#amazing job as always bby

[8aji]

just realized you may have been talking abt the bajifuyu parts and not the crappy animation of the most important scenes (to me) when you sent that ask 😭 i'm sorryy

NO ITS OK !! i was crying for multiple reasons not gonna lie, the animation def being on of them but ngl it did pull a couple of giggles from me bc sigh why couldnt mappa animate this instead 🫠🫠

#one (1) new message 💌 #always yours; shoyoist. #bajifuyu was one of the reasons #then the ending i always cry #LMFAO #takemichi always makes me cry as well idk why #and then my bby hakkai :/// #the vas did an amazing job imo #loves of my life <3

[undercoverpena]

anytime

javier peña x f!reader

summary: “Thank you for coming with me,” you whisper. Nodding, he feels you follow his path—dropping, scorching his face, tracing the place where the hair sits atop his lip. “Anytime, cariño.” “Anytime, really?”

wordcount: 3.1k. warnings: fluff. bestfriends to lovers. banter. reader wears a dress and has a gloss on lips. no physical description. javi calls reader solecito as a nickname only. likely warnings for spelling as i wrote this on my phone. an: huge thanks to @wildemaven for creating this moodboard (pls go show it some love), letting me make a banner from it, and then letting me write this for Javi instead of Frankie. bby, i hope you like this.

Javi had never been good at avoiding challenging situations.

For the longest time, he’s been finding himself in the centre of a whirlwind—whether in Bogotá, Cali or apparently even back home.

You, his friend, best friend—a well-kept secret, tucked away in his chest, not shared with a soul when he was away. You were a thing that he’d clutched close to his chest from the moment the two of you had first gotten close, through his failed engagement and even more so when he left for Colombia. You, in all your understanding, hugging him, telling him he’d be great, amazing, the very best.

Both of you were younger then, less worn down by life, its many obstacles and all the other things.

You best not become best friends with anyone over there, Peña. As if anyone could annoy me as much as you, solecito.

In the brief interim of his return, you hadn’t appeared all that different. You may have had a job, a house—drove a slightly better car than when the two of you were staying out at all hours—but you, at your core remained very much the fucking same.

Still just as understanding, as kind. A person who got him, without really needing to try.

For Javi, the best thing—outside of you being you and the monthly calls you made him promise to keep when he was drowning in murder, drugs and Escobar—is that you never ask him about it. Any of it.

You had always let him pretend, escape, listen to you fill him in on gossip—things such as disagreements over the size of rhubarb and whether someone was having an affair. A thing you did even when he came back. Even more grateful for it then, when he grew tired of the questions, the compliments, the everything.

Its why he didn’t tell you when he would land back in Laredo for good. Just waiting, standing outside your place, leaning against your car as you walk down the street—eyes brushing over him, pausing, before he gets to see that smile. That signature fucking smile.

When he’d left the first time, he remembers how you’d lingered near your car, unwilling to climb into your bright yellow death trap—the entire reason he called you solecito to begin with—wearing the beginnings of that smile even then.

The difference is now he knows that there was something under it. Hidden, held back, kept from him.

It’s why it meant so much to him when he saw it in all its glory, all alight, blooming and somehow healing.

He can’t explain it, but it repairs strands inside of him. Your presence alone continuing to do so when he meets you for lunches, coffees, and late-night drinks. In exchange, he makes you laugh, your head thrown back as he tells you about whatever he did on the ranch—all of it comical, apparently. Because the idea of him, Javier Peña doing ranch work brought tears to your eyes.

“You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous?” you splutter, taking a mouthful of your beer as you narrow your eyes.

Nodding, he leans back into the booth, arm stretched out, picking and picking—the label crumbling from the sweating bottle. “Yeah. Bet you’re upset you don’t get to see me herd cattle and mend fences.”

“Oh, yeah. One-hundred-percent.”

Shrugging, he grins—an easy task with you. A thing that has always been that way, even when he turned up at your door when he couldn’t get married; even when the two of you sat under the stars when he told you about possibly going to Colombia. You still made him grin—even when things weren’t fucking easy at all.

“I’ll add it to my to-do list—visit Peña on the ranch—it’s currently sat under finding a dress, a boyfriend and the will to fucking live.”

Snorting, he traces his bottom lip with his thumb.

Your face scrutinises him, before rolling your eyes. And he just waits—because you always spill eventually.

One. Two. Th—

Fine, you huff, before it unravels from you. How the wedding of your work colleague is close, closer than I thought and you’re tired of attending these things alone, circled like a fucking fish by single sharks.

And he’s listening, taking it in. Trying to not wince at how high-pitched you’ve got as you’ve ranted.

Mainly, Javi finds there’s more questions rising than answers provided.

One singular one rising to the top. A thing he’s wanted to ask for the last few weeks. Not in a rude way, or in the way it burns inside his chest when he talks to you on the phone and he has to bury it. But, it’s there, bubbling, wishing to escape and know. It's even louder when the two of you are like this, crammed in a space, laughing, smiling, sharing, wondering—

Why are you even single? How are you?

You’ve mentioned people—names, here and there when the two of you had been on the phone. Them fluttering out before you can pull them back, but then they’re forgotten. Javi, I get one call a month—let me tell you about the cattle war going off. And, in a way, he didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to know, so he never asked.

Now, it’s all he wants to ask.

Because you’re… you. You’re brilliant, beautiful—funny, clever, witty. And yet—

“—so, now it’s a week out, and I need to find a dress, a date and drive there to watch another person I know get married.”

He knows he should busy his mouth with the bottle—wrap his odd idea in beer. But, that part of him—the one which wants to help, solve issues, and be useful—rises up in him like a phoenix left from the ashes of Colombia.

“I’ll go with you.”

He expects the pause, even braces for the look of shock.

He doesn’t expect the smirk. Doesn’t expect the way it spreads out, to hit your eyes. How under the low-bar light over the table, it makes your eyes glimmer and fucking shimmer.

“You want to go to a wedding with me?”

Shrugging, he picks off the last part of the label—the mess of it all circling around where the glass meets the wood.

Mirroring him, you shrug. “Alright.”

“Alright.”

He should take his eyes off you, but he finds he can’t.

Javi hasn’t been able to since you stepped out of your place, a handful of your dress as you locked up—stepping down your steps to his car, letting it flutter down to your ankles.

You look like a fucking dream.

A thought he knows he shouldn’t have—but has all the same. His heart staggered, half-halting in its hammering as his hands paused in their drumming on the steering wheel; his glasses slid down his nose, his skin suddenly warm all over, even if his jacket was already splayed out across the backseat.

Close your mouth, Peña.

I’m chewing gum, solecito.

Yeah, that’s why your mouth is open.

It hadn’t passed his notice that you were good-looking before today. He’s known you were, had always known it—he had eyes, after all. But, he’d always felt there was a line. A line the two of you never delved too close to step over. The sign above both of your heads already illuminated in bright bulbs and flashing lights:

JUST FRIENDS.

Until this, anyway. This thing that can only be described as the longest one-hour drive he’s ever been on. And he used to do recon with Murphy.

Because you’re teasing, taunting him. All in that usual way that you do. And it’s so easy to flirt back, to let line after line roll, but he has begun to spot you squirming.

Doing so while matching his suit in a deep brown shade—chosen by him, ‘pick a colour suit, Javi’. Adding a tinge to some of your comments—things that if said by someone that wasn’t you, he’d ask them (flirtingly) if they were coming on to him.

But with you, it’s something he can never be sure. Never something that can be completely understood, known, cracked or figured out. In the same way, he can’t understand how your perfume keeps following him. How it embeds itself into the cabin of his truck when he picks you up, sews itself into his clothing when the two of you meet—and right now, is attempting to bury itself in his skin, muscles, and bones.

“You’ve been abnormally quiet.”

Smirking, he snorts. Fingers smoothing out his hair as he swings into a spot—the tyres crunching over the gravel. “Have I? Or have you just not shut up.”

“Rude.”

Laughing, he cuts the engine—hands resting on the top of his thighs, not missing the way your eyes follow his movements before clearing your throat. It shifts something in him, makes a little part of him surge, like the smallest of fireworks suddenly erupting in his chest.

Something he forces himself to shut down the moment you shove open your door, slipping out, as he grabs his jacket.

“Do I need to be worried about you crying today, solecito?”

Rearranging your dress, and slipping the strap of your bag over your shoulder, you squint as you stand tall, hand covering your brow as you meet his gaze.

And fuck, with this backdrop, even squinting, you look beautiful, radiant, stunning all over again. Somehow his brain having forgotten when you were next to him, when you were acting as if this was the most normal fucking thing they’ve ever done.

It isn’t.

Something he’s becoming more aware of as his throat goes dry, and his thoughts slow to nothing—

“No, you’re good. Your mouth is open again.”

You say it with a smirk, all teasing—making heat lick up his spine all over again. And, if you were anyone else, he’d have already pulled you close, tilted your chin up, and likely smothered your mouth with his.

But, you’re his friend—his best friend. The one solid thing he’s had in his life since he became a name, a poster, a hero.

“C’mon,” you say, turning on your heel as you head in the direction of the entrance, him following, jacket slipping on as he mutters mouth isn’t fucking open under his breath.

Even if he knows it was. Even if he’s desperately trying to stop his eyes from descending down to your hips, eyes fixated on the way you walk with ease to the wooden sign which greets all the guests.

He knows, due to his absence from home, there haven’t been many weddings he’s attended. Least of all like this. But even he thinks this is over the top, suddenly understanding why you hadn’t wanted to come alone. Because grand doesn’t quite cover it—not after the last one he’d attended.

This one has flickering candles lit in the day, waiters all set to hand glasses of bubbles and offer little mouthfuls of flavour on silver trays. Then, there’s the backdrop—the enormity of the building, only for you to tell him that it’s an outside wedding.

It’s more of a comfort as to why his hand drops to the small of your back than anything else. A need to be rooted, to feel calmer as he nods at passing people he doesn’t know (and hopes don’t know him), feeling you curl into him subconsciously, your bag swinging between the two of you both—affording a gap, forcing it, in fact.

The ceremony will start soon.

He overhears it, as he assumes you do, because your fingers wrap around his wrist—taking it from your back, before your palm meets his, and then you’re guiding, leading. Dragging him. All willingly to the back of the building where he sees it—the makeshift aisle. A wooden arch, and lots of deep orange-brown chairs all line up on either side of an orange aisle.

“Glad we chose brown now,” he murmurs.

“Does it make you think, y’know—being at a wedding?”

He swallows. Because it’s a loaded question.

One he assumes has been sitting all politely on the tip of your tongue since you sat beside him in his vehicle. It’s why his eyes watch you carefully as you grab the two of them a flute each from a passing waiter. Handing it to him, adding nothing—not rescuing him. Just waiting instead, doing that thing you do, where your eyes widen as you wait, trying to look all innocent even though it’s you who has just dropped a live grenade into the centre of the conversation.

Shaking his head, he snorts. “No. Not really. Knew… I knew deep down it wasn’t right. Her… and me.”

“You got any idea what’s right?”

You take a sip this time when the question lands, it again sparkling in glittered innocence, the softest of smiles pressed against the glass.

You he thinks. But he swallows that away and says ‘Not a fucking clue’ instead.

Throughout the day, he’s been desperate for a reason to stop looking at you.

So far, he’s found none.

Bits and pieces of things Murphy used to say, the words he’d drop into conversation when talking about his wife: how he knew, why she was the one, all coming back to him in drips and drops.

It dawns on him, the same as it had done since before he went to Cali, that you might mean a little more than a friend. A lot of what Murphy used to say, so easily applied to how Javi felt about you.

You make him feel calmer, create a space where he can relax, really unwind. It’s easy, uncomplicated, when he’s with you—from the conversation to the things he thinks. Complex balled thoughts stretch out until they’re in easy-to-decipher lines, able to process, able to understand.

He even told you about the boats.

A secret he’d have been prepared to take to the grave, if not for the fact you pointed out he wasn’t sleeping. Your eyes watching, pleading, don’t lie to me. And fuck, he couldn’t—not even if he wanted to.

That should have been the first sign.

He guesses he should be thankful today has been stuffed with more of them. One after the other. From the way you made sure to make him a plate of only his favourite things, to the way you knew when he needed a bit of space from the thousand questions as to how you both knew one another, and what he does.

Now, Javi is on the sidelines, admiring you in a way that makes his heart double in size.

Your dress skims around your calves as you dance—your arms rising above your head, glee stitched itself from cheek to cheek. On occasion, time halts when your eyes land on his—stealing whatever thought he had, only resuming normality when you close your eyes, belting out the lyrics to the song.

Mainly, the thought he finds which keeps returning is: I wanna do this with you again. any place. any time.

A hollowness scratches out in his chest as he lets himself acknowledge it. A thickness growing in his throat, a sorrowness weighs down on his shoulders as he nurses his glass—hand in his trouser pocket, telling himself he should be content he got to be on your arm, got to have you against him during a slow dance over an hour ago. That he gets to see you smile, hear your laugh—even know you.

“Hey, Peña.”

“Hey solecito.”

You grin—a little breathless, the music having changed, becoming slower, softer—wrenching the glass from his hand as you drain it.

“Fuck me. Y’thirsty?”

“Very. You’d know if you had any rhythm.”

He pinches you, lightly—teasingly. Your grin shifts into a laugh, tucking yourself in against him, arm around his back. And fuck, the way you’re looking up at him, he wants to warn you.

If you look at me like that, I’m going to kiss you.

Javi wonders what you’d do if you did. Whether you’d pull away, hissing the two of you are friends. Or whether you’d kiss him back.

“Want to get some fresh air?” you ask, your words against his ear—lips so close to ghosting his skin.

“Sure.”

It’s cooler when the two of you step out from under the marquee, the music getting quieter when your fingers loop in his, guiding, easing him around plant pots and tall trees, until the two of you are descending marble stairs and past iron fencing, to take him to the perimeter, to the view looking out over the city.

He watches as you step forward, fingers around the iron fencing, leaning, staring out as you let out a heavy sigh. One laced with things he wants to ask for, tug it from you, let you unload whatever is weighing on you—because that’s what you both do for one another.

You make it easy.

Make it all bearable.

But, whether you mean to, or not, you shiver. A light one, barely noticeable by most—but he isn’t most. His fingers are already at the button, undoing it, sliding his jacket down his arms before he places it over your shoulders, watching your head turn, meeting his gaze.

“You look really pretty.”

Flicking your eyes down, you smile. Sweetly. Unreadably. “Well, you’ve always been pretty.”

“Pretty?”

Laughing, your fingers tug his jacket closer, burying yourself in it. “The prettiest, Javier.”

Leaning beside you, he feels the metal from the railings, you’re both resting on, cut into his palms. He wonders if you feel the same, your dress billowing in the gentle breeze as the two of you stare off into the distance, spotting the flickering lights of a city, of homes tucking in for the night.

Then he turns his head, finding you already watching him, studying him in a similar way as you were before.

And, he lets his eyes drop to your mouth. A sign. A signal. It’s not the first time, usually, he does so when you’re not looking, letting himself trace the curve of your lips. Now, he stares at the way your gloss has long since gone, left behind on glasses and straws.

“Thank you for coming with me,” you whisper.

Nodding, he feels you follow his path—dropping, scorching his face, tracing where the hair sits atop his lip.

“Anytime, cariño.”

“Anytime, really?”

Nodding, he swallows. A thousand things he’s thought, and felt, all rushing to the surface—unwilling to bury itself, to descend under the usual guilt and feelings of inadequacies when it comes to you.

“I’d do anything for you.”

Smirking, you tilt your head. “Anything?”

Biting your lip, he feels it—something thrumming in him, being plucked.

“Will you kiss me?”

“I could…”

Your brows rise, a louder cheer coming from inside, but it doesn’t do anything to tear your eyes away from the other.

The whole world could slowly vanish from around the two of you, and all he’d want is just to stare at you.

“But?” you ask, delicately.

Almost so softly, it makes his chest ache.

Dipping his head, he lets his gaze wash over the place again—the rolling land, the trees, the houses in the distance.

“If I kiss you, I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

You slide closer, shoulder to shoulder, eyes scorching his jaw, his neck, the side profile he can feel you tracing with your gaze.

“Then don’t,” you say.

His neck almost cracks with the quickness of his movement, his eyes scanning, reading, a part of him wanting to step back, and protect you. Because he’s not sure about the parts of him you’d find easy to love—

“You don’t know what you’re—“

“Don’t care,” you interrupt, fingers twitching on the lapel of his jacket. “I know you—Javi, not Agent Peña. I know the boy who cloud-watched with me when my parents wouldn’t stop fighting; I know the man who told me to stop sending him postcards from the town shop—but also whispered that he liked them.”

Snorting, he smiles.

“So, if you want to, no pressure—but, I think you should kiss me.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, you bite your cheek. “Think you’ve wasted a lot of time not kissing me already, honestly.”

Of course you do, he thinks. And then he kisses you, palms on your cheeks, slanting his mouth over yours.

And fuck, it’s the best fucking thing he’s ever done.

an: honestly, this made me so fucking happy to write.

#javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction #pedrostories #mm: late night texts #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic

[imliterallyellie]

just saw your post about wanting prompts 👀 how about something sweet and fluffy (feel free to add smut if you wanna though, cause lord knows i’d never reject it) featuring ellie with a reader whose top love languages are acts of service and/or gift-giving? maybe reader knits her something super soft? or anything along those lines. thank you bby MWAH 💕

is this thing on? 🎤

you give ellie a gift on your first date

a/n short... and sweet... but cut me some slack. my first bit of writing since my exams, i need to get back into it!!!!

your first date with ellie had been amazing so far. the picnic you had assembled with all of her favorite things was great. it was the perfect occasion to enjoy each other, some food, drinks and the final bits of sunshine that fall was shining upon your town. ellie looked great. she always did, but it was clear that she put effort in her outfit today. a new-ish looking cream colored tank top with a brown flannel draped over it, paired with black cargo pants and her – as always – worn-out black converse. she looked good, very good even. her hair was still a bit damp. you thought it was cute, and you swore that she had cut it a bit shorter since the last time you saw her.

after a couple of hours soaking in her company and the rays of sunshine you decided it was best to start heading back. it was getting rather dark, so ellie was adamant on walking you home. you talked about everything and nothing, just enjoying the last couple moments you had with her before you had to call an end to your day together. you arrived back home and opened your door, but remained on the doorstep to say goodbye to ellie first.

“i had a real fun time, y’know. i guess you’re not that bad after all.” you rolled your eyes and shook your head, placing the picnic basket that you had been carrying on your way back between your legs. you sigh exaggeratedly before playing along. “you’re insatiable, ellie williams. is this how you thank a girl for taking you out on a date and preparing a picnic basket for you?” she looked down and tried to hide the little blush that crept up her neck at your words.

you flicked her ear, “i’m just kidding, loser. you’re not that bad either i guess- oh! before i forget… stay here for a second.”

you rushed upstairs to your room, rummaging around in your desk drawers to see where you had left the little present you made ellie. you had recently been getting into crocheting and took the hint when ellie sent you a video of someone making a crochet dinosaur. it aligned perfectly with your gift-giving love language, you were happiest when you could make someone else happy by giving them something.

you finally found the little dinosaur in your bottom drawer underneath some shirts, probably having thrown it there to make sure she wouldn’t find it if she ever opened that drawer. you walked back down the stairs and opened the door again, now facing your date with one hand held behind your back.

“what’ya got there?” “a surprise, close your eyes and put your hands in front of you.”

that’s what ellie did, she seemed a bit skeptical at first but did so nonetheless, and you placed the little dinosaur in her hands. “okay, it’s not much, but you’ve made it rather clear that you wanted this. open your eyes, els.”

“shut up, this is so fucking cute y/n.” the wide smile that crept on her face was worth all the hours you put into the little animal. while she was thoroughly inspecting the little green dinosaur, you couldn’t help but notice how soft her lips looked. they were slightly chapped, as they always were, but still seemed so kissable. she was mumbling away about how you had done a good job with proportion but you weren’t invested in what she was saying.

“can i kiss you?” “hmm?” “i asked if i could kiss you, ellie.”

whatever nerdy dinosaur fact she was sharing now long forgotten, her arms pulling you in by your waist while yours circled around her neck. you leaned in closer, leaving the last couple inches for ellie to close.

you were right. despite being a little chapped, her lips were still incredibly soft. you moved in unison, your lips speaking a language that seemed to have been discovered the second they touched. ellie pulled you impossibly closer to her, soaking in your body warmth, until you had to pull away to catch your breath. 

you rested your forehead against hers, giggling softly when you realized you had just, finally, got to kiss your best friend. “you have no clue how long i have wanted to do this for, els.” she chuckled and pressed another kiss against your lips, addicted to the fluttering feel in her stomach.

“i better get going, mum expects me back for dinner. thank you for today y/n. thank you for the picnic and thank you for the dinosaur.” she points her finger between you two, “and thank you for this.”

your cheeks hurt from smiling, but you couldn’t care less. you pressed a couple more kisses against ellie’s lips before finally letting go of her, with the promise of seeing her at school tomorrow.

ellie loved the little dinosaur. she got home and immediately went up to her bedroom, placing the little green animal on her nightstand, next to the polaroid of you both at one of her football games last year.

she pressed a kiss on it’s head every night before she went to bed, feeling like she was also kissing a little bit of you goodnight.

photos: ultraviolentromantic/pinterest & cinemaconrad/pinterest (we are respectful in this house and we credit creators)

#not proofread as usual #is this thing on? #torlex speaking 🌿 #ellie williams x reader #the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams smut

[the-boy-meets-evil]

with the band | ksy

pairing: drummer!soonyoung x journalist!f!reader genre: 70s!au, band!au, fluff, smut, tiny bit of angstsummary: you’re fresh out of college with big dreams about changing the world with your words on a page. The last thing you expect is to end up covering a tour and you certainly don’t expect to fight falling for the drummer. rating: explicit, minors dni word count: ~8.2k (i literally don't know, don't @ me, it was supposed to be short) warnings: brief mention of drinking, brief mention of assumed infidelity (not actual), reader mentions difficulties of male dominated profession and being a woman, 1 mention of drinking, explicit smut: kissing, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do this), multiple orgasms, oral sex (f. receiving), briefest handjob/blowjob, reader is a little obsessed with hoshi's arms, hoshi picks reader up 1 time, idk i think that's it

a/n: this is for @svthub's 70s;teen collab and i'm so thankful that i got to take part in it. make sure you check out all the other amazing fics here! also a massive thank you to my bby indi @classicscreations for another last minute banner with minimal info from me. ily. (this is unbeta'd because i finished it late sorry!)

When you went to school, you had all these big dreams. It’s easier for women to get an education now, universities that had been single sex are going co-ed, and women are allowed to have ideas. You feel excited about your future. You’re going to change the world. At least, that’s what you think.

