#but my emotional attachment is enough to get me through

[ceasarslegion]

wait, now im really interested in the silica gel drama. how did hlrp sex ed lead to eating a gel packet?

This is going to require a novel's length of context.

To begin, I want to underline that this is not meant to be a callout post, and I will not be providing any identifying traits that could be used to single this person out. The most you will get out of that are she/her pronouns, and her age at the time this happened, which was years ago, and I will not specify what year. I genuinely do hope she got the help she needed after this, because LORD knows she needs it and didn't find it at home. This is also not meant to be a character assassination, nor should anybody who reads this post consider it to be a takedown of any sort, and if you try to find this person through me or any of our mutual friends, you will not be met with kind words. The only thing this is meant to be is a wild-ass story of some of the most off the wall experiences I personally had with this person from my specific side of the story, with a few no-username screenshots attached to prove I am not bullshitting you.

With that in mind, let's get started. This is going to be very long, so I'm throwing in a read more

Back when I was in uni, I joined a growing group of Half Life roleplay blogs. The whole idea of our group was that we each chose a character, canon or OC, and we would blog as if the pre-Black Mesa incident moment in the timeline was a workplace comedy a la The Office or Superstore. I played Barney, because I was already working night shift security at this point and thought it would be funny. Plus, it gave me something to do that wasn't staring at CCTV feeds all night tossing a ball against the wall. We played off of each other very well, yes-anding our way through funny little situations and plotlines we put together. At one point we had roleplayed enough that one of the scientist rpers created a discord server for us to talk as the actual people we are instead of through characters.

Great idea at the time. None of us saw the "Pandora's box" label on the tin before we opened it. Would I still join it if I knew what was about to transpire? Yes, because I met my boyfriend and many genuinely lovely friends through it. Would I hesitate for a second first, though, as the events that are about to transpire flashed before my eyes? Oh, abso-fucking-lutely.

We started off as many fandom servers do: chill for the most part, very loud minority of a few assholes who ruined it for the rest of us, but unlike most fandom servers, we actually won and it ended in them getting banned and the server itself surviving to this day. But the other two lunatics are not who you came here for. You want the christian lunatic.

Let's give her a nickname to make this easier. I have the Sylveon build a bear on my PC desk. Let's call her Syl.

Syl was not there for Half Life, she was there for Portal. She LOVED Portal, Half Life was just part of the same universe for her. Portal wasn't just a game for her, it was her entire personality. Which I didn't see much of an issue with at the time, because she said she was 15. Whatever, I thought; she'll learn to control her emotional attachment to things as she gets older. Syl also said that she was christian. I am a flaming atheist who doesn't even believe in the concept of a soul in comparison and I am NOT the biggest fan of christianity as an institution to put it mildly, but I'm not gonna like, be a dick to you for your personal religion if you are not a dick about my beliefs, so I didn't think much of it at the time.

It quickly became apparent that Syl looked up to me more than any of the other adults in the group the more I would talk about my life growing up as a third culture kid and moving out on my own at 19, working 2 jobs and going to a good university. She would ask me a lot about growing up and uni and moving out and yes, sex ed, and it became even more apparent that she didn't get any actual guidance from her parents or pastors or ANYBODY beyond bible studies and homeschooling, so I kinda stumbled into a mentorship role in her life. I wasn't cold, but I was aware of the age and maturity difference between us and established the appropriate boundaries with her and made it very clear that I am an internet friend, not an irl friend or an educator, but if no one else was going to give her information that wasn't actively harmful then fuck, I guess SOMEONE had to do it. I could not in good conscience watch some kid go through life with harmful inaccuracies about the world and basic human biology when I could have done something about it, y'know?

And the more things I taught her about the real world and how things actually work rather than how her republican bible-thumping rural town said they did, the more I realized she was born into a full-blown cult under the guise of a christian congregation. Oh goody, I had my work cut out for me. I will not get into the details of how messed up this group was because it will be a dead giveaway of where she lives and potentially who she is, but let's just say that one time I said that I appreciated the gesture of praying for me during a stressful week I was having but it didn't really do anything for my mental health because I was an atheist, and she sent me a bunch of bible verses begging me to start believing and said "I just don't want you to go to hell because you're so nice :((" EXCUSE ME??? Another time she said that death was only sad for non-christians because their loved ones were in hell and that proper christians deaths were a good thing because they were in heaven now. Hi, that's the most insensitive death cult shit I've ever heard in my goddamn life.

Okay, set up is done. All of these details will tie in like the world's worst reboot of Pulp Fiction, I prommy.

After a good long while learning about the world from me (which like... a uni kid working night shift security is not exactly an academic source but we take what we can get) and exposure to viewpoints outside of her in-group, Syl began that very painful journey of realizing that what the cult taught you was a lie. Except that she just wasn't grasping that unlearning things was an active process. She started to flip to the opposite side very quickly, but kept all the fundamental brainwashing of the cult that raised her. The concepts were all the same, just slapped a different label on them. This created a noticeable pull between two sides of the same personality: the cult personality, and the person beyond the cult who wanted to break free. Mix that with how fucking 15 years old every 15 year old is, and you have a LETHAL concoction just waiting to blow up at the first sign of a spark.

Remember how I said that Portal was her whole personality? Syl decided that she wanted to be a scientist, and go into an ivy league program like I was in (I was in a SOCIAL science, but sure). Problem was, she didn't have the grades or the ambition, really. I had told her that I still got into an ivy league when I failed math in high school, and she seemed to completely miss the part where I said that I also joined every extra-curricular, then worked for 2 gap years for recognized institutions, and wrote an essay about why my math grade is not relevant to my program. I did it with one bad grade, so she was justified in basically just slacking off and then excusing it with "but its haaarrrdd" when we'd tell her she needs to put the fucking work in NOW if that's what she wants to do.

It quickly derailed from here. Not only was she going to be a scientist, she was going to be like Cave Johnson. And she was going to... replace her body with robot parts so she could be like glados. I don't... think she actually knew what science is, because she would just publically fantasize about running unethical experiments on people in the name of "science," and talk about how one day she wants to basically establish aperture labs for real. All of us who were there kind of agree that we don't think she was joking based on what we knew about her and the cadence of her tone. Here's something she said at the time to give you an idea of what direction she was nosediving in:

This was after a session with her therapist where said therapist said that she definitely has some kind of personality disorder, after which she was weirdly proud of having one and treated it like a badge of honour.

Syl then made a separate group chat for all the best friends she made on the server. There was her, me, @false-pyre, and @imtheaura. She titled it "My Family," despite the fact that we were all adults and she was 15 and she only knew us over a discord half life server where one person in it stepped up to somewhat equip her for real life outside of a cult. Regardless though that GC was more the vibe of a group of friends sharing memes and chatting about the day than the wider server was at the time. The others began to also take on a sort of mentorship role towards her as well, because that's kind of inevitable when you get someone talking about teenager problems in a room full of adults who all made the same mistakes before in their own lives. Well, minus the cult.

And remember how I said that she didn't unlearn any of the cult shit? Well, there was a lot of proselytizing. She decided she wasn't christian for a spell, but still wanted us and everyone to know that jesus was the lord and savior and we had to accept him or we'd burn in hell. Usually said after we'd make some joke about satan being daddy or declaring ourselves god instead, because that is just the type of humor the others and i have with each other. She took it so personally whenever one of us would go "oh my god" "you called?" it was fucking annoying. I lost count of the amount of lectures she gave us, all of which I'd shut down and tell her to get a grip about because I have a big stupid mouth.

