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kneelingshadowsalome · 11 months

Note

Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…

I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !

You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Wildflowers Grow in Ruins

(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)

Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.

A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.

Wars are exhausting.

You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.

But waging a war against yourself…

Now that is pure hell.

It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.

But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.

He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.

But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.

Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.

The day has finally come to let him go.

You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.

But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.

Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to.

You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.

But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.

So why is it so hard to let go?

The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today.

And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.

You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.

Good.

Great.

You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.

The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown.

It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.

Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?

The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.

"I need to talk to you."

Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.

He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.

"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too.

This should be easy…

It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.

"I think we should go separate ways."

The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.

"Ok."

It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm.

"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.

He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.

"Is it because of my work?"

"No."

"What is it then?"

Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.

Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.

"Hey. Hey."

He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling.

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?

His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.

And he must hate weakness.

"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows.

It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.

"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?

"What do you mean?"

He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.

"Have you found someone else?"

What the…

"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"

He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you.

"I'm just…"

Jesus, this is just humiliating.

"I'm just not your type."

"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise.

He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one.

Losing you.

"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."

"It's not that. You don't understand–"

"Try me."

"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"

"Stop right there."

The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.

"Bloody fucking hell…"

He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven.

And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

"This is the reason you wanna break up?"

Ugh.

"Yes?"

His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing.

But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.

"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"

"I don't know."

"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"

"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done.

"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."

He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.

"Can I touch you?"

You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.

"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.

"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…

"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"

Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.

"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.

"Then why do you think you're not my type?"

"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.

"That for sure ain't true."

"But it is."

He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.

"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to.

"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"

It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.

"No…?"

"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"

"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.

"No, I don't think I will."

He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.

"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"

You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to…

It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.

"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."

"Simon–"

"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"

He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is.

"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."

For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?

"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.

"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."

You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.

"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."

You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.

"Then let me help you."

The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.

"You don't even let me touch you anymore."

It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.

"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."

Oh my God…

Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months?

That would explain why he has avoided you too…

He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain.

Jesus fucking Christ.

"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."

"Never seen such a gorgeous mess."

He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution.

Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.

"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."

Oh God–

"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."

"Hmh…"

"Don't wanna live without that smile."

You don't have to.

God, you don't have to…

"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.

"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"

"...Ok."

He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.

"Come on. Make me believe it."

"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.

"That's my girl."

Oh fuck…

He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly.

And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?

The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.

"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."

He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.

He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.

He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender.

No one can fake such fervor.

You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.

"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."

You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.

"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"

"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."

He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.

"Yeah…?"

"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."

His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.

"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."

"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.

"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."

If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.

"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.

"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty.

"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."

Wow… He is a bit pissed.

Had they checked your ass out when you visited him?

It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy.

"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left."

Whoa.

Ok…

First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.

You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.

Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…

There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.

"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"

"No. No, I don't want you to stop."

Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.

He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.

Oh f–

"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in.

"Uh–...."

Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end.

"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."

"Oh god…"

There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.

"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you.

You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.

"Simon–"

His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.

"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."

You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard.

You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.

"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."

He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.

"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."

The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.

"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"

"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all.

"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."

Shit…

"I, I'm gonna…"

Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.

He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.

Fucking bastard…

Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core.

You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.

His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load.

Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.

"Jesus Christ…"

He sounds dazed.

Relieved.

"Should've done this weeks ago."

You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.

"I should've talked to you weeks ago..."

"Yeah. You should have."

"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.

"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."

He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even.

The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…

And love.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost fluff #soft simon riley #simon riley imagine #ghost x you #simon riley x you #fluff and smut #call of duty

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copyhanni · 2 months

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it’s absolutely absurd the amount of riki smut and sexualization that occurs on here. i’m being so serious when i tell you i’ve seen countless smuts about him. it’s so disgusting how people can sexualize someone who hasn’t even gotten out of his teens yet. i just don’t understand why these people feel the need to sexualize him, especially when he’s still so young. i literally don’t care what anyone has to say in defense of these brain dead, stupid ass, gross mother fucking riki smut writers. i don’t care if he’s “legal” or not. i don’t care if he’s an “adult.” i don’t care if he “signed up for it,” or “feeds into it.” i don’t give a shit. he did not “sign up for it” when he decided to become an idol. being an idol doesn’t mean that they are no longer human. that they no longer get to be seen as human. that they no longer have human emotions. and sure as shit does not mean that you get to use them for you disgusting fantasies. they are just as human as the rest of us. riki is not your toy. he does not “feed into it.” you are just sexualizing normal things because you riki smut writers are weird as fuck. even if he is “legal,” he is still a kid. even if he is “legal,” that does make it morally right. i’m sick and fucking tired of these fuck ass smut writers thinking they can use riki however they please. you guys have sexualized him since he was 14.

not to mention the massive amount of hate he received when he was 15. a fucking child. i swear to god, people are so fucked in the brain. it not only affected riki, though it especially affected him, but also the people around him. i know his mom and sister were on twitter back then. imagine seeing you son or your brother receiving death threats. imagine seeing your son or brother being bashed by so many people. imagine seeing people saying “this is the reason your mom or dad doesn’t love you” to your son or brother. imagine being the members, watching the person they consider family being sent death threats. imagine watching the person they consider family start to close off. imagine watching your son, your brother, or the person you consider family, mentally decline right in front of you.

i don’t even want to imagine what it would have been like to be riki. but i’m so, and when i say so, i mean so fucking proud of him for being capable and strong enough to pull through and overcome that. even if it still continues on, he is able to present himself to us. to smile and laugh. to talk to us. even after everything “engenes” have done, he still managed to pull through and be there. i’m so, so, so fucking proud of him. i can’t imagine, i don’t want to imagine, just how hard it must have been to go through, let alone pull through that. he’s so strong, even when he’s not. even when things get hard, he makes it through. that’s so human. it’s inevitable to go through things. but a lot of us don’t have the capability to pull through. he does. that’s something to admire. that’s something i admire.

tagging a few moots : @stariekis @sincerelyrki @chaseyikis @minhypenalt @okwonyos @euncsace @rikihqq @ssunooism @wwonwonism

don’t have to interact or anything, i just needed to get this out there and everything. i hope riki is okay and has many happy days to come. i wish him nothing but the best. i love him so much.

#important #enhypen #ni ki #nishimura riki

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the-demonus-aunt · 1 year

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What if the brothers found a Vibrator in your room (how would they react)

Hehe. Yes, thank you. Apologies for the delay, I hope you're still thirsting for this 🌚

CN nsft. sex toys. reader has a vagina. rough sex.

Belphie

He'll tease you with such a straight face, it will take you a while to even realise what's going on

He's merciless about it. It's his way of trying to provoke you enough that you will take the first step

Frankly, it might end in tears, which shocks him, which ends in hugs

On the other hand, if you have a humiliation kink? Best night of your life.

He's gonna overstimulate you until you use the safe word, holding that wand against your clit like his life is depending on it

How practical that he can use his other hand to tease your nipples

How delicious that he can kiss you like this and feel your desperate moans on his lips

"I didn't know you were such a needy little slut. Will you be a needy little slut for me?"

Beel

No, listen, it's right next to him and he doesn't notice

You gave him cookies, are you really expecting him to take in his surroundings?

If he finds it, it's because you wanted him to

You left it there, right next to the space he usually sits in, still dripping with your juices, because you knew he would smell it

And you knew it would be the one thing that smells more delicious to him than his food

Oh, he gets one wiff of it and you're already flipped onto your back, as he claws on your pants

It takes some nudging for him to actually use the toy on you. Why would he, if he can just taste you like this?

But when he realises how wet it gets you - how there's even more for him to taste - you have a long night ahead of you

Don't forget he's the Avatar of Gluttony. I hope you prepared for this when you sat the toy down near his cookies.

"How are you so delicious? I can't take it anymore. I- aaaah."

Asmodeus

He immediately asks you about it - he knows the model, do you love it as much as he does?

Btw, he figured out how to make it feel even better - do you want him to show you?

He's surprisingly gentle, kissing his way down your legs, as he pulls down your pants

Orders you to tease your own nipples with it while he prepares you

Asmo takes out an aphrodisiac cream and slowly spreads it right over your clit

He hasn't really touched you before, so your hips jolt up as heat shoots through your body

He teases you for hours before he goes all in

When you cum, he cums. He hasn't touched himself. You screaming his name is all it takes.

"Oh gorgeous, I'll make you feel so good, you'll see. How does that feel? Good? Yeah, I know, darling."

Satan

At first, he pretends he doesn't notice

Unfortunately his gaze keeps coming back to it

Is there...is there still cum on it?

Well, now there's precum in his pants

He palms himself until you notice and blush

Then he can't take it anymore. He throws you onto the bed and rips your clothes off

The only reason he doesn't just stuff himself into you without any hesitation is that he can feel you need some prep

He uses his fingers. They'll be better than any toy, you'll see

When you're finally wet enough, he plows into you until you have tears in your eyes

He presses his open mouth onto yours, his tongue finding its way to yours

Fuck, he wants to be in you in all ways possible

When you come and moan his name into is mouth, he almost blacks out

"You think you can tease me like this? You're not ready for what you got yourself into."

Levi

Mass panic in a room with only two people

He can't even hide it, he just shrieks when he sees it

You probably shriek, too, grasping for it so that you can put it away

You couldn't hide your vibrator, now he can't hide his boner

You might have to take the first step, ask if you can help him out, give him a kiss

Well, 5 seconds later you're on your bed, Levi helplessly thrusting into you

He cums almost immediately but he makes up for it throughout the rest of the night

Only after he feels you, tastes you, experiences you, will he get up and get that vibrator out again

"Show me how you use it. I wanna see. Please?"

Mammon

He enters your room. He sits down on your bed. Why is he standing up again? He's heading to the door, mumbling some sorry excuse, is he actually leaving?

Your gaze shifts to your bed and the realisation hits fast enough to stop him

Oh but now you're so close, and you're both thinking about the same thing and why are his hands on your hips?

His kiss is firm, the grip on your ass needy, he might be blushing but he does not hesitate. Not anymore.

You're both too lost in each other to remember the toy

The adrenaline, the pleasure - it turns the night into a blur of highs and heat and indecipherable whispers

"MC. I can't take i- I can't- fuck, you feel incredible."

Lucifer

This demon has The Audacity™️

He picks it up. Holds it nice and high, looking at you with a raised eyebrow and smug smile

He tells you if you needed help, all you had to do was ask. There is no need to resort to such mundane experiences when he can take you straight to heaven anytime you wanted, right?

You don't dare object. Which is good bc you also don't want to.

He takes you right on the table.

The things he can do with his tongue

The moans he extracts from you with his fingers

The whimpers his hard cock presses out of you

None so sweet as the way you dig your fingers into his arms as you cum

As your nails break skin and his name falls from your lips, he fills you up to the brim and makes you his

"You're cumming already? Pathetic, but I'll allow it. Ok then, cum for me, love, but show me exactly how good I'm making you feel. Yes, just like this. Yes."

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gyomei · 10 days

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storks ☆ sukuna ryomen.

・SYNOPSIS: one out of every five storks, there's a black one, differentiating itself from the rest. ( 2.2k words )

・CONTENT: minors, ageless & blank blogs do not interact ! afab!reader (unspecified pronouns), modern boyfriend!sukuna ryomen, sexual content, dubcon/babytrapping, unprotected sex/broken condoms, mating press, breeding/pregnancy kink, not proofread, etc.

・SIDE NOTE. i hate babytrapping but if sukuna did it to me??? he's all forgiven. and im having every single child he puts in me.

One out of every stork, there’s a black stork that cruises through the clear blue sky. A white fabric, thick and secure as a slumbering baby is being transported to their new parents— or parent. Unlike the bright white of the typical stork, these black storks are dangerously dark. Feathers that are pitch black as its wings expand and seem razor sharp. When it perches down on the concrete sidewalks to approach the steps, its swift motions go undetected in comparison to its white counterpart.

From one night stands to infertile people that started losing faith, the emotions one goes through when finding out that their pregnancy always differs. Excitement to sheer terror, reluctance on keeping the child to the controversial decision that they’re not ready to be parents. However, Sukuna can hear the faint steps of the black stork approaching the steps. Orange webbed feet that platter against the wooden porch, and the faint sounds of a baby starting to cry. It’s surely taking its time.

The plenty of times you’ve voiced that you don’t want to have children. Sukuna has always respected your wishes. You’ve voiced out your insecurities and fears to him— told him that you just don’t think you’d be fit as a parent. However, you’re someone who works with children on a daily basis. He’s seen how you’ve interacted with the children, always so loving and nurturing. You would put your foot down when needed, but there’s no doubt in his mind; you’d be perfect.