Before you know it, graduation is around the corner and it’s time to try to find a job with your journalism degree. While you’ve become a standout contributor at your school paper, this is entirely different. Your big dreams start to feel a little deflated. Sure, you can get a job at a big newspaper, like you’ve always wanted, you just have to be fine with being the assistant to someone else. Getting their coffee and lunch orders, handling their schedule, fetching dry cleaning. And it’s not that you mind paying your dues, you don’t. You know that you’re going to have to work your ass off just to get that chance. But you’re not sure you can take the chance of getting boxed into being someone’s assistant. Close enough to get a hint of the story while never actually writing it yourself.

As you’re about to take one of the positions you’re so opposed to, you happen to get to know someone from the infamous Rolling Stone magazine. It’s not really your style, the whole sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll scene. You don’t feel like you know more than the average person when it comes to music. Music is great, you like it, and you’ve covered the occasional show for your school paper. It’s just not where you feel comfortable. However, as your new contact points out, they’re more than music. They’re culture and politics and just the heartbeat of the country. So, okay, why not take a shot? The worst that happens is they say no and you still have the papers to fall back on.

You don’t need to fall back. They like your writing at Rolling Stone, like your perspective. They like your honesty most of all, that sticks out. Someone tells you that they can tell exactly what you think about something and it’s exactly what they’re looking for. Maybe later, you’ll look back and wonder if this was really the right fit. If you knew what you were getting into. All you can do when you get the offer is say yes. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime, you tell yourself, to actually get to say something right away. Who cares what you’re talking about? If there’s one thing you know how to do, it’s form an opinion. 

Several months into the job, you actually like it a lot more than you expected you would. Yeah, there’s a lot of partying, a lot of drinking, a lot of other things you’re not going to mention. But, the world is changing and you want to be there for it. 

As much as you initially expected to join Rolling Stone for the culture and political pieces, you’ve written just as many pieces about music. There’s a human element to it that draws you in, a commentary on the artists and what they’re trying to say. You don’t think twice when your boss assigns you to cover a show in the area. A big group is headlining, something you know will draw everyone out, but your boss wants you to pay attention to the other acts. Find out if there’s a story.

You’re somewhere in an open staff room before the show, taking time to catch up with people you know through work, through other shows, just from being around the area. It’s there that you hear the commotion outside the room. It sounds like a group of girls reacting to someone, probably one of the musicians. Seconds later, the musician in question opens the door, smiling softly over his shoulder and calling out a string of thank yous before heading around the corner.

It’s familiar with the shows you’ve covered. He’s hiding out from the fans that hang around and try to get closer to them. Some of them are familiar with the staff, both for the groups and the venues, though, and they come and go as they please. He seems to realize this and rushes over to your table, sits down in an empty seat and tries to look like he belongs.

“What’s the low down?” he asks without preamble. 

You’re caught off guard for a lot of reasons. The first is that you have no idea who this man, with his short hair and denim shirt actually is. He looks like a musician, probably could be a member of one of the other, smaller groups playing tonight. He seems like he’s probably in his mid-20s. But you don’t know him. The second reason is that you’re not really sure what he’s asking.

“With what?” you finally ask.

“The group of girls hanging around outside,” he supplies. Of course.

“This your first show or something?” you ask.

“Not exactly,” he says. “I mostly did studio work until I replaced the guy before me in Moonwalker. They needed a new drummer.”

“I’m sure you had plenty of girls hanging around the studio,” you say. 

“Including you?” he wonders. “I’m Soonyoung, by the way.”

You give him your name in return. “And no, I write for Rolling Stone.”

That catches his interest in the way it always does with musicians. They all want to be in the magazine, want to know they’ve made it. Just as many want to make sure whatever’s published about them is positive, paints them in a good light. It’s why your boss has always stressed to remember the musicians aren’t your friends. That’s never been an issue for you, so you’ll continue to chat with Soonyoung. Try to see if his band might be the one you pitch to your boss. 

He wants to keep talking, you can tell, but a man that looks like a manager pops his head into the room. Once his eyes land on Soonyoung, he’s calling him away. The rest of the band is going over something pre-show and they need him. Soonyoung looks back at you.

“Catch ya later?” Soonyoung asks it as a question instead of making it a statement.

“Maybe,” you answer, noncommittal. 

The next day at work you fill your boss in about the show and pitch Moonwalker for a feature. They’re young and hungry, saying a lot with their music, and there were almost as many fans there to see them as there were to see the headliner. Culturally and musically, they’re relevant. If you can get the jump on this story, you might even be able to beat out the competition. Which is always a gamble. You don’t have some magic 8 ball telling you if these guys are the real deal. 

After your boss loops in a couple of the big music guys at the magazine, he agrees that you can try to get the story. If the band will let you go to the next several stops, and actually answer your questions, your boss will sign off on it. Well, you have to stay on top of your other assignments too, but you assure him that won’t be an issue. 

Three days later you’re headed to your first stop on the tour. Their manager had initially been skeptical, but called back a few hours after the pitch. Apparently Soonyoung had asked if it would be you doing the story, said you seemed cool, and the rest of the band was eager for the exposure. So you packed your bags and got on the next bus out to meet them on their tour. From there, you would be traveling with the band. That had also come with the warning from your boss and colleagues, a reminder that the guys in the band weren’t your friends and the women who traveled with them were even less so. Not that it was news to you. 

(And not that you’re thinking about the phone call you got after work that night.

“Hello?” You’re balancing the phone against your ear as you sort through some recent mail.

“Hey! This is Soonyoung!” comes a cheery voice on the other end.

“Oh, uh, hi,” you say. “How did you get my number?”

“My manager called the magazine for a couple last minute questions and they gave him this number,” Soonyoung answers.

You’re wondering why your boss, always worrying about keeping those lines firmly in place, gave out your personal number. But that’s an issue for another day. 

“So you’re hitting the road,” Soonyoung carries on. “You must’ve been into our sound.”

“You’re different and the crowd seemed to dig it,” you say.

“Can’t wait to catch you on the trail,” Soonyoung finishes.)

The band is funny to be around, you think. It’s a little like herding children at times, even though they’re a few years older than you. But their attention is constantly somewhere and rarely on the question you’re asking. Which should be frustrating, except that Soonyoung is always looking over at you with an apology in his eyes. Always filling in every answer that he can with this band he’s gotten used to at light speed. 

You do get your answers, though. Answers about everything from how the band got together to where they see themselves going to what they think about where the country is headed. In between the booze and the women and the drugs, you’re able to piece together who this group actually is and what they’re about. The more you learn, the more you want to learn. The more you relate to the things they’re saying. For the first time in your career, you’re actually wondering if you can capture the energy of this band when you put it to paper. Can you capture the way they vibe together? Can you capture the way the singer mesmerizes an entire crowd? Can you capture the way Soonyoung goes from smiling and happy to laser focused on stage? There’s magic in seeing them perform live.

There’s also the small matter of getting too close to them. Or to one of them in particular. From the beginning you knew that Soonyoung would be a problem. He’s too loud and he’s not all that smooth, but there’s a real tenderness to him. There’s a softness to his approach that you weren’t quite expecting. The first time he invites you to hang out with the band after a show, you ignore it. It’s easy. You’re thinking of the advice from your boss and your coworkers. The second and third times are easy too. Well, easy enough. You say no and go back to your room to work on notes for the story.

Except, that’s when it changes. You get on the phone with your boss, tell me how much bigger the story is becoming than you ever anticipated. There’s so much more than just the band, from the backgrounds of the members, to the lyrics of their songs, to where they see themselves heading. Three members, including Soonyoung, are the children of immigrants in this country. Where you expect push back from your boss, instead you’re met with agreement. Stay on the road, you’ve been on top of your assignments. He’ll give you more words for the piece you’re writing. Just carry on, he loves all the notes and ideas he’s seen so far. 

It’s exactly what you’re hoping for and yet there’s still a feeling in the pit of your stomach like things are about to change. Not because this is a big article, though it is. You’ve never been given more than a thousand words and you have three thousand now. It’s more than just a chance. Yet you’re still unsettled about something. 

It’s another day. Another set of pre-show questions, a depth to each band members’ background, an insight in the process of writing songs, even a little bit of a look into why each of them got into music in the first place. The leader of the band and the manager are more reserved, concerned with how the group will come across when you write this article. They’re always asking what you’ll say or if they can see the article before it comes out. 

Your answer is always the same: no. But, you assure them that you’re not in this to ruin their careers. What would be the point? Who would want to answer your questions moving forward? You just want to paint an honest picture of what they’re like and what they’re about. 

Post show is the same song and dance as always. Soonyoung asks for you to come by their routine after-party. You see the way some of the other hangers-on watch for your answer, seem annoyed that he’s asking yet again when you’ve said no every other time. You say no, like every other time, and watch the smiles that form instantly on the faces of those who drag Soonyoung off. His eyes stay on you even after you turn around to head to your room. 

That’s where the similarities stop. You’re reading over your notes at the desk in your dingy hotel room. It’s far too late and the lighting is awful, but you want to make sure you get it all down before you forget. You also want to test out a few sentences or even passages to send back to your boss. The article really has taken shape in your head and you’re excited to actually write it.

A knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts about word choice. You figure it’s probably just some drunk person looking for the band and getting the room wrong. Or looking for friends after the show. It’s not like that would be the first time. So you don’t consider that you’re not really dressed for company.

“Hey,” from a voice that’s entirely too familiar. 

There’s a moment when you’re both just looking at each other. You’re trying to figure out what he’s doing here and why he doesn’t seem drunk. He’s taking in your open bathroom over your nightgown. After another moment, you pull the bathrobe closed, definitely too late by the smirk playing on Soonyoung’s mouth. 

“Uh, what are you doing here?” you ask after clearing your throat.

“I wanted to see what was so important that kept you from hanging with us,” Soonyoung answers. “‘M I interrupting something?” 

“Yes, actually,” you say before you can think better.

“Really?” he challenges.

“I was writing,” you rush out. “I don’t have my typewriter here but I’ve been putting passages together.”

“And that couldn’t wait til morning to hang out with us? See what we’re like outside of the venue?” Soonyoung presses.

“I’ve seen you outside the venues,” you argue. “And it’s not that it’s keeping me from hanging out with you.”

“Then what is?” he asks. 

“We’re not friends, Soonyoung, and you’ve got plenty of people to keep you distracted,” you offer with an eye roll.

“They’re not that distracting…or entertaining,” he says and you actually laugh. 

“They’ll be heartbroken,” you muse.

“Let me come in for a drink,” Soonyoung presses. “It’s rude to leave company in the hall.”

“I don’t have anything to drink,” you say, almost regretful.

“I do,” Soonyoung says, holding up a six pack.

This is dumb, a terrible idea. It’s exactly what your boss warned you about. But you step to the side anyway and let Soonyoung walk around you. With a look down the hallway to confirm nobody saw him, you close the door.  

“What are you doing here, really?” you ask.

Soonyoung settles on the edge of the bed and opens one of the beers. He holds one out to you and you take it. He’s already inside the room, might as well appreciate something free to drink.

“I don’t know, I like being around you. There’s more to you than most of the people that hang around the band,” Soonyoung says.

“That’s because I’m not just hanging around the band. I’m here working,” you reason.

“And that means you can’t have fun?” Soonyoung wonders.

“I am having fun,” you disagree. 

“You know what I mean,” he says, not letting you get away with it. You hesitate, unsure where to go from here. “You don’t have to tell me, but I’m interested in you. I want to actually know you in the way you’re getting to know us. I’m laying myself bare and you don’t have to do the same, I just want to know you.”

Which is fair, isn’t it? Of all the band members, Soonyoung has been the most open, the most honest about who he is, what he’s about, and where he wants to go. So you make the decision you probably always were going to make. You sit down on the bed next to him, instead of leaving space by sitting in the chair, and you start to tell him who you are. Nothing feels off limits from your struggles in a male-dominated field to your family life to your past relationships. To his credit, he’s a good listener. His face is so expressive and open that you find yourself saying more than you have to anyone in ages. 

As you continue to talk, your beers sit largely untouched. Soonyoung’s taken a few sips, but mostly his eyes have been focused on you, like he’s looking for the things your face is saying that your words aren’t. Somewhere it progresses from you talking about who you are to the two of you talking about anything that comes up. It’s not a level of comfort you were ever expecting to feel in a place like this. It’s also really difficult to remember what your boss said.

“So we’re not friends, huh?” Soonyoung asks during a lull.

“Oh, well…” you stutter.

He laughs. “Luckily I’m not so easily scared off.”

“It’s just, my boss…well he warned me not to get too close to you,” you admit.

“Me specifically?” Soonyoung asks.

“No, the band as a whole,” you answer without meeting his eyes. 

You start when Soonyoung’s finger lifts your chin up to meet his eyes. It’s hard to meet them when you feel like he sees through you. “I think you seem smart enough to make that call for yourself, don’t you?” 

All you can do is nod. That seems to make him happy. You feel more exposed though, more raw. Even more so when you remember that you’re only in your nightgown and bathrobe. Without even realizing it, you pull the bathrobe closed again.

“Do you want me to go?” Soonyoung’s voice is quiet, not a whisper but deep with something else. The entire mood shifts. 

You shake your head immediately. This time it’s not enough.

“I need to hear you,” he says.

“No, Soonyoung, I don’t want you to go,” you say quietly. 

His fingers are on your chin again, soft enough that you could pull away if you wanted to. Which you don’t. His voice is still low, thick with something you now realize is desire. It’s the same feeling you got when you extended your trip following Moonwalker on the road. And it’s definitely trouble. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, voice gentle like he has to be careful with you. 

You nod again before considering if he needs to hear you. He doesn’t. Not this time. His lips meet yours gently, so soft like he’s not really sure it’s happening. Like he’s worried this is all a dream. You’re kind of worried about that too, but you’re not sure if it would be better that way. If this should all just be something you’re dreaming up instead of something that’s actually happening. 

It’s not enough, you open your mouth and he takes it as an invitation almost immediately. The kiss deepens, becomes a little more insistent and a little more desperate. He’s testing the waters at the same time. One hand rests on your bare thigh and the other slides up your neck into your hair, anchoring you to his mouth. You gasp a bit at the firmness. It’s a different side to him than you’ve seen. Well, except when he’s on stage. He’s just as focused then as he is now. 

But it’s not quite enough and you’re not really sure what makes you adjust. You’ve never really been someone to be forward, not like this. So you’re not really sure why you readjust to straddle his lap. Not that he’s complaining. His groan is low, from the back of his throat, as you settle on top of him. For a moment, you’re aware that you’re still just in your nightgown. 

Until Soonyoung’s hands run along the bare skin of your thighs and you shiver under his touch. Until his fingers dig into your skin, just hard enough to anchor you but not so hard it’ll leave marks. Until your own fingers find their purchase in Soonyoung’s hair, shorter than you’re used to on men, yet perfect for him. You’re not used to straddling someone like this either, so you try not to move too much. Except when you need to adjust because your knees aren’t comfortable as they’re digging into the mattress. That single movement drags your core across his lap and pulls a deep groan from him. You can feel him hardening when he jerks his hips up into you.

Soonyoung moves one hand up your back, underneath the nightgown so his fingers are on your skin. His other hand holds the back of your head so you can’t stop kissing him. Then he’s leaning back onto the bed, bringing you with him so that now you’re on top of him. You feel a little out of your element like this, not entirely used to being the one in control. Even if the control is an illusion and it really rests with Soonyoung. It’s like he can sense that and wraps his strong arms around you to flip the two of you over. He breaks the kiss only for a moment as he’s hovering over to look down at you. You’re sure you blush under his attention, there’s so much affection. Then you’re kissing again. 

You know where this is heading, know and don’t want to stop it. His hips rut against your core more as the kisses continue to intensify and you want more. Need more than the friction with too much clothing between you. You’re about to pull his shirt off, have your fingers on the hem, when there’s a loud banging on the door. It startles you both from your little bubble. After a second, the banging starts again.

You reluctantly slide out from underneath Soonyoung to go look out the peephole. Something you did not do when he showed up. It’s one of his bandmates. You crack the door open and try to act like you’d been sleeping.

“Hey sorry, we’re looking for Soon, have you seen him?” he asks.

You pretend to yawn and shake your head. “Sorry, been sleeping.”

“Huh, well sorry,” he says and is gone before you can say anything else.

Soonyoung is behind you before the door even closes, wrapping his arms around you and holding you back against his chest. He presses a soft kiss behind your ear, gentle like his first kiss. 

“I should probably go before they come back,” he whispers against your skin.

“About what I said,” you begin, turning around in his arms to face him.

“S’okay, I get it,” he assures you. He places the gentlest kiss on your lips. “I know what you’re dealing with.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

“And maybe we’ll get to continue this,” Soonyoung offers. He sounds like he’s trying to be nonchalant, but his face gives away how badly he wants you to agree.

“God, yes, please,” you respond. You don’t care how you sound when his face lights up. That’s all you need.

The next day has you packing up and heading to the next city. Road days are actually some of your favorite because it’s just you with the people on the bus. It’s a much smaller group than at the venues or at the hotel afterwards. It also gives you a better glimpse into who Moonwalker are outside of the performances. You see how they interact, how they approach conversations, what they do to fill their time.

Of course, now, Soonyoung wants to be around you whenever he can. A fact entirely too obvious to some of the people on the bus. He accepts that you want to keep some amount of distance, doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. The two of you just kind of gravitate together anyway. Whether it’s sitting near each other on the bus or stopping at the same places for food when you stop. Most people seem to write it off as how he’s been with you the entire time. Most don’t realize that you’re seeking him out almost as much now. 

You get enough time without prying ears to let him know that you don’t want to distract him the night before a show. You also know how their manager can be, so you think it’s best for him to be in the bed that he’s supposed to be in. He pouts for a second but understands. You’re trying to keep at least the appearance of separation. 

The day of the next show finds you in the lobby waiting for some coffee and something to eat when a woman breezes in through the open doors. You hate to generalize, but she looks like a lot of the other women that hang around bands, except a little more confident. A little more sure of herself or her position. Maybe she’s someone’s girlfriend. You’re sure that whatever Moonwalker gets up to on the road, at least some of them are in relationships. Not Soonyoung, you’re sure he would’ve mentioned it. 

For some reason, the woman approaches you after speaking to someone at the desk. She’s glamorous up close, for lack of a better way to put it, but maybe not as confident as you’d initially thought.

“Is this where Moonwalker is staying?” she asks without preamble. 

“Uh, yeah,” you answer.

“Oh good, I’ve been looking for Soonyoung and I keep missing his stops,” she says with a smile.

Your stomach drops and you do everything you can not to let your face show how bothered you are. She’s looking for who?

“Soonyoung?” you ask. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to pick up on your distress.

“It’s an unusual name, I know, but he’s the drummer for Moonwalker,” she carries on.

“Uh, I haven’t seen him today,” you offer.

“I wasn’t expecting you had, you’re clearly not a groupie,” she says with a slightly sympathetic smile. You’re not really sure what to do with that. “But he’s staying here?”

“Yeah, they’re staying here,” you confirm. “Who are you?”

“Oh well I’m his…well it’s complicated, but we’re seeing each other,” she says.

“Right,” is all you can muster.

“Who are you?” she asks.

You give your name. “I write for Rolling Stone.”

“You’re a journalist?” She asks the question with all the surprise and disdain of someone that thinks only men can write.

“I am,” you confirm and stand up. “It’s been great speaking, I’m sure Soonyoung will be around soon. They haven’t left for the venue yet.”

You’re off before she can say anything else without coffee or the snack you’d been looking for. Before the tour, you never drank coffee in the afternoons because of the caffeine. Now, you’re staying up much later. 

Once you’re back in your room, you let yourself cry. For so many reasons. For breaking the rule and getting so close to Soonyoung. For allowing yourself to feel something for him. For being stupid enough to think he felt something for you too. For how hard it’s going to be to carry on with this story now that you know who he really is. For having to separate personal from professional. For all the things that could have been. 

You keep your distance from Soonyoung through the rest of the day and the show. He’s visibly confused when you make excuse after excuse to walk away or talk to someone else. But why should he be? Surely the woman ended up finding him after speaking to you and surely she’s waiting somewhere for him. Why should he keep bothering with you? 

It’s not until you’re back in your room post-show that you start to plan your next steps. You’re scheduled to join the band for at least 3 more shows. It’s what you and your boss agreed to. And it was fine, before everything happened with Soonyoung. Could you find a way to convince your boss that you do actually have enough for the article and it’s time to come home? Maybe. You’ll have to start thinking of good reasons.

It’s during this inner monologue that you hear a quiet knock at the door. You know who it’s going to be before you even open the door. Soonyoung stands on the other side looking much more subdued than normal. He looks sad, maybe even hurt.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

His voice sounds just as sad as he looks, which causes anger to flare in you for a moment. What reason does he have to be hurt? But you step aside anyway because this isn’t a conversation to have in the doorway where anyone could overhear.

“What is it?” you ask once you’re both inside. He sits on the edge of your bed and you take the chair at the desk.

“What’s wrong?” he asks in response.

“What do you mean what’s wrong?” you ask louder than you intended.

“Everything was good and we were on the same page, what changed?” Soonyoung asks.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe you having a girlfriend? I met her in the lobby this afternoon, she was looking for you,” you fire back. 

Soonyoung goes quiet. Not like he’s been caught, like he’s confused. Like he doesn’t know what you mean. Then his face changes into one of annoyance. “Do you mean Mary?”

“I’m not sure, Soonyoung, how many girlfriends do you have?” you ask, irritated.

“None,” he insists and then describes the woman from earlier.

“Sounds right, she didn’t mention her name,” you agree. 

Soonyoung huffs out an overly annoyed sigh. “That’s not my girlfriend and again, I do not have a girlfriend…”

“Girlfriend, friend, groupie, whatever,” you dismiss. “I’m not interested in the drama.”

“Neither am I,” Soonyoung insists. You want to believe him. His face is so kind, so honest. But this is why you don’t get involved with the band.

“I want to believe you,” you start.

“Then believe me,” Soonyoung pleads. “Mary used to hang around at the studio I worked at before coming on this tour. I was nice to her, we chatted a couple times, but I never even got her number. I never even went out with her or kissed her or anything. I have no idea why she showed up here.”

“You promise?” you ask. 

Soonyoung is off the bed and coming to kneel before you in a single move. He takes your hands in his, so still and serious. Like nothing else matters. 

“I promise you, there is nothing going on there. The only person I’m interested in getting to know is you,” he says. 

“Soonyoung,” you caution.

“I know, your career, the article, all of it, I get it,” Soonyoung assures you. “I’m willing to take whatever you can give me.”

It’s dumb. You know it’s dumb. And you don’t care because this man in front of you is doing more than you ever expected. So you lean forward to kiss him and feel him smile against your lips. The next second, he hoists you up (you’re thankful for that drummer arm strength) and carries you to the bed. He’s so gentle when he puts you down, so careful to make sure you don’t hit your head on the headboard. 

And then his lips are on yours again, kissing you so fiercely that you lose your breath. His hands wander your body like he’s trying to map every piece of you. Every curve, every spot, every place that makes you shudder. His lips on you are a constant, keeping you grounded in this moment, allowing it to feel like more than a dream. His hands wander up the skirt you wore to the show earlier. You had put off changing for bed beyond removing your stockings and shoes. Now you’re almost thankful for that decision with how your skin erupts into goosebumps under Soonyoung’s touch. 