The others and I also like to talk about evolution, and speculate about where we're going from here. My fucking god, did she not like that. She bit our heads off about how evolution isn't real and god made everyone as we are and there's no scientific evidence or whatever the hell. Like yeah good luck getting into STEM with that mindset. Whenever we pointed out that she was objectively wrong about that, she'd have a big stupid meltdown about how much we're slandering god and how jesus died for us and we're spitting in his face or whatever. He should spit in MY face inste-*GUNSHOT*

Eventually, we were making some actual progress with her. She was still one fry short of a happy meal and going off about how much she wanted to put living subjects in test tubes in between knocking on our doors and reciting Hello from the Book of Mormon musical, but we were getting somewhere. And then she went back to in person school, and her favourite teacher got fired.

The schoolboard did not say why she got fired, but we all had our suspicions that it was because she openly supported queer rights in a cult town. She was coincidentally retired shortly after making a declaration that queer people are still welcome in god's kingdom. This teacher was the first in person adult Syl had for guidance, so that incident shook her to her core, and she fell right back into the extremism. Hook, line, and sinker, even more extreme than before.

She was WEIRD that week, man. Suddenly everything was about how great god was, how amazing jesus was. Suddenly she understood why her cult member parents "just wanted to protect her" from gay characters on disney+ originals. Suddenly no one could say "jesus christ lol" around her or she'd have a fit. I said "I hate cycle counts lmao i wanna kms" because my then-job (I had graduated at this point) made me do inventory management spontaneously and wouldn't let me go home until I had counted every product in the store, and she bit my head off accusing me of turning suicide into a joke.

It was that incident that made us tell her to knock it off already, that we understood it was a hard week for her and she was in a period of grief, but that is no excuse for how she had been acting towards everyone around her that wasnt christian, and that she was actively relapsing. I'll let the exchange speak for itself:

So uh. After years of helping Syl through this she goes and pulls this bullshit. And then has the fucking AUDACITY to act like nothing ever happened in the wider server. I am genuinely gobsmacked by the balls on her to act like it was all sunshine and rainbows in the wider server after sending this and immediately leaving the same GC SHE made and titled "My Family" just because we told her to stop acting like a goddamn Jonestown citizen after all the work we'd put in to get her out of that mentality at this point.

So I dragged her up in front of everyone and essentially said "no, nuh uh, you don't get to say that shit to the people who have lost sleep and asked for nothing in return trying to help you escape a cult over the last 2 years and then act like we're all buddy buddy to everybody else. You don't get to be that arrogant and self-righteous without any consequences. I don't give a fuck how young you are, you DON'T treat the people who have helped you this much like that, you selfish little shit. How dare you treat us like this after all we've done for you over the years."

Unfortunately, no one involved had surviving screenshots of this, but they can back me up on it if they so choose. And oh boy, DID she face the consequences of her own actions. The whole server basically turned their heads and went "what the FUCK is wrong with you, Syl??" and asked her to at least like, apologize. She proceeded to double down with the added audacity of "you guys taught me how to establish healthy boundaries, that's all I'm doing right now :(( oh woe is me :(((" like WOW, okay. Someone's really going for the persecution complex.

Here's her last goodbye to us all before the mass block fest occured:

Oh, boohoo. You're so hard done by. You spat in the faces of everyone who stayed up all night multiple times helping you through crises and spent the last 2 years teaching you about how the world really worked and then they asked you to apologize after you tried to escape accountability. You truly are god's strongest soldier, the most persecuted minority in the world. Let me play you an ode to how righteous and holy you are and how this was the most important hill to sacrifice all your outsider friendships on on the world's smallest violin.

Syl then went on to post on her roleplay blog that she "was banned because I spoke up for what was right, and they didn't like that" before deleting it. Truly no one has suffered as much as you.

Anyway, the day after that went down, I called in from work, bought this book, and read the whole thing purely out of spite:

It was greatly therapeutic. After that incident, I vowed to never sanitize my own atheistic beliefs for the benefit of others again. If they don't like them, they don't have to talk to me. But I am not changing them for other people or keeping them quiet just to spare your feelings anymore, I have as much a right to my beliefs as anyone else does, including the world's most persecuted minority here.

And well, the silica gel incident?

There was one incident, during the height of Syl's "I am the irl cave johnson and only want to get into STEM to conduct unethical experiments on people. follow jesus" era, the rest of us were joking about how silica gel packets are the ultimate forbidden snack, and said "haha would eating it make you see shrimp colours" knowing full well it can kill you.

Syl proceeded to actually eat a silica gel packet and then send in "it has a sandy texture and tastes bad" prompting the rest of us to go "WE WERE FUCKING JOKING FIND YOUR POISON CONTROL HOTLINE RIGHT NOW"

And because i didnt get this done until now, I'll tag everyone who said they wanted to read this or expressed interest: @captainjonnitkessler @formydarlingtoread @cra-zwizard @chasingnightrainbows

#ramblings #what do i even tag this

[13eyond13]

.

#here's some of the classics on that list i have beef with btw: #i have tried to read A Confederacy of Dunces several times and it's funny but it's also so cringe and Ignatius is so obnoxious #that i find it too difficult to finish like i just feel depressed and bad for everybody around him too much #i tried reading Infinite Jest like a decade ago and i got like 200 pages in and i remember thinking it felt like #such a slog the entire time because he's just so gd wordy and also i stopped liking DFW after i heard the abuse allegations against him #frankenstein i didnt read that long ago but i just remember finding it so boring for some reason?? i feel i might need to read it again #dracula ngl i feel like im cheating a bit saying ive completely read it because i loved the beginning and then HATED so much of the rest #the characters were just so boring and melodramatic hahaha i just liked the part where jonathan was doing a travel diary #and trapped in the castle tbh and after that i skimmed quite a bit #i almost flipped my shit when i saw ender's game on there because I ALWAYS mix it up with ready player one by ernest cline #which i bought the audiobook of a while back and hated every minute of it i dont think its good at all #but it wasnt that so phew my faith in this list is somewhat restored #i read most of the first game of thrones book and was disappointed tbh maybe because id seen the show already #so i was like 'this feels almost exactly the same except worse?' because i'd been expecting it to give me more depth and insight #into the characters but instead it felt exactly the same and i still didnt love any of the characters enough to feel attached to them #also i am fully aware me not personally liking or vibing with a book doesnt mean it doesnt deserve to be considered great btw #but i think if youre gonna be like me and force yourself to go through a bunch of lists like this very seriously then you also need to just #let yourself be like 'yeah not for me' without feeling too bad about it sometimes too #often times i dont particularly love the classics or 'important books' but at the same time #i still feel like im getting more out of reading them than just grabbing the newest hyped up books that also dont do anything for me #maybe not in a 'wow i loved reading this' way but in like a #'i now have first-hand knowledge of this thing that is so influential / so frequently referenced' #or 'this challenged me and i feel like i did a mental/emotional workout or gave me some new food for thought' #or 'made me more aware of what gaps in my knowledge and reading skills and what my tastes are too' #sort of way... #it really just depends on what you're reading for and why and what you're hoping to get out of it a lot of the time maybe #it's like the homework i give myself to go through these lists that i also intersperse with the stuff i read more just for fun #p

[healingheartdogs]

Heavy content concerning cancer and euthanasia ahead.

Need to call the vet today. We made a follow up appointment for a month out the last time we went in but I'm thinking that was probably an overly optimistic time frame. When she called to give the cancer screening results she asked us about whether or not we were potentially interested in chemo and we said we needed to talk about it and she told us to take our time and that he should be okay for as long as this round of meds he's on (2 weeks). The swelling in his face, legs, and throat is already back though and he's starting to lose coordination again, although he is still up and being more active so far and walking on his own which he couldn't last week. He's also starting to not want to take his pills but only the antibiotics, he still is taking the three pain meds he's on easily enough. He is especially avoidant of the amoxicillin which I have to give him twice a day and it's becoming a struggle. I think he must have decided it's making him feel bad.