Swollen belly being his constant reminder that all it took was an orgasm in your warm and comforting heat, Sukuna can feel himself getting excited at the sheer thought. Yes, he respects your wishes, acknowledging your fears when it comes to parenthood. However, he’s always wanted children— for selfish reasons or not— and he wants to have children with you. Yes, there are plenty of other people out there that can fulfill his wish; where their ideologies align with his and they’re confident that children are something they want in life. However, he loves you.

He loves you too much. And he knows that if he persists that you won’t be afraid to leave even if it will be hard. That’s why when he punctures a hole in all of his condoms, he doesn’t feel any guilt. Instead, he has a million and one reasons on why this is right. It will be like intertwining each other’s souls, and that sounds poetic enough for him to keep forward with his idea.

—

Sometimes you fear that you indulge in Sukuna’s fantasies a bit too much. While you’re adamant on being child-free for all of your life, Sukuna still grasps onto whatever hope he has left. When you both first started dating, it never dawned on you how important it is to discuss your future and what your plans are. What were you supposed to do— ask the man you just met deep, thought-provoking questions on the first date? And even when it passed the fifth date and the two of you decided to solidify your relationship, you had forgotten to ask those vital questions until two years in.

One day, Sukuna had to pick you up from work when your car broke down. You worked in a primary school setting and when you walked out of the building, Sukuna watched as you said goodbye to the students that recognized you. They would run to give you a hug before neighboring adults would rush them over to their parents. Your eyes would light up despite the exhaustion etched into them as you’d wrap your arms around each child that came up to you, bidding them farewells before finally pulling on the car handle and jumping in. Mumbled greetings before he’s driving out of the school parking lot and speeding towards the direction of your apartment.

His mind was elsewhere, tuning out the music you started playing, the auxiliary cord plugged into your phone. He just kept driving and the question came out of his mouth before he could really think about it. “Would you ever have children?”

The moment the two of you had opposing views on having children, you should’ve ended it there, but Sukuna said he would respect your decision and thought he could live a child-free life as well. So, you gave it a chance.

But then, at some point during sex, he said, “Fuck, you’d look so good with a round tummy—”

He ramble on about how he’d fuck a baby into you, make you round and swollen as he would breed your pretty pussy. And gosh, you should’ve really put a stop to everything there, but your heart would race and your cunt would clench around his cock. A maniacal grin would grace his features and a deep chuckle reverberated from his chest. “You like that don’t you? Like that idea of me making you pregnant?”

With a weak whimper, you nodded. Because in that moment of bliss, your mind was hazy and you did like the idea of it since that was all it would ever be. However, you’re wondering if playing into his fantasies makes him hopeful that someday you will change your mind. But like a donkey, you’ll always be a stubborn ass.

And he’s all too aware of this. He guesses this is what makes tonight the most exciting. A sinister daze in his eyes as he’s got your knees pressed to your chest. Your pussy is exposed to all his glory, lips glistening in your juices as his length dances in between them. It never fails to amaze him just how beautiful your cunt is. His length wrapped in latex, the barrier a greedy obstacle hindering him from feeling the entirety of your slick heat. However, he knows that he’ll get the job done nonetheless.

Holding the base of his heavy and uncut length, the mush tip presses against your entrance. Small bubbles forming as he glides himself in between you and watching as you clench around nothing. A guttural groan escapes his lips, his chest vibrating as he hovers over your expectant body. A shiver runs down your spine as your breath becomes shaky, your patience running thin the longer he takes to bask in your nude presence. “Ryo…”

That nickname you mutter out from below his breath. It snaps him back into reality. You have such a horrible habit of biting down on your bottom lip and it only worsens when he dips down further. You can feel his breath against you, his body heat making you sweat as his chest rises and falls. Blood red eyes that are so piercing that it reminds you of how intimidated you were when you first met him, yet felt undeniable attraction towards him nonetheless. The tattoos that course through his body only add to your lust as your eyes traverse his stature.

He grabs your bottom lip with his teeth, biting down on it harder than you were and eliciting a sharp squeal from you. Sukuna chuckles, letting go of your lip before kissing you. A forceful one, but still drags out a whimper from you as he slowly thrusts inside of you in one go. For a moment does your body tense, stomach tightening up as you feel every inch of him bottoming inside of you. Your mewling is like music to his ears as he halts his movement and holds you still with all of his weight. He breathes you in, the faint hint of orange and ginger underneath the sweat starting to build up. You’re intoxicating.

“Got what you wanted?” his deep voice rumbles inside the room, watching as your shut eyes flutter open. You nod meekly, “yes.”

There’s a shit eating grin on his face before his length is leaving your pussy again. You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding before you’re taken aback by his unexpected invasion. Rough thrusts inside of your pussy that has you clinging onto his back. You’re nicely manicured nails digging into his skin, but he always loves the marks you make.

“Gosh,” you cry out. Your grip on him tightens as your back arches off the bed. Baby blue silk sheets that are going to get ruined after this escapade, they ruffle up with every movement. “R-Ryo, fffuck!”

The way he presses his weight down on you, forcing you to feel every inch of him. He’s unforgiving and surely after this, your legs will be aching to no end that you’ll have him bring you to the bathroom. Still, your pussy pulsates around his length, beckoning him to get impossibly deeper inside of you. You just don’t know what you do to him.

You just don’t understand the power you have over Sukuna. How you’ve unknowingly tethered your soul to his, entangling each other to the point of no return. His heart rate picks up and with every thrust inside of you, he’s determined to further trap you into him. Gosh, what he’d do to pull out and rip off the condom. To feel your pussy in its entirety. He has before, but you were on birth control. Now that you’re not, he wants to be even more selfish than he’s already been. He wants to shamelessly rut into your sickeningly sweet pussy and fertilize you.

His hands find purchase on your hips, calloused palms holding you tightly as he easily controls your movements. Plunging inside of your pussy, dragging you down to meet his thrusts. He feels like with every breath he’s taken, it’s getting shorter as his desires heighten. “Fuck yesss…”

His mind is starting to get hazy, his delusions intermingling with his lust as he goes into this headspace that you can’t quite name. Something that you’ve come too comfortable with ignoring, absentmindedly feeding into it as you’re stuck in your own mind. “Finally gonna breed this pussy. Gonna make your stomach all round with my child— our child.”

He just can’t completely wrap his mind around it. You claim you don’t want children, yet your pussy clenches every time he’s gotten you like this. Your heartbeat picks up and you bat your eyelashes so prettily as you nod your head and tell him ‘yes,’ that you’d do anything for him. He’d wipe away a few stray tears as he gets reassurance once more. You’d both come together, but the moment you slip into the bathroom, you take those precautions.

Sukuna thought that he could handle it, not having kids, but he knows himself. Once he wants something, he’s got to have it. He could break it off with you and find someone else, but he wants you. He has to have you. An incredibly selfish man, he refuses to let go of you.

He grabs hold of your face, forcing you to look up at him as salted tears drip down the corners of your eyes. “Imagine it,” his gruff voice whispers. “Your stomach’s all round and plump. You’d be so good— such a good parent. You’d make me so happy.

“Don’t you want to make me happy, baby?” He squeezes your cheeks, crimson red staring into your pupils as he waits, genuinely expecting an answer. Eyelashes fluttering as a stray one stings your eyes, you nod. A weak whine leaving your lips as a raspy ‘yes’ falls from them.

“I’d do anything for you, Ryo.” Once empty promises are now coming true, you have no other choice. You don’t realize what you’ve said, your mouth moving in muscle memory as you cling to him. He drills into your pussy, swallowing your cries with his lips as he kisses you with such fervor. The hairs on the back of your neck stand tall as a part of you feels a bit uneasy. His words, the tone he’s using with you is foreign. Like, he knows something you don’t. But there’s an excitement that you feel that begs you not to pull away. That familiar tug in your stomach breaking and making you forget about everything in the moment.

“Ryo,” you whine. “‘m g’nna—”

“That’s right, baby,” he grins from ear-to-ear. “Cum for me. Let’s make a family.”

You don’t catch the last part, simply letting go as his words are enough encouragement for you to let loose. You feel his cock twitch inside of you shortly after and your cunt is quick to milk him dry. Moments like this, you yourself would love to rip off the latex barrier down below, too. But, you have self-restraint.

As Sukuna calms, finally dragging himself out of you and leaving you empty, you let out a deep breath. Aching legs that straighten out on the bed as your body starts to relax. You moan as your legs ache and feel Sukuna’s heavy body fall down right next to you. There’s some shuffling before you feel his big arms wrap around your body and feel the heat of his mouth against your neck. Soft, chaste kisses that are painted into your skin. You can’t help the weak giggles that leave you as you push yourself deeper into his body.

“I love you,” he chants out. “I love you so much.”

When you finally fall asleep, Sukuna’s still awake as his eyes travel the course of your body. Arms wrapped around you, he sighs triumphantly to himself. “You’re gonna make a perfect parent.”

one (1) notification from gyomei plays ! the way i detest reading about babytrapping, but was fantasizing about doing this with sukuna... what's wrong with me???

#sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna x you #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna ryomen #x black reader #x reader #tw: (n)sfw #tw: dark content #( 🀄 ) : standalone.

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rogueddie · 3 months

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Warmth and Safety T | 808 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is the heartbeat I can feel when I hug him

Steve knows he should be in his own hospital room. Not only so other people can visit too, but because of how his head spins as he struggles to walk down the corridor.

The white walls are too clinical, too metalic. They look nothing like the Russians underground lair, but mixed with the sharp stench of bleach and medicine? It's mixing into a cruel cocktail that has his instincts screaming for Robin.

He pushes forward, gritting his teeth and- trying- to ignore the memories trying to haunt him.

"Steve," Eddie greets, when he finally makes it through the door into his room, sounding exhausted. "What the hell, man?"

"I'm fine," Steve lies, hating how breathless he sounds. He sags into the chair next to Eddies bed, grimacing. "Just need a minute... catch my breath. There's, like, so many stairs."

Eddie is silent for a long moment, but Steve can feel his eyes boring into his head.

"What?"

"Wh- you shouldn't be here, man!" Eddie says. He sounds too exhausted for the stern tone to have any effect. "The nurses have told you already. You need to heal. You can't do that if you're dragging yourself around to... I don't know, check on us?"

"I need to make sure you're ok."

"We're in a hospital. We're as ok as we can get."

"I get that, but..."

The clock chimes, the earth rumbling as the town reads apart, Dustin's screams...

"Yeah, I know," Eddie sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I understand, alright? But you need to cut this shit out."

"I can't."

"Steve-"

"I need to know that you're alive. I need to know. It's not enough to hear that you're ok, I need to see it. I need to, Eds."

"Jesus Christ," he throws his head back, sighing heavy and dramatically.

But then he lifts his head, smirking a little as he opens an arm out towards him, beckoning him closer.

"Come here, big boy, let me give you a hug."

Steve rolls his eyes, but he does as he told, standing up so he was shuffle to the bed.

"You don't have to say it all creepy, man, you'll give me ideas."

"Promise?" Eddie wiggles his eyebrows. But his playfulness quickly morphs into exasperation again when he huffs out, "just sit down, Steve, come on, come here."

It takes a lot of gesturing and, eventually, slight man handling, but eventually Eddie gets Steve to lay down next to him. He tugs Steve's head down so his ear is resting on his chest and, with some hesitation, he curls an arm around Eddie's waist.

He can feel his heartbeat, thumping against his ear, matching the beeping of the monitor.

"There," Eddie mumbles, brushing his fingers down Steve's spine. "Better, right?"

"... yeah."

His heart is pounding, almost as much as Eddie's is. It's only a little reassuring that Eddie is just as nervous as him- he can only hope it's for the same reason.

"You need to take care of yourself too," Eddie continues. "Who's gonna run around after those brats of you don't heal right? Me? I'm a bad influence, Stevie, you know I'll make 'em worse."

"You'd do great, they love you."

"Noooo," he squeezes Steve a little tighter, whining as high as he can get his voice to go. "Please, I'm begging, I'll go insane if I have to deal with them alone!"

"Now you know how I feel."

"God, I wish I didn't," Eddie sighs, turning serious again so fast that Steve feels like he's getting whiplash. "This whole thing is fucked. Those kids are only, like, fifteen."

Steve hesitates for a moment, before whispering, "I was sixteen, when this all started. Back in 83.x

"Jesus."

"Yeah, it's... I don't know. Like, I know it's horrible, but I like it when it's like this. Everyone in one place, knowing that there's doctors and shit nearby."