This time when you reach to remove his shirt, there’s no loud knock to disrupt you. There’s nothing at all to distract you from the beautiful man hovering over you on the bed. It seems ridiculous, now, that you ever thought you could ignore him. Once you get his clothes off, he removes your own, so you’re laying bare on your bed. Everything inside you wants you to cover yourself, unused to anyone taking you in with the attention Soonyoung gives you. But when you go to move your hands to cover yourself, he catches them, places the softest kisses on your knuckles, and lightly puts them over your head. His eyes take your body in like he’s never seen anything better.

“Absolutely beautiful,” he whispers against your skin. “You’re perfect.”

“Look who’s talking,” you manage to reply. 

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks, pulls away so he can look you in your eyes. “It’s okay if you say no.”

“Little late for that,” you chuckle.

“No, it’s not,” he reiterates. 

“I know, Soon,” you say through a smile. “I do want this.” 

It’s all the reassurance that he needs when his lips meet yours again, insistent. One of his hands runs down your body and along your thigh before he separates your legs. It makes you shiver in anticipation. Every part of you longs for him. You know he must realize. He runs one of his fingers between your folds and moans into the kiss with how wet you are. How badly you want him. How ready you are for him. After he does this several more times, you pull away.

“Please,” you beg him. 

You’re expecting him to tease you or to ask you what it is you’re begging for. Instead, he slides one finger inside you and captures your gasp. The kiss doesn’t last nearly long enough before he’s pulling away again, this time to watch your body react to his finger pumping slowly in and out of you. He’s encouraging your moans, muttering praises into your skin, making you feel like nothing else matters. He slides a second finger into you and your back arches at the feeling. He hooks his middle finger inside you and you know you’re going to be done for entirely too soon. 

As his pace quickens, he trails kisses along your neck, your chest, your stomach. You can’t even be self conscious because he doesn’t give you the chance. Just makes you feel better than you’ve ever felt with just his fingers. Your hands tangle in the sheets as you writhe under his attention.

“Soonyoung, please, I’m gonna come,” you whine out. He doesn’t slow, just adds a third finger.

“Then come, baby, I want to watch you come all over my fingers,” he urges.

And that’s, well that’s got you even closer. Never have you had a guy put your own needs above his own like that. He keeps his rhythm steady and it’s all too much, you’re feeling him everywhere and your body is on fire.

“Let go,” he whispers low into your ear.

So you do, you let go and drench his fingers, the release so strong that it takes you a minute to come back down or to realize you feel empty without his fingers. He’s laying on his side next to you and running a hand through your hair to brush it out of your face.

“Oh my god, Soonyoung,” you rasp out.

“Yeah?” he asks and you nod. 

He adjusts his position and you feel his hard length against your hip. You reach a hand down to lightly grip his cock. It’s longer than you were expecting but not too thick. Not entirely intimidating to think about inside of you. 

“You don’t have to…” he starts.

“I want to,” you disagree.

You run your finger over the head, collecting a little of the precum and then run your hand back down. It’s not enough though, so you push yourself up. He follows you with his eyes and readjusts so he’s leaning back against the headboard. You get between his legs and lick a stripe up the underside of his length, watch as he shudders over the briefest touch. You can tell he’s trying to sit back and enjoy it, but he’s sensitive. He must have enjoyed you coming on his fingers more than you realized. 

He lets you tease him, running your tongue along him entirely too slowly, your hand pumping without enough friction. But his desires win out before long.

“I need to be inside of you,” Soonyoung whines. “Please?”

You swallow hard and nod. “Yes, oh my god.”

Before you even realize what’s happening, he gathers you up in his arms and lays you down underneath him. He spreads your leg and kisses all the way up from your thigh to your lips, leaving you desperate for more of him when he pulls away. It’s only so he can line himself up at your entrance, though. He eases into you slow enough that you can adjust to the feel of him. And then he’s rolling his hips into you.

You’re not sure if it’s the build up between the two of you, the realization of your feelings when you met the woman claiming to be his girlfriend, or what, but everything just feels…better. The stretch is that perfect kind of pleasure and the way he rolls his hips into you is just the right pace. He whispers constant reassurances into your skin and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this safe or whole with someone before. 

He takes his time with you, doesn’t thrust into you too hard or too fast, just wants to savor the moment. You can’t recall your last relationship taking this much care. It’s overwhelming in the best way, in the way that you don’t want it to end.

“I’m so close,” he hisses out too soon. 

“I’m almost there,” you whine out, heading towards your second orgasm of the night.

Soonyoung reaches between you and starts to rub your clit, making you cry out from the sensitivity. In no time, you’re screaming out as you come seconds apart from each other. 

“Wow,” Soonyoung says when he’s caught his breath and laying next to you on the bed. 

“Yeah,” you agree. 

He rolls over onto his side and faces you, looking both incredibly relaxed and impossibly happy. “Are we okay?”

“Oh my god, this is when you ask?” you laugh out.

“Well, I don’t wanna make the wrong assumption!” he defends.

“Yes, we’re good,” you start, “and before you say it, I will talk to you before making assumptions next time.”

“There’s going to be a next time? Do you like me?” Soonyoung asks, all gentle teasing in his voice.

“I am going to kick you out of this room,” you threaten.

You don’t follow through. Not when he wets a towel to come help you clean up or when he offers to get you clothes to wear to bed. Not when he fills up a glass with water for you to drink so you’re not dehydrated. Not when he offers to leave so that people don’t get the wrong idea. Not when you’re pulling him into a kiss and back into bed. Not when you’re talking until you fall asleep tangled up in each other.

The next couple days pass in kind of a blur with traveling and getting settled into the next tour stop. Needless to say, you don’t reach out to your boss about ending your trip early. You do have a conversation with Soonyoung, though, about how it is almost your last stop. He gets it, but he’s not ready to think about it, instead wrapping himself around you and pressing kisses to any part of your body that he can reach. He’s incredibly distracting and you find you don’t really mind. You also don’t mind if he lets his bandmates think there’s something going on with you. None of them seem surprised, which makes you wonder what he said before he won you over. 

After the next show, he doesn’t even pretend to go to the afterparty before coming to see you. He departs from his band and the hangers-on at the entrance to the hotel and comes straight to your room. Just as the two of you planned. And not that you’re expecting anything, but you’re waiting in your nightgown just in case, unable to stop thinking about Soonyoung moaning over being interrupted the first time. 

“Hey…wow,” Soonyoung says when you open the door and he takes you in.

“You were whining about being interrupted the first time,” you offer with a shrug. 

“I was not whining,” he protests, but kisses you anyway when he steps inside. 

“You were and it was cute,” you disagree. Calling Soonyoung cute is a mistake, you realize that the second you see his face.

“You think I’m cute,” he preens.

“I take it back,” you say immediately.

“Nope,” he says and pulls you into him. “Can’t take it back.”

He kisses you hard and deep before you can continue the argument. Not that you’re complaining about it. He moves backwards to sit down on the bed and pulls you onto his lap. Same position, different bed. You’ll still take it. 

“Soon, can I ask you something?” you ask.

“Anything,” he offers.

“Tonight, can you…don’t be gentle with me,” you manage.

“You didn’t like that?” Of course that’s his first worry.

“No, no, it was amazing, completely perfect,” you assure him and he relaxes beneath you. “It’s just…I want…”

“Something else,” he finishes.

You nod and look down, absently playing with the hem of his shirt. “I just, I feel safe with you and I want to try things.” 

Soonyoung lifts your chin with a finger so you can see how much care there is behind his eyes. He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth and then to your lips. 

“I won’t be so gentle with you, then,” he agrees. “But you have to tell me if it’s too much okay?” 

“Okay,” you agree.

And he’s not gentle. He takes his time building up to it, kissing you hard and pulling your lip between his teeth. Pulling off your clothes so you’re naked on his lap. Leaving marks where nobody else will see them. Grinding against your core even though he’s still dressed. Pulling endless moans out of you. Until he flips you onto your bag and pushes your legs open. He’s got his fingers inside you again and it’s nothing like the first time. Nothing like the gentle rhythm. He’s scissoring his fingers and pumping them quickly. He’s using this thumb to rub your clit. The stream of words coming out of your mouth is incomprehensible and you’re sure the people in the rooms on either side can hear you. You’re equally sure you don’t care.

It feels like record time when he’s coaxing your first orgasm out of you. Your whole body is sensitive and the waves continue to ripple through you. It doesn’t even feel like you’ve recovered from the first orgasm when you feel Soonyoung’s tongue run between your folds. He’s spreading your lips with his fingers and lapping into you.

“Soonyoung, fuck, oh my god,” you scream out.

He pops his head up from between your legs just long enough for a single question. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, fuck, please don’t,” you whine out and he’s between your legs again. 

You can’t even see straight but you’re sure that the sight of this man between your legs, tongue working you like he’s starving, is the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. His thumb rubs over your clit again and you arch into him. You move your hand into his hair to anchor him or yourself, you’re not sure. You’re oversensitive and overstimulated, but it’s the best kind of mix of pain and pleasure. There are tears forming in the corners of your eyes and you urge him on, beg him to keep going. 

The second orgasm rips through you even harder than the first and you’re screaming out your praise for him as he guides you through it. Once you come down, you feel him come up next to you and roll towards him. His lips are on yours in the next second and you can taste yourself on his tongue. You think you could kiss him for hours without getting bored or wanting to stop. Yet he pulls away from you entirely too soon. 

There’s confusion on your face as he gets out of the bed (and maybe a little bit of embarrassment that you’ve come twice and he’s still dressed). His eyes are on you as he strips himself out of his clothing before leaning over the bed. If you’re waiting for another kiss, you’re left waiting. He grabs behind your legs and pulls you to the edge. His eyes are full of fire, yet still checking to see if you’re okay. You ease any worries with a quick nod of your head. With that he pulls you up against him and kisses you quickly.

You’re so dazed that you don’t even realize he’s changing your position until you’re leaning over the edge of the bed with your ass in the air. He uses his foot to spread your legs apart so that he can line himself up. Even though you want to watch him, he presses between your shoulder blades so you’re leaning forward as much as possible. And maybe he’s got a point because the feeling of him pressing into you is so much better when you’re not watching him do it. 

This time, he doesn’t wait for you to adjust to him, just immediately snaps his hips into you, burying his cock fully inside on the first thrust. Even though he’s being rougher, his praise is still constant. Still talking you through every moment. When he lifts one of your legs up so your knee is on the edge of the bed, you think you see stars at the new position. He’s hitting you so deep and filling you so completely that you’re not sure how you ever survived without him. Dramatic, you chastise yourself, but you’re a little beyond sex stupid right now. 

His fingers dig into your hips where he holds you in place, keeping up the pace that has your eyes watering yet again. You’re so sensitive and you’re sure you’re not going to come again. Until you feel the orgasm building and the pressure in your tummy. Until his own words become unintelligible, just a string of curses and praise. Until you hear yourself tell him that you’re gonna come again and feel his own release just after yours. 

Your legs feel like jelly as he guides you back into the bed and disappears for a towel. You can hear the water running just before he reappears to clean you up. It’s such a stark contrast from minutes earlier when he’s gentle with you again. It’s way too early to feel anything for him, you remind yourself again, but you also can’t pretend not to feel anything. 

Once he cleans himself up, he gets into the bed and tucks the two of you under the covers without bothering to get dressed. His arms circle you and you feel safe, like this. Wanted and special and right. The kiss he presses to your forehead almost makes you sigh.

“How are you?” he asks softly into your hair.

“Amazing? Perfect? I don’t even know,” you answer.

“But you’re okay,” he presses.

“No, I’m a lot better than okay,” you assure him. He must see your smile. 

“Me too,” he agrees.

You’re not sure what happens next or how you’re going to be able to make this work. Or if it’s even going to work. You’re not sure any of that matters because you have this night and you have Soonyoung, at least for now. Nothing else matters.

thank you for reading, i hope you liked it 💕

#svthub #svthub.collab #kvanity #hoshi fic #hoshi smut #hoshi fluff #soonyoung smut #soonyoung x reader #soonyoung scenarios #soonyoung imagines #soonyoung x you #hoshi imagines #hoshi scenarios #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut

[chilumi-shipper]

Gosh im so fuckimg nervous this is my first time doing this EVER. Im not even sure if you're accepting reqs rn but I'll risk it. Also im in love with the pAIN. It hurts so good. I keep re reading every angst/fluff u write cuz ik they're all worth it OMIGAD oki,

may i req any angst to fluff with my bby man arataki itto?ㅠㅠ I keep looking for any but to no avail then came across your acc, (been rereading ur works for months i feel like a creep holy shiieet) like idk how u do it because I dont have a specific imagine in my mind OMG TF I talk too much okay I'll go

also ily HEHEH ♡╮ ( ´ ▽ ` ) ╭♡

My Favorite Girl

Arataki Itto x Shrine Maiden!Fem!Reader

Summary: You were definitely an odd couple, but it just worked out. Despite his somewhat idiotic attitude and the fact that he doesn't have a stable income, you loved him with all your heart. Although, you can never tell if he feels the same way about you, he definitely loves you, but... will you ever mean more to him than his gang? Will he ever gleefully talk about you like he talks about his deputy? Will he ever fondly think that you are just so amazing, like how he thinks of Kuki Shinobu?

Part 2

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Despite the Arataki Gang's infamous title of being a pretty rowdy and a troublemaking group of idiots, you were quite fond of them, they're a funny group, never failing to make you laugh, they stick by each other, you have to admire that loyalty, and they make your one and oni the person that he is. You have to appreciate that.

No matter the overwhelming differences between you and Itto, it seems that fate has brought the both of you together, it really shocked many of your fellow Shrine Maidens.

You were given the title of "The Arataki Gang's Honorary Maiden", you treasured that title just as much as you did your official title at the Grand Narukami Shrine. Whenever you could, you'd do some ordinary things for the Gang, just like a normal member would, send out flyers for whatever goofy festival or play or event they may be planning on doing, providing them with food and a shelter if they ever get themselves up to some trouble again, which they frequently do, you're the one that Ushi goes to for comfort when he sometimes gets fed up by all the stupidity around him, you're even the person to find if anyone of them manage to find themselves in a cell.

"Y/N!" You hear Itto's energetic voice call for you, though it wasn't only you he managed to get the attention of. As always, he manages to get everyone's attention at the shrine whenever he visits.

As the gang approaches you, all smiles like the usual, (except when their smiles linger with the look of guilt when they need to tell you that they messed something up) you see a familiar girl with green hair walk with them.

"Check it out! An official new member of the Arataki Gang." The way Itto spoke makes it obvious that he's so proud, you understood of course, nobody really wanted to join them before because of their neverending... conflicts.

Their happy expressions were contagious, you also couldn't help but smile. "Oh, I feel like I've seen you from somewhere." You directed your words to the masked girl. She seems to turn flustered scratching the back of her head.

"Yeahhhhh... I was here the other day... with my mother..." When the girl answered, it finally clicked, the other day, a woman and her daughter were arguing there at the shrine, the mother talking about her daughter being a shrine maiden, with a stable income and a good future and all that, whilst the daughter was arguing that the job just wasn't for her.

"Ohh, yeah, I remember now!" You smiled sweetly at the girl, unknowing of the blush that she hid behind her mask when you showed such warmth towards her. "I guess you found your real passion now."

Itto crossed his arms proudly. "That's right! This is Kuki Shinobu! Our new member, just thought I should introduce you two to each other, but now that seems unnecessary." Itto looked at the green haired girl.

"Heh, good thing Shinobu didn't choose to be a boring old Shrine Maiden." Mamoru, one of the members of the gang, stated, instantly getting elbowed by Genta.

"You idiot! Do you know where we are?!"

You took no offense, even laughing at their poor attempt of covering what he said.

"Oh, no offense, Y/N." Mamoru said sheepishly, "We like you! You aren't one of those stick in the mud Shrine Maidens!" Another elbow from Genta stopped him from speaking, as you pretend to be oblivious of the dirty glares they were getting from your co-workers.

"Well, we should definitely be going now!" Itto leaned down a bit, stealing a kiss on your lips as a goodbye. "I'll see you back home." His words were gentler when his forehead is pressed against yours.

"Try not to get arrested again." You whispered back, just as gentle despite the meaning of your words. "Or else I might how to cuddle with Ushi again tonight."

"Not gonna happen." Another kiss and he was off with his gang.

...

...

...

After that... it was like you've been replaced.

Ever so slowly did it show that you were no longer needed in the group. Kuki Shinobu was one amazing addition, so much so that she became a Deputy Leader a week after her arrival.

It seems like you're gently being pushed away, it felt like now that you have a replacement, they don't want you anymore.

You no longer received news about the group, it's like you're not gonna be invited to any more card games and beetle fights and 'festivals'.

At first you understood, you were kinda always busy, you aren't always gonna be there, so it's great that the idiots have someone to have their backs and get them out of trouble when you're not around.

"Where are you going?" You were standing behind Itto, as he was about to leave through the front door. He never mentioned any affairs he had to go to that night.

Itto looked back at you and smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head and said, "I've got some things planned with the gang. Is it okay if I come home late?"

You gulped, looking down a bit. "Y-Yeah, okay, sure." His smile turned bigger, going up to you and giving you a kiss on the cheek.

"Great! Thanks!" He left eagerly, whilst you sighed and tried to endure a wave of disappointment.

You walked to the kitchen, "He forgot..." You felt a tear run down your cheek, your hand quick to wipe it away as you take the pot of Itto's favorite off the stove and transferring a portion for yourself on a plate, the rest you just plan to give away to the nice seniors living next door.

Maybe it was just you that felt off with the changes, feeling bad that you don't get to spend as much time with your beloved as much as you would want to. But then again, that could just be you being overly attached.

Maybe it was just your own insecurities speaking when you see that Itto holds so much adoration for Shinobu, adoration that he has never showed to anyone before.

Maybe it was just your own jealous thoughts taking over when Itto keeps bailing on you and your plans in favor of going with his gang.

And from feeling like you're no longer a part of the Arataki Gang, it went to feeling like you were no longer an important part of Itto's life.

"Shinobu's basically the best gal there is!" He thinks so highly of her, you can't help but let jealousy cloud your mind. You were at the same restaurant they happen to walk into just now.

You knew it was wrong, but you listen in on the group's conversation, "She just got her school certificate from that big shot school in Liyue! We gotta celebrate!" You thought that eating at the restaurant might give you some time to think and feel relaxed, but it would seem like there was just a constant feeling eating at your skin everytime you think about the ever closing relationship between Itto and Shinobu.

"Hey, how about Tuesday next week, boss? I hear that there's gonna be this massive star shower that night."

"It's called a meteor shower, you idiot!"

"Yeah, yeah, that's pretty cool! Remember that nice spot we set up our Drumalong Festival? Let's celebrate there again. I bet we get a clear shot of the beautiful sky there!" Itto suggested as you feel your heart sink a bit.

"It's not like I have anything planned, we can get started getting the things we need to celebrate now." Tears started to burn your eyes, you couldn't help but just look down at your food, feeling devastated about what you heard.

Next Tuesday is your birthday.

You thought that maybe it would be nice to go on a night picnic with him and watch the nice show in the sky, you aren't much for big celebrations with tons of people, heck, you'd rather have Itto bring his gang along, they always makes things fun and entertaining.

You had it all planned out in your head too, you thought that it would make up for all the time that you lost when he would bail on you. You already asked him to join you a few days ago, it seems that he forgot that he agreed.

But at least now, you're absolutely sure of what you are to Itto now.

...You had your great times with him.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"You're leaving?" Itto sounded like a kicked puppy, looking at your back as you pack a portion of your clothes into a bag.

You didn't bother looking at him, continuing to pack as you answered, "Y-Yeah, I have to go to Watatsumi Island for work stuff." You noticed that your voice started trembling, so you kept your answer short.

Itto looked over your shoulder, seeing a big pile of items in your bag. "That's a lot of stuff. Are you staying there for like... a week or something?" He chuckled, though it sounded as if it was in uncertainty, he really hopes you're not gonna be gone that long.

You sniff, you feel that your eyes are a bit sore from crying yourself to sleep the past few days. You felt fatigue, hopelessness, heartbreak, all that just in the span of a few days.

"A month, actually?"

The Oni almost couldn't believe his ears. "W-What? That's so long." He tried laughing a bit to ease a bit of the shock he felt, yet his laugh only came out awkward and confused.

"It's not like you'll notice I'm gone." It was what you wanted to say, however you kept it in.

"A-Alright, when will you be leaving? I can help you haul you stuff to the boat." You zipped up your bag before finally looking back at him.

His eyes narrowed as he looked at your face, it's not the first time these past few days that he didn't notice the tired look in your eyes.

You took something out from your pocket, taking out a purple envelope, you brought Itto's attention to the object.

Today is your birthday the festival in Kuki Shinobu's honor. And today is also the day that special meteor shower will be happening.

He still hasn't realized.

"Hey, isn't that the envelope for our festival. We'll go there together tonight, right?" He smiled sweetly at you, you were gonna miss that pure smile of his.

"Actually..." You sighed, handing him the invitation. "I'm l-leaving tonight, so you don't have to come see me off at the docks." You felt your heart ache as you see his face visible fall.

"O-Ohh..." It was a rare sight, Itto was at a lost for words, and despite your frustrations, your annoyance of being pushed away and being forgotten, you stepped closer to him before leaning down and kissing his forehead. "That soon, huh?"

"...Yeah." You shoved all the negative emotions down, hoping that your long trip to Watatsumi will clear your mind and void you of all the bad feelings you've been getting.

Itto's big arms wrapped around your form, he was sat on the bed as you were standing up, he rested his head on your stomach, feeling his disappointment grow by the second.

And he doesn't know why, but... there's been a part of his subconscious eating away at him all day, like... he's missing something important.

You pull away from the embrace much to your lover's dismay. You caress his face, smiling as he leaned in to your touch. This was actually one of the few moments that you get to spend time with him that isn't just you two getting ready for bed and sleeping.

"This is possibly one of the last moments I'll have with you."

You try not to let your tears spill out, you think that when you leave, he'll finally realize that... he doesn't need you...

A litte Shrine Maiden, boring and dull, in contrast with his exciting and kind of stupid way of living. You start looking back at what people have said about you relationship.

It's just a fever dream, it won't last.

He'll probably get tired of her soon enough.

She's just getting herself into more trouble being with an Oni. Especially that idiotic one.

You've never cared for what people have said about you, but they seem to be proving true right now.

You look into his eyes, smiling before leaning down for a kiss.

"One last kiss... Before I let you go..."

The man before you felt a strange feeling as you kissed him, the kiss was so passionate, yet it seemed full of sadness.

He shook off the weird feeling.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Itto sits at the docks of Ritou, waiting for a boat that would have the love of his life on it. There was a neatly wrapped present beside him, inside contained a beautiful jade necklace he bought with a portion of his saved up mora, along with a letter he poured all his feelings for you onto.

It has been 1 month 2 weeks and 3 days...