Those few good days after he got antibiotic shots at the vet last week really had me getting hopeful for a moment, but now seeing him start to get sick of his meds and deteriorating again I'm wondering how I could possibly maintain his QOL to put him through chemo. Especially because he is fear reactive, he is a bite risk, he is terrified of the vet office, and he has seizures when he gets stressed out. Our last vet visit was short and sweet and painless so it wasn't so bad for him, but I can't imagine the care required for chemo would be that way. And what would the end goal be? Just keeping him alive longer? From what I've read remission for lymphoma tends to be very temporary, and everyone I know who has lost a dog to lymphoma is telling me they regret prolonging life as long as they did for their dogs.

I keep going through this over and over in my head and talked about it with Selene and we both agree that we have doubts about our ability to keep his QOL up for something like that. Logically, I know what the choice that will cause the least suffering in the long run is. But there's such a loud voice in my head screaming furiously at me that I can't give up on him yet because he wants to live and that if I don't try everything first I'm failing him. I think no matter what choice I make here I'm going to be filled with a crushing amount of regret, either for waiting too long and prolonging suffering or because of all the what ifs of making an earlier decision and the more active role that makes me play in choosing for him to die.

#its almost enough to make me never want to get attached to a short lived domestic animal again #banana #lymphoma #euthanasia #euthanasia tw #cancer tw #my dogs #this is just emotional rambling and talking through things with myself yet again feel free to ignore it

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

bad idea, right? | f. odair

masterlist

summary: after receiving a late-night call from your ex-boyfriend, finnick odair, you can’t help but agree to meet with him. what happens when you mix a sound-proof train car and an ex you haven’t seen in months?

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: rough-ish smut, a teensy bit of angry sex, swearing, unprotected sex (zon’t zo that), kinda ooc finnick, choking,

notes: based on 'bad idea, right?' by olivia rodrigo. i lost the person who sent the request so sorry this took so long to come out!! i don’t know if i like how this is written, but smut is smut so… enjoy :)

word count: 4.6k

Neon beams of light pulsed in time with the heavy bass blasting throughout your unnecessarily large home in the Victor’s Village. District Two. Masonry. Big houses.

Two shots of tequila and some other very unnatural concoctions were soaking deep into your brain. Everything was swaying—the room, the people, even you. Your small group of friends danced by your side, keeping together to avoid the creeps that might have entered your home. Although, to you, entertaining a stranger that night did not sound like such a terrible idea.

You felt lonely. Undeniably and pathetically lonely. The alcohol only enhanced your emotions and libido, leading you to search the room for anyone who interested you enough to take them upstairs. But there was no one, because in reality there was only one person you really wanted, and he was no longer yours. He hadn’t been for months.

Replacements had come and gone, but they never stuck. None of them made you feel the way he did.

“Excuse me!” an exasperated voice yelled. “Would you please get out of my way?!”

To your right, your housekeeper, bless her poor deafened soul, was pushing through a crowd of intoxicated partygoers and heading straight for you.

“Claudia!” you shouted over the music, tugging down your short black slip dress out of respect for her modesty.

The elderly woman stopped in front of you, her disapproval of the vibrant scene clear as day. You always paid her double in exchange for putting up with the chaos whenever you threw a house party, which was almost every weekend.

She hovered close to your ear. “There is someone on the phone for you!”

“Did you get a name?!”

After she shook her head, you escorted her through the thick crowd of dancers, into a quieter room and thanked her before beelining for the landline.

With a heavy sigh, you brought the corded phone to your ear and said, “Whoever this is, you better make it quick. I’m not nearly as intoxicated as I need to be and in dire need of another shot.”

Over the scratchy static, you could hear a quiet chuckle—a sound you had spent months trying to forget, along with the person attached to it. How many drinks did you have again? The alcohol must have messed with your mind because this could not be real.

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” the caller said, his voice low and amused.

Everything you had longed to forget came rushing to the surface at an overwhelming pace. Wisps of hair the colour of a dying fire. Eyes resembling the sea. Arms that once acted as a life jacket. A dangerous mouth that had explored every inch of your body.

No. It couldn’t be—

“Finnick.”

********

Stupid. This was so fucking stupid. You were attempting to sneak out of your own party. A good old Irish Goodbye in your own house. With luck, you would make it out the front door without being caught by your friends, or worse, Claudia. Now that would be scary.

Water flushed through your system, a weak attempt you made at sobering yourself up because meeting up with your ex while drunk was a recipe for disaster. Then again, so was meeting up with your ex in the first place. Nothing will happen, you thought to yourself, we are just going to talk.

A thought even more unbelievable than thinking you would be able to be able to escape the watchful eyes of your friends.

Your high-heeled foot had just crossed the front door when someone called your name. “Damn,” you muttered, turning back around.

Valeria, your closest yet heavily intoxicated friend strutted over to you, her feet wobbling every few steps. “You sneaky little minx,” she slurred. “Someone said they saw you on the phone. It was him, wasn’t it? He asked you to go see him.”

“Just as friends. No, not even. As acquaintances.”

“Oh, my sweet, sweet silly friend.” She grabbed you by the shoulders. “We both know you aren’t that foolish.”

You looked away because you knew damn well that she was right.

“Look, I get it,” she continued. “Your hot, he’s hot.” You smiled. “You both have a history. I just want to make sure you know all the outcomes of what you're about to do. I’ll be here for you if things do get messy but expect a well-versed speech of me saying ‘I told you so’ afterwards.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Val,” you laughed, prying her hands off your shoulders. “I really do appreciate your concern, but I promise all we’re going to do is talk.”

“Alright, but if things go south, call me. Immediately!” she called a little too loudly as you took subtle steps away from the front door and onto the street. “Have fun with your innocent little ‘talk’!”

“Thanks, mum!”

You waved goodbye as you walked down the street, body buzzing with exhilaration and apprehension. Finnick had told you his train stopped in the district’s station for the night. He and his new victor were travelling throughout Panem for the Victory Tour and were currently in District Two. You didn’t know much about his tribute, only that they were a she. The thought of Finnick spending all his time with another girl had that green-eyed monster inside you writhing.

Enough to make you agree to meet with him after midnight while moderately drunk and slightly horny. What a fantastic plan.

District Two’s train station was a short distance from the Victor’s Village, but it was long enough to cause you to remove your heels. You finally reached the train, barefoot and with the wind softly blowing your hair. Finnick had specified a particular door to knock on so as not to alert the peacekeepers residing within the train. So, you knocked. And then you waited.

Your heart was pounding; your hands were trembling. Not long after, a dark figure appeared behind the door’s tinted window. With a click, the door opened and revealed a shirtless smirking Finnick Odair.

Oh, fuck me.

He was even more gorgeous than the last time you saw him. His crossed arms bulged with thick muscles as he leaned against the doorframe, gaze shamelessly roaming over your scarcely dressed appearance before settling on your face. The amusement in his expression was ever-present and ever-growing.

“Finnick,” you greeted.

“Y/N.”

He extended his hand, inviting you inside the train and hesitantly, you accepted. Sparks of electricity travelled up your arm, starting from where his and your hand connected. Some things never changed.

Empty silence welcomed your presence as you entered the train car. Patterned silver vases of white roses were placed atop every available surface. Meticulously crafted chandeliers lit up the room with a golden haze. To your left was an arrangement of black leather couches surrounding a small silver table; further down the car was a rectangular mahogany dining table decorated with fruit and unlit candles.

Somehow a single train car was more luxurious than your entire house.

“Is every one asleep?” you asked, running your fingertips along the pure gold that lined the couches.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes following your movements. “Every room on this train is sound-proof, so...”

You nodded, unsure of how else to reply. Conversations usually ran smoothly between you and Finnick. They were effortless. But that was when you were together. Four months must have passed now since you last spoke.

“Are you and what’s-his-name still together?” he asked.

“No,” you said bluntly. “I broke up with him last month.”

“My sincerest condolences.” His sympathetic tone was as transparent as glass. Sarcasm always was his favourite pastime. “Guess he just couldn’t satisfy your needs.”