"That's not horrible. You know they're being cared for."

"Yeah, but it's worse this time. Like... I keep thinking that one day I'll wake up and we won't have made it. This will be some stupid dream and you and Max..."

"We're still here," Eddie brings a hand up to his head, brushing his hair back. "You can feel it, right? I'm right here. We're not going anywhere."

Steve nods, closing his eyes so he can focus on Eddie's heartbeat.

"You know I love seeing you, right? Just... at least get a wheelchair or something. Please?"

Something is his chest cracks at how Eddie's voice breaks, how pained and desperate he sounds.

"Ok. I can do a wheelchair."

"Good. You start taking care of yourself and we can do this everyday."

"Promise?"

"Yeah," Eddie whispers, hand finally coming to a stop, cupping his cheek. "Yeah, I promise. Whenever and for however long you need. I'll be right here."

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #nav.slm

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oncomingnight · 10 months

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yandere! Scientist

Hello everyone, thank you so much for all of your support on my previous stories. I was extremely excited about writing this specific piece because it's sort of based on movie that's set to come out real soon. I hope you enjoy and feel free to send requests/speak to me in my ask box.

You met Seán while you were both freshmen in highschool. you noticed he was relatively quieter than everybody else in the classroom. He was the most knowledgeable student in that damned classroom, he was just stealthy about it. The two of you really got to know each other when you were selected as partners, selected based on the similarity of your scores, percentages and your ability to learn certain subjects.

Even after the project was finished and graded, the two of you still kept speaking to each other. The reason for that was because he was absolutely and undeniably in love with you. It took awhile for it to click into your head that he was attracted to you, but when you finally realized, you couldn't be more ecstatic.

He confessed to you at the beginning of your sophomore year. Whilst you were putting some of your belongings into your locker, he showed up behind you with blood red roses in his hand, along with a comically large basket of gifts. A tea-stained letter was nestled into the folds of one of the roses, inside of it was him expressing just how happy you've made him for the past year. How he wants your love reserved for him and him alone.

"Hello, Y/n, I'm sorry to have caught you off guard. You don't have to say anything until after I'm done talking but I have to tell you now because it'll do no good to either of us to just have this rot within me. You've been the subject of my love and utter adoration for...oh, dear...it's been so long I've now forgotten. But, I'll have you believe that I have never and will never forget how sublime you make me feel. Every time I think of you, I can't help but smile and think of our potential future together. Y/n, I wish so desperately to take care of you, touch you, kiss you, to hear my name on your lips for the rest of time, only if you'll let me. Now I'm ready, what do you think?"

You were absolutely stunned to hear such profound declarations of love fall from his lips, even more so when the declarations were about you.

You stood there with your bouquet of prickly roses, woven basket full of all you took joy in. You opened your dry mouth and said, "I can't believe you said all that about me. All of this is so beautiful, Seán. So, what do I think? I'm not sure what I think but I know I want to be your girlfriend."

After high school, he immediately got down on one knee to ask you if you'd be forever his woman. His wife. Of course, your answer was a tearful 'yes' as you blubbered about how much you loved him and about how so happy you were.

Highschool sweethearts!

You've always known about his appreciation for science and his interest to pursue a career in that topic. You can only imagine just how thrilled he was when he got a position in a government facility with the job he's always fought for. He picked you up and swirled you around, causing you to become temporarily dizzy as you giggled at his enthusiasm. Seán doused your hot and flustered cheeks with kisses as he smiled at your precious laugh.

He was so glad he'd managed to get a PhD and job in something that would make him enough money to take care of the both of you, but, mostly you. He was so appreciative to you for staying with him for all these years, always his perfect girl, always so supportive, always giving him beyond helpful ideas + advice. You were perfect.

Eventually, the world was struck with a variety of struggles, mainly caused by powerful political figures that simply did not agree with each other. Many people were caught in the crossfire, protests began being organized, riots ensuing right outside of government buildings. What followed all of these events? Well, the only reasonable answer. War.

Because of this, your husband was called into office and put into a group of other physics scientists. They claimed they needed a defense weapon in case of everyone being put into a harmful and treacherous situation. Seán was made the head man of the project.

This worried you to the fullest extent, maybe you were being dramatic but your husband's position in the project could make him a direct target. When you shared your thoughts with him he couldn't help but give you a small endearing smile.

"you've always been a worrisome woman, haven't you? Nothing will happen to you or to us. I'll make sure of it, I'm benefiting them by building this damned thing, they wouldn't dare let anything disrupt our life, m'kay?"

"Seán, I'm not worried about me. I'm worried about you. Yes, you're benefiting them which is exactly why you'd be in danger."

"I can take care of myself, mo mhuirnín dílis. You've witnessed it, no? Don't worry yourself any longer."

Now, you may be wondering what he's talkin' about. Well, don't worry I'll tell you.

Seán had taken you with him to visit the small fishing town he had grown up in. After eating a delicious meal with your in-laws, Seán was invited by some old friends to go out and drink at an old and creaky pub. They have been asking to meet you and this was a chance for him to show you off to everyone in town, so, he accepted.

The night remained still and calm, despite the occasional roar of laughter that would occur at the table. It was fun, you were so glad Seán took you out to see where he was gifted with life.

But then

As you headed towards the friendly barmaid to make an order of crisps for everyone seated at the table. As you waited to be handed your order, a ragged young man that looked incredibly haggard for his age due to all of the alcohol approached you. You were sure he was just going to request assistance in catching a cab as he looked far too intoxicated to do it on his own. But no. He just wanted some action.

He pushed himself onto you with his flirtatious words but after you rejected him, you had angered him to an extreme point. He gripped your arm hard enough to bruise and spoke into your face with a horrid stench on his tongue.

"Now why won't you just shut your little mouth and please a man, hm?" He grinned maliciously.

Suddenly, you saw a quick flash of a fist show in your vision, not expecting it to be Seán punching the man with all the force he had in his slim yet firm body. All it took was one hit for the man to be on the ground, passed out. Yet, Seán didn't stop there and he wouldn't have stopped if his friend hadn't yanked him off the man. He was slamming his knuckles onto the man's pale face until it was almost fully covered in a crimson red.

You'd never seen him act in such a rabid way but you weren't angry at him. He was just protecting you. In an extremely visceral and self incriminating way. He didn't care, he's done far worse in defense of you but those were things he'd done in secret.

You were already far aware of how protective he could get and how emotional he was when it came to you. Someone could say something harmful about you and he'd mutter under his breath in anger, digging his nails into the palm of his hands, and eventually kiss your forehead before leaving the house to go do what he knew needed to be done.

When the two of you were intimate he'd cry at times while expressing his incredibly deep affection for you. He loved seeing you like this, furrowed brows, flushed cheeks, your huffs and puffs when he teased you. "I'd kill for you, y-you know that, yeah? Oh, A mhuirnín, I'd do anything for you. Absolutely anything."

There comes a lot of stress with his job, at times he'd return from work and burrow his head into your tummy, wrapping his firm arms around your waist. No matter how many times he messages you during work, no matter how many times he re-reads the letter you left him in his lunch, no matter how many times he calls you, he'll always yearn for your touch.

You lift his face from your stomach and remove his glasses, ruffling his dark curls after doing so. Your thumb gently swipes over his cheek, before leaning in and giving him a deep kiss. He melts into your touch and gives you a love-drunk smile.

His perfect girl.

The both of you would go on the loveliest getaway trips when he was able to take a break from work. You'd go to a restaurant and he'd hold your chin as he gently fed you pieces from the pasta you'd ordered, giving you time to chew and swallow.

When in clothing stores, he'd wait outside of the changing room on a cushioned seat, waiting to see his wife's lovely face and figure. He would never let you look at the price tags as that would discourage you from buying what you'd like, he didn't want that.

Seán has a habit of overworking himself to sketch out the building plans for the project he was assigned, he needed it to be perfect. This could change the future and if there even was a possibility that there'd be a future. You'd walk into his office, seeing his hooked nose being beautifully lit by the candle on his desk. He took a sip of his Bushmills whiskey before turning to look at you with eyes full of admiration. "You have to eat something, surely you know that. Plus, I made it so you have to eat it or else I'll get upset."

He's obviously very well known in the science world, I mean, his creation will determine the outcome of society. He's bound to get some recognition. People have come to be obsessed with the relationship the two of you have and the story of your love. Every photograph people see of the two of you, Seán is turned towards you with the most love sick look of them all. In photographs where he's alone, he may as well be the most stoic man in the world.

People would post slideshows of the two of you together and caption it with something along the lines of:

'me and him'

Others in the comments would practically point and laugh at the person with responses of:

'you wish.' 'y'all aren't that important ' 'try again' 'interesting 🧐.' 'Can you be serious...?'

This man is the most serious man in the entire universe when he's at work and surrounded with his partners. But, when he's alone with you? He's nuzzling his cheek into your chest, kissing all over you, kissing your hand, hugging you from behind, THE WHOLE NINE YARDS.

Seán is the type of husband to pick up your coffee + bakery order to wake you up with, leaves you gifts and notes to find around the house, takes you to the most wonderful places anyone could ever go to.

He's so glad he made someone like you his wife.

Forever :).

#yandere oneshot #yandere oc x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere #obsessive yandere #obsessive love #yandere oc x y/n #oc x yn #oc x reader #oc x canon #oc x oc #oc x character #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere smut

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gtgbabie0 · 11 months

Text

‘I love you’

{Spencer can’t sleep without saying I love you, no matter how mad you are with each other}

Hope you enjoy as always my lovelies! 💕

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You both shouldn’t have gotten so mad over such a trivial thing, though you suppose it’s been building up for a while now, the lack of communication, the missed dates and whatnot. In all honesty, you couldn’t even remember why you were initially mad at him and now that you’re laying in bed with a tear-stained pillow beneath you, it seems all so pointless.

Arguments are bound to happen in relationships. Two people aren’t always going to see eye to eye, but knowing that doesn’t make it any easier. A part of you is expecting him to apologise and the other half of you is trying to come up with an apology yourself, but nothing happens. Spencer stays in the living room to give you some space and you’re left to simmer with your thoughts.

He was late again tonight, it seemed like your schedules did nothing but clash for weeks and the distance was slowly eating at you until you finally snapped. You’d also blame your own work stress for the anger that pinches at your skin, the same anger that only fuelled tonight’s argument.

Spencer hates it, hates the silence that comes afterwards, albeit arguments between you two were few and far between it still had the same effect on him, the odd sinking feeling that hits his stomach.

You both should just apologise and talk about it like adults, but yet you’re both stubborn in your own rights, and so neither of you do. Instead, you fall asleep alone with a heavy heart, and Spencer creeps into the room hours after with an ache in his chest.

He notices the dampness on your pillow from your tears and it only makes that dull ache in his chest hurt all the more, he gently pushes your hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear as he sighs at the tear stains that paint your face, even in sleep you look sad.

You wake up as he climbs into bed, and you make no effort to let him know, in fact, you’re pretty sure he knows you’re awake when he starts drawing patterns on your back with his finger.

You frown softly as you try to figure out what he’s doing. You're about to turn around and complain, and then you feel it. He gently traces the words ‘I love you’ into your skin, fingers grazing along your spine. You feel him shuffle closer to you, and his lips press gently onto your shoulder, then the soft words, “I’m sorry” leave his lips, and you can feel the guilt drown you.

You turn around, noticing how the tears in his eyes glisten under the warm light of the lamp and you don’t think twice before reaching out and wiping them away, he sighs at your touch.

“You don’t have to apologise, I blew things way out of proportion” you admit. Spencer shakes his head, noticing how you don’t make eye contact with him, and so he holds your hand, his thumb smoothing over your knuckles.

“You had every right to be mad, and we both blew things way out of proportion” he reasons, not liking the sigh that leaves your lips as if you didn’t believe his words. His eyebrows furrow slightly watching the tears collect in your eyes.

The root of your sudden argument was really because were both so tired and missed each other’s touch, which in retrospect should’ve had the opposite effect of what happened tonight, but emotions are a tricky thing,

So that’s why you don’t pull away when Spencer opens his arms out to you, pulling the blanket over the pair of you as you settle against him. “I’m sorry,” you say, his chin resting gently on top of your head as his hand soothes your back.

He presses a kiss to your hairline as you mumble, “And, I love you too” He smiles when your hands dip underneath his shirt, a desperate need of his warmth, you just needed to feel him.

“I love you more” he smiles, his arms squeezing you just a little tighter against him, tight enough to make you giggle, a sound Spencer swears could cure all of his ills.

There's a silence that drapes over the pair of you, and it's not like before it's different Spencer thinks, much more comfortable as he listens to your breathing.