You were just a little bit behind on the schedule, he convinced himself. At some point, you'll be waving your hand, greeting him before you even come to the docks. He'll be coming to the docks everyday with the present until the day comes.

He's got a whole apology speech as well! If you got mad at him and chose to take the job at Watatsumi because he forgot your birthday, he has been practicing the words he wants to say to you.

He really misses you.

On your birthday, the meteor shower could apparently be seen from all over Inazuma, so chances are, you probably saw the glimmering stars as well. He just wished that he could have been with you.

Itto has been beating himself up for forgetting about your day ever since you left. He's been going to the Grand Narukami Shrine and have asked your co-workers almost single day about when you will come back and if there's any way you can come back early, they never give a preferable answer.

He understood the tired look you had now, the sadness in your eyes when he would come home late. You probably felt so alone when he's been going out so much, barely ever checking up on you, only ever being in the house to sleep and then leave immediately.

Itto held on to the precious moment you shared before you left, as he selfishly chose to go to the festival instead of bidding you goodbye, the last time he saw you was in your shared house. The sweet kiss you shared lingered in his mind, he clung onto that memory in hopes that you're not too mad at him to just up and leave and never come back.

"Woah... Didn't see you there, Beefcake." Despite trying to put some enthusiasm in his voice, the sadness the Oni felt was to obvious to mask.

Ushi slid by his side, looking at the see that his owner was previously staring at. Itto chuckled at the bull's action. "Yeah, I miss her too." He couldn't help but sigh.

The little animal reached for it's side, and it caught Itto by surprise when Ushi pulled out a single rose, before looking back to the horizon again.

"Hah, well, it looks like my competition for my Y/N's love is back huh?" He smiled. "Have you got a speech of your own ready?"

Ushi looked at his owner unimpressed, nodding before laying the rose on top of Itto's present.

Behind them, Kuki Shinobu was standing, feeling ever so empathetic for the two souls that seem to have lost their light.

The gang has been like her family, including you, even if you weren't around as often as the other members, you were the one that always made her comfortable, you were witty but also a fun person to be around with. If it weren't for you telling her that her path should be hers to choose on the day her mother forced her to go to the Grand Narukami Shrine, she would have never ended up with such amazing people.

She looked behind her, where Akira, Genta, Mamoru stood.

"Looks like we're going to Watatsumi Island."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

There'll be a part 2, just don't know when ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I wrote this in very small increments over the course of two weeks, and the last part I literally wrote when I'm laying in bed at 3 am with 10% battery.

Anon, I hope you like it. I'm sorry if it's not Angst to Fluff yet like you asked, but it's kinda ling and I'm a bit tired. Still, thanks so much fir the request, I actually quite enjoyed thinking about this and writing this.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact angst #genshin impact #genshin angst #genshin impact itto #arataki itto #itto angst #itto x reader

[jazeswhbhaven]

He Never Misses! (Leraye Limited Event React I)

Okay so, here's the damn thing about this event.

I loved the amount of peeking into each noble's dynamic with each other so much and I love the fact that this is pretty much a slice-of-life approach to how a "normal" day in Gehenna was and is.

In an overall sense we get a good dose of Sitri, interesting pop-ins from Astaroth and Paimon, and a little surprise visit that had me squealing later.

This, my lovelies is 6 part reaction because I took that many damn screenshots and I honestly wish there was a better way to upload them all on one or two posts without a photo limit. BUT alas...

Make sure to grab a snacky snack, and let's dive in...to the life of long-haired Leraye~ ┬─┬(◕‿◕♡)

So we enter with Astraoth just minding his business and cruising around the palace and Sitri just comes up and starts getting onto him about not being at the palace lol

Turns out he was gone for a while because he was tending to his hobbies which is corrupting...

You hear that everyone? He corrupts anyone so keep your windows open (ʘ‿ʘ✿)

I'm really crying right now, so basically he's telling why it took particularly long this time around because he was dealing with someone who hated their dead-end job. (sounds fucking familiar right?)

nah now think about it, imagine wildly that someone at pb put that in the event as a joke when in reality somebody either once quit before or secretly a current employee can't stand work and low key just slid that idea in....buttt let's get back to the event lmao

Sitri hit 'em with the "Sorry I'll you finish but-" treatment. Though it's for good reason..

Awhhhh Roro...(yes my nickname for him leave me be) LET HIM FINISH

So basically what happened is that Sitri lost his favorite pen (rly?) it's the color of Solomon's hair and he put some of this man's hair in the ink and now he's lost it and he can't find it.

It's funny because Astaroth said the same thing as me "Why would you do that?" but he understood the sentiment behind it and was willing to give Sitri some insight on who to ask to find something like that.

LERAYE!

So our boy has crazy good eyesight. Like dangerously good to the point where I want to swap my eyes out with his because good lord I'd love a reason to not spend money on glasses with these expensive ass lenses.

So fun side note here that everyone leaves their door open except for Sitri, who most likely just likes his privacy or is used to having his door closed because perhaps the room he stayed in during Hades always had the door closed? Something along those lines I would like to think.

So now here are some nice Leraye and Paimon dynamics <3 our poor fave femboy lost his piercing recently and was asking Leraye to help find it. So it appears that either the piercing is shaped like Ppyong like the barette on his hair, or it's as big as he is, which last time I checked isn't Ppyong technically the largest red lump? (idk everyone else is pretty tiny when compared to him in the red lump family)

Okay nvm my previous thing it's shaped like Ppyong (LMAO) and this sounds cute actually, beside the fact that it becomes a fucking bomb all of the sudden (ʘ‿ʘ✿)

like imagine the TSA having a field day finding one of those...

I love how Paimon is like "Someone might die but most importantly my piercing is going to be destroyed :("

Amazing priorities bby, I support you.

Also, Astaroth is interested in how the piercing works and its explosive properties so he wants to tag along (he's so weird i love him) And Leraye with his cheery self is happy to help. So he goes to the window to start his search with those amazing eyeballs of his and his hair is blowing in the wind (imagine bouncy music in the background, his hair flowing and him humming while trying to find it)

Paimon is over here thirsting over watching him and it really fuels my "Paimon probably flirts with the nobles from time to time but he's never serious about it"

So within moments, he says he has a lead but hasn't really found it yet so the three go out looking around and well, so far not so good. This is pretty much the third time Leraye had moved positions and and updated on the status of finding the piercing and Paimon is getting a bit impatient.

You see that little pouty angry face? This event isn't voiced but I can hear him now getting all upset. But tbh I get upset too when I'm trying to find something and it's always "almost, maybe the next place it will be there"

Thanks Astaroth, really helping out here lmao

So it appears that even though he was circliing around alot he finally appears to have a lock in on the piercing's whereabouts which excites Paimon. Astraoth starts being poetic about Leraye's rooftop running and Paimon is just like-

You heard him! Stfu and get your ass movin' Roro!!! (I love how Paimon is super agitated easily when it comes to something he cares about lol)

I threw this scene in here because I was like "ah yes the devil with the good eyes I wish that were me lmao"

okay so pitt stop...because even though he's not known for his endurance he surely wasn't having a problem during his h-scene so....( ͡° ͜ʖ├┬┴┬┴

So when he's catching his breath Paimon and Astaroth catch up whose pretty much questioning how Leraye can even see this far ahead and it sounds like they traveled pretty damn far. (remember it's a flashback so Astaroth didn't know about his abilities yet)

And then out of fucking nowhere Leraye just goes to this random hole in the alleyway and throws something at Astaroth while Paimon is like omfg watch out???!!!

So we find out that it was Astaroth's snake that was in that hole just hiding out. So i noticed his name is Apophis and the described him as white but he's clearly black .-. ANYWAY.

(don't worry everyone he was just coming back from filming his role in Meg the Stallion's music video /j lol) So apparently Apophis was lost and Roro was looking for him but weren't they looking for Paimon's piercing?

Lol Apophis bites Leraye and possibly others when Astaroth isn't around and that's cute. Ofc he'd only trust his owner.

And ofc we find out that the snake has swallowed Paimon's piercing...and I'm just like. Oh yikes...so how are we getting this out? lol

So for this little scene Leraye explains plainly that he can see the shape of the piercing inside Apophis' stomach and yet the other two can't and that Leraye just assumes they can because he's naive in his thinking just like most devils, a childlike wonder and view.

And while Astaroth is reflecting on that Paimon asks for him to get the earring out which again I'm like how is he even going to do that???

┬┴┬┴┤•ᴥ•ʔ├┬┴┬┴ oh.....

he can make his voice deeper?

Me too Apophis...me too. I'm shaking, crying and throwing up.

Because think about that shit...Astaroth coming into your room to just randomly corrupt and fuck with you and even if you are corrupt he has a thing for making it even worse...and then he pulls this poetic, deep-voiced nsfw audio shit on you and now you're committing crimes you never even knew you could because of it.

BUT that stops for now with part 1, phew...only 5 more to go...! (i'm really sleepy rn so I'm going to get a couple hours of sleep and then get up and start back up again lol)

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb leraye #whb astaroth #whb paimon #whb gehenna bois❤️ #whb event #whb spoilers #whb screencaps #let's goooooo noble event!

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 || 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐌𝐈̇𝐂𝐒

** banner by the amazing @pedrorascal thank you so much bby for taking the time to make this for me 🧡🧡🧡

series summary: Still struggling to come to terms with his father's recent passing, burdened by the weight of the business he left behind, Javi feels adrift. Meanwhile, years later, an unexpected twist of fate brings you back into Javi's life again—the daughter of his favorite housekeeper. Uncertain about your future and what to do with it, you find yourself at a crossroads, while Javi wrestles with the irresistible pull he feels towards you.

pairing:  javi gutierrez x ofc!mia pradera (written in second person, no body descriptions)

word count: 6.1k

chapter summary: Javi wasn't expecting your return after years, he also wasn't expecting to see you naked through his bedroom window.

warnings: javi secretly peeping into your room through the window, male masturbation, thoughts of oral, age gap, javi showing signs of depression, grief, brief mention of drug use

a/n: welcome to the new and improved first chapter of the series! I've been reworking this for a week now and decided to repost it. There's a lot that has been changed and added so I highly recommend reading this one before going forward. The second chapter will be coming soon (and I mean it this time lmaodfvd) I'll be making the other version of the first chapter private and I'm hoping you guys will enjoy this version as well 💜💜💜

Special thank you to @emilianamason who beta'd this for me and also helped me out with the Spanish bits, I'm truly grateful so thank you once again 💕

***dividers by @firefly-graphics 💕

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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The sky is a matte gray. It reminds Javi of the sea when there’s a storm raging underneath, the sand lifting from the bottom and giving the beautiful blue a more mud-like color. He sees crunchy leaves and smells cinnamon. It’s fall alright. He always finds this time of year a bit somber but in a romantic way. He’s holding a cup of espresso, the dark liquid still steaming. The pool has been drained for cleaning. 

He can hear clatter coming from inside the house, mattresses are being flipped, apple pies are being baked. He’s the only man that lives here, yet everyone who works here spoils him, even if they don’t need to. No one really says anything but Javi can see it, the way they walk on eggshells around him, the conversations that fade into hushed whispers that carry the same lilt of his name. 

Everyone treats him as a child. Not that he can blame them. Javi gave them little reason to behave otherwise. He did drugs, knew how to shoot a gun, and was the son of one of the most powerful men but still. . . he was a child in the sense that he knew little of the world. He wasn’t like Lucas who was more than eager to get his hands dirty. 

A gentle child, that was what his father called him when he was young. He always uttered the words gently. Yet, hidden within his gentle expression but in his eyes, Javi could see the disappointment. He wanted a partner. Someone who did more than looking over the olive oil and wine business, it didn’t matter if Javi was good at it, his father wanted more of him.

In the end, he doesn’t mind the pampering—he’s grieving, isn’t he? He deserves it. He had no one else to take care of him, and the staff had been with him for years. He feels closer to them than Lucas. When his cousin mentioned taking over, Javi didn’t care. Not in the slightest. They were close enough that Javi didn’t have to worry about being killed or thrown out. 

Besides, Javi enjoyed the finer things in life, which is why he didn’t mind overlooking the “front” of the job. He made sure that everything ran smoothly and Lucas seemed impressed by the growth of the business. Javi hated to admit it, but he did enjoy seeing that faint shimmer in his cousin’s eyes. The look that said; Oh, he’s not completely useless after all. 

Besides, Javi enjoys sampling the wine. He adores the sourness that hits his tongue with every swallow. 

“¿Discúlpeme señor?” 

He takes a sip of his coffee. 

“¿Si, señorita Pradera?” 

Javi turns to look at her, a little smile playing on his lips. Lucía is one of his favorite employees and one of the ones that can read him like an open book. She’s a natural mother, a caretaker. Whenever he’s down on himself, she never once hesitated to pick him back up. It didn’t matter if he was shaking from going overboard on LSD or if he was crying during Paddington 2, she was there. It was nice to be taken care of. Something he couldn’t receive from his own family— maybe once or twice from his father. Javi didn’t know who his mother was, there was a lot of speculation about that. 

Lucía just makes him happy. Talking to her feels like something light. He doesn’t need to overthink it, and if he says something wrong, he could always come and apologize. She never held a grudge. But despite how cheerful she seems, in her eyes, Javi can see the soft waves of sadness. Sometimes he saw the same waves in his own eyes, telling him that he was disappointing someone somewhere, that he’s done too many mistakes to turn back from. 

She seems to be genuinely happy this time, her cheeks slightly flushed, forehead and cheeks glistening with a sheer coat of sweat. 

“Do you remember, Mia?” she asks. “Mi hija.” 

That’s right, Lucía had a daughter. Javi remembers you running around before you left to live with your father in the States. She often mentioned your name and sometimes she left to visit her but Mia never came. He isn’t sure if it was the father who didn’t let her or if Mia herself didn’t want to come, but regardless, Lucía was hurt by being away from her daughter for so long. 

"I wanted to ask if my daughter could come para una visita. She's done with university y necesita un lugar to relax, figure things out." 

He takes another sip of his coffee, it’s finished now. A leaf slowly spins down from above, the sunlight gently filtering through its translucent veins. It lands gently in the empty pool. 

“¡Pero claro que si!” he says, and smiles. “When is she coming?” 

“Next week.” 

Javi was sitting on the terrace when you arrived. 

He has a small plate of olive oil with thyme placed in front of him. Tearing a slice of bread into two, he dips a piece into the aromatic blend and brings it to his mouth. Javi only bites the part drenched in olive oil, he savors the taste, the sharp taste of dried thyme hitting his tongue. Shortly after, he goes for a second dip. 

When he’s done chewing, you’re already at the top of the stairs. 

You have no luggage, only a large backpack that slightly pulls your body back. Javi recognizes your face, the soft features he’s grown accustomed to when you were trailing behind your mother, asking to watch a movie on the big screen. You look more mature now, the corners of your face sharper yet still carry that roundness. 

You’re staring at him as if he’s a long-lost sibling, your smile bright and wide. The expression is contagious, making him smile wide as well. Your gaze reminds him of a look he’s only seen in movies, the close-ups that sole purpose is to show the fondness in a person’s eyes. He’s not sure what he feels about that fond look in your eyes. Your gaze is incredibly soft and affectionate for a person who has been in the air for god knows how long—which is why he’s usually flying people in instead of the other way around. 

You can see right through him, he thinks, nerves crackling with an uncomfortable feeling. It makes him conscious about how broken he truly is, his mask hardening the longer you smile. 

“Javi!” you exclaim, arms opening wide. Not knowing what else to do Javi mimics you and wraps his arms around you. You giggle into his chest, your breath warm on his chest. “¡Te he extrañado!” 

He missed you too. 

Javi's ear catches the trace of an accent in your Spanish. 

You smell of cheap coffee, chocolate, and the airport—and also a little bit of sweat, which is normal after such a long flight. Javi squeezes you once and feels you melting against him, you really must be tired to become so plaint under his touch. Swiftly, he releases his grip, yet your palms find solace on his shoulders, causing him to awkwardly flex his knees in order to accommodate the lingering touch. He wasn’t aware of how close you were standing. Your breath mingling with his own as your eyes dance along his face, taking in every worn-out detail. 

You suddenly pull your hands back, a bashful chuckle slipping past your lips. 

“Sorry about that— I’m feeling a bit jet-lagged.” you rock back and forth on your heels, anxious energy overwhelming your nerves. “How have you been?”

Javi stands still, eyes slightly wide, not knowing how to answer such a question. Physically, he feels good. Mentally, also good but he isn’t sure. He’s fine during the day, his routine occupying his mind enough so that he doesn’t register the loss. His father wasn’t around that much anyway. But when night fell and he laid his head against his overly fluffed pillow. . . that’s when he remembered. His chest ached, his eyes stung. He didn’t know how to deal with it so he remained silent, staring blankly at the ceiling. 

Sometimes he even gets angry trying to muster up an answer. 

He can never get angry with you though, besides you had no idea of knowing. His tongue nervously swipes over his bottom lip and his teeth dig into the inside of his cheek. He’s about to answer, say he’s fine, but you beat him to it. 

“God, I’m being such an ass. Of course, you’re not okay,” you murmur more to yourself than him. He still hears you though and your words catch him by surprise. You softly hit yourself in the head, which makes worry roll down his spine. “I’m really sorry about your father, Javi. My mom told me. That must’ve been hard for you.” 

Has it been hard for him? 

Honestly, he’s not sure. His death, his funeral… it all passed by in such a blur. He remembers his father dying slowly, in an expensive hospital bed with flowers by his side. Javi doesn’t quite remember the rest. He doesn’t remember the funeral, the moment he was gently laid into the earth, never to be seen again. 

He does remember feeling Gabriella’s hand on his shoulder. He also remembers Lucas standing close to him, his eyes watching the casket go down. 

“I am okay,” he takes the hand that you’d hit yourself with, thumb slowly moving over the soft planes of your hand. He smiles when you let out a sigh of relief and turns his eyes to the empty chairs. “And thank you. I have been doing better. Why don’t you take a seat, you must be tired. I will call your mother for you.” 

He watches as you take a seat and after a brief phone call to Lucía, Javi sits down as well. He asks what you’ve been up to, about your life in America after you’d moved away from your mother. Briefly, Javi sees a hint of hesitation and regret pooling in your eyes. He doesn’t know much about why you left, he only remembers that you were young back then, just a kid basically. 

Javi manages to ease your thoughts by slowly sliding the basket full of bread and the small plate of olive oil toward your way, saying that you should eat. Only after the first bite you being to speak freely, telling him how hard university has been and that the competition was rough and had drained you out, making you feel like a shell of a person. 

“You’re not a shell,” he answers, brows drawn together. You smile between bites of oil-soaked breath, shooting him an appreciative smile. 

“You’re still the nicest man I know,” you say. Javi’s not sure how you could’ve drawn that connection, he doesn’t remember doing anything to gather such an observation but takes the compliment anyway. “I had a troublesome professor. He really did a number on me mentally, I like my field but I really want to do something else with my life.” 

“And what is that?” he dips the leftover bread into the last pools of olive oil. “What do you want to do?” 

"I yearn to weave tales," you express with a melodic lilt as if addressing an audience, then you laugh. Javi feels like he’s watching his favorite painting come to life, raw and vivid. “Sorry, that sounded snobby of me didn’t it?” your tongue pokes through your cheek. “I want to write a book, create screenplays, and even directing—I want to do it all. That's why I'm so happy mom called me here. It's such a beautiful place to think about big things like that, you know? And well. . . "

You trail off and worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “You’re here too, which is nice. You still like watching movies?” 

“Of course,” he answers, feeling the tip of his ears growing warm. “You know that I take my movie-watching very seriously.” 

You’re grinning now, “I do. I think you might be the one who introduced me to the media actually. We watched movies at home but here. . . ” you sigh, eyes taking in the scenery. “Here it felt magical. And I loved the endless movie facts you seemed to have stored up in that brain of yours.” 

“You flatter me,” despite himself, he’s smiling from ear to ear. “It’s nice that you want to direct.” 

“That’s only one of the things I want to do,” you say, stuffing your mouth with the last bit of bread. “But yeah. I know it’s a competitive field, some parts of it are downright evil, but it just calls to me. Imagine someone watching your story, isn’t that exciting?” 

Javi's mouth momentarily opens, then promptly shuts. Yes, it is exciting.

Suddenly your brows furrow, your gaze meeting his as you swallow, “Didn’t you want to write a script as well? I remember you being really into Nicolas Cage.” 

His lips part again but the words die on his tongue. He’s surprised that you remember so much about him. In all honesty, Javi does remember the movie nights he had with you before you left—But it definitely wasn’t anything inspirational. During the many boring, work-related dinners, he would find you crouched behind the wall listening, watching your mother, clearly bored out of your mind. He asked if you wanted to watch a movie one night, and you said yes. After that, it became a habit. You would come to him, tugging his sleeve and asking to go to the cinema room. He happily indulged, of course. 

Javi doesn’t remember the first movie he played for you, but he does remember the second one; Raising Arizona. 

Thankfully, your mother's animated voice swiftly dispels the silence that was dancing on the line of turning awkward.

“Mia!” Lucía's attempt to reach her daughter almost resulted in a tumble down the stairs. She catches herself midstep. “¡Estás aquí! How was your flight?” 

“¡Mamá!” 

Javi watches them hug, an uncomfortable yearning stirring in his gut. In a tearful embrace, Lucía holds you close, squeezing her daughter tight. 

Javi wanted to talk more about films, ask about your favorite actors, he wanted to hear your stories. He seems to be invisible to them now, not that he blames them. Just in case one of them catches his wistful look, he forces a smile. 

They climb up the stairs, mother and daughter. Javi catches fragments of Lucía's voice, softly describing the breathtaking view from your room. A feeling he can’t place tugs gently at his heart and whatever it was, he keeps it hidden beneath his quivering smile. 

Javi stares at the now empty basket and plate. He sees only crumbs. The chair you were sitting in is pushed back, misplaced, forgotten. He picks up the plate and basket, slides the chair back into place, and heads up the stairs, making his way to the kitchen. 

Javi is laying on the bed, the sheets cozy and warm. A book rests delicately between his broad palms but his mind is elsewhere, the words only mere shapes inked on paper. 

He’s thinking of you. How full of life you are, how you still have ambitions– Your life full of undiscovered paths, he envies it. He envies the hope, the excitement, the illusion of choice. He’s happy for you, of course, but he can’t help the wistful beating of his heart. He had responsibilities since the day he was born. Javi is aware that he’s a privileged man. He’s not going to pity himself in thinking that he isn’t. He got what he wanted, but he also heard an earful about how he was wasting his life on silly things. That he should focus. 

Focus on what? He always wanted to ask. He didn’t see why he couldn’t indulge in his hobbies and the business that was forced upon him. In the end, his father’s greatest fear came true, Javi has no interest in taking over. The family patriarch never said anything but it was clear to Javi that his father was disappointed. 

A soft, gentle light catches his attention. It pours through the expansive, elegant windows adorned with ornate square bars reminiscent of wrought iron. Closing his book, Javi assumes a sitting position, his socked feet firmly planted on the cool floor. His interest is piqued. Normally, no one stays in the building across from him. It was usually reserved for family visits. 