Turning around to face him, you leaned against the couch’s arm, jaw clenched and eyes glowering with agitation. “Is there any specific reason why you called me here?”

He raised a glass of rich amber liquid to his lips. “Can’t two old friends just reconnect?”

“Old friends,” you scoffed. “That’s what you call it. From what I remember, the last time we saw each other, we were having goodbye sex in your bed. And in the kitchen and the lounge and on the balcony.”

Something sincere overshadowed his teasing nature, revealing itself in the tension in his facial muscles and the glassy haze that clouded his eyes. Reminiscence. “It didn’t have to be goodbye,” he spoke softly whilst holding your gaze.

You blinked. There was a short pause and only the quiet hum of the lights sounded in the room. You were the one to end the relationship, not the other way around much to your friends’ disbelief. Over and over, you had been asked the same question: why on earth would you break up with Finnick Odair?

Well, behind closed doors, he was incredible. He was loving, affectionate, and thoughtful. He would collect seashells for you that he found on the beach whenever he went fishing, leave hand-written poetry and heartfelt love letters whenever he left for the Capitol, and mother of fucking Christ was the sex just downright extraordinary.

But as previously stated, it was all behind closed doors.

Finnick never wanted to be seen together in public and on the off chance you were, he would practically neglect your existence. Only your most trusted friends and Finnick’s family knew about your relationship. No one else. Eventually, the secretiveness created a deep void inside you that not even the sweetest love letters and seashells could fill. You couldn’t remain with someone who seemed ashamed to be with you in public.

So, with a heavy heart, you said goodbye.

In fear of becoming too emotional, you disregarded his weighted words and crossed your arms. “So,” you began, “how’s the Tour been so far? You must be pretty ecstatic one of your tributes actually won.”

He bounced back fairly quickly. “I suppose it’s always nice to watch someone you trained live for a change,” he said, placing his drink on a nearby table. “Plus, she’s got a lot of charisma. A natural with the speeches and interviews, so I don’t need to do too much coaching.”

And there it was again—that green-eyed monster. “Charisma, huh?” You just couldn’t help yourself. “Is she pretty too?”

Finnick tilted his head, visibly surprised by your blatant jealousy. “She just turned sixteen,” he stated with a small smirk tugging at his lips. Well, no one told you that bit of information. Awkward. “Careful, Y/N. You sounded a little jealous there.”

You pushed off the chair, heading back toward the door you entered through. Maybe this was a bad idea. “Alright, I’m leaving now.”

Just as you turned the handle, a set of rushed footsteps thudded behind you. The door opened a mere crack, sending in a cold draft that caused your body to shudder.

“Wait, just—” A swift hand came over your shoulder and pushed the door shut, eliciting a startled gasp from your lips. You could feel Finnick towering over you, the warmth of his skin spreading onto your cold back and his breaths fanning down against the bareness of your shoulder. He was so close. “I just needed to see you before I leave tomorrow morning.”

Slowly, you turned around, coming face-to-face with the man you shouldn’t have loved. His burning gaze was a stark contrast to the icy metal door your back was pressed against. Tension pulsated in the small space between you and him. The intense attraction that had first brought you two together came rushing forth; trying to fight such a magnetic force was impossible. You needed connection—touch.

This night would not end with just a simple innocent chat, you knew that now.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. “You needed to see me?” you asked. “Finnick, if you want me to stay, don’t beat around the bush. Tell me what you really want.”

Silence. He continued staring at you and you could see a scheme forming behind his mesmerising green eyes. Then the scheme was unfolding. He leaned down to your level, to your lips, his half-lidded eyes never leaving your mouth as he just barely allowed his lips to brush yours. On instinct, you tilted your head upwards.

“I want you,” he whispered.

You didn’t waste a second to respond. “Then take me.”

He was quicker than a bullet train. Finnick’s lips caught your own and were burning with fiery desire, evident in his haste to wrap you up in his arms and practically merge your body with his. Flames licked just beneath your skin, setting your nerves alight with passion and lust. You burned together in an inferno fuelled by each other’s touch.

Logically, this was wrong. Finnick was your ex-boyfriend and for good reason. But as your hands clung to every inch of him that they possibly could, as his tongue and yours danced fluidly with one another, and as your body buzzed with pure adrenaline, you were willing to abandon all your morals in exchange for five more minutes in his embrace.

A moan travelled from your mouth to his own as you felt him bite your lower lip. You could already feel that familiar throbbing sensation between your thighs and the wetness that exposed how much you craved him. You knew he felt the same. His sweatpants left little to the imagination.

Your hand slipped between your connected bodies, travelling down Finnick’s firm stomach, gliding over his small trail of hair and finally into his pants. Your fingers curled around his cock which already leaked with precum. He was just as desperate as you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound sending tingles down your spine.

You left his lips to press a wet kiss to his neck. “I wonder how many times you pretended your hand was my own,” you purred, leaving another kiss on his clavicle. “How many times you tried to recreate the warmth you only feel when you're inside me.”

His mouth hung open, letting out quiet uneven breaths as you stroked his length, your pace so quick that he already felt an overwhelming urge to release into your soft unrelenting hand. The sound of your voice, so sexy and lustful, combined with your swift pressured movements had his stomach tensing and contracting with a devastating build-up of pleasure.

“Too many times,” he admitted in a strained voice.

You sucked on the warm pulsing skin of his neck, this time receiving a groan that buzzed on your lips. His hands grabbed at your hips for support, roughly kneading the softness and satin in his large palms.

“This dress—fuck!” his voice broke as another hand slipped into his pants, cupping his balls as the other twisted with each stroke of his cock. “Sweetheart,” he chuckled breathlessly. “You look like a fucking siren.”

Your soft lips pecked at his toned chest before pulling away and looking up at him through your lashes. Euphoric delirium was prominent in his eyes. “You should’ve seen everyone staring at my party,” you said. “I wish you saw how badly the men wanted to fuck me right there on the dancefloor; how they undressed me with their eyes. Maybe then you would understand the mistake you made by never showing me off.”

Aggravation blazed in his aroused eyes which only made you so much hornier. Before you could pump another stroke, Finnick had ripped your hands from his pants and spun you around, pinning your body against the wall with his own, his hard cock pushing against the plush of your ass.

“I do understand,” he growled into your ear.

He abruptly started sucking hard kisses onto the side of your neck which had you gasping for air and tilting your head to allow him further access. One of his hands cupped your breast, massaging it with rough fingers and pinching your peaked nipples between his fingertips. His other hand travelled around your hip, wandering beneath your revealing dress and slipping into your lace panties.

You cried out when two fingers plunged into your soaking hole without warning.

“Know what I wish?” he asked, fingers curling in and out of you at such a rapid pace that the wet noises could be heard throughout the entire room. Blissful tears threatened to spill down your face. “I wish those guys could see how you looked right now with my fingers fucking you.” The hand on your breast moved to your throat, applying enough pressure on your carotid to make your head pound with dizziness. “I wish they knew you only enjoy being fucked by me.”

Your walls squeezed around his fingers, pulling him even further inside. Your untouched breasts were squashed against the train door and the fabric of your dress rubbed against your sensitive nipples. Finnick’s cock twitched against you and his hand was constricting the blood flow to your head. Yeah. Nobody else could make you feel better than this.

Finnick plunged his fingers inside again with a hard thrust which forced a broken moan from your lips. “Isn’t that right?”

The heel of his palm dug into your clit and your entire body was overcome with pins and needles; your knees buckled and hit the metal door. That would definitely bruise. You hoped it would—you wanted a reminder of this night.

“Yes!” you gasped. “Finnick, only you. Only you.”

“That’s right.”

Your moans started to rise in pitch, signalling the orgasm which was rapidly closing in. But right before you could come, Finnick’s fingers slipped out of you and out of your now-drenched panties. Your orgasm began to fade due to the lack of friction until it disappeared completely, leaving you feeling frustrated and neglected.