You look up at him, and he catches onto the exhaustion that stains your face, before you can say anything he's already speaking, "You're tired. Get some sleep and we'll talk tomorrow, over breakfast, yeah?" he smiles leaning down to press one last gentle kiss to your forehead, and you would be lying if you said the idea of breakfast with Spencer didn't make you feel a little giddy.

So you whisper a quiet 'Okay' before drifting off in his arms. and you both make a silent promise to talk about it tomorrow, like adults.

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ryker-others · 8 months

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Ryker 👀👀👀👀👀

I saw requests are open, could I have something about Dan Heng and Sampo being clingy? They're so adorable 🥺🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️

Vi! My first request! I'm so hyped for this! I hope I do both Dan Heng and Sampo justice for this

Dan Heng:

it's rare for Dan Heng to be clingy

and when he is, he's very subtle about it

most of the time it starts with little touches like him linking your pinkies while standing together

which then turns into him holding your hand

and then slowly moving closer

it's his silent way of asking for more affection from you

but if you still don't get the hint and give him attention after that, he will pull you into his arms

he's less likely to do this if others are around, but if it's people he's comfortable with like those on the Astral Express, he has no problem with them seeing him being clingy

he will just pull you in for cuddles without a word

Dan Heng gets a little pouty when you have to leave him to do something

but he won't stop you

whenever you have to leave he has a moment of hesitation as he tries to figure out how to get you out of whatever you need to do so you can stay with him

if he can't figure anything out he will very hesitantly let you go

but he wants your affection and cuddles when you come back

how can you say no to his adorable face?

"It'll only be a couple hours at most."

Dan Heng didn't seem to fully accept your reasoning. He had his arms around you, gently holding you close to him with his head on your shoulder. Though his eyes were closed, he was listening closely to everything you said. He just didn't want you to have to leave his arms.

"It's a simple mission right? You can ask March to do it."

"March has her own things to do."

He hummed and you felt his arms tighten around you for a second. He had done this before, but he seemed to really be thinking this one through.

"I'm sure March has some spare time. You could always ask Welt or Himeko too."

"It's my mission. I promise it'll be quick."

"But I want you here with me."

Though his tone was very plain and matter-of-fact like, you could hear the faint pout in his voice. You couldn't help but laugh lightly at his clingy tendency.

"Alright then, how about you come with me on the mission?"

You could feel him lightly smile against your shoulder. It was a solution he certainly was happy with. He gets to spend more time with you while you get your mission done.

Slowly, he unwrapped his arms from around you and moved one hand down to hold your own. His teal eyes looked into your own with such warmth and love.

"Then let's go."

Sampo:

this man is clingy all the time

he just can't get enough of your attention and affection

can you blame him?

he just loves you so much!

he hates when you're gone for too long and becomes so needy for affection

as soon as you get back, expect Sampo to be attached to you

unlike Dan Heng, Sampo is so open and obvious about how clingy he is

he will say just about anything for your affection

"What? I do my best thinking when I'm in your arms!"

he gets so upset when you have to leave too

"But who's gonna cuddle me and give me kisses while you're away?"

"Sampo I'll only be gone for an hour."

"I'm going to freeze without your arms and kisses to warm me!"

this is a common occurrence

Sampo will even hold you tight against him until you absolutely have to go and you have to convince him to release you

what could you possibly need to do that's more important than cuddles with your dear boyfriend?

"Noooooooooooo."

"Sampo we're completely out of your juice. I need to go get some more."

Your boyfriend has you in quite the predicament. He was out of juice, and he needed that in the mornings or else he would be grumpy. He claims his day doesn't start right without it.

But he also didn't want you to leave him to go to the store. Sampo had his arms around you as he laid atop you. You could see the pout on his face from his resting spot on your chest. It was one of his favorite ways to cuddle you and he loves feeling your arms around him. So of course he didn't want you to leave!

"But darling! You know I can't go out there right now! The guards are still on high alert for the great Sampo Koski after his latest performance."

"You'll be upset in the morning if you don't have it though."

"I can manage as long as I have you my love!"

It was a serious debate in your mind. Stay and cuddle with Sampo only having to deal with how grumpy he may be in the morning? Or leave him and go the store? He would survive if you left him (despite what he says), but he looks so cute and loveable in your arms.

As you weighed your options, Sampo gave you a smile and placed a light kiss on the base of your neck. Taking one look at that adorable smile, your mind was made.

"Fine, I'll stay here."

"Yay! More love from my wonderful darling. I knew I'm a lucky man."

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr sampo #sampo honkai #sampo koski #sampo x reader #honkai sampo x reader #hsr sampo x reader #dan heng #dan heng x reader #hsr dan heng #dan heng hsr #honkai dan heng #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader

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sinnomel · 7 months

Text

Absolutely Peachy

Pairing: Gale x f!Tav

Summary: Tav and Gale's conversation after Elminster's visit goes great. Slight angst but it ends cute imo.

A/N: First post breaking my very long writing hiatus to write about Gale because there aren't enough fics. Let me know if you'd like more one shots cause I think the world needs more Gale ( ´ ▿ ` ) - Sin

There was nothing in this world that could’ve prepared Tav for the surprise encounter with Elminster. She was hoping that she could meet the esteemed wizard under happier circumstances, perhaps when this damned tadpole was out from between her eyes, attempting to command the helm that is her brain.

The wise old man was jolly at first, introducing himself to the rest of the group, reprimanding Gale for his lack of decorum and grace. Tav thought nothing of it, inviting the elder to their camp, despite Gale’s scowl, awaiting for Elminster’s true reason for appearing before them in the shadow lands.

However, after the food and wine, Elminster’s visage seemed less friendly, less warm. His words were cold, concise, and fatal. Gale was to gain Mystra’s forgiveness on one condition - he was to essentially explode, destroying the curse within him and everything in a large surrounding area. It could rid them of the Absolute, of course. It could bring death to a lot of people if he decided to do this in or near Baldur’s Gate. Usually, this would be a decision that the group would push past, finding the cure for the tadpoles being their priority as the clock was ticking on them becoming mindflayers. However, this revelation had Tav’s heart sinking to the ground below her.

Tav had become particularly close to Gale, finding her feeling solidified after spending time with him in between camping and the battlefield. A complete accident on her part. There was something charming about the man’s rants, how his eyes lit up explaining the Weave, talking about his cat and how he would spend his days rummaging through the literature that covered the walls of his tower in Waterdeep. Tav never intended to fall for Gale, yet here she was.

It was clear as day what her thoughts on the matter were, as Gale had asked if everything was alright once Elminster and everyone else had retired to their respective tents and bedrolls. Tav was beside herself, “Am I alright? Absolutely peachy Gale.” Gale’s eyes held a hint of sadness as she continued. “I’m definitely alright. I’m wonderful knowing that Mystra herself has offered you forgiveness but only under the guise of the afterlife,” she spat. “Tav. I understand your frustration. Trust me, I too am frustrated with Mystra. But I can no longer satiate the hunger of the Orb that rests inside of me. There is nothing that I can do. This is my fate,” he explained, his hand twitching, as if involuntarily reaching out for her hand but stopping himself because she’s upset. He can only assume that his touch would only lead to more anger and hurt. If only he knew how much Tav yearned for his touch, how much she would fantasize it under the stars, sometimes without her knowing how she got to that topic of thinking.

“Since when have we ever listened to fate?” Tav asked, her gaze off towards the right where the water seemed to stand still and the only sound accompanying them was the soft crackle of the makeshift fire off towards the center of camp. “We have tadpoles that threaten our very existence. Every hour that passes, we teeter on the brink of becoming mind flayers. How long have we traveled together and not a single tentacle has sprouted?” she asked. Tav was breathing heavy, the conversation weighing on her physically. She couldn’t comprehend why he was giving in to this demand - his life was on the line and would he so easily throw it away? However, in that instance, Tav realized that this is coming from a selfish place. In this moment, Tav realized that the reason she was so uncharacteristically upset about Gale throwing his life away for the sake of Mystra’s forgiveness and to satiate the Orb maintaining its nest in his chest is because she has grown to love the wizard of Waterdeep.

Perhaps her eyes had given Gale indication that she had realized something, as he asked “Tav, what’s-“ “Do not ask me what is wrong Gale. I fear I realized something a bit too late. I do not wish to talk about it right now…it isn’t appropriate.” “Is it about me?” He intercepted.

Tav stumbled and said nothing. Her gaze was now on the dirt ground, her heart pounding out of her rib cage. She was silent for a beat, but Gale was patient. If she was willing to speak, he was more than willing to listen - it would be ironic if she listened to his rambling and he couldn’t do the same. Tav, despite just saying that she didn’t wish to speak on the matter, could not stop herself.

“I’m acting out of emotion rather than logic, Gale,” Tav started. Her eyes slowly made her way up to his own brown ones, making this conversation harder. She could feel her heart changing rhythm upon meeting his gaze, how her body yearned to be held in his embrace in this moment, how she craved a chaste kiss.

Gale seemed to put two and two together, or rather, what he thought was two and two.

“I know this seems very obscene and I may never be granted forgiveness. Trust me, I don’t wish to die. But Mystra wants to rid the world of the Absolute. My demise might very well be the only thing that could stop-“

“I love you.”

Gale was taken aback and fell silent, completely off guard by the three sweet words he would often dream of hearing from Tav’s lips. Perhaps he had imagined it? He dared ask, hoping his imagination, or the amalgamation of his heart beating so thunderously in his chest wouldn’t disrupt the orb.

“Pardon?” Gale asked, his eyebrows furrowed as he took a step toward her. “I love you Gale. I don’t want you to succumb to that entitled goddess for my own selfish reasons,” Tav started, unable to stop her words from coming out. If not now, she felt, when? Who knew when Gale would just decide to commit to Mystra’s possible false promises.

“There is always another way. We’ve constantly found alternatives to problems. Please…don’t go through with this. Do you not wish to live?” the appointed leader of the group asked the man before her. She could feel the warm accumulation of tears threatening to pour over the edge of her tear ducts, the shakiness of her breath not helping her.

Gale was speechless. He didn’t know what to do. He always painted this picture of how he wanted to profess his love to Tav - a beautiful sunset in Waterdeep whilst both of them spent the hours in his tower, two glasses of wine served out for them and Tara, his cat in his company, along with the countless books he seems to have. The piano would play songs from their travels to incite conversation of nostalgia, how they felt in those moments, laughing about their perilous travels. And when the sun hit the golden hour, the sky would be adorned with pink, orange and purple clouds, he would place his forehead on hers, his gaze focused on her soft lips and utter…

“I love you.”

But they were here, in this camp, the conditions of his profession of love not met. Perhaps this was how it was supposed to be because he wouldn’t make it back to Waterdeep. Perhaps he won't live past a couple nights from now.

“Gale…Say something,” Tav said, her voice cracking, two tears escaping their captivity, trailing down her cheeks. Gale couldn’t think of any words. Instead he chose to react, slowly closing the space between them. His hands made their way up to her cheeks, softly wiping away the stray tears. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was torn. He very badly wanted to rid himself of the Orb and obtain Mystra’s forgiveness, but on the other, he had Tav, who had seemingly loved him unconditionally. None of his magic was necessary to woo her. Not his history of being a prodigy of magic, not his mastery of spells, not his conduction of the weave. Just him.

Gale couldn’t help but close the space between himself and Tav, placing a soft kiss upon her lips. In this moment, he forgot all about Mystra and her empty promises, the orb, all of it. All that occupied his mind was Tav and how soft her lips felt against his own. He pulled away, staying close.

“I love you too.”

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale x tav #gale bg3 #gale x reader #bg3 fanfiction #gale dekarios x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader #Tav

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n6ptunova · 6 months

Note

PUHLEASE write something for this : https://www.tumblr.com/lynaebto/733715591931756545/this-gives-jokingly-doing-the-hitting-from-the?source=share !!!