What happens next is an accident. 

Or perhaps it is a blessing disguised as an accident. He’s undecided.

Javi sees you, towel loosely wrapped around your figure, hair still dripping wet. His mouth goes dry, eyes wide as he stares, unable to tear away his darkened gaze. Compared to when he first saw you today, your walk is slow, languid. You stand at the side of the bed and clumsily free yourself of the tight clutch of the fluffy towel. Dipping your head, you cradle the back of it with the towel and fold it in front, only to throw your entire head back, leaving you bare for all to see. 

His cheeks become a shade darker, fingers uncontrollably twitching against his thigh. The muscle at the base of his stomach tightens, radiating warmth.

Did you know? Were you aware that he could see you? No, of course not. There’s no fathomable reason as to why you would want him to lay his eyes on you. Javi holds his breath. He should say something, should he not? 

Briefly, you disappear from his eye line only to reappear a short moment later with two bottles of —what he assumes— lotion in your hands. His cock hardens as you slather your body with lotion. He swears he can smell it. A delicate scent that carries notes of daffodil and vanilla. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. Warm honey drips down his spine, forcing goosebumps to appear over his skin. He hates that he’s still watching.

He knows what he'll see if he was brave enough to look down; the telltale bulge of arousal within the front of his sweatpants. He can feel it twitching angrily, tempting him to reach down and take it in his hand and give in to the pleasure that would undoubtedly come with it.

Why the fuck is he still watching? 

You start applying the lotion from your legs, going all the way up to your thighs. You massage it sensually into your skin, fingers spread wide as you lean down and pull yourself back up. Javi’s stomach churns, his own hand sneaking under the waistband of his sweats. He wraps his fingers around his thick cock, thinking how fortunate it was that he skipped wearing boxers before bed. 

His shirt sticks to his skin. His chest heaving as he begins to stroke himself, the pressure of his hand makews his eyes roll back. His thumb swipes at the slit, spreading the precum all over the length of his cock. A groan echoes from the back of his throat. His hand is moving with ease now, tenderly gliding up and down his hard cock. 

His teeth clenched tightly together, Javi’s eyes flicker back to the window. Your hands slide up your stomach and over your breasts, they bounce perfectly as gravity tugs them back down. You spread the lotion over your chest and neck. His hand moves faster. He slightly hunches forward, hips jerking as if he’s actually fucking himself into you. 

His mouth opens in a silent moan as his fingers grip the base of his shaft. The sensation builds until his spine is aching for release. His hips buck against his hand and his thighs clench as the pleasure courses through his veins.

Javi imagines the soft moans he'd hear coming from his mouth, your lips wrapping tightly around the tip of his cock. His body tenses at the fictitious swirl of your tongue, tantalizing flexing with each stroke that takes him closer to the edge. With each thrust of his hips your body would grind against his leg, he’d feel you quiver. He thinks of the slickness of your saliva sliding down his length as you suck him dry.  You’d squeeze his hips with both of your hands. . .  it feels like electricity shooting through him. He wants to feel you against him, feel the heat of your skin, and kiss you senseless.

He cums hard while you’re getting dressed, his jaw lax as he thrusts fervently into his fist. His sweatpants cling to him like a second skin. He can feel the sticky mess inside as it pools in the fabric, disgusted by the warmth of his own body as it wraps around him. There’s a short second where the urge to throw up consumes him, he thinks about running to the toilet, emptying everything out to trick himself to believe that it never happened. 

But it did. 

The lights of your room fade away, only the moon left to kiss away Javi’s concern. His legs tremble and ache as he gets up. Pleasure still licks at his body, making him want more. His soft cock is uncomfortable trapped under his sweatpants, throbbing and aching despite the events that just transpired. 

Javi grabs a new pair, this one thinner than the other and heads to the bathroom.

Javi jolts awake to the sound of a loud knock. Groggily, he rises from his bed, attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes with a loose fist. Another knock follows, causing a small, annoyed growl to escape his chest. He reluctantly opens the door, his eyes half-lidded, only to find a familiar face on the other side that leaves him momentarily dumbfounded. 

Memories of the previous night flash through his mind, and suddenly he becomes acutely aware of his morning arousal, discreetly straining against the front of his sweatpants.

“Mia?” he asks, voice thick with sleep. “What are you doing here?” 

He notices the set of clean towels in your hands, but his attention is captivated by the way your eyes sweep over his body, your lips forming a mischievous smile. Confusion tugs at his thoughts while a gentle, chilling breeze infiltrates his room, leaving his abdomen colder than usual.

Oh. 

OH. 

He doesn’t have his shirt on—shit. 

“Looking good Señor Gutierrez,” you tease, eyes going over his body one more time. “Mom told me I should help around, so I brought you your clean towels.” 

“Ah,” he says stupidly. “Gracias, querida. I hope she is not working you too hard.” 

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you shrug. “Besides, I’m staying here rent-free. I might as well do a bit of work.” 

He takes the towels, his hands feeling oddly disconnected, as if they belong to someone else. You flash him a final smile before pivoting on your heel. Javi watches with undeniable hunger as you confidently strutted away, his eyes admiring the way your hips sway as you saunter off. He feels the familiar stirring in his body, his cock demanding attention that he can’t give in the middle of the hallway. He continues to gaze until you vanish into one of the many corridors.

His throat feels unbelievably tight as he closes the door and heads to the bathroom. Javi feels a flock of birds pecking at his brain, reminding him of Prometheus. He doesn’t know what he should be feeling. The only thing he does know is that he shouldn’t be thinking of you in such a way. 

Javi stares at his reflection in the mirror. The whites of his eyes are stained red, the bags underneath prominent and dark. It looks as if he hasn’t slept in years. 

A deep sigh escapes his lips as he undresses. He won’t be seeing you like that again anyway, there’s no point in dwelling over something that only happened once.  

Javi had underestimated how frequently he would be seeing you around. Your gaze is constant. He knows you’re watching him without actually having to look; his skin tightens, the back of his head starting to tingle. You’re mostly doing chores and don’t stop to chat with him, which he’s grateful for. But still, from your gaze, he senses that unlike him, you do want to talk. 

The guilt is eating him from the inside out. Your naked form is engraved into the back of his lids, whenever he closes his eyes, he sees you. The sting of his eyes is constant, aching for moisture. He can’t fight against it and blinks, and as soon as he does, his cock grows hard.

Lucía would be furious with him if she knew—she’d be absolutely disgusted. 

He worries that you might’ve seen him last night. Maybe that’s why you wanted to stop and talk with him. Fortunately, the mansion is spacious enough to provide him with hiding spots, allowing him to retreat when needed.

With each passing hour of the day, his uncertainty and guilt fester within him like poison.

He hurries to his bedroom as soon as dinner is over. Normally, he would have a glass of wine, engage in conversation with the staff, and unwind. However, not today, not with you present. . . observing him. . . talking to him.

He just can’t. 

Javi ignores confused glances directed at him and excuses himself. The looks linger as he walks away, though there’s a probable chance that he might be imagining it. He’s convinced that you and your mother are both counting his every step.  He doesn’t turn to check.  

When he closes the door to his bedroom, back pressed snug against the wood, his breathing becomes strained, lungs rattling with every struggling gasp of air. His pupils blown, his gaze immediately flickers to your bedroom window. Much to his relief, and disappointment, the lights are off. 

Javi settles onto the bed, the watch on his bedside table ticking away, drawing closer to the time he had seen you naked yesterday. He finds himself waiting until the hands of the clock reach the exact same moment. The lights are still off. Another minute goes by. 

Then, finally, a beam of light that comes from a far pours through his windows, shadows stretching across the floor. He can breathe again. 

Standing in the middle of the room, you stretch, your arms seemingly reaching for the sun. Javi’s gaze follows your every move. He watches as you scroll on your phone for about five minutes on the bed. He watches as you disappear, leaving him to stare into an empty room. He watches as he swears he can hear the music that you’re blasting from your phone. 

He watches and waits until he can see you again. Just like the day before. Bare. Soft. 

His mouth waters, cock already throbbing with need. 

Javi’s not sure how long he waits. It could’ve been an hour or a minute, but whatever time had passed, you appear once again, the same towel wrapped around your body. 

His mouth dry, he swallows hard. Javi's breath catches in his throat as his eyes drift over your curves. Unbidden, his hand moves eagerly to his crotch, eyes fixated on you as he palms himself. His tongue peeks out, wetting his lips as you shift onto your stomach. Your towel slides up, revealing the perfect mounds of your ass, and he gulps, his fingertips trembling as he hastily unzips himself. A moan escapes him as he admires the lobes of your ass peeking from beneath the towel.

Precum already oozes from the tip, and Javi eagerly wraps his fingers around his hardening cock. His strokes are slick and smooth, his breaths coming faster.

Javi hears the rush of blood pounding in his ears as his breathing grows even more jagged with every passionate thrust of his hips. You lift your legs, spreading them apart and crossing them from side to side while watching a video from your phone, completely unaware. His hungry gaze is met with the entire expanse of your body exposed only to him as small water droplets still cling to your skin, cascading down your legs and wetting the area between them. The sinful image of your pretty pussy becoming wet and glistening spurs him on, he imagines how wet you’d be, only for him.

He pushes his hips harder against his fist, the need to feel connected to you driving him forward. His pounding heart is accompanied by an unquenchable craving to touch and explore every inch of your body. 

Javi’s grip tightens and tremors start to run through his body. His head drops back as his movements quicken, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. With a deep moan, his muscles coil tight as the pleasure cascades through him, a warm rush flooding every inch of him. He shudders joyfully and with a final thrust, he coats his fist in his own release.

His face is contorted in a blissful expression, his eyes closed in reverence. Drops of sweat slowly trickle down his toned body, drawing paths through the smattering of light brown hair that adorns his tanned skin. His lips are slightly parted as he drinks in the pleasure, a low moan coursing through his lips. 

With half-lidded eyes, Javi’s gaze drops down to his spent cock. He made a mess of himself and the floor underneath, the pearly droplets glistening in the soft light. 

He’s going to have to clean that.

The guilt comes rushing through. He’s disgusted by himself, the feeling tasting of bile that is thick on his tongue. It felt good at the given moment but now that his head is clearing, what he did just makes him feel sick. He’s quick to wipe the floor with one of his shirts, then tosses it into the laundry basket for cleaning.

Javi gives you one last glance before leaving the room, you’re still on your phone, completely oblivious to him. 

He decides to stay in one of the guestrooms that night, but it doesn’t stop with one. 

Javi stays there the next night, and the next— 

And the one after that. 

“Are you ignoring me?”

“What— No, why would you think that?” 

Javi was lying, of course. He’d been avoiding you like the plague, turning the other way whenever he saw you approaching him. It's been about a week since he changed rooms. He didn’t tell anyone about it, the house was big enough for him to occupy another room without anyone knowing. 

However, he hadn’t expected you to actively seek him out, which he now realized was stupid of him. He just wanted to do a bit of skeet shooting, a means to vent his frustrations. The morning was chilly and it made goosebumps rise across his skin. He enjoyed the feeling, which was why he skipped wearing a jacket. 

You, on the other hand, were covered from head to toe. 

“I don’t know,” you mutter, wrapping your arms around yourself. A faint cloud dances from your lips. “Maybe it’s just me being paranoid. You really don’t mind me being here, right?” 

Javi gently leans the gun against the sturdy stone rail. His heart clenches at your question, he never wanted you to feel guilty, or for you to feel unwanted. He slowly shakes his head, his gaze rising up to meet yours. 

“Por supuesto que no,” he responds, his voice quivering, the biting air seeming to grip his vocal cords as he struggles to express himself. Of course, he doesn’t mind. “You are free to stay here as long as you wish. I just…I have been—” 

He chokes up, mouth gaping, his gaze still fixed on yours. You're the first to look away, shifting your eyes elsewhere, and instinctively, you hug yourself tighter, trying to ward off the chill in the air. A nervous laugh escapes your lips.

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me, at least, not if you don’t want to. I’m always happy to listen. I just wanted to be sure if I was overstaying my welcome or not.” 

“It’s okay. As I said, you are free to stay.” 

You smile at him then, asking him whether or not he'll be joining you for breakfast, he says that he’ll come after taking a couple more shots. You eye the rifle, eyebrow raised in a peculiar way. You state that it’s too cold and head inside. Javi stares as you leave, he decides not to shoot anything, instead, he follows you to the dining room. 

Javi moves back into his room that night. 

You had excused yourself early claiming that you felt dirty and needed a shower. Javi couldn’t help it. He waits, like always does. A week of not seeing you made him grow hungry, his body was left in a constant state of wanting. He needed to see you, he needed to cum while witnessing your naked body. 

This time he has no shame in ridding himself of his pants, wrapping a hand around himself, he lazily strokes himself. He still remembers every curve and crevice of your body, it haunts him day and night, decorating his dreams and nightmares alike. Javi’s eyes travel along the windowsill of your room, the lights are still off, much to his surprise. 

He’s startled as the door slams open, a triumphant “I knew it!” ringing out. 

With panic, Javi attempts to pull up his pants but the stubborn fabric sticks to his legs instead, making him stumble forward and almost falls off the bed. Luckily, he manages to catch himself at the very last second, planting himself firmly on the mattress. He hears the door close, more silently compared to how it was opened, he finds himself staring at your shoes. He gulps. 

“Why are you here?” he asks, voice horrified. “How long have you known?” 

“Not that long,” you answer. He still refuses to meet your gaze. “I had my suspicions when you started to avoid me, then I noticed you switched rooms. One night I waited in my room to see if you were watching or not.” 

Tears sting the corner of his eyes, he’s pathetic. Then, like a soothing oceanic breeze, he feels your finger curling underneath his chin, forcing his downcast gaze up. His cheeks flush at the soft touch. He expects you to laugh at him, but he finds a gaze of sympathy instead. You pull down his bottom lip and every bit of oxygen leaves his lungs. 

“Lo siento, Mia,” he whispers. 

“Está bien, I don’t care. I. . . I have an idea, actually.” 

Wide-eyed, he looks at you with concern. Your thumb still lingers on his lip, he enjoys it there, he enjoys the comfort you provide despite his mind screaming at him how disgusting and pitiful he is. 

“And what might that be?” 

“We can. . . help each other out,” you answer,  flustered, your breathing short. “If you want to, that is. I had a stressful year. . . I wouldn’t mind having some fun.” 

His brows furrow, “I do not understand.” 

Another lie. He did. He just couldn’t believe it to be true. 

“I think you do, Señor Gutierrez,” you tease. His heart skips a beat at the playful lilt of your voice, his mind is racing. You squeeze his bottom lip gently and his breath hitches. 

“I’m not—” he licks his lips, the tip of it touching the pad of your thumb. “I am not that experienced.” 

This time his whole body burns. He had lovers in the past, of course, but not many. None of those relationships lasted long either, how could it with the family that he had? He wasn’t even sure what he liked or disliked, and after a while, he just stopped trying to form a meaningful connection with anyone. He closed up, not really knowing what else to do with the cards he was dealt with. 

Your answer takes him by surprise. 

“That’s okay. We can learn new things about each other, together.” 

His heart flutters at the softness of your voice, the kindness of your smile. He parts his lips to speak, to tell you how grateful he is, but before he can, you drop to your knees, a sly smile stretching across your face. 

“Do you want my help?” you ask, your fingers spread across his thighs. He sucks in a sharp breath as you give him a gentle, yet firm, squeeze. “Tell me what you want, Javi.” 

“I would— I would love to feel your lips on my cock, princesa.” 

“Princesa?” you repeat, amused. “I like the sound of that.” 

He finds heaven between your lips. 

#javi gutierrez x f!reader #javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez x oc #javi gutierrez x ofc #javi gutierrez x you #javi gutierrez x fem!reader #javi gutierrez x mia pradera #the unbearable weight of massive talent #tuwomt fanfiction #tuwomt fanfic #tuwomt #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters

[alloutofgoddesses]

Percy Jackson TV Thoughts

(I’m a book reader so I know things and will reference them in this)

EPISODE ONE

THE WORD FOR WORD OPENING FROM THE BOOKS!!!!! GOD I love it

(all of us the moment we see a black Pegasus) BLACKJACK!! He’s looking after Percy even as he’s a baby 🥺

The actor for young(er) Percy does such a good job at being Percy

Who let an armoured Rhino loose in the city?

THE MYTHOMAGIC CARDS

Every time I look at Mr. Brunner’s wheelchair I just think about how eventually he’s going to be #pranked by the campers changing his fake legs out for Rocky Horror inspired legs

SALLY JACKSON MOTHER OF THE YEAR 17 YEARS RUNNING

Oh Percy oh my baby someone take his suffering and give it to Octavian

Mrs. Dodds is SO GOOD I desperately wish we had more of her

He doesn’t know that he can actually write with it though

Grover and Percy exchanging the stuff in their sandwiches is such a good little detail to add in there

Walker is an incredible Percy and Aryan is an incredible Grover

I LOVE the way Mrs. Dodds transforms into her Fury self (do we know which one she is? I always forget)

Is that Rick on the other side of the headmaster? Hey dude

Grover selling out Percy is WILD like I know they had a time limit for moving the plot along but I’d be mad at him too dam

Eddie yelling at Gabe was so funny… Gabe eat more fruits you don’t know how much time you have left to do so

People saying Gabe’s awfulness have been reduced aren’t necessarily wrong but… he answers Sally’s phone which suggests some stuff. I do hope they sprinkle in some of his terribleness throughout the season though

D’Angelos you say? 👀

As my mom said, his bags were already packed

what on earth is this little Kronos dude and why is he holding a lantern. I love his voice though

Did. Did they make Percy in a bunk bed? Sally. Please tell me there’s another bed in this cabin

I do appreciate Sally TV version being more forthcoming than Sally book version

My parents Did Not laugh at the Jesus joke which is unfortunate, it’s hilarious

Percy littol baby it IS okay honey

Aryan is doing an AMAZING job of acting like an adult who’s Done This Before… it was always hard for me to remember Grover being older than Percy in the books but Aryan has made it clear from the beginning

SALLY JACKSON BAMF OF ALL TIME

The boundary looks so far away y’all how are you gonna get there

What are we swearing on guys? Certainly not a river

Sally I love you SO MUCH all mothers, current or future should be TAKING NOTES

When is Chiron going to explain Anaklusmos if Percy kept it?

The Minotaur has such soft looking ears I cannot lie to you. I would try to pet them probably

Chiron he IS the one though. Both in the way Annabeth expects him to be and not

Oh my god these end credits??? Amazing they’re incredible! And so chalk full of spoilers

Omg a little teaser at the end!

EPISODE TWO

Annabeth that’s dramatic as HELL I love you bby girl

What is that thing on the nightstand next to Percy? It looks like someone fused a hairdryer to a kettle

PERCYYYYYY

I WISHED that’s how this worked my dude

I have seen this clip on the internet before so I knew it was coming but it’s Very Funny

“But did you?” PERCY

The first and last time Percy will ever be respectful to a god

Mr. D is so goddamn funny, thank you to the casting director, the actor, and the actor’s friend’s child who told him how big of a deal this is (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, the actor went on a talk show for press)

I’ve never experienced a New York summer but how is Chiron wearing THREE layers

They’re ancient and they’re COWORKERS it’s amazing

Helpful little ‘gods make demigods do stuff they can’t’ sprinkle there good foreshadowing

These cabins are beautiful

THE HEARTH IN THE MIDDLE HI HESTIA

Not Percy thinking he’s immediately going to get bullied 🥺

YES love that we get to see a dryad and a little of Grover talking to the Cloven Council!

TRANSITIONS

They would get really squishy you’re right Grover

I can’t wait to see Mr. D do some god shit

Ope Kronos is back hey dude. Is he wearing a cloak?

Me, turning to my cat, named Hermes: You’re a FATHER?!?!

Seriously though what is Clarisse’s deal? Why bully the new kid? I have to assume it comes not only from her dad being Ares but other stuff

WHEELCHAIR!!! Disabled rep is AMAZING

Hey I’m pretty sure I won that lighter

I love that Chris is like “Yeah technically but she’s the goddess of failure” like that’s helpful but not helpful

Percy trying to talk to his mom is adorable!!! I wonder if it actually got to his mom or if someone else heard it, like Hades or Poseidon

He’s made some friends!! Oh Percy you don’t even KNOW how many friends you’re gonna make

Perseus I love you

Okay but who’s fixing the stall

Glad Annabeth got to stay dry this time

SPEAKING OF ANNABETH GOD I LOVE HER SO MUCH!! She was one of my IDOLS as a kid and now I get to experience her being a kid and watch Leah crush it

Luke you stay away from her you don’t get to call her your little sister

The forbidden kids? Different from The Big Three but I don’t hate it

Oops well I’ve been pronouncing Thalia wrong more times that I have pronounced it right

The actor for Luke, Charlie, is showing just enough subtle dislike for the gods and his life at camp that it’s only obvious if you’re looking for it. I can’t wait for people to be able to go back and see the hints being laid out

How many generations of campers did it take for the rope bridge to get full of ribbons, and do they serve any purpose

I can’t wait for the armour adjusting moment to be paralleled. Even more so, I can’t wait for the gif sets that will come out of it

I also floss if I am made to stand still. It’s a great stim, I can’t blame Percy

AND HE GETS TO PET A LITTLE CREATURE?!?! Honestly he’s living his best life

The only rule you paid attention to maybe

FIGHT CHOREO MY BELOVED

Sorry Clarisse but maybe you shouldn’t go after the new guy with unknown skill levels

ANNABETH THAT WAS SUCH A HARD SHOVE

Omg the lake, the infamous lake, the very important lake

Honestly I’m sad that 1) no hellhound 2) we don’t get to see Chiron pronounce him the Son of Poseidon? I’d like to know why they made that choice

Love that Chiron went “Congrats on the dad reveal you have to go solve his problems now”

HE IS SALLY JACKSON’S SON FUCK POSEIDON

Grover Underwood you will always be famous

Give me more immediately!! Next week I’ll be at my grandparents house with EIGHT other people, including a five year old. I’m hoping his mom will give me permission to indoctrinate him into the fandom. If not I’ll just make everyone still awake watch it after the kid goes to bed

NEXT WEEK TEASER!!! Very exciting

#pjo disney+ #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians

[here4kpopfics]

Good Boy | Vernon

Pairing: Vernon x (f)reader 

Genre: good ol’ smut and fluff

AU: idol!au, established relationship

Wordcount: 3.3k

Summary: You visit your boyfriend on tour after two months away and find out something interesting about him.

Warnings: language. Some good ol’ smut. Unprotected sex (WRAP IT UP). nicknames. Praise kink. Vernon’s a rough boy sometimes. He calls her his plaything. Oral (f receiving). Fingering. Other sexy stuff I’m sure.

Rating: M / 18+ 

AN: this is a bts blog. this was a bts blog. now we are chaos and we are confused and horny. enjoy. thank you bby @playmetheclassics for beta-reading and dealing with me screaming and crying over Stage Vernon. Also tagging @yoongimingyu and @the-boy-meets-evil bc y'all made me do it. and @sugarwithtea bc 💜

I'm going to have to make a Seventeen masterlist. 🥲

and of course, banner and divider by @classicscreations

Masterlist | Taglist | AskBox | Coffee?