Turning back around with a flushed face, you witnessed Finnick sucking your juices off his fingers with a pop. His grin was conniving, self-satisfied with his actions which proved how desperately you wanted him to fuck you. That smug bastard. You would give anything to wipe the amusement off his beautiful fucking face.

And, well, you did.

“Fuck you!” you exclaimed, shoving him backwards.

“Fuck me?” He raised an eyebrow, smirk twitching at his lips. “I already know you want to.”

With a frustrated cry, you shoved him again, but this time he caught you in his arms and fervidly crushed his lips to yours. You squirmed and writhed and resisted but eventually melted into his embrace when you remembered you wanted this. You wanted this so badly.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as both your bodies continuously curved into one another, neither of you being able to remain still for more than a few seconds. The taste of brandy and you were on Finnick’s tongue as it swirled around your mouth; the flavours, which were polar opposites, sweet and savoury, mixed together to create something utterly carnal.

With the knowledge that this was probably a one-time thing, your kisses became bruising and frantic. Finnick alternated between kissing your lips, your neck, your jaw, and any place he could possibly reach. You hung onto every sound he made, every hot breath he took.

The two of you stumbled around the train car, lips never leaving one another, hands grabbing at every inch of flesh they could reach. You bumped into walls and multiple glass ornaments and laughed together when Finnick just barely caught one before it shattered on the floor.

Eventually, you ended up down the opposite end of the train car. Your back hit something hard and you gasped in surprise. The dining table. Finnick gave a quick glance at the table before pressing another kiss to your lips, this time a little more tenderly.

“Turn around,” he said, and you did.

You immediately felt him press himself against your behind. You stared ahead, chest heaving and swollen lips tingling, waiting for any more commands. His hand walked around your thigh, over the mound of your pussy, and then grazed up your stomach. He left a trail of warm tingles between your breasts before continuing upward to move your hair from your shoulder where he placed another warm gentle kiss.

Finally, he splayed his hand flat between your shoulder blades and pushed, bending you over the table until your torso lay flat on the cold wooden surface. Finnick hiked your dress up to your hips and crouched down, caressing your outer thighs before sliding your panties down to your ankles.

The air hit your bare skin and you exhaled a shaky breath as you anticipated his next movements. As he rose to his feet, he trailed kisses up your leg, ending with a soft bite to your ass which earned him a small giggle.

You could hear him tug down his sweatpants which hit the floor with a muffled thud. Your breaths continued to shake with nerves, coming out in soft pants. Finnick held onto your hip with one hand and held himself in the other. No words were spoken. Both of you wanted this—needed this.

Next thing you knew, your panting breaths had stopped altogether. Finnick’s cock had slid between your folds, filling you up in one single movement, and you both released a relieved moan in sync. Your hands pressed against the tabletop as your body began to rock with his thrusts. You weren’t going to make love or whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ears. No. This was pure unadulterated fucking.

Finnick started off fast; neither of you had the patience for a slow build-up. You didn’t even bother caring about the fact that he wasn’t wearing a condom. His hand had lowered to your mid back and the other gripped your hip as your warmth swallowed him over and over.

“Oh god,” you gasped.

The sensations that overtook your body were eagerly welcomed. You had tried to replicate the sex Finnick gave with other men after your relationship ended, but none seemed to compare even the slightest. You weren’t sure how a single human being could provide the sensations of nirvana, how one could master the skills of bringing another person to such an incredible high, but Finnick could. He always could.

It was only at this point that you realised how badly your body had been in withdrawal from his touch. The feeling of him inside you was like a drug. Addicting. Definitely not healthy.

You had tried fingering yourself to replicate his cock, but it was a pathetic attempt. Finnick could hit a deep spot inside you that no one else could like it was some secret forbidden location that only he held the key to. He made your body feel full. Stuffed. Complete. In a way that made you feel like you were going to burst into an explosion of white heavenly light.

Your nails scratched at the wood as he continued to pound into you, cock gliding against the ripples of your inner walls. There wasn’t a single inch of space left inside you. He fit like your pussy was where he belonged.

“Always feel so fucking good,” he muttered between thrusts.

His pleasure was always vocal, voiced with heavy breaths, grunts, and groans. Sometimes he even whimpered, especially when you edged him. He didn’t mind you being more dominant at times, but right now was not one of those moments. Being bent over and fucked into a table was not in any way, shape, or form you being dominant. This was Finnick being in control and it felt incredible.

“Finnick,” you said. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop!”

In response he grabbed your other hip and pulled you back into him, burying himself even deeper inside you with each thrust which had you crying out his name again. He hunched over your body, hips still pounding behind you, and sucked harsh kisses on your shoulder. He left behind red and deep purple marks on your shoulder, moving to your neck, and then grazed your earlobe with his teeth.

He returned a hand to your throat, forcing the both of you into a standing position. His fingers squeezed, reducing the blood flow into your brain which enhanced the explosion building up inside you.

“Harder!” you cried.

Both his cock and his hand increased their vigour. Stars were sparkling in your vision. You were almost completely sober now, yet you felt entirely drunk. Drunk on Finnick. He reached his free hand between your legs and your body fell back into his, only remaining upright from his support.

His fingers rubbed side-to-side on your clit, so hard and fast that his hand almost blurred in motion. Your moans rose an octave as your stomach began to tighten. A fire burned within your muscles, so pleasurably excruciating that you thought they would liquefy inside you. Your pussy clenched around Finnick’s cock, walls fluttering with each of his pounding thrusts.

“Come, sweetheart,” he purred into your ear. You could hear how much he struggled to contain his moans as he talked. “Come on, I know you're close. I can feel you.”

You nodded mindlessly and curled your arm backwards around his neck, in need of something to cling to. As the feeling inside your stomach intensified, your eyes squeezed shut and your hold around his neck tightened until you were almost choking him. With every ounce of strength that he had inside him, Finnick increased his pace until he fit multiple mind-destroying thrusts into each second that passed.

He was almost animalistic with his pounding and unrestrained groans of pleasure. And you were so close, so, so close to falling over the edge. His hand was constricted around your throat; the other assaulted your clit, and his cock was mercilessly hitting that swollen spot inside you. Any second and—

“I’m go—I’m gonna come!”

A potent cocktail of pleasure, ecstasy, and release washed through your body, unravelling the tension inside your stomach and exiting through your stuffed hole. Your juices coated Finnick’s cock with warmth as you repeated his name over and over.

You could feel him twitching inside you, spilling himself onto your clenching walls whilst bending you over to senselessly fuck you into the table. His moans were so loud, so fucking attractive, but may God have mercy on both of you if the room wasn’t actually soundproof.

Neither of you could stop. You came an immeasurable number of times; your hands left marks on Finnick’s body as he did on yours, and every surface in the room had been tainted with your sin. You clung onto one another, desperately prolonging your night together that would most likely be the last. Ever.

*********

“Don’t leave again.”

Your fingers stilled as you strapped on your high heels. You glanced up at Finnick—who now had his sweatpants back on—from the gold-lined leather chair you sat in.

“Finnick…” you sighed.

“Please,” he said. Crouching down in front of you, he gently took your hand into his own. His face, which previously reflected nothing but pleasure, now looked at you with pained desperation. “I’ll explain everything to you. Why I was always in the Capitol. Why it was too dangerous for us to be seen together in public. All of it.”

The mention of danger took you aback. You had thought he never wanted to be seen together because he was embarrassed, not because it was… dangerous. Brows furrowed together, your eyes flickered between his, searching for any hint of deception, anything that might reveal malicious intentions. But when had Finnick ever been malicious towards you? Never. All you found in his eyes was sincerity.

“I can’t lose you again,” he whispered, lowering his head.

After a few seconds of contemplation, you realised there wasn’t a chance in hell you were going to walk out on him again. Life would mean nothing without Finnick beside you.