OML

behave • chris sturniolo

a/n: OMG yes you get ittt i hope you like this and thank you for the ask bae!!💞

summary: chris is an ass man basically idk

warnings: suggestive content, ass slapping, mentions of sex, boners, not proofread.

dating chris means dealing with a lot of pda. and i mean A LOT. this man doesn’t care who’s around and where you guys are, he will always find a way to be touching you.

you don’t mind it for the most part. you like when he kisses you in front of his friends without shame, or when he fiddles with your fingers, or reaches his hand from the front seat behind the head rest to hold your hand in the car. it’s cute and makes you feel cherished and loved.

what you have a problem with (not really) is when he turns the public kisses into make outs shoving his tongue down your throat, smacking your ass when you walk by, or making dirty jokes in front of everyone. you don’t hate when he does those things you lowkey eat it up you just get extremely shy and embarrassed when there’s people around.

little did you know, your reaction is the reason chris loves teasing you. he loves the way your face flushes, how high your voice gets when you shout ‘chris!’, how you get so nervous you start stumbling over your words. it’s kind of a turn on for him.

one day, the boys had some friends over for a movie night. you and nick were preparing the snacks in the kitchen when chris came over to ask if you needed any help to which you said, “no thanks babe, we got this.”

instead he just stood there watching you. admiring you actually. you looked so cute scrambling to get everything done so you didn’t keep everyone waiting. as you turned around to get drinks from the fridge you accidentally knocked down some bags of chips.

you bent down to pick them up and heard your boyfriend’s footsteps get closer expecting him to help you out. you should’ve known better. he positioned himself right against your ass and firmly gripped your hips keeping you steady as he moved his hips back and forth imitating the “banging from behind” motion.

“ayyyy,” he chuckled sticking his tongue out and doing a little dance move while your ass is still against his dick.

“chris!” you managed to free yourself from his fingers digging into your sides, and playfully hit his arm. you furrowed your eyebrows attempting to scold him but you couldn’t wipe the small smile on your face.

“whaaattt ma?” dragging out the words in a high pitch voice mocking you. he smirked and bit down his lower lip looking you up and down, inching closer to snake his arms around your waist and giving you a peck on the cheek because he knew you were flustered.

“don’t worry no one was even looking,” he reassured you, “but that wasn’t your A game i know you can throw it back better than that,” he winked at you as you lightly smacked his chest and pushed him away giggling.

“maybe if you behave, you’ll see how good i can throw it back tonight,” you whispered loud enough for only him to hear and walked away leaving him half hard and speechless.

for the rest of the night chris was on his best behavior, he was so excited he couldn’t stop imagining you bent over on his bed while he presses down on your back with one hand and smacks and squeezes your ass with the other- aaannddd he’s hard again.

#his fav position is def doggy idc #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #n6ptunova

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viridescent-din · 1 year

Text

Hope

Joel x reader. Smut, 18+ only Fingering, age gap.

There’s no hope for you.

You don’t take it personally. There’s no hope for anyone anymore. But it still stings, knowing it will probably never get better. Knowing that in spite of everything, even though you and everyone else that’s left has been given the worst hand fate could have dealt, you can’t ever have what you want. What’s right in front of you.

Joel, leaving you for weeks on end to smuggle God knows what. Angry when you come, angry when you don’t. Short tempered and mean, hurting under all those layers of pain and experience and grime. When you met Joel, you promised yourself you would dig into him, make your way through those layers and burrow under them. Warm him from the inside out. You wanted to know him.

Now you do, and it hurts more than ever. It’s a nicer pain than feeling nothing at all, but it’s still heavy. The lingering glances Joel gives you make you feel truly alive, but they make you ache too. The wandering eyes, the brushes of his arm, the death grip he holds you in on the runs when you stumble across infected. You know Joel well enough to understand they mean something. To you and him. He doesn’t touch other people like that. He doesn’t care for them. Protect them.

If he’s felt the way he does for you this long and hasn’t done anything about it, he’s never going to.

It’s possible that Joel doesn’t want to make the first move - doesn’t want to be the one that really changes the comfortable (almost, almost domestic) closeness you two have. There’s lots of reasons he wouldn’t: he’s older than you, for one. There’s also FEDRA and the Fireflies and anyone else who keeps an eye on Joel, looking for a weakness. The lack of confirmation between the two of you as to just what you are bleeds over to anyone who watches you interact. If something changes, if Joel really admits this is real, it won’t stay between the two of you no matter how much he might try. They’ll notice. Joel can’t afford to lose anyone else.

It’s hopeless, you and Joel. So you try not to think about it, and you never, ever push him.

Joel can’t take this much longer. Can’t take you.

It’s killing him. Everything is: his job, his age, his sorrow. Everything is wearing Joel down, making him drag his feet and look for the nearest somewhat safe spot so he can collapse and finally rest. For just one fucking minute.

He only feels rested when he’s with you. And Joel hates himself for that. Hates putting that amount of responsibility on you - to burden you with him. You’ve never asked for that.

Of course, you’ve never asked because you’re scared that if you do, Joel will leave. He doesn’t blame you. He’s not entirely sure that he wouldn’t.

You’re so good. It blinds him sometimes, your goodness. Sometimes it’s like the sun, shining down on Joel as he overlooks the ruins of whatever given city he’s in. But sometimes it’s like the light on the soldier’s gun twenty years ago, forcing Joel to realize everything he holds dear is devastatingly fragile.

If Joel let you give yourself to him the way he knows you want to, all he would do is take. He would envelope you, trap you in his chest. He’s cold and gruff and he would expect you to just deal with it. More than you already do.

“Should be an easy run,” you finish telling Joel late one night. You try not to notice how nice he looks in red, even if the shirt he’s wearing is dusty and beat up. “I’ll be back before morning.”

“I’m coming with you.” Joel responds gruffly. You purse your lips.

“I know you had something planned with Tess,” you say. “It’s just the mall. I’m not even leaving the QZ.”

“It’s boarded up for a reason.”

“I trust the people that say it’s safe -”

“Tess can handle herself. Ain’t no thing for me to go with you.” You still.

You don’t mean to be upset with Joel, but stings anyway, the lack of faith he has in you. It’s times like this that make you feel young. Stupid and incapable.

Needy.

“Tess can leave the QZ on her own but I can’t even make a quick trip to the mall?” You manage to keep the accusation out of your tone, but it’s still implied. Joel knows.

“Hey,” he says, short. “That’s not what I’m sayin’.” You swallow.

“I know, Joel, I just -”

“Tess has experience. She’s been doing this shit practically since it all started.” You nod as you look away, nails digging into your palms as you clench them. Your heart jumps when you feel Joel take your hand, prying it open. “Quit doin’ that.” He murmurs. Joel’s hand is warm, spreading waves of heat throughout your body. You unclench your fist, and Joel rubs his thumb over the lines of barely broken skin. “It’s different with you,” he says, barely audible. “You know it is.”

For a second, you think this is it. The walls are coming down, and Joel is admitting. Confessing, even. You look at him, eyes wide and hopeful.

He drops your hand and walks away.

“I’ll be back tomorrow night. Be ready.” He says. The door slams shut behind him.

“What are we even here for?” Joel only thinks to ask once you’ve led him into some sort of breaker room. You shine your flashlight at all the light switches and levers, looking for the right one. Joel frowns at himself. He should have pressed you for more information about this. It’s not like him to… not. “If I’m just here to take you shopping, we can leave now.”

“Yeah, Joel, you’re here to take me shopping. Prom is right around the corner.” You say. Smart ass, Joel thinks. He lets himself smile while you aren’t looking.

“Think you’re a little old for that.” Joel shines his own flashlight overheard, looking at all the decay. Water drips onto his face, and he wipes it off.

“I’m not that much older, you know. I am twenty f-”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Joel stops you. You grin at him before lifting a lever. Machinery whirrs around you both, and the lights slowly flicker on.

“Whatever you say, old man.” Joel rolls his eyes, but secretly, he’s relieved to have you teasing him again. Joel doesn’t like how he left your place last night, how real it felt. How for a moment, he was the cause of the hurt that flickered over your face. “This way.” You tell him, leading him down the maintenance hallway and into the actual mall.

Even Joel can’t help but marvel at it, even in ruin. It’s massive, and all the stores are reminding him of brands he had forgotten existed. His chest clenches at the sight of some of them, the models that would have Sarah’s age.

The last time he went to a mall was with her.

“Holy shit,” you breathe, eyes wandering. “Look how big it is, Joel! Everything is -”

“Are we gonna be here all night?” Joel demands, suddenly gruff and impatient. Your face falls. “Let’s get what you want and leave, alright?”

“Right,” you say, excitement gone. “It’s um - I just remember my mom going to the mall whenever one of us got sick. I know there’s… there are like, pharmacies or whatever. I thought it would be good to stock up on medicine.”

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, angry at himself for taking his shit out on you. It’s not your fault he insisted on coming.

It’s a good plan, too. Joel is surprised he or Tess didn’t think of it.

“That’s good. Smart.” He tells you, trying to ease the tension. “Do you remember how to find your way around a mall?” You shake your head. “It’s called a directory. It’s a map, usually on the first floor.” Joel spots an escalator a few feet in front of you. “Let’s go look at one, yeah? Better than wandering around the entire night.”

“Okay.” You agree. “Lead the way.”

The pharmacy is on the second floor, so you and Joel head back the way you came after looking at the directory. You start rambling about how there might not even be anything, how a mall probably doesn’t have as much as a CVS or a Walgreens. Joel stops you.

“Even one bottle of antibiotics is better than none,” he tells you. “This was smart. Good job.” You give Joel a small smile.

“Thanks,” you say.

The pharmacy turns out to be well stocked - you and Joel jump over the counter and find practically everything full. Joel watches you look at the labels of everything a few times before you take to dumping things in your backpack. Joel is more careful, on the lookout for penicillin and any other helpful meds he can remember. He falters when he grabs one prescription and reads it: cryselle, low ogestrel. Birth control. Before he even realizes what he’s doing, Joel glances at you.

“You ready?” You ask. You’re standing on the counter, looking down. Joel shoves the pills in pocket.

“Yeah,” he says, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Let’s -” Joel doesn’t even hear the growling until it’s too late, until a rotted hand grabs your ankle and pulls, the crack of your ribs on the counter bouncing off the walls and the look of surprise on your face permanently searing itself onto Joel’s brain.

“Joel!” You scream, the infected chomping at you, practically ripping the skin of its neck to reach you. Bite you. You let out another scream, one pure terror and pain. Your torso is throbbing, a blinding pain that’s making it harder and harder to keep the infected off you. You thrash, kicking its legs in an attempt to get it off, but you only make its knees collapse so its weight falls on you even more. You let out a frustrated sob.

This is it, you think to yourself. Even if I get out of this, Joel is never letting me do a run again. Your arms start to weaken at the thought, subconsciously giving in.

The shot fires so close to you it makes your ears ring. The infected stops growling, slumping on top of you. You push it off, dazed.

Joel is on you in an instant, hands running over every inch of bare skin you have. Hands, wrists. Neck. He hooks his fingers under your chin and forces you to look at him, distress written all over his face. You cough, wincing as it rattles your ribs.

“Good,” you manage. “I’m clean.” Joel sags with relief, his forehead pressed against yours. He smells scared, stressed and acrid. You close your eyes and breathe it in.

“C’mon,” Joel says, standing. “There could be more. There’s always more.”

He takes you to his apartment. His, not yours. You drop your bags at the door, kicking off your shoes. Joel leads you to his bedroom, and you sit on his sheets, wincing. When you pull up your shirt, your skin is raised and bruised. You tug it back down.

“Does it feel like a clean break?” Joel asks. You shrug, not knowing what he expects you to say. He leaves, coming back with a bottle of pills and a glass of water. “Ibuprofen.” He explains. “Nothing fancy for a few broken bones.” You thank him.

“Should we wrap it?” You ask.

“Don’t know. Might make sleeping on ‘em the first night easier.” Joel watches you. “Can I see?”

You swallow as Joel stands over you. Slowly, you lift your shirt.

To Joel’s credit, he doesn’t freak out. It dawns on you that he might be thinking you’re making a big deal out of nothing. You don’t know what Joel’s life was like before you were in it, but you know it was worse than a few cracked bones. Embarrassment creeps up your face.

“It’s nothing.” You dismiss it. Joel nods.

“Nothing.” He agrees. He doesn’t sound convincing, though.

It’s not even that bad. Joel knows that.

He watches people die every day. He’s seen the worst of death and then some. He’s seen people stumble into the QZ holding their innards in their hands. He’s watched people rip their tongues out as the virus infects them, trying to rid themselves of the spores they can feel invading their bodies.

You have a few cracked ribs. You’re strong. You can handle it.

But the thing is, Joel can’t. He’s worn down, he’s exhausted and scared he just can’t keep himself from caring so much.

He’s making this a bigger deal than it is. Joel thinks you feel the same - you’re waving him off, saying you’re fine. Saying it’s nothing. The wound is, sure. But the terror Joel felt when he saw you disappear behind the counter in less than a second? That isn’t nothing. It’s everything. You’re everything.

“You wanna stay here for the night?” Joel asks you. Splashes of black and blue spread over your torso, painting your skin. It makes Joel feel sick. He shouldn’t have let this happen.