You land on the bed with a soft thud, head hitting just below the pillow and legs dangling off the edge.

You let out a shaky laugh, watching your boyfriend stand in front of the bed and grip the back of both of your knees. He slowly brings them up, eyes locked on yours as he parts your legs enough for him to crawl onto the bed, settling on his knees and in between your legs. Your thighs find their place on his, wrapping the rest of your legs around him as he crawls to hover over you. 

He stays silent while you’re locked in on his tense staring contest. He knows you hate it, much preferring it when he’s growling in your ear about everything he wants to do with you. There are  two different personalities to Vernon, and you love them both, but there’s one that just destroys you, and he knows it. 

Stage Vernon.

Off stage, Vernon is quiet, calm, and often in his own world in his mind. He can be very loud and hilarious when needed, especially with Seungkwan. With you, he’s the bonus of being extremely sweet and loving, always giving back hugs, and needing some sort of physical touch, even if it’s just sitting next to one another. 

He’s the perfect boyfriend, even if he is oblivious sometimes and a bit shit at remembering important things, but it’s fine. You’re the same way. 

Stage Vernon, however, is a problem. 

Stage Vernon is a natural entertainer. Stage Vernon gets lost in the music, rapping and singing his heart out and dancing like the rent is due in an hour. And it drives you insane every time. 

Stage Vernon almost always ends the shows that you attend by walking off stage, immediately looking for you, and fucking you senselessly in a random room. By the time he’s done with you, you usually find at least three bite marks near your shoulder, countless hickies across your body, and marks where his fingers had been digging into the skin on your hips from holding you still while he used all the adrenaline from the show to pound into you relentlessly. You fucking love it.

Which is why this feels different. You surprised him at a show in a different country. You were wearing your best outfit showing off his two favorite things about you, your ass and your breasts. You waited in the dressing room while they were doing soundcheck. When they came back, everyone quietly greeted you, not wanting to give away the surprise to Vernon, who was the last to enter. His eyes found yours immediately, his mouth hanging open in utter shock. Seungkwan had to push him towards you just to bring him back to reality, lifting you in his arms and swinging you from side to side as he buried his face in your neck, mumbling about how much he missed you. 

The show was amazing. Of course, it was. Vernon put his all on the stage, and you watched as you usually did, absolutely amazed at his duality and the fact that he was yours. You didn’t even care that he barely looked in your section’s direction because he focused on his performance and interacting with the fans. This was his job, and he can’t be distracted by you while working. 

Except you were all he could think about while on stage, which is probably why he went so hard tonight. All he could think about was getting you back to the hotel so he could have his way with you after two months apart. That’s why he didn’t look your way the whole night. That’s why he barely said anything when he got off stage, in the car ride back to the hotel, or in the elevator to your floor. 

It’s not until you put the keycard into your room’s door and open it that he finally makes a sound. A low growl as he stops you from proceeding down the hall once you both step inside the room. The grasp on your wrist is tight when he pulls you back to face him and desperately presses his lips against yours and pushes you against the wall in the process. 

You both moan in between fervent kisses and gasps of air. He dips down a little, hands wrapping around your thighs to pick you up and keep you pinned against the wall with his hips. Your dress quickly becomes useless and rides up to your waist just from being lifted, the straps falling off your shoulders like string. 

“I missed you so much, baby.” He groans into your mouth, and you lean your head back against the wall. 

You take a useless deep breath that escapes quickly when his lips move down your jawline, landing on the part of your neck he labeled the sweet spot since it always made you squirm under him. Tonight’s no different as you let out a sharp squeak, starting to struggle under the strength of him pinning you, hands tangling in his hair when he rolls his hips perfectly. 

“Vernon, baby. It’s been two months, don’t make me wait any longer.” You plead into his ear, and he stills immediately. 

For a second, you panic internally, thinking you ruined the moment. But he just brings his face back up to face yours, resting his forehead on yours as his eyes pierce yours. 

“You think I enjoyed making us wait until we got to your room? That I enjoyed not just bending you over the couch after soundcheck in front of my hyungs and fucking you until next year?” He lifts from your forehead, returning to your neck and biting down hard before letting go, ensuring he left a mark behind. 

“Or how I had to ignore an entire section of the arena because if I saw you in this fucking outfit again, I’d drag you onto the stage and show everyone what I do to you?” His lips trail down to your collarbone, lips bruising your skin on the way down.

“Do you think I haven’t lost my fucking mind these past two months without you?” After this question, the death grip  on your thighs loosens only to readjust his hold on you and push you further up the wall. 

“No, baby, no. I don’t mean that.” You whine, using your grasp on his hair to move him back to face you. 

“I mean, I need you. Now. I need you to fuck me right now.”

His eyebrows shoot up at you, a cocky grin following suit.

“Are you trying to tell me what to do?” His tone is teasing, his hands sliding up and down the back of your thighs. 

“If it gets your cock in me? Then, yes. Yes, I am telling you what to do.” You whine, trying to roll your hips for any amount of friction. But he presses further against you, making any movement impossible. 

The man dares to laugh, forcing a groan out of you when his lips meet yours again. 

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, baby girl.” A wicked smile flashes when you pout at your boyfriend. 

“You’re my little plaything, right? My little obedient plaything?”

You nod because you are, and you’re not afraid to admit it. You love when he throws you around and edges you until you cry. But you’re also needy and desperate right now and not in the mood to be played with. You missed him like crazy for two months, which is how you ended up working with Seungkwan to get you a flight out to visit. 

“But an obedient plaything wouldn’t tell me what to do, would she?” 

“Vernon. Please.”

“That’s better.” He grins, a small laugh escaping when you whimper against his lips. He backs away from the wall, giving you enough time to secure your legs and arms around him as he brings you to bed, giving you another kiss before he tosses you onto the bed. He sheds all of his clothes before you can fully process where you are. 

When he hovers over you, your legs wrapped around his waist and thighs resting on his, you get that familiar sense of excitement again. Vernon sometimes changes his behavior in bed. You call it the secret third Vernon. Stage Vernon multiplied by ten. You love it, you hate it, you crave it, and you fear it. 

Tonight’s Vernon, you’ve met a few times before it got rougher. This Vernon is slow, methodical, calm, and loving. He doesn’t bother helping you out of your dress, kissing whatever skin is exposed as he makes his way back down to lay between your legs. 

You let out a series of soft moans when he lightly bites your inner thighs, tongue dancing across the marks a little before moving on to the next bite. 

“Fuck, baby, please. Please, I need something. Anything.” You’re already on the verge of crying, the teasing being too much for you after such a long time away from him. 

You feel him exhale a laugh against your skin, kissing the space between your thigh and where you need him most before he harshly tugs your underwear down to your knees, giving you a moment to kick it off the rest of the way. He finally places a soft kiss on your clit, your hips buck up, and he forces them back down as he dives right in, lapping up your arousal from your center and thumb coming up to play with your clit. 

Your whines and moans become stronger and louder as he eats you out. You spare no thoughts or concerns for your hotel neighbors. The only important thing right now is your boyfriend’s mouth that’s buried between your folds and the fingers that are now thrusting in and out of you with no remorse. 

You lift your head slightly to look down and see him work his magic. You have no idea why you open your mouth, but you can’t stop yourself from speaking as your hand tangles in his hair.

“Fuck, that’s a good boy, keep going.” 

You don’t even sound like yourself when saying it. You have no clue who or what possessed you. Your eyes widen in horror as Vernon stops what he’s doing to slightly lift his head to look up at you, eyebrows raised to the top of his head.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t. I don’t—ahh, fuck.” Your head falls back onto the bed, crying out at the sudden pleasure of Vernon’s mouth sucking on your clit like his life depends on it until you’re coming around his fingers and on his tongue. He pulls off you for just a moment, quickly crawling back up your body to kiss all across your face and neck. 

“Say it again.” He growls against your ear.

“What?” You question, unsure of the sudden change. 

“Say it again, baby. Call me your good boy.” He groans against the skin under your ear.

“What?” You ask again, fingers dancing up and down his spine. “You wanna be my good boy?”

The guttural groan that vibrates through his chest answers your question for you. You’re thankful he can’t see your reaction right now, a huge grin plastered across your face. You whisper for him to roll over, and he does, effortlessly holding you close as he flips you both over and slides himself up the bed so he can sit against the headboard. He pulls you back on top of him, legs straddling either side of his lap. 

“I thought I just said roll over, not sit up.” You smile, wrapping your arms around your neck as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling at the zipper of your dress so it comes undone 

“And I said you don’t tell me what to do.” He teases back, capturing your lips again. But only for a moment because you pull away, leaving him to whine at the loss. You lift the dress over your head, tossing it somewhere off the bed.

“So I can’t tell you what to do, yet you get turned on when I call you a good boy?” You hold his chin between your thumb and index finger, tugging down slightly so his lips barely part.

“I didn’t get turned on.” He lies, his hands finding their usual grasp on your hips.

“No? Then what was that? What was that whole ‘say it again, call me your good boy’ stuff? You don’t want me telling you you’re a good boy?” You slowly roll your hips, your soaked center rubbing perfectly against his erection. “Don’t want me telling you how amazing you feel inside me? How well your perfect cock stretches me out?” 

The grip on your hips tightens and you feel yourself clench around nothing when he tries to suppress his whines. His eyes shut tight when you lean forward to whisper in his ear.  

“Tell me, baby. Are you a good boy that knows how to treat his girlfriend right?”

He nods quickly, exhaling a shaky breath and pulling your hips over his back and forth. 

“Yeah? A good boy that knows how to make his girlfriend feel good?” 

“Fuck, yes.” His words are drawn out, and his head falls back, hitting the headboard. 

“Then be a good boy and prove it.” He takes barely a second to do as you say, quickly lifting your hips so he can line himself up with you and sitting you back down on his length in one go. 

Your breath stops for a moment at his action, looking down to watch him rut your hips against him. You mutter a few curse words under your breath, mostly enjoying the feeling you’ve been craving for two months. He lets you take over, watching you lift your hips and bring them back down in a rhythm that has both of you losing your minds. You bring your gaze away to look up at him, his eyebrows are pinched together, and his bottom lip is perfectly tucked under his teeth. He looks so good, and the fact that he’s reacting this way because of you is a little confidence boost you don’t need but greatly appreciate. 

“Feels like I’m doing all the work here, baby.” You smirk, rocking your hips once to make his breath shudder, looking up at you. “You’re not proving to be a good boy if I’m doing all the work, now are you?” You tease, watching his eyes flicker from your sweet boyfriend enjoying the feeling of you to your menace of a boyfriend that just got off stage. 

In the blink of an eye, he pushes you forward so you’re on your back again, hands forced up above your head with one hand as the other grabs both of your ankles, folding your legs together up towards your chest. He gives you all of two seconds to focus on what had happened before he’s roughly shoving himself back into you, beginning the relentless pace you’ve been looking forward to since buying the plane ticket out here. 

“Fuck, there he is.” You quickly say in a gasp. He laughs as he presses deeper with each thrust. You cry out, unable to move any of your limbs. You try to lift your hips more to meet him faster, but he lets go of your wrists, pinning you back down by placing his hand on your lower stomach. His thumb creeps down, finding your clit and rubbing harsh, almost circles eliciting a loud moan of his name to leave your lips.

You breathe out a warning of you being close, and he only gives a small nod because he is pulling out enough to lower his head, spitting directly on your clit before quickly resuming his harsh pace. You try lifting your hips again at the sudden shock of him spitting on you, but his hand holds you down again, his thumb finding its way back to your clit. 

“Come for me, baby. I’ve missed the feeling of you coming around my cock.” He groans out the words, bringing your legs to his chest and kissing your ankle. Just that action alone is enough to quickly bring you to the edge, but it’s when he bites down just above your ankle that you feel the hot coil in you burst and you’re coming undone for him while he continues to fuck you through it. 

When you’ve finally calmed down enough, he quickly pulls himself out of you, dropping your legs and parting them, so he has access to your stomach. His hand wraps around his cock and starts pumping while he grunts a series of words you barely understand.

“Good boy, baby. Come all over your plaything. You did such a good job. Come for me, baby.” You repeat your affirmations a couple of times until he finally lets out your favorite sound, a loud but deep growl followed by short gasps and moans as he comes all over your stomach. He stills for a moment before moving to your side and laying backwards next to you, neither of you care that your feet are at the headboard. 

You both stay silent while catching your breath, your fingers mindlessly tracing the cum on your stomach as he watches. You’re not doing it to be sexy or try to turn him on again. It’s just a thing you do while thinking. He knows that, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t doing anything for him. 

“So…” you giggle at your own thoughts, “a praise kink, huh?” you turn your head to grin at him. He sighs, resting his arm over his face to hide a laugh.

“I guess so.” 

“Interesting…the rough loving dominating one wants to be told he’s a good boy. I can get used to that.” 

“That’s fine, but don’t forget who has the power here.” He grumbles with an almost giggle, failing to say it seriously as he turns on his side, head resting in his hand. 

“Oh, me for sure. You can’t be rough with me unless I say so. And you won’t be praised if you do anything I don’t like. All me, baby.” You grin as he stares at you, eyebrows pinched together again and mouth open in disbelief.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He concedes, and you giggle, flipping to your side, mimicking his posture to get closer to him. You cup his face with your free hand as your smile softens.

“I missed you, Vernon. So much. Two months is too long.” You whisper. You know it’s his job, touring the world and being an idol and someone everyone desires to be with. But it’d be stupid not to admit that it’s hard not seeing him every day. 

“I know. I’m sorry, y/n. If I could, I’d take you everywhere with me. You’d never leave my side.” His free hand finds your waist, thumb rubbing soft circles against your skin. 

“Oh, that might be too clingy there, buddy.” You giggle, easing the sadness you both feel.

“How long are you here for?” you look off to the side at the imaginary calendar in your mind.

“A week and a half. I think. I leave before you head back to Seoul.” One of his eyebrows raises at the idea of having you on tour with him for under two weeks. A mischievous grin creeps along his face as he tugs your waist closer to his.

“Then I have just under two weeks to make up for two months of neglect.” his voice lowers when he moves to kiss your neck. 

“Oh, a good boy with a good plan. I like it.” You tease, cackling when he tickles you before climbing back on top of you to make good on his plan. 

hope you enjoyed! lmk what you think. I love you 💜

#fic: Good Boy #Kelly writes #Seventeen #Vernon #vernon x reader #vernon x f reader #vernon x you #choi hansol #hansol x reader #vernon smut #vernon fluff #hansol smut #hansol fluff #svt smut #svt fluff #svt x reader #svt vernon #vernon x y/n #Vernon fic #hansol fic #seventeen hansol #svt fic

[the-cult-of-russo]

Such a Softer Sin (Part 3)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Warnings: I’m not specifically tagging this one, if you’ve seen the show, nothing will shock you. Smut will happen eventually so minors DNI, thanks.

A/N:  Big thanks to @blanchedelioncourt for being my beta reader for this story (ily bby). Also, thanks for all the love for this story so far, you guys are amazing!

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You, Atticus and Kosmos sat in your chairs facing the Council. The room was rather large and pretty bare, adored mostly in white with hints of red and gold here and there. The only thing in the room was a large wooden table you were sitting at. You were sandwiched between your boys and the Council sat opposite. All of them with gray hair and facial hair to some varying degree on their faces. You couldn't help but picture the King looking the same. Old and pompous. An asshole. Maybe that was unfair, he did after all make your pack a legitimate one when Kosmos went to see him. Kosmos had said he was shocked by how nice he was to him, but still, the Council was chosen by the King and they were very prejudiced. You couldn't help but fear the King after all the tales you’d heard. He hated rogues, and with good reasons. You hated them too after what they did to your old pack. You despised being painted with the same brush as those rogues, your pack was nothing like those savages. But the King was known to loath rogues, to the point that if he found one trespassing near his lands, he’d kill them, swiping their head clean off their shoulders and literally putting it on a stick and placing it in the front on his lands as a warning to the rogues. If that didn’t say insane, you didn't know what did. Then again, with your kill count, could you really judge anyone?

“Welcome, Alpha. I trust your journey went well?” the middle man spoke, you didn't remember his name. You cared that little about these men, you never cared to learn them.

“It did. Although we were hoping to rest up a little before the meeting,” Kosmos spoke up firmly. His carefree attitude was gone and replaced by a cold face, his Alpha energy pushing outwards. You could see how the Council men were struggling with it, after all, they weren't Alphas. It made you inwardly smirk.

“We apologize, but we wanted the meeting as quick as we could. It's of grave importance,” one of the other men said. That made you sit up straighter, just what the hell did they want this time? Kosmos stayed silent, quirking his brow waiting for them to elaborate. The Council looked somewhat tenser than usual and it didn't make you feel any better.

“The original job we had for you is no longer important. More urgent matters have arisen and the King himself has requested a favor of you,” the middle man spoke again. Well shit, the King himself asked this one. You felt nerves bloom in your belly and you knew Atticus felt it when he took your hand in his and held it tightly, looking out for you just as he always had. 

“What is it?” Atticus spoke up. Just like Kosmos, he was no longer cheeky and witty. His eyes were sharp and focused, back straight as he looked right at the men unwavering. 

“I’m sure you've heard talk about the vampires?” the man on the left piped up curiously. 

“We’ve heard some talk around, yes. People think a war is coming,” you said. Your voice was strong, carrying through the large room. Inside you were shitting yourself about what this might be but outwardly you were calm and emotionless.

“You heard right. What's more is… Rogues, the real rogues have sided with them,” the middle man said. The way he worded ‘real rogues’ made you bristle, like it wasn't his choice of words and he felt uncomfortable saying it. Your eyes narrowed slightly at him and he looked away, you tried not to smirk at how you intimidated him. Out of all of them, you had the worst reputation when it came to your fighting. They didn't call you The Dancer of Death for no reason. Your kill count was higher than Kosmos’ and Atticus’ combined. 

“That's ridiculous. Rogues don't take orders or work for anyone,” Atticus scoffed disbelievingly.

“Usually yes, but they are gaining something from this. They want the Kingdom to fall. They want to ruin the hierarchy, they want anarchy. Siding with the vampires means wiping us out. They get what they want,” the man on the left explained.

You hated how it made sense and it only made you uneasy. Rogues were bastards and ruthless and so were the vampires, having them team up meant they had more numbers. Shit just got real.

“How do we fit into this?” Kosmos asked impatiently. You knew the news hadn't sat well with him. A war would mean your pack was at risk and your small numbers only made it worse. You were an easy target.

“King William has a proposition for you,” the middle man said vaguely. You rolled your eyes and couldn't stop your mouth from opening.

“Which is?” you asked, attitude dripping of your words. Atticus squeezed your hand reassuringly.

“He wants the Nomad pack on his side. We all know what good fighters you all are. He wants your pack to move into the castle grounds, you'll all receive the training of the Royal Warriors. He wants you to pledge your loyalty to him in this war and fight by his side,” the middle man elaborated. It felt like the air in the room just got sucked out and you held your breath. You felt conflicted. On one hand, you felt pride swelling in your chest that the King had such faith in your pack that he wanted them here, wanted them in the castle grounds and to give them real training. But on the other hand you’d be putting the pack at risk by having them all at the front of the war.

‘What do you think?’ Kosmos minlinked them. Atticus’ thumb was rubbing circles on your hand as you all glanced at each other, clearly having a private moment to discuss it.

‘I’m not sure. They’re asking a lot from us but we’d be here which is safer and with more numbers,’ Atticus replied.

“I agree. Also, we’d be in the war no matter what happens. The rogues and vamps would target us first no doubt. At least here we'd be protected,’ You added. You knew Kosmos was uncomfortable with making this choice. Usually every pack member got to vote and it was clear the men wanted an answer right now. He never liked making choices without everyone saying it was okay. 

“What do we get out of this?” Kosmos asked out loud, looking right at the middle man with cold eyes. 

“For one, you get protection. You have what, 21 pack members? That's a risk. You get to train with the Elite Warriors. You will have access to all the food and weapons you wish, use of our expert medical facility,” the man replied and you instantly perked up.

‘Leanna,’ you mindlinked them urgently. You didn’t need to elaborate, they'd know what you meant. 

“We have a pack member who's pregnant, she lost her last baby last year. She went into labor too early and our medical supplies weren’t enough and we have no real pack doctor. Will she get care here?” Kosmos asked firmly. The loss of the pup had been hard for the whole pack. The pup was the first ever to be born in the Nomad pack and it was a symbol of a new generation for you all. Because of your nature of being misfits and lost, most of the pack members were unmated. There were a couple who had come with their mates and Leanna had been the only one to find her mate upon arriving. It had been Damon, your lead warrior. When she gave birth too early and the baby died, the whole pack had mourned deeply for months. It had been a big blow for all of you to lose your first ever pup. If she was able to get real care here and this new baby would survive, you all knew the rest of the pack would approve of this deal no matter what. 

“Of course. We have specialty doctors for things like that, she and the baby would be well looked after, I assure you,” the man on the right said. You were shocked to see his eyes soften a little at the mention of what happened. It was clear the baby and Leanna meant a lot to you all. Maybe they were realizing you weren’t as coldhearted as everyone seemed to think you were.

‘Guys?’ Kosmos asked unsure through the mindlink. You knew he was still uncomfortable making this call himself.

‘I think we should do it. Leanna needs the care, Kos. We can't lose another pup, I don't know if the pack would recover from another loss,’ you replied softly. 

‘I think we should too. The pack will understand,’ Atticus agreed. You could feel Kosmos’ nervous energy through your link, could feel his guilt and overwhelming grief. He’d really taken the loss of the pup to heart. He was Alpha and he felt like it was his fault, like he’d failed the baby and his parents. You were honestly worried about his mental state if you lost another baby. 

“Okay, we accept,” Kosmos said with a nod. The men looked pleased and somewhat relieved as they smiled. You were sure you’d never seen them actually smile before and you wondered if they’d been worried about the King’s reaction if they said no.

“Good, we knew you'd make the right choice. The dinner with the King and his men will be a celebratory dinner. It will be at 6 pm, so you can rest and then freshen up before then. We’ll have some clothes sent up to your rooms for you. Your pack will move here before the end of the week,” the man in the middle explained. You didn't miss how they mentioned the dinner with the King was a celebration. It irked you a little since you'd already been invited to the dinner, it was like they presumed you'd say yes and planned it anyway. 

“That's fine with us. Thank you for your time,” Kosmos said, sounding all business.

“Azalea will show you to your rooms, she’s waiting just outside,” the man on the left said. With a nod, you all stood up and you couldn't get out of there quick enough.

Sure enough, the maid from before was standing there patiently waiting and gave you all somewhat nervous smiles. 

“I’ll show you to your rooms for the night, please follow me,” she said politely. You smiled back at her, hoping to put her at ease. She seemed terrified around you and as much as you thrived off that when it came to people you needed to intimidate, you didn't need the poor maid pissing herself in your presence. It didn't take long to walk upstairs and through the hallways before you were shown to some rooms. She stopped by two that were side by side.