Your fingers sat under his chin, lifting his head to meet your gaze. The two of you exchanged a look of vulnerability, signifying an era of newfound understanding and reconnection.

You whispered in response. “You’ve got me, Finn.” 

tags: @tayrae515

#wife-of-all-dilfs ✍️ #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair smut #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x you #sam claflin #the hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen

[kissme-suguru]

Baby Daddy! Toji Headcannons

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖Toji Fushiguro x Fem! Reader

Warnings: SFW & NSFW, MDNI, slight smut, strangers to lovers, non curse au, modern au, fluff, Toji is still broke (lil struggle dates), unprotected sex, slight baby trapping, pregnancy, body appreciation, lactation kink, reader is Megumi's mom

A/N: First piece to introduce my blog!! Honestly this was lowkey inspired by Baby By Me by 50 Cent cause tiktok keeps it in my head with the edits. Let's pretend Toji is a present father...

BD!Toji who you bumped into outside a convivence store late one night while he was on the phone with Shiu, seconds away from cursing you out but couldn't help and notice how pretty you were.

BD!Toji who tries to act nonchalant and hide his smirk when you give him your number after talking for a bit.

BD!Toji who texts you a few days later inviting you to his small apartment for your first date and orders pizza. He feels his feelings start to grow when you show no judgement of non-luxurious lifestyle.

BD!Toji who still tries to impress you with little things despite not having stacks of cash to spoil you with. Whenever he did have extra spending cash he would get you something nice to remind you he cares, brushing off your concerns about the price. "Don't worry about it, doll. You like it right? Then that's all that matters."

BD!Toji who practically lives at your apartment since he's there all the time, keeping clothes, shoes and other essentials he was too lazy to go back to his place and get.

BD!Toji who's so charismatic he manages to hit raw on the first time you have sex, claiming you inside and out as the his name rolls off your tongue while he fucks you from behind.

BD!Toji who isn't used to commitment but only fucks you. He had grown so used to the feeling of you wrapped around him and he sure as hell wasn't planning on letting you go. The two of you ending up moving in together after you questioned what you were. "You're mine. Simple as that, doll."

BD!Toji who can't help but smirk slightly when you announce your pregnancy in a panicked state, finding your nervous emotions about his reaction endearing. His arms wrap around your small frame and pull you into his chest to show you how he felt without saying much. "Calm that pretty head of yours, babe. Don't wanna work up our baby."

BD!Toji who becomes even more protective over you in your vulnerable state. He makes you walk in front of him in public, an arms length away at all times. And if you thought he was possessive before it's more now that you're carrying his son.

BD!Toji who gets in the habit of calling you mama.

BD!Toji who takes pride in seeing your body change and grow as you get further into your pregnancy. The sight of your full breasts never failing to draw his attention, often coming up behind you to just squeeze your plump tits through your shirt. When you finally manage to give into his begging he wastes no time attaching his lips to your swollen nipples and tasting the sweet essence coming from your breasts, watching you try to keep your composure. "You like that, mama? I feel you grinding against my thigh like a needy little thing."

BD!Toji who starts taking any job he can get in order to provide for his soon to be family, making sure you two have all the necessary things for the arrival of your son.

BD!Toji who doesn't really know how to help you during the birth but tries his best to make you feel comfortable and give you encouraging praises. Once the soft cries of Megumi echo through the room all the nerves leave his body and he can't take his eyes off him, noticing how much he takes after him already.

BD!Toji who's enjoys watching you preform your motherly duties no matter how small. Looking at you nurturing and loving his son was enough to make his tough shell crack every time.

BD!Toji who you wouldn't expect to go all out when it came to being a dad but did. He would carry Megumi in his strong arms often and always checking on him.

BD!Toji who has to fight off the ladies whenever he's out alone with Megumi. Of course he was a natural flirt but never letting women get ahead of themselves telling them immediately that he has you.

BD!Toji who after dealing with him for a couple years and seeing you care for his son saves up enough money to buy you a nice ring to propose with, wanting you to be his officially for life.

BD!Toji who hates to admit it but he loves being a dad. He takes pride in his son and enjoys watching him grow, raising him better than how he was. Megumi having his father's attitude and smart whit as a child which manages to get him in tiny (jokey) arguments with his dad. that you can't help but laugh at.

"Watch your mouth, brat before I punt you across the room."

"Oh yeah? Try it old man, see if you can even lift your leg up with your stiff joints."

#jujutsu toji #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen #toji fushiguro #toji x you #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji zenin #toji smut #toji fluff #toji x y/n #toji fushigro x reader

[eyebagshawty]

Hello! May I request Lae’zel, Karlach, and whoever else you want to write being washed by the reader. I find the idea of bathing and taking care of someone to be really sweet.

Headcanons + Blurbs for Being Taken Care of/Washed by Tav

A/N: Hello! Sorry for just getting around to requests and other things now, the end of the semester got pretty crazy (at least I passed everything !) and now I’m finally able to focus and get out of this rut. Thank you for your patience and I hope you like it!

Characters: Lae’zel, Karlach, Shadowheart, Wyll, Gale, Astarion, Halsin

Part 2

Lae’zel

• When you first offer to wash up with Lae’zel she’s mostly confused and kind of annoyed - there’s already a tadpole in her head, and that’s enough lack of privacy.

• “Chk. At my crèche these things are normal. However, you istiks insist on attaching emotional meaning to such things… no.”

• However the more she thinks about it… you two have shared a bed more than once. She respects you more than the others; when she tells you to speak she also makes sure you know she will listen. She supposes that maybe connection wouldn’t be so bad with you of all people.

• She just walks up to your tent, grabs your hand, and says “Fine.”

You meet her at the waterfront and- is she nervous? Her gaze wavers between you and the night sky, feet firmly planted into the ground and arms across her armored chest. You get most of your armor off, but that last clasp just has to give you trouble. “Lae’zel, could you help me out with this?” It’s silent for a tension filled moment, and you’re about to ask again.

“Chk.” She walks over and with ease undoes the clasp. She’s back to feet firmly planted and arms crossed, only looking at the sky. You unfurl your hair from its practical braid and keep your eyes on her. “I wish I could show you the Tears.” Your eyes widen when you think about the first night she invited you to her bunk, how hard getting used to this unusual plane must be for her. You place your hand on her shoulder and she tenses, but relaxes after she’s brought back to the moment.

“I wish I could see them.” You whisper to her. You ‘help’ her out of her armor (she’s just letting you at this point, she could’ve been out of it in 30 seconds flat) and you both hiss as you enter the cold water. After a soft and asking touch, she allows you to undo her hair and wash it. You gather her hair gently into your hands and have her lean back to the water. As she does, you can see that she clearly hasn’t been this vulnerable in maybe ever. You give a soothing stroke to her scalp and she hums. As you lather the looted soap into her hair and scratch your nails lightly, you hear her sniffle.

“Lae’zel… are you alright?” You stop your ministrations but keep a hand cupped at the back of her neck.

“My-my queen is false. I will never ascend. Tsk’va, I’m an enemy to my kin. I don’t want to be on this plane anymore… I miss the astral. I must fight but I do not know how to keep going.” She quickly wipes her tears and looks at you. “Speak, source of my bruises. I will always listen.”

With her hair looking clean, you slowly move the bar between her shoulder blades and move it in soothing circles. You kiss her temple. “My love, this situation is quite a mess. Tadpoles in our heads, endless injuries, and I cannot imagine what this world must be like for someone who has never been in it. We will get through this. I’m here. I’m yours.” With that she shows an inkling of a smile as she stares into the water in thought. You continue to bathe her with soft kisses in between every swipe of soap along with words of reassurance. You are hers, the source of her bruises.

Karlach

•Once Karlach is able to touch people again, she is ecstatic to wash up with you. She’s barely been able to keep her hands off of you since, so when you offer she squeals.

• “Of fucking course soldier! Who knows, we might even be able to turn that river into a hot spring.” Her eyebrows waggle and your face goes beet red.