“Yeah,” you say. “If it’s okay.” Joel shrugs in response, hunching his shoulders to ward his paranoia away. You give him a small smile, tugging your shirt down. Joel turns around, walking over to the small dresser near the door and digging out one of his flannels. He knows you like them, and you know Joel likes seeing you in them just as much. He tosses it to you on the bed. You catch it smoothly, laying it next to you. Joel faces the wall, letting you change your shirt.

And then he hears it.

It’s a small noise that you make. It probably isn’t even one of pain, you’ve been through worse than this, it’s just a hiss of discomfort as you raise your arms above your head to take your shirt off.

And Joel is rushing towards you, brow furrowed, hands outstretched and mind telling him no, no, no, just like it has for years.

Joel’s been silently telling himself no to you since he met you. He’s older now.

He can’t bring himself to listen anymore.

Joel kneels in front of you, grunting as his knees protest. Your eyes are wide, and you’ve frozen. Your hands are gripping the hem of your shirt, holding it just above your navel. You watch as Joel’s eyes flick towards the bareness of your stomach, and even though he just saw it so he could look at your ribs, Joel can tell you know he’s looking in a different way now. He swallows, leaning forward.

“Let me help you, baby.” Joel says. You draw in a breath.

“Are you sure?” You whisper. You know what this means, what Joel’s thinly veiled statement implies. Joel returns your gaze.

Joel reaches forward, grabbing the hem of your shirt and lifting it carefully over your head. A small ‘good job’ tumbles off his lips when you raise your arms without making another sound of discomfort again, and Joel sees what his praise does to you.

He leans back on his heels, looking at you sitting with your breasts exposed on his bed, bones cracked and in need of repair. He watches you wait for him to really promise something, to show you that this is finally happening.

You’ve been so patient. Joel can’t make you wait any longer.

“Joel,” Joel’s name comes out a gasp as he lays you down,

Joel props himself on the wall, sitting on the pillows. He pulls your back against his chest, arm over your collarbone while his other hand dangles between your legs. He massages your thighs and your eyes slide shut. You grip his forearm, nails biting into his skin.

When Joel’s fingers have finally worked their way up and are tracing your slick entrance, you whimper.

“I know, baby. I’ve got you.” Joel licks the shell of your ear as he murmurs, and you feel so safe. He’s capable and willing and wanting, you can feel his hardness against the small of your back.

If it were anyone else, this would feel sudden. But it’s Joel. You’ve been waiting so long. You’d be lying if you said you understood why it was now that he finally decided to do something, but you don’t care. You don’t care why this brush with death was the one that made the walls come down. You just care that it did.

Joel kisses your neck, sinking his teeth into the muscle of where your shoulder meets your neck, and you gasp, keening against him.

Teeth marks on your shoulder. Bruises on your hips. Joel is trying to make up for the fact you’re battered from today’s supply run. You’re about to say something about it when his fingertip pushes into your cunt. Your mouth drops open, and you moan so loud you almost slap your hand over your mouth instinctively.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” you hear Joel say as he slides his finger further in. Your thighs tremble, and Joel stills. “Hey,” Joel says your name, serious. “How long has it been?” He asks in a whisper. He runs his thumb up painfully slow over your clit, the same way you would to someone’s back or shoulder if you were trying to comfort them. It makes your head spin. “I gotta know how slow you need it.” He explains. You open your eyes, and Joel is staring at you.

“I,” you feel your cheeks burn. “I haven’t ever…” excuses build on your tongue before you even finish your sentence. I haven’t had time. I was the only survivor I knew of for years. I was only a kid when this all started. I can’t trust anyone around here. I’m younger than you. You don’t say any of them. You can’t bring yourself to.

“Oh, baby -”

“Please don’t stop,” you plead. Joel doesn’t move, his finger still inside you, gaze piercing. “Please, Joel. It’s not - it doesn’t have to be a big deal. I need this.” You can’t reach Joel’s lips from here, not with the way he’s holding you, so you drop your head and drag your lips across his forearms instead. “I need you.”

Joel closes his eyes, screwing them shut like he’s upset. But when he opens them, there’s no trace of anger. Just affection.

“I’m not gonna stop,” he promises you. You nod, relieved. “I’m taking care of you, darlin.’”

When Joel pushes another thick finger inside you to prove his point, he chases away any doubt you had remaining.

“I’m not going to use my cock on you tonight,” Joel tells you after what feels like hours of him working you open.Your disappointment is obvious. Insecurity begins to set in on you, but Joel won’t let it. “Not tonight,” he repeats. “Another time.” It takes a second for you to believe him, but eventually you murmur a quick ‘okay.’ “For now, I want you to finish with my fingers. Think you can do that for me, baby?” You nod, and Joel rewards you by curling his finger. “Good girl,” he says, and you clench around him. Joel smirks, amused, and rubs the thumb he has on your shoulder up and down soothingly. “Relax,” he tells you. “I’ve got you. Let me in.”

You try to wrap your head around the fact that this is happening, that after years of pining after Joel, he’s finally here. He’s sturdy and strong and present - you can feel all of him, his heartbeat against your back, his breath on your neck, his fingers so deep it’s like you can feel him in your stomach. His smell grounds you, filling your senses. You’re so full, so full of Joel. You have been for a long time now.

You take a deep breath, letting yourself inhale Joel’s scent. Your exhale is shakier as Joel presses in deeper. Your gaze flickers down to where his fingers disappear, and you whimper at the sight. You’re never seen yourself like this, swollen and puffy. You’re transfixed by Joel’s fingers pumping in and out of you, shiny with your slick. He suddenly finds a spot you’ve never had touched before. You moan as he massages the spongy place, trying to find your breath. When Joel keeps at that and rubs at your clit again, your vision starts to blur.

“Joel,” you gasp, the feeling foreign and overwhelming. “Joel. Joeljoeljoel -”

“Shh. You’re okay. I’m here,” Joel slows. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” You exclaim. Your mind is spinning as the corners of your eyes begin to go white.

“Okay. Alright,” Joel soothes you. “I know, darlin’, I know. Feels so good it’s almost scary, isn’t it?” You screw your eyes shut, your chest heaving as you pant. Joel presses on, his confident voice pushing you close to the edge. “But you don’t need to be scared. You can let yourself have this,” Joel takes a breath in, his voice getting distant. “You deserve this, alright? Let me give this to you.” Joel almost sounds like he’s begging. “Please let me do this for you.”

All you can do is clench around him in response.

Joel knows, Joel knows he shouldn’t be doing this. You’re better than him. You should have someone more handsome, someone younger, someone kinder.

Someone with less blood on their hands.

But Joel is selfish. He’s a selfish man, he has been since he lost Sarah, and he wants this. Wants you. He wants to give you something, make you feel good for just one second in the shitty world you have to live in. He needs this. He needs to know you’re getting some type of pleasure.

He hesitates when you say this is your first time.

It shouldn’t surprise him - you don’t have the resources people before the virus did. No internet, no sex ed, no parents or older siblings to ask.

You don’t like new things. Joel knows you don’t like being inexperienced. You’re too good at what you do, it makes your tolerance for being out of depth very, very low. And this is so much more personal than anything else. He can feel your embarrassment when you confess to him, unable to even finish your sentence.

“Oh, baby,” he murmurs, and it isn’t because you have anything to be ashamed about, it’s because Joel is pretty sure you’ve barely even touched yourself and you still find it in you to trust him to do it. To beg. Joel is a sick man, because it goes straight to his dick, your trust and desperation.

He wants to give this to you, and he doesn’t care if it also feels like taking.

When you cum, sweating and writhing in his arms, you clench tighter around Joel’s fingers than he knew was possible. He can feel your fucking heartbeat, and his hand isn’t even on your chest.

You’re far away when Joel eases his fingers out of you. He manages to lay you down on the bed, cautious of your ribs. He starts to stand to get a washcloth to clean you up, but you grip his hand.

“Please don’t go,” you tell him, vulnerable. “Please, Joel.”

Joel hates himself. Hates that he’s ever acted in some type of way that would make you think he would leave you when you need someone.

When you need him.

“I’m just grabbing something to clean us up,” he promises, rubbing your knee. “We made a mess, darlin’.” You sag, relieved.

Joel caves once he’s in the bathroom and out of your sight. He presses his fingers to his tongue, savoring your taste. He sucks his fingers off like a starved man, and can’t wait until he gets it straight from the source.

There is hope after all. For you and Joel. You can tell because of the dull throb in your core. Joel’s half hard cock against your hip. The medicine in your packs by the door, the softness of Joel’s lips over the skin of your ribs.

There is hope - always was. Even though you had to wait for it.

#joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel #joel imagine #joel x reader #joel smut #joel x you #the last of us #the last of us imagine

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starrvsn · 3 months

Text

` ִ ꔫ ۫ ⊹ D.HUME ࣪ ˖ VICTORY BLISS.

﹙ MOVIE/FANDOM ⠆THE BOYS IN THE BOAT ﹚

PAIRING ⠆don hume x fem!reader.

CATEGORIES ⠆fluff!, lil bit of angst- drama for no reason.. for the plot HAHA, shy!don, slight ooc with the boys, don going through it, the reader is lovely i swear, the guys being the #1 supporters of don, bobby being his #1 protector, sassy!bobby, bobby’s kinda mean in this but he means well i swear!

WORD COUNT ⠆4,613 (fun!)

star left a message! this was actually my first draft i had of don and i finally came around to finishing it! this came out much longer than i expected but i hope you enjoy~!

𝟒𝟏𝟏. don finally garners the courage to ask out the girl he's had his eyes on since the beginning of the semester.

"don! hey! so how you gon' celebrate?" bobby calls, jogging up next to him. the faint sounds of the other guys’ voices behind them, they had just come back from germany and all still high from the victory bliss. don had just gotten over a horrible fever, thanks to the guys he didn't think he'd be able to row– and be there when winning gold. now that it's over, they want to celebrate as much as they can, take advantage of a golden opportunity.

"er, not sure— sleep it off maybe." don utters, stuffing his hands in his pockets as they walk further onto campus— towards their dorms, completely exhausted from traveling. the fact that they won olympic gold hadn't hit him yet and with their victory banquet in a few days time, maybe it would hit him then. the shorter man scoffs jumping in front of the taller, stopping him abruptly in his tracks.

"oh come on don, you gotta celebrate! you know soon enough girls are gonna be at your feet." bobby attests, arms flailing about in attempt to prove his point. don finds it almost comedic at how desperately bobby is trying to get through him, trying to hold back his laugh— he lets out "so?"

bobby squints his eyes looking a don incredulously "so? this time right now is your best shot— its now or never."

don could hardly speak to anyone, let alone girls— it became what he was known for. he didn't hate it because it was true, there was no room to deny it— it was just easier to manage, less to worry about but he could see where bobby was getting at, finally the narrative of seizing the moment getting through his thick skull after the many attempts of the team encouraging him to talk to girls more, so maybe this was it.

“i-i’ll think about it.” don nods, almost unsure of himself, he wasn't sure if he was saying it to satisfy his friend or to give himself some sort of encouragement. digging his hands deeper into his pants pockets. bobby’s face softens and he gives the taller male an optimistic smile, patting him encouragingly on his arm before joining the rest of the group. don heaves a sigh before continuing — his thoughts weigh his options for the rest of his walk to the dorms.

don mulls over what do over the course of a few days, with their banquet in a few days he knew had to do something soon. he had many ideas but one just kept coming back to him so he is putting all his chips in on this, hoping he doesn’t crash and burn.

don was nervous, he tossed and turned in bed just thinking about this. his heart beating loudly in his ears and almost out of his chest— he was sure people in the common room could hear it. he looks down at his feet, counting his steps as he approaches your table—trying not vomit from how on edge he was feeling. the words from bobby echoing in his head "this time is your best shot—its now or never."

taking a deep breath, he takes his gaze from his shoes to you. words couldn't describe how you looked, the sunlight peering through the window reflecting beautifully on your features making you look ethereal. he was enamored.

you were in the same physics lecture, you always sat two rows in front of him. he would catch himself drifting his eyes to the back of you head when the lecture got boring or when you turned to talk to your classmate, showing him your pretty side profile. he knew he was infatuated when you were paired during a lab and while don barely spoke– not even introducing himself. you were polite, nice and smart, a perfect trifecta. you always knew what to say and was so patient with him when you had asked him something and he didn’t respond right away. most times when he wouldn’t respond, people would get impatient or just brush him off; ignoring him completely. it was nice for someone to treat him with respect besides the guys on crew for a change.

breaking from his reverie, he realizes he’s stood before your table longer than he initially wanted to and yet you still haven’t noticed, to absorbed in your studies. don almost feels bad for interrupting and the thought of him just walking away and trying again some other day— or never crosses his mind but before he can even make up his mind, you finally notice.