“These are the Beta’s and Gamma’s rooms, I hope they'll be to your liking. Alpha, if you follow me, I'll show you to your room,” Azalea smiled. It was hardly unheard of that the Alpha’s rooms were far more luxurious and bigger than the others but you and Atticus had no intention of staying in the rooms given to you.

“They’ll be staying with me in my room. These rooms aren’t necessary,” Kosmos said softly. It seemed he was also trying not to frighten her, his voice sounded weird instead of his usual rough tone. Like he was talking to a spooked child. 

“Oh… a-are you sure, Alpha?” she asked, confused. He just nodded so she bowed her head and led you further down the hallway. Of course it was weird to others, the three of you cramped in one room, but it was how it always was for you three. Your pack house was small and people had to share rooms. From the moment you and Atticus found Kosmos, you’d slept in the same room, or cave as it was at the time. Back at home, you shared a room there too, you felt safer with each other that way. It was a sort of comfort. You’d never slept away from each other before except the few times Kosmos had been away for business on his own or without one of you. The maid opened the door and revealed a large room that was decorated in red and black. The bed was queen sized and the carpets were lush and black. Off to the side was an open door, revealing a cream and gold bathroom. It was all so fancy and you and Atticus shared a look. You weren’t used to this at home by any means. You had one shower you all had to use and it ran off rainwater. 

“If you need anything, just press that button near the door and I’ll come right away. Dinner is at 6 pm and I’ll bring you the clothes provided by the Council,” the maid said as she walked to the door with a slight bow of her head.

“Thank you, Azalea,” you smiled. The girl looked somewhat shocked at your thanks and it annoyed you. People should thank her more often for what she did. The young girl grinned at you before slipping out of the room.

“Alright… Nap time!” Atticus grinned as he gleefully rubbed his hands together. You snorted as you glanced around at the fancy furnishings whilst Atticus tugged off his boots and flopped onto the large soft bed. Kosmos poked at a fancy statue on the bedside table like it was some alien object that might attack him. You took your boots off, setting them neatly by the bed as you climbed on in the middle, the bed was big enough to fit all three of you. At home you didn't even have a bed, you had a pile of cushions and blankets you slept in. You let the other members have the beds. 

“Oh… this is comfy,” you smiled sleepily as you snuggled inside the fluffy blanket.

“Mmm, like a cloud,” Atticus murmured as he rolled onto his side facing you. Kosmos shuffled around for a bit and you presumed he was taking his shoes off too. The bed dipped when his large frame got in on your other side. Anyone would think you were all weird sharing a bed like this, like you were in some kind of strange three way relationship. Such a scandal. Really though, you were just three damaged souls that found comfort in one another. You might be tough and grown up now but inside you were all still scared children that needed affection and comfort. It didn't take long for you to slip off into a peaceful sleep surrounded by the scent and touch of your boys, making your brain know you were safe. 

When you woke up, Kosmos was gone. You could hear the shower running and presumed he was in there. Atticus was still snoring away and you smirked to yourself as you watched him, his mouth slightly agape as he snored softly. You wanted to flick his nose but decided against it, letting him sleep. You climbed out of bed with a slight groan and stretched. The clock read 4 pm and you had some time to kill. The clothes weren’t there yet and you were bored, you always had to be doing something. You weren't one to sit there and just do nothing. You decided to go and have a wander around the castle, they often had large fancy paintings and ornaments that you enjoyed looking at. They were all really old and you enjoyed soaking it all in, it was one of the things you loved about the castle. You slipped your boots back on, sending a quick mindlink to Kosmos to tell him you were going for a wander. He told you to be careful and then you left the room. You wandered around the long hallways, stopping to look at some of the paintings you enjoyed. Some of them were pretty oil paintings of lush landscapes, vibrant flowers scattered across them with a bright blue sky. There was another of a jet black wolf with glowing silver eyes. When you turned a corner, you stood there for a moment. There was a large stained glass window, depicting some kind of story about a wolf and a war. You started walking, eyes glued upwards to it and how the light filtered through, casting the hallway in a glow of red and gold. It was beautiful. You were trying to piece together the story of the panels, not realizing that your distraction was causing you to veer off path. It wasn't until your hip bumped into a table and the sound of shattering hit your ears that you were snapped out of your trance. Your eyes stared down at the shattered vase and your heart hammered away.

“Oh no. Oh fuckity fuck fuck,” you muttered, dropping to your knees as you picked up one of the many many many pieces. It was an old vase, it looked almost Greek. This was the last thing you needed.

“Oh shit,” you whined to yourself, glaring at the pieces. You didn't even see anyone else in the hallway until someone crouched in front of you. You glanced up, blinking slowly at the man.

“Looks like you've made a bit of a mess,” he grinned mischievously at you. He was fucking breathtaking. He had dark hair and even darker eyes, dressed in deep red pants and a cream and gold jacket. You had no idea what rank he held here, no idea how the uniform system worked, but he exuded power. You wondered if he was one of the guards or warriors. 

“Do you think it can be glued back together?” you asked softly, tearing your eyes away from his angelic face as you stared at the broken vase forlornly. You were going to be in deep shit for this. He picked up one of the pieces that was absolutely tiny, flashing you a wry grin.

“I don't think there's any savin’ this one, sweetheart,” he said with a snort. You pouted, closing your eyes and you blew out a breath.

“I’m in so much trouble. After the whole King statue decapitation, the Council’s gonna string me up,” you huffed.

“That was you?” he asked with a light laugh. You glanced at him then, noticing how he looked more than amused and your cheeks flushed.

“You heard about that then?” you asked, your lips tugging up slightly.

“Everyone heard about that,” he replied with a smirk.

“In my defense, it was an accident. And it clearly wasn't made with a good sturdy material since it broke so easy,” you muttered almost childishly. He chuckled and the sound was smooth, making your tummy flutter slightly. 

“You're right about that. Besides, I have it on good authority that the King didn’t care too much for that one,” he said with an impish grin.

“Really? The Council told me he’d cut my hands off. I’m sure he will now I've broken this too,” you said as you nibbled your lip. You were genuinely worried about how the King would handle you breaking something of his yet again and your heart was hammering away.

“You really think he’d cut your hands off?” he asked, sounding amused.

“Of course he would. Haven't you heard the stories about him? He’s scary and I’m over here just breaking his old fancy antiques. It's not like he can just replace them,” you replied. You glanced at him as he furrowed his brow a little and you wondered why he seemed somewhat disappointed or annoyed at your statement. 

“Y/N! What have you done?” the voice made you tense, looking over the man's shoulder. It was the Council man from the middle, who still had no name. He was looking at you horrified and your face paled. You jumped when the handsome man in front of you patted your knee before standing. The Council man's eyes widened and he bowed his head and you couldn't look away, looking confused.

“Y-Your Majesty, I didn't see you there,” the Council man muttered. Oh shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. He was the King. The fucking King! You’d just been saying how scary the King is, he’d seen you break something of his and confessed to the statue. You were dead. So fucking dead. You felt like you couldn't breathe.

“It’s alright, Viktor. This was my fault, Y/N was just helpin’ me,” the King said smoothly. You blinked dumbly, still knelt on the floor by the broken vase. You had no idea why he was lying for you. The Councilman, Viktor apparently, nodded, the movement jerky. He looked ready to shit himself.

“Right… well then. You can leave it there, Your Majesty. Y/N can pick up the pieces and-” the man started.

“Why would she do that? You do realize we pay people like the staff to do that sort of thing? She’s a guest, not a maid,” despite the teasing smile on his lips, the tone of his voice was firm and commanding, making it clear to Viktor not to argue with him. The Councilman looked stunned but nodded and you smirked inwardly that he’d defended you.

“Of course. I'll send for a maid right away,” the man bowed and scurried off like he couldn't get away quick enough. But then the King looked back at you and you felt like you might have a heart attack. This was the King. He wasn't old and gray like you thought he was. He looked majestic and ethereal with his beauty and you’d just been talking about him to him. Not only that, but you were still considered a rogue by some people. He hated rogues. You were confused and scared all rolled into one. He walked over, offering you a hand. You wasted no time in taking it and letting him help you up. One wrong move and he might snap your neck. 

“Um… Thank you. And sorry, I didn't mean to break the vase and all of that. I really should be going now,” you rambled nervously before trying to run off. He gripped your wrist though and your heart stilled completely as you turned to face him. He had an amused smile on his face.

“You don't needta run off, Y/N. You're not in trouble, honestly. That vase wasn't even mine,” he smirked, as if he knew what you were thinking. It did ease you somewhat but there was still the other issue you were worried about. Apparently his presence turned you into such a mess, you didn't seem to have any control of your mouth.

“I’m a rogue… I mean… I’m from the Nomad pack. And I know you don’t like me and I'd rather not get into trouble and-” you started, eyes wide and spooked as your heart beat so fast it felt like it might burst through your rib cage and run away. 

“The Dancer of Death,” he murmured breathlessly, looking somewhat awed by you. It was jarring to say the least, to have the Demigod Lycan King look at you that way. It made you feel like jello.

“That’s me,” you squeaked lamely. He looked you over like he was appraising you and you felt your cheeks heat up. It wasn't a lustful gaze that you’d received off many men. You wondered if he was assessing how such a woman was capable of such things he’d no doubt heard of. Most of it was embellished though if you were honest. People like to do things for dramatic effect. 

“Well, Y/N, it's a pleasure to meet you. I’m Billy,” he smiled brightly at you. You felt like the breath in your lungs had been stolen with that smile. Pearly white teeth and pointy canines on display. How was this the same man you’d heard all the tales of? Billy… it was such a soft boyish name compared to William and you weren't sure how to feel about it.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. The pleasure’s all mine,” you smiled shyly as you bowed your head.

“Billy. You don't need to call me by my title,” he murmured with a slight frown. You swallowed thickly, still confused why he was being nice or giving you the time of day. You felt on edge and wanted to run and hide in your room. 

“Isn't that… inappropriate?” you asked carefully with wide eyes. He snorted softly and his thumb stroked your wrist, you hadn't even noticed he was still holding it.

“Maybe, but I don't really care. When it's just us, call me Billy… Please,” he murmured softly. His almost black eyes were almost pleading with you and you wondered if you were still asleep in the comfy bed and having some weird dream.

“Okay… Billy,” you said, testing it out. His lips curled into a grin that made your heart skip a beat and you found yourself smiling back. 

“I’ll see you at dinner, Y/N,” he smiled, bringing your hand to his mouth as he placed a soft kiss on top of it, his eyes never breaking contact with yours. You just stared at him with wide eyes, all you could do was nod as he released your hand and started to walk away. 

You stayed glued to the floor for a while until the maid came to clean up the vase. It was Azalea. She gave you a shy smile, a dustpan and broom in her hands as she got to work getting rid of the mess you made, yet you still stayed rooted to the floor, looking down the hallway that the King had gone through. 

“Are you alright, Beta Y/N?” she asked softly after a few curious glances. You snapped out of your trance then and nodded, shaking your head at yourself.

“Yeah, I’m good…. Do you need any help?” you asked her, trying to get your brain back in gear.

“Oh no, I’m okay, thank you,” she murmured in reply. She was almost done anyway as she swept the last of the broken pieces up into the dustpan.

“You’ve met the King, right? I mean, you work for him,” you asked curiously and she nodded. You noticed that she never gave you eye contact and you weren't sure if that was part of her job or simply because you were a Beta in a pack known to be pretty savage.

“Of course, why do you ask?” she asked timidly. Your eyes drifted over your shoulder, down the hall to the door the King had gone through before back to her.

“Is he… nice?” you asked, sounding confused. You just couldn't wrap your head around your interaction with him. You’d heard all of the stories of him and while you knew him to be just and fair, he was also pretty scary. You knew it was a little hypocritical, you knew the same could be said about you with some of the stories floating around. Most people probably thought you were an unhinged psychopath. You just hadn’t expected him to be so nice, so caring. So… soft. 

“King William is a wonderful King,” she answered, giving you a smile and you tilted your head, eyes narrowed in a way that made her swallow thickly and avert her eyes all together. You weren’t sure if that was a rehearsed response or not. You stepped a little closer to her and she tensed up.

“You don’t need to lie to me, I won’t tell. I just… I just met him and he wasn’t what I expected,” you said softly, trying to put her at ease. Her eyes finally met yours then and she relaxed a little. 

“He’s a very good King. He takes care of his staff, he makes sure we’re all happy and okay. I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about him and most of it is true. He’s the King after all and sometimes he has to do things that are a little… unsavory. But he loves his people and he’s a good King,” she said, sounding more sure than you’d heard since you met her. You nodded, nibbling your lower lip a little, coming to the conclusion that he seemed to have many layers to him, much like you and your pack did. Still, you couldn't shake your interaction with him, something niggling in the back of your head that you couldn’t quite make out.

After saying your goodbyes to her, you headed back to your room, your mind feeling like it was moving through molasses as it replayed the interaction over and over again. When you got to the room, Atticus was sitting on the bed, Kosmos holding up an outfit you knew he’d never wear anywhere else. 

“Wow, that’s pretty fancy,” you remarked wryly as you walked in, earning a dirty look from Kosmos. To be fair, the only thing fancy about it was the jacket. The pants were black and tunic white, not much different to what he would usually wear. The jacket however was a pale blue with gold trim, the material looking far more luxurious than your normal clothes. 

“Just wait to see what you’re supposed to wear,” Atticus grinned cheekily and your smile melted off your face. He pointed to something hung up on the bathroom door and you deflated, a loud groan leaving your lips.

“No,” you whined pitfully, moving over to the bed as you flopped onto it ungracefully. 

“It’s just a dress, Y/N,” Kosmos snorted, a teasing tone to his voice letting you know he was enjoying the karma you were currently receiving.

“I don’t do dresses,” you bit out. You couldn't even remember the last time you’d worn a dress, maybe when you were a small child at some kind of pack occasion. You’d never been into dresses, always out playing in the dirt with Atticus. This dress was something a nobel woman would wear, not a fighter. It was floor length and the same pale blue as Kosmos' outfit and no doubt Atticus’ too. There was a large strip down the center of it that was a pretty white fabric with gold flowers and swirls all over it, blue laces across the front to cinch in the waist. The sleeves flared out quite a bit too at the end, creating a flared look. It wasn’t just a dress, it was a pretty dress and you really didn’t want to wear it.

“Oh come on, you’ll look amazing. The King sent it himself apparently,” Atticus murmured, nudging you a little. You groaned again, sitting up before glaring at the dress and wiping a hand over your face.

“I met the King,” you blurted, making them both look at you.

“Well, how did it go?” Atticus asked when you didn’t elaborate. You stood up, walking over to the dress and you rubbed the silky fabric between your fingers and then turned to look at both of them. 

“I broke a vase…” you started, making Atticus laugh loudly and Kosmos shook his head, not looking surprised.

“Of course you did,” Atticus smirked and you leveled a look at him.

“It gets worse,” you huffed.

“What did you do?” Kosmos asked, sounding wary.

“I broke the vase and then the most beautiful man to exist appeared. We were talking and I was going on and on about how the King would kill me for this after the whole statue thing. He seemed amused, he was pretty nice. And then a Councilman came,” you murmured, folding your arms over your chest.

“Turns out, the guy I was talking to was the King. Obviously, I shit myself. I didn’t know how he’d react to me breaking yet another thing of his and the whole rogue pack thing, but he was pretty nice. Put Viktor in his place when he expected me to clean up the vase,” you smirked a little at that and so did the boys.

“I told you he was nice,” Kosmos pointed out with a raised brow.

“I know you did but it’s hard to really see the guy as the same one we know all the stories about. He was just… normal. He even told me to call him Billy when we were alone,” you frowned in confusion. Kosmos’ brows rose at that and Atticus smiled so wide you were surprised his face didn’t split it half.

“Oh my god. Oh my god!” he laughed gleefully, jumping to his feet.

“What?” you asked slowly, looking to Kosmos who looked just as confused as you.

“He likes you!” Atticus beamed as he walked over, looking like a kid who just got their favorite toy.

“He likes me?” you asked with a snort. 

“Of course he does. Maybe he is a nice guy and maybe he’s a good King that treats his people well, but asking you to call him by his first name, a nickname? I mean, did he tell you to call him Billy?” He asked as he looked at Kosmos who shook his head.

“See! I mean, you have heard about him, right?” Aittucus asked as he wiggled his brows at you. You really wanted to throttle him.

“You mean the stories where he’s putting heads on sticks or ripping beating hearts out of chests?” you asked sardonically and he rolled his eyes, swinging an arm around your shoulder and jostling you a little.

“Not those ones. The story goes that he hasn’t found his mate yet. Some people think he doesn't even have one since he's the Demigod Lycan King and all, but he's attractive, has tons of power. Women flock to him in waves and naturally, he takes his pick sometimes. And it seems he's picked you,” he grinned and you shoved him away from you, making him laugh.

“Stop talking out of your ass,” you huffed, you hardly expected the King of all people to take an interest in you like that.

“I’m not! He wants to get in your pants… or under your dress, as it were,” he smirked impishly as he gestured to the dress hanging up. 

“That’s enough, Atti!” Kosmos muttered with a stony glare as he stood up.

“What? Are you telling me I’m wrong?” Atticus huffed.

“I don’t know if you're right or wrong, but none of it matters. Y/N getting tangled with the King is the last thing we want with a war coming,” Kosmos said firmly.

“I’m not getting tangled with the King!” you protested, giving them both a dirty look.

“It’s not like that, okay? When I told him I’m from the Nomad pack, he instantly knew who I was and he seemed impressed. Maybe he respects me or something, I don’t know. Just drop it,” you glared at Atticus mainly since he was the one being an idiot. He rolled his eyes again and held his hands up in surrender. 

“Fine, fine. I’ll leave it,” he pouted. 

You relaxed a little now he’d let go of the absurd notion of the King wanting you in his bed. Even if he did for some unknown reason, you weren’t interested. Sure, he was the most handsome man you’d ever met, but you were saving yourself for your mate. If you’d ever find him that was. You had to admit, you didn’t care too much. You’d been through a lot of trauma in your life and you were happy with your pack, happy with Atticus and Kosmos. You didn’t long for a mate like some people you knew, maybe you’d just been through too much. Maybe your mate had been from your old pack and now they were dead, you really didn’t know. Either way, you weren’t interested in casual hook ups. There were far more important and terrifying things on the horizon, like a war with the vampires and rogues, to bother with such things. You needed to keep your head in the game. 

“Alright, now if we’re done with the childish bullshit, we need to get ready for dinner. We're going to be late,” Kosmos sighed, looking at you both. You scrunched your face up as you looked over to the dress again. 

“Fine, but I hope they don't expect me to wear a dress all the time. That’s not happening,” you scowled.

“Maybe you could put a word in with the King since you're all buddy buddy now,” Atticus grinned as he grabbed his own outfit that matched Kosmos’. The only difference being there was less gold trim and you had a feeling it was a rank thing. Kosmos thwacked him around the head and he yelped before laughing, running off to the bathroom with his clothes. 

“Don’t let him get to you, you know how he is,” Kosmos murmured as you grabbed the dress from the door.

“A small child trapped in an adult's body? Yeah, I know,” you snorted, giving him a rueful look. It didn’t bother you really, although you hoped he wouldn’t tease such a thing in front of the King. That would be embarrassing. You really weren’t looking forward to the dinner and you had no idea who would be there. You had a sinking feeling that the Council would be there which would just sour the whole thing entirely. The King was nice enough so you didn’t have to worry about him too much anymore but you’d never met his men, no idea what they were like. You knew you’d soon find out. Moving to the castle would be a big change for the pack and you felt a little upside down about it all. You loved your pack, loved the packhouse even if it was small and only had the bare necessities. You liked the quiet life out of the way where you all just got on with it, doing jobs when you needed to for food or weapons. But things were changing now, it wouldn't be the same. You’d all be here with all of the King’s men and warriors, maybe even with other packs if he brought them in too. It would be far more people than you were used to. You were looking forward to the training though. You were all self taught, no formal or official training whatsoever. You were curious what you might learn here. You knew the only reason you'd accepted the King’s offer was for the safety of the pack. Not only would being here offer good medical care and all your needs would be taken care of, but it also meant safety in numbers. The pack already had a target on its back with the enemies you’d made and you knew you’d be the first to get hit in the war. You were all ruthless, you especially, but there was only so much you could do. Against the vampires and rogues? You weren't sure how you'd all fair but you didn’t think it’d be pretty. You knew you had to suck up your reservations about being here for the rest of your people, to keep them safe. All of them could fight but they weren’t all fighters and this meant the others would be safe from harm and out of the way. You really weren’t sure how all of this would play out and you were anxious about it, but at least this way, you’d all be better prepared.

Taglist: (if you’ve been asked to be tagged and aren’t here, it wouldn’t let me tag some people.)