• When you meet her she definitely cannonballs into the water and complains when it’s shallow

• “Aw hells, that’s gonna be a kink to work out in the morning.”

• You guys don’t bathe for a good 15 minutes, she’s just kissing you and rubbing your sides and it’s so SWEET

She breaks away from the kiss and wades further into the water. You grab the soap from the grass and follow after, settling your arms around her neck and wrapping your legs around her waist. Her fingers come up to pinch your nose and she flops backwards into the water, leaving both of you sopping wet when she comes back up. “Gods Karlach you’re gonna kill me,” you sputter as you cough out the bit of water that got in your mouth. She pats your back and lets out a full bellied laugh.

“That’s right soldier get it all out,” she grins. You shoot her a playful glare. When your collective giggles finally die down, you bring the bar of soap up to her hair and begin lathering and spreading it with your fingers. Her eyes close with a serene smile. You make sure to get the area around her horns, and she kisses your cheeks as you take care of them. “You know… after Gortash. After… Avernus. Nobody has taken care of me like this in so long. So fucking long.” She sighs as you bring the bar to her neck and chest, taking away the near pints of blood the party had spilled earlier.

“I’ll make sure it never is that way again. I love you, and no matter what happens you deserve to be free from all of this.” You meet her gaze as the bar moves to her shoulders, and you see fear.

“Tav… my heart.” She lets out a choked sob and a tear streams down her cheek that you immediately wipe away. “I finally have you after so godsdamn long, and I don’t want to lose what’s most important. Not again. I’m just so scared.” She breaks down into tears and her skin heats up warmly under your skin. You crush her into your chest and she buries her face into your neck, where you rub soothing circles into her scalp along with kisses.

“You won’t lose me. Whether it be in Baldurs Gate or Avernus, I’ll be here.” She lifts her head and you kiss her nose, where a little flame sparks and then snuffs out. She lets out a soft chuckle as her mood cools. “I promise to you we’re gonna kill that pathetic little fucker and anyone who helped him.” Her lips meet yours and you kiss back with eager passion. As you pull away you go back to soothingly rubbing the bar across the planes of her back.

“Wait- didn’t you grab this soap off a dead guy?! GROSS soldier!”

Shadowheart

•She immediately says no

•Not because she doesn’t trust you, she just can’t swim and finds it a bit embarrassing for her powerful presence

•After you finally convince her it’ll only be where she can stand, she agrees.

• “A bottle of wine, my lover, and a nice grassy beach? It’ll do,” she gives a sarcastic but playful smile.

•You two get plastered on Chultan Fireswill before you hop in

After one last swig from the bottle Shadowheart takes your hand and leads you into the water. You stop at around three feet deep and get to your knees. Her braid whips around her shoulder as she serenely begins to scrub away blood with the soap bar. “I love this silver color so much. It illuminates you as some would say,” you utter softly, and she chuckles. She slowly takes her hair out of the braid’s confines and your jaw drops at how long and pretty it is as it flows down her back. You look pointedly to the bar of soap. “May I?”

She squints at you in playful suspicion then smiles. “You may.” You lather the soap into her hair and she lays her head back into your chest as you scratch lovingly at her scalp. She brings her hand up to your cheek behind her and whispers, “The moon looks beautiful tonight.” As soon as the words leave her lips the wound in her hand opens. She hisses and sits back up. As she looks back to you, her gaze looks broken. “After everything I’ve been through with the dark lady, I don’t think this will ever go away.”

You inch your hand closer to hers, placing your pinkies over each other. “It’s horrible… what she did to you.” She grins bitterly but moves to interlace your fingers, rubbing the back of your hand with her thumb.

“I just wish I could remember any of that horrible stuff. I want to be angry. But mostly I’m only numb. She was… she was everything to me. And although it is horrible yes, it’s all so new. Being away from her.”

She nods in confirmation as you move the bar of soap to her chest, the motions soothing her and making her eyes soften as she watches you. “I understand,” you whisper as you lean up to kiss the shell of her pointed ear. That’s all that needs to be said, Shadowheart thinks to herself. You’ve become more than her greatest companion in her eyes, she trusts you’ll be there through thick and thin. “We’ll just have to make new memories,” you smile, and as you finish rubbing the soap across her body you throw it back to the grass, pulling her into a loving kiss as she wraps her arms around your neck.

Wyll

•When you offer to wash up with Wyll a MASSIVE blush runs across his cheeks

• “Are you sure? ImsurethehornsfreakyououtandtheresbumpsinotherstrangeplacesIdontwantyou-“ he basically starts talking at a mile a minute about how it might be awkward for you

• “Wyll honey, I can just meet you there while you’re already in if that’s more comfortable for you” and you give him a sweet smile and his face goes red AGAIN

By the time you get to the waterfront, you see Wyll propped against a rock, the water resting at waist level with his arms propping him up. You throw him a shy smile. He has a sly grin and nods your way, beckoning you towards him. You twirl your finger and mouth, “Turn around!” He lets out a silent chuckle and turns his head towards the mountains beyond the lake.

You slide out of your evening clothes and grab the soap bar laying on top of your towel. As you wade further into the water you let out a shriek — it wasn’t winter right? Wyll turns around and laughs at the sight; you’re rubbing your arms with chattering teeth. “It is quite frigid tonight, huh? I think I’ve got a cantrip in me for a special someone.”

You look around, bemused, as to how spells could possibly help you out here. Wyll shoots a fireball into the depths of the water, your skin instantly warming up. However, it doesn’t last long as the lake cools back down to freezing. You swim at the speed of light over to Wyll and wrap your arms around his neck. “Sorry, I just need something. By the nine hells you think a blizzard would be rolling through,” you laugh. When you’ve warmed up enough, you take the bar of soap and gingerly begin to wash and lather his hair and horns, kissing the scars across his face.

Wyll looks down at you, surprise slathered across his face as you finish up with his head and move to his broad shoulders, kissing everything infernal you can find. “Tav…you like this?” He brings up a hand to your cheek as you continue your ministrations. You cup water in your hands and gently rinse away the soap on his chest.

“Of course I do, Mizora could make you look fully cambion and I would still have the strongest of feelings for you. You’ll always be my dashing, strong, Blade of Frontiers,” you peck his neck with each last word, and he laughs, kissing your forehead with a soft cherishing smile.

Gale

• When you offer to Gale, he gives you the most devious look you’ve ever seen

• He hasn’t been around others for so long till now, much less bathing with anyone, and he’s grown pretty strong feelings for you so he love love loves this idea

• “My dear Tav I would love to! You know how I enjoy your body after a battle, all the sweat covering your skin and the flush of your cheeks”

• He’s not your quietest companion so everybody does hear this and everybody does let out an exasperated groan

• Your face flushes even further than when you asked him and you squeak out an okay and run to your tent

When you meet up with Gale at the waterfront, his tunic is already off, showing his surprisingly wonderful muscles. He kisses you upon greeting, and helps you out of your evening clothes with a soft caress here and there on every part of your body. You grab your soap and lead him into the water, the water being just warm enough for your plans.

He gathers you into his lap, his cheeks a light red as he grins up at you. You lather the soap and scrub it into his hair, listening to his groans and praises as you work. You kiss his cheeks as you move to his chest, and he finally opens his eyes again, looking up at you with those big round puppy eyes.

“This is surprisingly wonderful. I remember doing things like this for her, running water through her hair and lathering the finest oils onto her skin, but she never once did anything for me.” You stop your work, looking up to his eyes with an expression of shock and sadness. His eyes bore just as strongly into yours, and his thumbs rub circles into your hips.

“Gale… you are worthy of being loved. What she did to you wasn’t right — it never was, even from the beginning if I’m getting my facts straight. She isolated and took from you. I never want you to feel like that with me.” You kiss his cheeks and his hairline, and his lips follow yours, chasing to press them together.