"don! hi!" a soft smile peering at your lips as you stop writing, looking up at him. don's eyebrows jump in surprise, taken aback that you know him. a lump forms in his throat unsure what to say, awkwardly avoiding your gaze.

"yo-you know me?" letting his thoughts continue the conversation. he watches as you laugh- shaking your head for a moment before collecting yourself.

"it's hard to not know the stroke that won us a gold medal." you respond, voice laced with praise.

dons hand shoots up to the nape of his neck, flustered. "well i wouldn't say it was just me, it was all of us." he immediately denies, a faint blush glowing on his cheeks.

“i must give credit where it’s do, i mean you guys must’ve been amazing! well from what i heard on the radio at least.” you boast. his heart swells with pride hearing you sound so elated with how well they did— how well he did, in berlin. he felt his heart swell as you told him. his mouth runs dry as he tries to find the right words to continue the conversation and he kind of kicks himself for letting silence fall between the two of you. you speak up insisting you join him at your table, closing your books and putting them aside. he sits across from you, taking in your features that he thought about from time to time when he was away. you scoot you chair further in, knocking your foot against his, a shock coursing through him– no has ever made him feel this way.

“tell me about berlin, i heard you were feeling under the weather over there.” you start, quirking your head in curiosity awaiting his response. clearing his throat, don gathers his words.

“uh— yeah, it was an otherworldly experience. i never been out of country, out of state even but it was definitely different. an experience i would never forget” you can see his face brighten from talking about it, he speaks so descriptively about his time there it feel like you were there with him. “i was sick with some kind of bug. it was a grueling few days but was worth it after winning. it was amazing! i would do it all again if i had to.” you offhandedly realize that this was probably the most you’ve ever heard him speak and you find him so endearing as he spoke, he was so expressive when he was talking about something he was so passionate about and you loved it. you watch as he goes on about the olympics and the number of athletes he saw compete, you head rests on your hand watching him with attentive eyes letting him continue with his ventures.

minutes pass from dons tales and he realizes that he got lost in speaking about the olympics and droned on and on about it , he felt selfish for taking such time to talk about the most trivial of things— or so he thought.

“'m so sorry, i must’ve talked your ear off.” don cuts in the middle of a story he was telling, as he realized what he was doing. feeling guilty as he casts his eyes to his hands, falling quiet again. what he doesn't see is the small frown that casts on your face, your heart pangs at the thought of him thinking that what he was talking about wasn’t important, looking so dejected. a moment passes as he fiddles with his hands then he sees your hand coming into view clasping his. he raised his gaze and he sees you looking at him with a comforting smile smile.

“it’s okay, i like hearing your voice. i could listen to you talk all day” the compliment was simple but made his heart skip a beat. it’s now or never don gulps, his calloused hand encasing yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze, you can tell he has something on his mind and he could take all the time in the world to say it and you would wait. “would you want to come to the victory banquet with me? it's in a few days.” his voice is timid and small, if the room was any louder you wouldn’t be able to hear what he said.

you face brightens at his proposal, accepting without a moment passing “i would love to.”

the next few days passes with a blur as don and the rest of the team were whisked away to do interviews and photoshoots on their ground breaking win. it all happened so fast and before they knew it; it was already the night of the banquet.

you had promised don you’d meet outside of your dormitory so you could walk together to the hall. he gets there a bit earlier than you were promised to meet, he was nervous— maybe that being the reason he didn't want to be late and have you waiting outside for him. a cool summer breeze passing through as he leans against the brick ledge accenting the dorm building, soon moments turn into minutes and it crosses don's mind that you might have stood him up.

the thought makes him feel hopeless, pulling up his sleeve to reveal his art deco watch- a gift from coach ulbrickson, it was 6:40. 10 minutes had passed since your agreed meeting time. soon 10 turns into 20, he wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt but you made him feel like a fool— embarrassed that he stood outside of the girls dormitory looking like some kind of perv. he rubs the back of his neck in frustration as he pushes himself off the brick wall, ready to leave. a part of him wants to wait— the part of him that hopes you lost track of time and were rushing out to him but to no avail. even in the moment more he waits, he ends up leaving with his heart heavy and pride wounded.

he thought you weren't like the rest. he was so sure you were different from the people who gave him odd looks or comments on how quiet he was. it makes him wonder if you even meant anything in the library that day, weighing heavy on his mind as he walks to the banquet, alone and dejected.

don was acting quieter than usual.

which, for anyone who wasn't close with don wouldn't have noticed but the guys on crew— who he spent almost everyday with, noticed. it was abundantly clear as they sat around the table at the banquet enjoying their dinner. usually don would laugh along with the jokes being made, react to when someone was telling a story— it was a small tells that he was having a good time but there was none of that. he sat in his seat— eyes casted down on his plate, pushing around his peas. there was something obviously on his mind; the guys could tell. they pass knowing glances around each other, unanimously decided they just had to know what was wrong.

"hey don, you okay?" joe speaks up besides don. he has a blank stare down his plate, lost in his thoughts not paying attention to the current conversation at hand. "don?" joe calls again, nudging his arm against don's, snapping him from his reverie. looking over at joe like a deer caught in headlights.

"i said are you okay?" joe repeats himself, his mates looking at him with concerning gazes awaiting his answer.

"hm, yeah— 'm fine." don lamented, sounding like he was more trying to convince himself rather than his friends. they had wondered where he was before the banquet started and didn't see him until the dinner. bobby raises his worry for don, the other boys agreeing. don continues to deny but they weren't going to let it go. he should be enjoying winning gold at the olympics, something never done before in UW history— they didn't want whatever was on his mind to hinder that.

"come on don, you can trust us— whatever it is we'll understand, even give you advice if you need." roger speaks up this time, his voice laced with comfort. as much as the guys teased and joked, they truly cared about each other— after all the hardships they went through together, they stuck close. the quieter male was heavy with emotion and with a lot of his mind. he confines in them, a reluctant sigh passing through him as he tells them— he wonders what went through your head the day he spoke to you and the days leading up to tonight. he was excited to see you again, talk to you, get to know you even better but it was all thrown out the window when you flaked on him. don tries to not miss any details and by the end of his explanation, the boys were feeling a mix of emotions. some felt bad that don went through all that— going out of his element to ask out a girl he was interested in and other were upset that you'd have the balls to stand up someone with the purest intentions. it's hard to dislike someone who you've never met but after hearing what was weighing heavy on don's mind, bobby had made up his mind that he didn't like you. though he would never tell don but if he were to ever come across you, he'd be sure to give you a piece of his mind.

don doesn't see you as the days pass.

he continued to wonder how you were, what you could be going through. he couldn't bare the thought of something bad happening to you and as much as the guys tried to steer him away; his mind always came back to you. practice helps him take his mind of you for a few hours, he knew better than to slip up during their practices— their tireless efforts to get better never ceasing even after their win.

it was around evening time when practice ends. they’re tired; mentally and physically— it’s been a rough week in general. the last thing don expects is you standing at the entrance of the shell house, rocking on your heels. don stops dead in his tracks, his jaw slacks and heart drops. he doesn't notice bobby almost bumping into his whilst walking closely to catch up to him.

huffing, bobby was about to ask him what was the matter when he follows the line of sight of his friend, before either two of them could say anything— bobby is trudging towards you, don just letting him go, still shocked.

"are you y/n?" a man with cloudy blue eyes glares at you, he stands square; inches away from you. his presence intimidates you— you glower under his gaze unable to stand your ground. you can barely speak up against him.

"y-yes, is don around?" your eyes wander behind him and you see don standing a few feet back. you try to move around the man in front of you but he stops you.

"who the hell do you think you are huh?" he accuses, leaving no room for you to respond as he begins again "you charmed don and lead him on— you made him get his hopes up! you know i'm the one that encouraged him to take advantage of this *pure winners bliss* but you just had to come around and screw it up huh? made his biggest fear come true and for what—? to make don the laughing stock for your friends? he had the best intentions you know, all he wanted was for you to give him a chance and it was just flushed down the drain!” the man was fuming, unable to keep his voice level as his emotions got the best of him. soon the guys who were still getting dressed peeked out to see what all the commotion was about. a heavy silence falls between the two of you, tensions high. you feel small in front of him as he berated you about what happened with don. your eyes cast down, wringing your fingers as you tried to compose yourself.

don heard everything, watched as bobby yelled at you for everyone to hear— he should've stopped him, stopped him from even approaching you in the first place but he couldn't, he froze in his spot the second he saw you, he felt *awful*— what happened a few days ago on the back burner. it wasn't until it was over don suddenly gained feeling in his legs again. he hadn't felt this nervous since their race in the olympics. as he nears the two of you he hears you speak up. voice small and meek.

"i deserved that."

their coxswain huffs– brows furrowed “you know what you don’t deserve? his forgiveness because—“

“that’s enough bobby.” don rests his hand on his friends shoulder, motioning for him to go. bobby was hesitant but reluctantly, he leaves but not before giving you another glare. that leaves you with don, the resting frown on his face as he looks at you– you avoid his eyes, sheepish and feeling embarrassed for what happened. you didn't even know how to begin, you weren't sure if he would even listen to you, give you the time of day but you wouldn't know unless you tried.

“don i–“

“let’s take a walk hm?” he starts past you before you have a chance to reply, following after him as he walks down the port. there’s knots piling in his stomach as he walked ahead, his fists balled so tight in his pockets they began to feel numb, he had no idea how to go about this. he wasn’t even sure if he was ready to forgive you— but after seeing you get yelled at and berated by bobby, something inside him felt off. he couldn’t stay mad at you forever, the least he could do is hear you out.

the water splashing against the wooden beams of the deck fills the silence as don stops at the end, his back facing you. hands stuffed in his pockets and heart heavy. he didn’t say anything as moments pass so you take it as your cue to speak.

“don… i know i have no place in apologizing but i’m sorry and i understand if you never want to talk to me or forgive me for what i did” you pause for moment, watching his back– waiting for him to say something but you’re met with silence so you continue.

“i-i really wanted to go with you, i did! i was looking forward to it all week… i had a dressed picked out and everything! but when the day came—" you fault for a moment, your hands fiddling with your sleeves. eyes cast down "m-my parents called and my sister got into an accident… i went home for a couple of days and the whole time i was there; i just felt horrible for leaving you, and knowing how much i hurt you. i would make it up to you any way i can if you let me…”

the silence was deafening, you try your best from losing composure and crying on the spot. overcome with emotion— the silence was killing you as you waited for don to say something, anything— he could tell you he didn’t want to see you ever again and that would be enough for you.

"is your sister alright?" you let out a sound of surprise when he asked, doe eyes looking at him. he’s turned around now– the sun setting a glow that illuminates against his figure. you eyes focus on his face, nose slightly red from the cold.

"yes, she's perfectly fine now." you nod, wringing your hands. tears threatening to spill as you look at him.

don turns to look at you with a mix of emotions, his eyes filled with hurt and longing. you can see the conflict in his expression as he tries to process what you've said. after a moment of silence, he takes a step closer to you, closing the distance between you.

“you really hurt me you know.” he utters, voice fragile.

“yes and i would do anything to remedy that—” you’re desperate for his forgiveness, your voice sounding aspirated as you tell him. you’d go to the ends of the earth just for him to forgive you.

“and yet no matter how much i felt hurt by you, i couldn’t get you out of my mind.” he confesses, his voice soft and vulnerable. "i was angry and disappointed, but deep down, i still cared about you."

tears well up in your eyes as you listen to his words. the weight of the misunderstandings and missed opportunities of that day feels heavy on your shoulders. you reach out and gently take don's hands in yours, holding them tightly.

"i'm so sorry, don," you whisper, your voice filled with remorse. "i never meant to hurt you, i should’ve told you somehow… i’ve never regretted anything more in my life.”

don's grip on your hands tightens as the other dabs at the tears that fallen on your cheeks, his gaze never leaving yours.“i’ve never felt this way about anyone y/n, i hope you realize. you plague my mind day and night, these past few days where i was supposed to be upset with you; i was worrying if something bad happened, how you were feeling, what you were thinking.” he confesses, sorrow and regret lacing his voice “i thought what happened that day would make me loathe and resent you for hurting me… but i could never hate you, i can’t let what happened define our relationship.”

you look up at him with a glimmer of hope. you watch as he takes a deep breath, standing ever so closely.

“i want us to start again.” dons eyes shine a soft amber as he looks down at you, the sun encasing his features with a soft glow. illuminating the freckles that litter his face; imitating a galaxy of stars. he’s a dream come true.

a smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you feel a sense of relief wash over you. his expression softens as he sees the smile he’s come to adore so much, the tension that had been building between you starts to dissipate, replaced by a sense of hope and comfort.