@firexfate

@blanchedelioncourt

@on-ya

@sunshinedaisies-anddeath

@snowkestrel

@music-indie-tv

@idaofinfinity

@sweetserendipity65

@ramadiiiisme

@k-marzolf

@celestialams

@woowwwee

@noortsshift

@rainbowgoblinfan

@mysweetlittledesire

@promnightbinbaby

@intothesoul

#billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #billy russo x reader #billy russo

[theresa-of-liechtenstein]

art by em year in review 2023!

for the fourth time, i present to you a selection of the art i did this year! this definitely was the Year of Understanding Procreate, and i think it paid off. as usual, reflections under the cut.

january: i saw @malcolm-f-tucker tag a picture of abigail thaw with a comment about a theresa faceclaim and it left no survivors, i.e. i decided that theresa should have greying hair and did not look back. this was from when i was still trying to figure out what brush to use for lineart in procreate. luckily i had learned my lesson from the sketchbook learning curve and realized that what i liked for lineart would most likely be in the pencil section. however i wasn’t a huge fan of the brush i used in this one, so i didn’t use it again. instead, for later pieces, i decided to customize the 6b pencil brush to my liking, and…

february: …this came out of it! this is still one of my favorite things i have ever drawn, and it’s my favorite thing i’ve drawn yet for herc and linda. this piece really convinced me to use overlay layers more in my art, and the amount of detail i managed to capture in this one still amazes me now. and before anyone asks, yes, they are doing specific things in the startup procedure for an airbus a320-family aircraft, except linda is doing things off the CM1 checklist and herc is doing something off the CM2 checklist, which i learned later is not really something that is done. let’s just say herc is not the tightest stickler to convention.

march: one half of an intended two pieces centered around the f1 au (which, regrettably, i have yet to continue… i just reread what little of the second part is on ao3 and god, it slaps actually, i really need to continue it so bad) depicting a pivotal scene from around the outside, where theresa and linda decide to put aside a childhood feud at the top of the banked curve at monza. at sunset. on theresa’s birthday. i know, very meaningful, incredibly homoerotic. read the fic to see how well that turns out!

april: i always knew i wanted to redraw the first filipino!hercolyn thing i did back in 2020, the one that completely solidified in my mind the notion that These Characters Are Filipino, Actually, and when i got comfortable in procreate i quickly jumped on that. (if you notice, a lot of the stuff i did this year were redraws of old pieces i really liked but wasn’t fully satisfied with.) of course i wanted to draw them in the traditional clothes in my parents’ and grandparents’ wedding pictures. the implication of this being, of course, that this is the soft shoe shuffle wedding. i have a fic planned centered around that, from douglas’ perspective. now that grad school apps are basically done, if my honors thesis doesn’t kick me too hard, i’d love to get on that as soon as i can.

may: YOU JUST GOT COLINED! SEND THIS TO A FRIEND TO TOTALLY COLIN THEM! ah, colin fairbairn: the figure whose presence haunts all of newcastle but is never actually. named. (much to the chagrin of a lot of people who genuinely thought linda’s dad was named colin bc i Wouldn’t Shut Up About It) i just love him so much and i love this piece, i wanted to depict the wistfulness of an older colin whose airline is on the verge of collapse, who has been secure in his job as chief pilot of air cal, who looks out over glasgow airport (that’s glasgow’s runway in the background) and wonders if it’s time to put himself out to pasture. wondering what he could have done differently. it’s okay bby. there’s no way that you could have prevented this. but he’d never believe it. he’s too duty bound. he lives in my head rent free.

june: another redraw, this time of a piece from 2021. i was so happy with this one, and i am very happy with it still! everything about the older piece i loved was improved massively by this redraw: the poses, the proportions, the line work, the coloring. honestly, just thinking about the two of them just existing in the airport, overlooked by bustling passengers, just part of the landscape, but having such a rich history and relationship between them… it’s something i think about a lot and i love it.

july: this comprises the third part of an unofficial trilogy of drawings i did centered around douglas/martin/theresa. in each one, i centered a different member of the ot3: i did one centering martin last year, one centering douglas in the spring, and this one centers theresa between douglas and martin. i really enjoy how i did the expressions in this one: martin, looking out toward the planes; theresa, following his gaze, eager to share in the passion they both have; and douglas, looking down at both of them (yeah i think they’re both shorter than him. i think it’s cute). i feel like when i draw these three, where they look and how they look is very important to me.

august: can you believe before this point i had never drawn herc and douglas together? yeah, me too. anyway, them 🤍 i’ve literally only ever drawn them as older men so trying to draw them younger was. lowkey kind of hard. i’m hoping to revisit air england herc and douglas in the future, especially since i didn’t intend for this to be anything more than a quick bit due to those bisexual divorcee brackets (which i don’t know what became of them in the end except that douglas got through and herc didn’t, lmao)

september: unposted self-portrait done as a part of my aerospace fellowship application i wound up getting rejected from because they required me to do a creative component. not much to say here. anyways.

october: yet another redraw, this time of a portrait of herc, carolyn, linda, and arthur i did a year prior, in october of 2022. i like to think that lfeu!herc carries pictures of linda, arthur, and carolyn in his wallet: he had never wanted to be the family man for most of his life, but in his new life, this new form, he can play it well. something about the coloring seems a little off to me: i think i may have to go in and adjust arthur’s skin tone because i think it doesn’t look 100% right. but i love this one too. i hemmed and hawed for ages over what they should be wearing but in the end i put them in what they’d wear for work bc i couldn’t think anymore. but it turned out super cute and i think it emphasizes what brought the four of them together in the first place: aviation.

november: a cute little doodle of young!colin with baby linda, from a bigger piece. something i generally feel like i’ve gotten stronger with this year has been drawing a larger variety of poses. i discovered that procreate allows you to import reference images in a smaller window that can be very easily dragged around and resized, which was a massive improvement over my previous strategy with sketchbook, which had been to import reference images as their own layers. often, moving it around or resizing reference images resulted in some loss of quality. anyways there’s something just so tender about colin and linda and i love to revisit them.

december: last but not least, we finish off the way we started, with theresa (and an added douglas lol). and boy, how different does december look from january? granted, it’s a different angle, but i personally think there is so much more dimension at the end of the year compared to the beginning. i was less afraid of using overlays to enhance the coloring. and the brush i wound up settling on for lineart really ended up serving me well this whole year, culminating in this piece. not much to say on this one, i like it a lot :)

overall thoughts: i didn’t think i drew as much as i wanted to this year, but looking back i still think i made really good progress and improved a lot from last year, so i’m still happy. definitely want to draw more next year, explore new subjects, and maybe work on redrawing more pieces from previous years because those projects have been very fun to undertake.

once again i want to say a big thank you to everyone who’s ever shared or commented or left a like on anything i’ve drawn: it will have been 10 years next year since the end of the show i primarily create fanwork for, and to still have people out there who like what i do is such a gift. yes i create for myself, but i do also like receiving feedback from others and sharing it with others, so thank you thank you thank you. and happiest of new years to all :)

#em draws #em retrospects #art by em year in review

[saleintothe90s]

494. Seventeen Magazine, March 1997 - part 2

(Part 1)

Woah, this was the best LeAnn looked when she was a teenager. The staff did an amazing job on her. I feel like she kinda adopted this look after this shoot, right?

Maybe with the exception with the black and white dress on the right, JCPenney really dropped the ball. None of the prom looks in the actual issue matches the prom looks we see int the ads.

There's that green again! This time on Jordana Brewster.

Moisturizer and translucent powder seems like a patchy mess? y/n?

OH HERE WE GO BBY OLD NAIL POLISH FROM THE BEST ERA OF NAIL POLISH: THE MID 90s.

There's a great TikTok/instagram account called Vintage Dusties that showcases the most amazing 90s polish. I wonder what ever happened to Ripe brand polish? I saw it a few times in Seventeen, but I can't find a bottle on eBay or a mention online anywhere.

Pastel was an icon, it was a legend, it was the moment.

(eBay user SOLDBYMP)

These potpourris from the Gap look redic. You know they lost their scent almost immediately. I found one on eBay.

Man, back when Urban decay was grunge. Miss those days.

Ok, why couldn't Billy go to the prom with Michelle? Was he over 18?

I remember reading this as a thirteen year old, and thinking "yeah, nobody's mom is gonna allow that." I remember the doggy too!

It took me a few seconds to understand the cutting the straps off of life jackets and making belts out of them. Let's hope that L.W. is using top coat to seal those letters. Thea R. discovered prison makeup!

Here's the ketchup mustard and lettuce dresses we saw in last year's issue, but longer this time.

Baby Spice Girls!

Baby King of the Hill! The show had only been on at a couple of months at this point.

We were all still living in 1997, but Chaweon was living in 1999 with that amazing makeup.

This was part of the School Zone section they ran every month. Everybody always messed up their $50 JanSport with patches.

This looks almost like the dress Jordana was holding up a few pages earlier.

As someone who wears tights several days a week, I would invest in those $34 ones.

I remember the Chris O'Donnell story! Just because I didn't know what crew was back then. I thought a "crew meet" was Chris and his teammates setting up a stage set in record time. I was a very uncultured child. (part 3)

Facebook | Etsy | Retail History Blog | Twitter | YouTube Playlist | Random Post | Ko-fi donation | instagram / threads @thelastvcr​ | tik tok @ saleintothe90s

#seventeen magazine #1997 #1990s prom #prom dresses #leann rimes #1990s fashion #Chris o'donnell #king of the hill

[eriexplosion]

I've been super excited to get to Metamorphosis

I absolutely love this Alien-esque intro, the shot of the ruined ship, and the pan over the interior while there's screaming in the distance, seeing the single survivor running through the corridors trying to escape before he gets dragged out of sight to a surely gruesome death? God this is PEAK HORROR BEATS.

Speaking of horror, forgot we meet Hemlock this episode. This man's ABSOLUTELY HORRENDOUS VIBES. I really want to know more about his history with Nala Se, where he got a whole clone assistant, what is going ON here?

"What was done on Kamino was unfortunate" UNFORTUNATE? MILDLY UNFORTUNATE THE WHOLE DESTRUCTION OF YOUR ENTIRE PLANET THING.

I'm still very surprised that they took Lama Su off planet because he seems quite useless to the operation but you know, good thing for Hemlock that they did.

Cid really gave them zero time before being like DESPERATE to send them on another job, like I said I think that the Empire has been on Ord Mantell the whole time and she's trying to keep them from coming back, starting with giving them more jobs and eventually switching to reverse psychology DEMANDING they come back while threatening, knowing it would put them off.

I love Wrecker looking excited by each increasing and then frowning when he sees Hunter not reacting, he's just always a huge delight.

"HOW HARD COULD SCAVENGING CARGO BE?" <- Things said only before almost dying while scavenging cargo

Wrecker's weapons knowledge extending beyond just explosives is a fun detail, he seems delighted by the electrostaff

"Whoever did this wasn't human" Hunter real quick do you remember what franchise you're in? I get the vibe they were going for but 'wasn't human' covers a HUGE RANGE OF THINGS INCLUDING A LARGE PORTION OF PEOPLE.

Splitting Tech off on his own had me WORRIED AS FUCK the first time I watched this. Now I think it just gives a good look at how he could operate on his own post Plan 99.

Omega's cloning knowledge <3 she's SO SMART

I do not approve of the goo

THE SHOT OF BABY ZILLO SLURPING UP THE ARM. I THINK IT'S A DROID ARM BUT STILL.

I'm still. OBSESSED with Tech finding the zillo beast and immediately going FASCINATING :O

Survival is secondary to COOL CREECHUR

IT ATE THE CREW? god Omega bby, she is SO UPSET.

Tech realizing just how big this thing is going to get is amazing. You must not let it get near the power grid! Unfortunate.

I LOVE this shot

Also the shot of Tech SPINNING OMEGA OUT OF THE FIREBALLS WAY

Obsessed with how the zillo beast plot never TRULY resolves it just gets put off for another time.

This entire village getting rounded up.... I have the unfortunate feeling that no one is ever seeing them again.

ECHO AND REX MENTION

I love how Hemlock is instantly established as just The Worst despite him doing nothing in this episode, just his vibes are THAT rancid.

#the bad batch rewatch

[maplequeen94]

Hey.... what's ur fave internet horror series/project/etc

Or the one u think is like the best thought-out slash most intriguing

Thank you Corvus for allowing me to finally info dump on one of my most special of interests. Love you Bby 🥺💕

Ironically I made a whole ass Tik Tok a while ago listing my faves too lol

First up, EverymanHYBRID. This might be a hot take, but despite Slenderman’s reputation nowadays, I still think Slenderverse series are GOOD and I will die on that hill. While everyone sees Marble Hornets as the superior Slenderman series, I have always preferred EMH. The story was way more interesting and Evan, Vinny, and Jeff were way more likable protagonists that you genuinely wanted to see everything work out for them, which is why is was so heartbreaking when things didn’t. Plus, as cringy as HABIT maybe seen today, he’s still a super fun villain. He’s just evil for evil’s sake, he doesn’t care if these are people’s lives he’s destroying, he’s going have fun!

This Is My Milwaukee isn’t necessarily horror in the sense you’re thinking, but I love showing it to people and watching their reaction. This video was the trailhead to an ARG that’s now defunct, but honestly I still think the video stands on it’s own as a weird little video to show your friends. 

Possibly in Michigan is one of my all time favorite YouTube videos in general. I found it when the audio from PiM went viral on Tik Tok a few years back and instantly few in love with its surreal style. The Perfume Song and Animal Cannibal live in my head rent free. 

This House has People in It is another surreal trip I adore. I just love that it’s something you need to rewatch multiple times to catch everything that’s going on, plus the fact that there’s hours of extra hidden content on the “security” website that adds to the world building and story of this family. 

Sexygirlmax2019/ Hey Peabrain, You Teleport? Is so underrated and I wish more people talked about it. It’s one of the few Tumblr ARGs and it was made by two 15 year olds, which is SO impressive to me that two teenagers pulled off such an amazing ARG that had a satisfying ending when a lot of companies who’s LITERAL JOB IS MAKING ARGS can’t manage to do that. 

Hi I’m Mary Mary is just a gold standard. The story is engaging, and the EDITING, THE EDITING IS SO GOOD! Honestly the editing my favorite thing about the series, it’s just god tier. But the story is just as amazing as the editing, you feel for Mary’s struggles against her monsters and want to see her win and escape the house she’s trapped in. 

Mystery Flesh Pit National Park isn’t going be for everyone (especially if you’re someone who isn’t good with body horror) but I love the idea for weird stuff going on in a National Park and it surprises me that you don’t see a lot of stuff playing with that idea. I love the idea of this weird, eldritch creature being found and of course humans first thought goes to Capitalism. 

Vita Carnis is another body horror series that won’t be for everyone. This series has managed to do the impossible and has made my desensitized ass absolutely paranoid over their FUCKING MIMICS!!!!! LIKE SERIOUSLY, FUCK THE MIMICS SO HARD!!!! I BOTH LOVE AND HATE THEIR EXECUTION SO MUCH!!!!! IT’S SO WELL DONE, IT’S DOING WONDERS FOR MY INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS!!!!!

The Ningen is actually made by the same person who made the Monument Mythos series, tho I don’t believe it’s a spinoff. It follows a lot of lore surrounding the cryptid while also making it its own thing as well. The Ningen has always been one of my favorite cryptids but since there’s not a lot to it’s backstory no one ever seems to do anything with it, so it’s REALLY nice to see this obscure cryptid get some love.

Echo Rose/Nettlebrook actually stars the same person from Daisy Brown (another series I love) but wasn’t made by her, it was made by her cousin. Echo Rose is really funny and it makes you feel like you’re just watching someone’s vlogs, but in the background a mystery is unraveling with a missing girl. 

#I could keep going but this post is already so damn long #maple rambles #maple answers #internet horror #ask

[babyharleezy]

Stink Ima need a fic based of this with jack and reader please do what else u want with it cause I know You’ve got them creative ideas and shit 😉 love ya stink hope u like my prompt /idea let me know if ya like it

https://youtu.be/AlLnmrfvhb4

Paparazzi

(jack harlow x reader)

bloo's notes: okay im writing a lot of stuff and scheduling lots of fics but i wanted to get this one out tonight. enjoy babes!!

link

you and jack were in LA for an important party that was being held by lil nas. of course you were excited to go, it was an excuse to get all dolled up and you loved it. you wore your best outfit and jack wore an amazing suit. "hey babes, how do i look?" you asked your lover as you walked out of the bathroom of your hotel. his eyes trailed up to you, "wow baby you look stunning, i'm sure nas won't mind if we're a few hours late" jack said as he snaked his arms around you. "yeah nas for sure wouldn't mind but i would. let's go handsome" you told jack and he groaned.

thankfully you, jack and urban had made it to the party on time and you mingled with jack and his friends in the industry. you loved seeing him in his element. you were lucky that urban was there because it made you feel a lot more at ease. at least you knew someone other than jack at the party. urban definitely felt the same way about having you around. (bloo's notes: yes i had to write my bby urb in. bite me)

after a few hours of being at this party for a few hours and mingling with many people jack had decided he was tired. at some point you had separated from the boys and found yourself in a conversation with saweetie and megan thee stallion. jack and urban wandered around a bit and tried to find you. they both knew that you were in good hands with saweetie and meg that they didn't worry too much about you. as you were listening to what the beautiful women in front of you had to say, you were interrupted by a familiar voice. "sorry to interrupt you ladies but i was just here to see if y/n was ready to go, we do have a flight back home tomorrow" jack said politely. "oh yeah we should head to the hotel. it was nice getting to catch up with you two" you told the ladies and you all had said your goodbyes.

making your way outside the venue, hand and hand. the paparazzi was insane tonight. jack made sure that both you and urban were close behind him. you three always had a system when going out. jack in front, you in the middle, and urban behind you both. somehow the paparazzi had became too much and got in between you and jack, pushing you away which made you stumble back. you let out a little shriek, getting caught off guard. thankfully urban was behind and didn't let you fall to the ground. he made sure you were all right.

"hey! y'all need to calm down. y'all can't be pushin my girl around like that. i understand y'all are doing your job but i need y'all to calm the fuck down" jack yelled at the paparazzi. you finally made your way to jack and your hands made its way into his once again. as you got into the car you heard many people say "sorry y/n, sorry jack, sorry urban".

"you okay babe" jack asked the minute the three of you stepped into the black SUV. "yeah baby im good. urb made sure i didn't bust my ass" you laughed. "thank you urb for having her back, i fucking hate when they get all up in our personal bubble" jack sighed. the rest of the night the three of you decided to get ready for the flight back to Louisville. the night had already been crazy enough and the only thing on your mind was sleeping in bed, cuddling up next to your lover. you were grateful for urban for breaking your fall and you were grateful that jack was there to defend you and put the invasive paps in their place.

as you got into bed, jack was already lightly snorning, before you turned the light off you placed a light kiss to his temple and admired his sleeping figure. 'god he is gonna be the end of me' you thought to yourself.

#wittyjasontodd #jack harlow #jack harlow x you #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow fluff

[psychedelic-ink]

darling sweet sil my angel my brainwave twin 🤍 congrats on 4.5k you amazing human! you deserve it all and so much more!!!

I have a mood board request too cuz yours are my favourite but Imma start with a drabble request:

since we’re on the topic of joel miller - perhaps a little something about undressing? maybe he and reader have a bit of an undefined relationship but when he comes home bloody after a supply run a conversation is had while reader helps him out of his dirty clothes 👀

love you sweets!!!!

bby first of all I love you so freaking much and second of all I'm sorry, I wanted to make this horny but it ended up being soft and emotional--whoops (blame joel he just has the vibe)

𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐧

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

genre: hurt/comfort, romance

word count: 1.1k

summary Joel comes back home wounded, and as you clean him up the two of you have a little chat.

warnings: blood mention, joel getting injured off screen, brief mention of them sleeping together, unnamed relationship, stripping joel

𝑺𝑰𝑳'𝑺 4.5𝑲 𝑭𝑶𝑳𝑳𝑶𝑾𝑬𝑹 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑰 𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑻 (closed)

Joel Miller is not a happy man. 

You figured that one out five minutes into meeting him and that was three months ago. 

Now that you know him better, your relationship with one another is done on top of a road covered with delicate eggshells. You don’t know what the two of you are supposed to be. You’re close— close enough to sleep with but not close enough to hug him at night when you’re roused awake by nightmares. You know he wouldn’t say a word if you did, but you never wished to put any kind of burden on him. It didn’t seem fair. 

You remember his smile through a fogged, hazy memory. Five times. Five times you had seen those chapped lips curl upward, it wasn’t much but it was something to keep you rooted to his side. 

Sometimes you humor yourself by thinking that some of his remaining happiness is due to you, which is a silly thought a love-struck teenage girl would have but you just can’t help yourself. 

The night grows near and there’s still no sign of Joel. You eye the clock nervously, it’s ticking in a sinister whisper trying to convince you to smash the darn thing to the ground. It was supposed to be a simple supply run, at least that was what he said to you, a job so easy that you didn’t need to trouble yourself with. 

Fucking liar. 

Your ears perk up when you hear the creak of the old door, for the first time you’re happy you always forget to grease it. Rising to your feet, a string of words reach all the way to the tip of your tongue, most of them asking why he didn’t bring you along, but you swallow all of your protests down when you see the state he’s in. 

The front of his shirt is drenched with blood, warm and clinging to his skin, there’s a small shallow cut right underneath his right eye, a slight limp to his step. 

Without uttering a word you throw his arm over your shoulder and guide him to the couch, where he collapses instantly. 

“What the hell happened?” you whisper, he only shakes his head, thumb moving up and down the curve of his nose. 

You make a b-line to the bathroom to get the first aid kit. Heat rises to your cheeks, fingers tips tingling with fear. When you return you find him with his head thrown back, sweat clings to his neck, apple’s adam moving with every strained breath. You take a seat on the coffee table right across from him, your knees brush. 

“I need you to take off your shirt,” you say softly. “I need to clean the wound. Are you bitten?” 

He lets out a bitter laugh, hand dropping to his side. “I wouldn’t be here if I was. I was ambushed but got away,” 

“You should’ve taken me with you,” 

He spreads his legs to get comfortable, eyes finding yours amidst the tension crackling between you two. The white of his eyes is a jarring, sickly yellow, red in the corners. 

“The job was simple.” 

“Clearly it wasn’t.” before he can utter another word, you slap his knee with the back of his hand. “Come one, shirt off.” 

He grunts but obliges, he winces when he lifts his arm, a choked-out sound tumbling from his lips. You don’t ask as you reach out to help him out of it. Your fingers gently hook against the hem of the shirt, slowly pulling it up his torso. Your knuckles brush against his blood-slickened skin, the shiver of his body doesn’t go unnoticed by you. 

As you stand up and completely strip him of his tattered shirt, you throw it to the floor, he’s looking up at you now, giving you a look you can’t quite place but also can’t ignore the way it makes your heart race. Meanwhile, you admire the way his chest heaves, it distracts you from what you’re doing. His skin is peppered with light-colored scars, some seem like bullet wounds. 

You have trouble holding yourself back, wanting to touch him now more than ever. 

“I can clean myself up you know,” he states, eyes dropping. He sighs before you can say anything. “But thanks,” 

“You’re welcome.” 

You start to clean the large gash across his chest, it’s a nasty wound that’ll scar but you doubt he minds. He jerks as you brush the cotton drenched with saline solution and you decide to drag his focus elsewhere. 

“You really shouldn’t be ignoring me,” you say, which is a fact that’s not really helpful to anyone but you know your plan to distract him works because his gaze snaps to your face. “We’re supposed to be a team.” 

“We are but it’s not always that simple—” his words are interrupted by a hiss caused by himself. He swallows and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. “Look, I usually keep you in the dark sometimes but I swear this one I really did think it would be an easy job. I wanted you to rest.” 

“You wanted me to rest? That’s… surprisingly thoughtful,” 

You pull away the cotton, now crimson red, and throw it above his shirt. You cut up some gauze, eyeing the wound as you do so. 

“I have my days. If I were you I wouldn’t get used to it though,” he says with a crooked smile, but it fades with the rest of his words. “Besides you’re—I don’t know—You’re all I have left.” 

You feel your eyes widening, your brain having trouble computing his words. Gauze slipping between your fingers you just stare at him, mouth opening and closing, only silence following the movement of your lips. He turns you his cheek, brows furrowing. 

“I shouldn’t have said that,” 

“No–No!” you startle him with the sheer volume of your voice. Leaning forward, you grip his chin and force his gaze upon you. Your thumb strokes the small patches of skin that’s scattered throughout his beard. “I’m glad you said that. I’m…I didn’t want to put pressure on you but I’ve been feeling the same for a while now.” 

“I heard you crying once,” he suddenly says, the drawl in his voice thick. “All I wanted to do was reach out and touch you.” 

“Next time you should.” 

It’s a bitter thought, thinking that there will be a definite next time that you’ll cry. But you know he’ll be there, which feels like sunlight filtering through gray clouds. He smooths his palm over the slop of your knee, fingers squeezing your thigh. 

“I will.”  

The gauze and freshly cleaned wound is forgotten as your lips meet uncharacteristically soft as if it’s the first time you’re tasting one another. 

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