loverboy" and he calls out him and Kenyatta for sneaking around and also Hassian's love poems. This is kinda reiteriated when he makes a comment about Hassian's love letters being not-so-secret. He's aware how he's an obvious flirt, which I find admirable. He does not give a fuck about how anyone perceives him and is open about it, which is why he shames the other two for sneaking around with their romance lives. In another quest, he makes another comment about stealing Nai'O's muscles. Initially I thought he was interested in Kenyatta but I think him flirting with her is more of a rivalry between him and Nai’O. Amongst the villagers, they are the two canonically best looking, which is an interesting dynamic. It makes sense why Nai’O would then be pissed off Reth was flirting with Kenyatta, as he knows she does find him attractive. I headcanon that Reth is one of the few characters that would be romantically interested in the player even if they didn’t romance him because of his voicelines. Some of them are like “uh oh, gotta go uh…” and he’ll make up an excuse to leave sounding flustered. Reth, to me, is one of the more complex characters because of how much shit goes unsaid with him. He comes off as very easygoing because he's stressed because he has a hard time saying no and ends up lying, which gets him into a load of shit. His small talk is really sweet though, I like to headcanon he's flirty so the (spoilers) cartel can’t tell who he’s close with. I'm currently romancing him and one other man! I really find it cute how he sweet he is to his sister. Bold move to abandon the family careerline (especially since he is I think the only dude in the village who is not carrying family tradition) and he knows all eyes are on Tish (his sister) because of it. It's cute that he only cares about how people talk about him when it impacts his sister. I assume this is why he usually takes all the shit the other villagers give him because he knows it would go on his sister otherwise. I felt so bad bc I actually didn’t cover for him in one of his friendship quests because I thought ashura would’ve figured I was lying. In Reth’s letter, he writes if you covered for him or didn’t and says there’s no hard feelings and that he was using the free time he got to spend with his sister. I’m sorry pookie 🥹

Hassian:

Really liked him at first, but he became unlikable really fast. He's super attractive if you're looking for a black cat boyfriend or a tsundere, but it gets old quick. He comes out rude even when he's trying to be nice and in real life this shit would be so toxic. In game reasonably it's more tolerated but it just is not my cup of tea. I'm usually a sucker for dudes with this archetype too since it's just nice to see people soften up and get comfortable, but Hassian just can be overbearing. I was leveling up my friendship with him and he sent a letter saying "You'll probably freeze to death without my help, so take this. You'll thank me for it later." like lil bro fuck u. Jokes aside, I'm not a fan of the fact he's romancable mainly because it's revealed later on (spoilers) that he is in love with another villager, Tamala. It's lowkey fucked up because there is a whole quest where you have to deliver one of his letters to her and if you deliver it to her on the first try, she laughs at his letter, showing it's clearly not reciprocal, at least anymore. On his romance quests (I searched it up bc I got curious) she admits she led Hassian on because she wanted a fling and he wanted marriage. I felt so bad for bro but lowkey he brought this shit on himself. Tamala affirms what I'm arguing because she explains they broke up b/c of his "sour" demeanor. Again, cute on paper, but if you don't write any development it gets old fast. It kind of even feels like you're a rebound for Tamala. I do like that the villagers know he has a soft spot for Auni (one of the 2 children villagers) because he always plays with him. This could have been a great premise for character development but unfortunately it just does not go anywhere. I know there's a reddit thread complaining about Hassian's lack of development and another for Nai'O being in a relationship and romanceable-- if anyone's is interested in reading more.

Hodari:

First impression: dilf. I'm not crossing that out I'm being honest. I instantly wanted to romance Hodari but honestly as I kept playing he lowkey came off as such a dad and then I realized bro is in fact a father. If you want a dilf, go for it. But if you have daddy issues like me, you're gonna look at bro in a different light when you get to know his character. His lore is pretty fucked up but it's sweet he's trying to look out for his kid, just the way he goes about it is not the best. I did really like one dialogue in idle chat with him that he admits he knows his daughter sneaks out and he doesn't say anything about it because he knows he can be a helicopter dad sometimes. I'm still debating as of now if I'm gonna romance him or not but I haven't seen any red flags with Hodari as of yet, just that he's reasonably a little closed in and dry, but he's not nearly as hostile as Hassian.

Jel:

bros side profile is immaculate. my HUSBAND. Loud and proud bro. At first I genuinely did not fuck with him because he was so mean initially. He made it sound like you were a peasant. He develops quickly through small talk though and it's so cute, like he easily became my favorite. He goes on night walks and enjoys the beauty of literally everything: some of his favorite gifts are insects and shells. He finds everything potential of beauty. He's a little corny when he's greeting you (he'll talk abt how you brighten his loneliness bc he's so dramatic) but I adore it. Also call me odd but I find that when a man has a girl best friend, immediate green flag. His relationship with Tish reminds me a lot of me and my best friend I adore it SOOO much. I'm in the process of romancing him and BRO I found out through youtube tutorials that if you're romancing him and someone else he comes to your house and tells you "If you were trying to keep this from me because you thought it would affect things between you and I, you're wrong. I'm a big boy. I know how to share." WHAT? WHAT? WHAT. Anyways I would 100% recommend romancing him I see no flags if they are any, red is my favorite color. goodnight.

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