“i promise, i will never hurt you like that ever again.” you say, your voice filled with earnest. don feels as if hes back in the common room with you, talking to you for the first time. he’s lovestruck and there was nothing that could happen that would get rid of it. he’s sure you’ll never do anything to break his trust again, your devotion now so clear to him.

“i know.” a crooked grin plastered on his lips, his arms wrapping around you in a soft but tight embrace. as if he were to let go you’d be gone again. he felt content, all the stresses from the week leaving him as he’s in your arms. a feeling he will never tire of.

“so how should we properly start again?” you breathed, your face incredibly close to dons. a soft flush crawling on your neck as you flicker from his lips to his eyes, him doing the same. it feels as if time stops as you share this moment together, drawing closer until your lips touch. the kiss is slow and tender— moving slowly as he relished on the way your lips feel on his. they’re soft and plush, fitting perfectly against his, like a breath of fresh air. he thought about what it would feel like to kiss you but nothing could compare his thoughts to the real thing. it was just you and him. his his hands rest against on your hips pulling you flush against him, your arms around his neck as he slightly dips you back. passion growing ever so slowly as he continues to kiss you, his kisses becoming more heated, the addictive feeling of your lips on his. he couldn’t get enough of you.

you break away from him reluctantly, mirrored heavy breaths as you look at each other with affectionate gazes. he clears his throat, composing himself. he pushes your hips back to create space between you. trying to fight the nerving urge to kiss you again as he looked at your rose tinted lips.

“i propose we properly take advantage of this winners bliss everyone keeps talking about.” a giggle escapes you as you embrace him again, this time he twirls you, in your own little world—happy with a profound adoration for each other. the sun setting behind you, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink.

the fact they won gold really hitting him now, considering he had a win of his own.

bonus.

“bobby! what could i do for you?” your brows jump in surprise as you look up from the book you’re reading, you had thought it was don since the spot you were in wasn’t as well known, the last person you expected to see was bobby.

“i just wanted to apologize about what happened… a week ago.” he trails off, looking sheepish in front of you. a stark contrast to the man that defended his friend so willingly against you.

“did don send you here?” you tease, a playful smile on your lips. bobby huffs, denying immediately. no, don did not send him to apologize. he came on his own accord, after what happened that evening. don was lovesick the moment he entered the dorms and bobby felt terrible for what he had did, even if he thought you deserved it at the time. he knows now that you make his friend happy and that’s all he cared about.

“don’t worry bobby, i forgive you. i needed that berating, i deserved it. you’re a really good friend to don you know.” you state matter-a-factly. looking at him with appreciation, bobby’s chest puffs at your praise. he crosses his arms over his chest, proud.

“oh i know, i was the one who encouraged him to go for it remember?” you laugh, nodding.

you guess you have bobby to thank for this, you'd have to mention this to don later... speaking of you'd have to tell you're friends about your new lover... speaking of friends:

“hey you’re not seeing anyone by chance?” you suddenly ask, bobby falters—taken aback from your question.

“uh, no. why?” he responded, his head quirking in curiosity from the sudden and a bit uncalled for question.

“no reason, i just feel like a friend of mine would really like you.” you shrug, returning to your book. bobby takes the book from your hands, resting it on the table.

he takes a seat across from you, his hands laced together. as if in a business meeting “say no more, what’s her name?”

he’s all in.

(this is how you and bobby became bffs btw.)

stars ending-ment! i honestly love how this came out and omg is this a segway to a bobby fic????? who knows... it could be hehe. (lmk if you guys would want that lol)

ownership of starrvsn. please do not repost, modify or translate.

#(⁠´⁠ー⁠｀⁠) the boys in the boat #don hume #the boys in the boat #the boys in the boat imagines #don hume imagines #don hume x reader #fanfiction #x reader #don hume fanfiction #jack mulhern #the boys in the boat fanfiction

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woniverse-writes · 8 months

Text

“MOTH TO A FLAME (preview)”

Bada Lee x Fem!Reader

prologue ⟶ part one

summary: y/n l/n is the youngest team member of Jam Republic, competing in the second season of Street Woman Fighter. she’s got the sweetest smile and the most vibrant personality, but she also may or may not be the biggest hothead on the show when it comes to defending her teammates. apparently that’s attractive to Bada Lee.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: swearing, reader is described as cute and petite… sorry to my non-tiny friends.

Starting something young and continuing into your present adulthood can be pressuring, especially if that certain thing happens to end up being your career. For y/n l/n, she's still very young and just in the beginning stages of her career. Still in college, but turning her studies to be online right now due to her current situation, she's working towards a business degree, and doubling that major with dance.

So you can imagine she's a little high-strung since on top of being a college student, she's currently in South Korea, competing as a member of Jam Republic on the second season of Street Woman Fighter. Although y/n is always busy, she's always got a sweet smile on her face- which is why many people, including other dancers, have been drawn to her. It's also why she's currently facing a sea of dancers, waiting to be picked for the "no respect" battle, since she and her fellow teammate, Audrey, received the most votes as the worst dancers.

"She looks kind of scary now…" Yoonji whispers to her teammates looking at y/n. Redlic looks in the direction Yoonji is looking at and laughs a little.

"What're you talking about? y/n? She looks like a kitten trying to be a lion." Now the rest of ManneQueen is staring at Jam Republic, specifically y/n l/n. And sure enough, instead of her usual bright and smiling self, her eyes are fiery and to put it bluntly, she looks pissed the fuck off. Waackxxy was the one to turn to Redlic and go-

“No, she’s definitely got something fierce going on right now… I hope she has a lot of battle cuz I’m kind of interested in her now…” causing the rest of her team to laugh and agree. On the other side, Jam Republic is having their own discussion regarding y/n.

“I think you should just wait and see- maybe no one will even pick you as a “no respect” dancer!” Ling tried cheering up her younger teammate.

“No I want someone to battle me- I want everyone who voted for me and Audrey to come and try us” y/n fired back with her arms crossed as she leaned back into her chair. She really did look intimidating, especially with her makeup and hair done. Audrey on the other hand was not feeling the same fire-

“Uhm, maybe we don’t need everyone to want to battle us…maybe just a few.” Audrey started to reason,

”Cuz I don’t know if you remember, but there were a LOT of people that voted for us as the worst dancers…” which caused Kirsten and Ling to sigh, and y/n to roll her eyes and clench her jaw.

“Audrey, my love, I’m very well aware of how many people think we suck-“

“You don’t suck-”

“Thank you Emma, but please give me a second”

“Y/n take a deep breath and check your well-being”

She sighed at their team leader’s advice, knowing it was to help her out and so that she didn’t get too fired up with her teammates. It’s not that y/n doesn’t get along with them- it’s the furthest thing from that- but she gets very passionate about everything, and she’s a bit of a hothead. On top of all that, y/n is very protective of those she cares about, some of those people being her dear teammates.

“I’m sorry” she mumbles a bit, but ultimately huffs out the response. To which Kirsten replies with a motherly “thank you”, causing the others to chuckle.

“I just don’t understand how they can all collectively make the assumption that we’re not as good as them- for what? Why? Because we’re foreigners? Because we smile a lot? Because we’re pretty? To me THAT just sounds like jealousy” y/n continues to rant, frantically moving her hands and arms about, expressing her frustration- and her team just listens patiently for her to finish. Once she finally lets out her final huff and relaxes back into her chair with her arms crossed again, and a pout now sporting her face, her teammates can’t help but smile gently at their youngest member- some even trying to hide giggles and chuckles of endearment.

“Y/n, sweetheart, you’ve gotta remember- not everyone thinks like you- I wish they did, but they just don’t” Kirsten starts to comfort her, and places a hand on her head, trying her best to calm down the passionate young girl.

Kirsten always felt like asking y/n to join her team was one of the best choices she made in regards to being a leader. She knew the younger girl had experience in kpop dance styles, having performed at multiple k-con stages and doing countless covers from other groups. Kirsten also saw an unlimited amount of potential in y/n and saw how quickly and easily she absorbed everything around her. The only thing she was worried about was how young she was. it wasn’t a huge concern to her since their whole team was pretty young, but when it came down to it, Kirsten ended up adding Audrey in as well, and the two hit it off right away! To be completely honest- Kirsten felt as if the three youngest members were her babies. Audrey being the sweet angel of a golden child, Emma being the responsible oldest, and y/n being the chaotic troublemaker who’s always trying to pick a fight with someone for hurting her sisters.

“You just need to remember that we’re here to dance, have fun, and gain a new experience… alright?” Kirsten has successfully reduced her gremlin child to a less angry (but still very pouty) version of herself.

“…alright”

“Thank you. Now please stop pouting, you look like a kicked puppy and the other will probably start picking on you soon” Kirsten teased lightly, which caused Audrey to join in and start poking y/n’s cheek, leading to Emma tugging gently on her hair, and Ling poking her other cheek, all while Latrice coos at her and pats her head. This all of course causes her to start whining and complaining playfully at her members teasing.

But the endearment for each other doesn’t end outside of the members' little cluster. the love for Jam Republic, and specifically y/n, has now spread to the entire studio. as everyone originally took notice of the youngest member’s slight temper tantrum, most didn’t really know what she was ranting about, but they could tell she was not happy at all. The two teams sitting nearest to Jam Republic happened to be Bebe and 1Million, who originally both had members that intended to battle y/n, but after hearing her rant, some opinions changed.

“I like her style! She’s very passionate” Harimu laughed as she explained her newfound interest in Jam Republic’s youngest.

“That’s what I was thinking- I don’t even wanna battle her anymore, I just wanna watch her tear up the stage with all her energy” Redy chimed in.

“Do you think we should go up to her during break and try to become friends?” They begin to laugh and joke around about their shared interest in y/n. But their team’s older members aren’t quite on the same level of endearment.

“Ya- you two should be trying to take her down before befriending her, don’t you think?” Lia warns the two girls, who just look at each other and start giggling.

“I don’t know if I’d necessarily wanna go up against someone with her temper” Redy starts off jokingly, but Harimu is already coming back in a teasing mood-

“Yeah cuz you’d probably cry.” Which has Redy letting a gasp- her jaw dropped to the floor, eyes wide with shock and (false) betrayal.

The other team seated next to Jam Republic isn’t as chipper as 1 Million though, as their leader is trying to convince her team to stick with their guts.

“You wanted to battle her at first for a reason- why would that reason change if you still haven’t seen her dance?” Bada asks Cheche, Sowoen, and Minah. They all voted y/n as the worst dancer because her style was too “pretty” and they thought she relied on having cute expressions. Bada didn’t entirely agree with her teammates, but everyone is entitled to their own opinion. She even originally stated how she thought y/n’s style was refreshing and youthful, but she was worried about how she’d be with darker concepts.

“Well- I mean- she seems kinda crazy…” Cheche halfheartedly joked, but in reality, she was being completely serious.

“Why? Because she’s angry? She should be angry. Being voted as the worst dancer isn’t something to be happy about…” Bada replies calmly. No one really says anything, as they all are just trying to process whether or not their leader is defending their opponent or just provoking them.

Bada sighs and stands up to stretch. She wants her team to not only be amazing dancers, but critical thinkers too. Of course Bada wants a win, but she also wants her team to be strong- and if going up against someone with untouchable morale will force her teammates to be stronger, then that’s what they need to do.

She also may or may not be personally interested in seeing what y/n is made of. After all, she caught her attention originally with her bright smile and explosive personality- Bada thought her bold expressions and reactions to things were an endearing contrast from her cute or refreshing facials used when dancing. So now having seen y/n in stark opposition, she’s even more interested.

Even in the short period of time she’s known her, Bada’s interested in who y/n is and what she can do- especially since she didn’t expect that much personality to fit into such a petite person. She wants to understand her better- even more so after hearing her passionate rant about wanting to prove everyone wrong. She almost feels delusional for being as interested in y/n as she is, but Bada really can’t help but feel drawn to her- like a moth to a flame.

notes: thank you to everyone who read!! this is my first fic so i was a little nervous to share it- especially since it's not really all that interesting yet. but i thought it would be better to write the not-so-interesting stuff as an intro/preview/prologue, so it didn't take up space in the actual fic. I'm hoping to have the first full part up by sometime in the middle of this upcoming week. i want it to encompass the whole three episodes that have aired so far, so there's a lot i wanna write lol

#bada lee x reader #bada lee #street woman fighter 2 #swf2 #swf2 x reader #street woman fighter x reader #bada x reader #moth to a flame

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