They finally do, and his kiss is filled with eager passion, pouring every thought he’s had about you into you. When you pull away he lets out a soft whine, bringing his hand to your neck. “I’m in love with you, darling. And I know and trust that you feel the same, any need of the tadpole be damned.” You smile and begin to continue rubbing the soap into his stomach, but he stops you. He brings his lips to yours once more, and he rolls you over onto your back in the water, letting you prove how loved he is.

Astarion

• His eyes go soft and round when you ask him

• “Really?? Little old me??” Even after the graveyard and all your reassurances, he’s still moving towards actual coupley things

• “You’ve never wanted a luxurious meal and bath together my love?” You take his hand stroke his fingers with care

• If he could blush he would, but he just sputters with the goblet of wine he has

• He collects himself back into charming mode, “Well then, I thought you’d never ask. Come find me when you’re ready.” He kisses your cheeks and literally just walks off into the woods, leaving you standing at the entrance to your shared tent looking absolutely befuddled

When you find him at the hot spring the camp had discovered last night, he’s already in the water with his eyes closed angling his head towards the night sky. His ears twitch as he hears you begin to take off your evening clothes, and his eyes open to look at you with a rakish smile. “Why hello, my treasure. The water feels amazing.” You smile, grab your soap and head in. Immediately you groan with relief, the hot water soothing the aches from your nasty fight with some undead earlier.

Astarion moves closer to you, taking the most warmth he can get. You bring your arms around his neck and just stay there for a minute. He hugs you back, burying his face into the crook in your shoulder. You fingers lightly stroke against his raised scars in a loving motion, and after his breath hitches he melts into your touch, practically purring as you lavish him with affection. When you pull away his loss of heat is devastating. However, he calms down when you begin to wash his hair, scratching at his scalp and running the hot water over his curls.

“I don’t think I’ve ever let anyone touch my hair like this,” he mumbles. You kiss his cheek and move the bar to his chest and shoulders, working out any aches and pains he might have.

“Well, now you have me my love,” you whisper, kissing the tip of his ear.

“I just can’t believe that after everything you want to stay. The sky is beautiful tonight, but it is all I will ever know once this mindflayer business is said and done with.” His words are bitter, almost as if he is angry with himself.

“It is all we will know my love. And I’m actually quite the night owl. As much as I love our ragtag group, I’m quite introverted around most of society. Everything is fine,” you kiss his bite marks, the hollows of his cheeks, and finally his lips. He kisses you back fervently, pouring care he was never able to show for anyone else previously. You pull away and finish gently washing the rest of his body in silence. As you prop your neck to the side for him, he looks at you with an expression akin to great offense.

“Darling! I thought you knew me well enough to know the bath is never over after only soap.” He waves his hand over to the small crate of oils he’d brought to the spring. “Now, I’m feeling lavender tonight. How about you my love?”

You give him a beaming smile, wading out of the spring to retrieve it. “Sounds wonderful, my heart.”

Halsin

• You don’t even really have to ask him, he’s just joined you most of the time to protect you

• He doesn’t like you venturing out in to the woods by yourself, because Silvanus help him a lot of people are after you guys

• “Of course my heart — Scratch is licking at his paw a bit so I need to inspect that, but I will join you in just a couple of minutes.”

• With an encouraging woof from Scratch, you caress his shoulder and go to collect your things

You’ve stuffed all the stuff needed for the bath into two large bags, your arms making you crouch downward with the weight. As Halsin walks to meet you he sees this, chuckles, and wild shapes into his bear form. He takes the bag handles into his mouth and nudges your leg with his snout. You pet his head and hop onto his back, him letting you ride on it as you both make your way to the water.

On arrival, you hop off and he drops the items into the grass. As his bear form is used most in combat, you grab out a bottle of soap you’d nicked off of that crazy dog handler in Rivington. You drizzle it all over his fur and gather some of the river water into a bucket. You begin scrubbing the soap into his fur, and he lets out cute little groans and growls. When you finish you dump the bucket of water onto him, and he lets out a noise of surprise. He turns back into regular Halsin, his hair soaked down against his head with playful exasperation.

“My heart, you did not need to release the full power of a waterfall onto me I assure you.” You laugh and beckon him into the water. He wades in and smothers you with kisses.

“Halsin please! I need to breathe!” You giggle, pushing at his chest. He finally settles down, pulling you into his lap.

“Thank you for helping me with the shadow curse. Thaniel he… he needed us. He needed you.” He settles into a somber smile, nuzzling his nose against your temple.

You trace your fingers across his chest, leaving kisses that follow. “I knew the lands needed our help, and I’m glad he’s free from the curse. All we have left is this elder brain, and we can go back to the grove and live in peace.”

He tilts your chin up with his hand, and looks tenderly into your eyes. “I would be blessed by Silvanus to spend my thousands of years with you.” He crashes his lips into yours, one of many you’ll share over the passage of time.

#astarion x reader #baldurs gate 3 #fanfic #astarion ancunin #bg3 #lae’zel x reader #lae'zel #karlach x reader #karlach #shadowheart x reader #Shadowheart #wyll x reader #wyll ravengard #gale x reader #gale dekarios #halsin x reader #halsin #bg3 romance

[bby-deerling]

Ranking of least to most experienced in bed? 👀 (Pls include Cora I am so down bad for that man)

((Also tysvm for opening my eyes to Virgin!Law. His faux confidence paired with his silent worry if he’s doing good enough? My seat is soaked.))

omg yes !!!! i hope you don't mind that these are short and a lil bit silly!

how much experience they have headcanons

masterlist || commissions

tagging: @willowbelle @fanaticsnail @eelnoise @sanjisjuul

very experienced

doflamingo: not afraid to overindulge in all things hedonistic, doffy has had more than his fair share of partners; he's by no means a giving lover, but he is an experienced one.

kid: this man is all about wreaking havoc and doing whatever he wants, and that includes doing whoever he wants. he loves to showboat and usually has no trouble picking up a girl or two at whatever island the victoria punk makes a stop at—just don't expect him to stick around until the morning.

decent amount of experience

sanji: this man was slinging that linecook dick at the baratie and no one can convince me otherwise. pre-timeskip sanji has a stupid amount of rizz, and there's no way at least a few young women didn't fold for him.

shachi and penguin: while law doesn't really care for fooling around with girls, both shachi and penguin have a decently long list of one-night-stands trailing from the north blue all the way to the new world. law has a rule that they're not allowed to bring strange girls onto the polar tang for safety reasons. penguin obeys this rule, shachi does not. shachi also is more experienced than penguin (he says it's because he has nicer hair).

a little bit of experience

ace: i think ace definitely got around a bit (i mean look at him), but he was still fairly young, so he didn't really have a ton of time to play the field—which is a shame. rest in peace, sexy cowboy man.

rosinante: though he's shy and clumsy and goofy, rosi definitely had a good amount of fun in his youth; he is a marine, after all. once his brother is back in his life, he tends to not form romantic attachments, for both their own safety and his own sanity.

usopp: maybe kaya let him hit once or twice because he's silly goofy. he definitely is no lady-killer, but his cringe pickup lines somehow work once in a blue moon.

mihawk: definitely has creepy weird vampire sex in his castle from time to time, but ultimately sees relationships and attachments as a waste of his time. probably has a bastard or two running around though.

virgins

law: he's the type that has to have a strong emotional connection with someone before sleeping with them. definitely a bit insecure, especially if his partner has prior experience, and can get in his own head about it, but once he calms down, he's dedicated to making sure you both enjoy the intimacy you share together.

zoro: he cares too much about his swords and sees romance as a distraction; when he does fall in love, it creeps up on him so slowly that he's in too deep to back out. isn't too concerned about his lack of experience, he figures he'll learn through doing.

luffy: too busy eating meat. is also too busy doing other things to even think about romance or sex. but watch out—once he finally does it with you and realizes how fun it is, he's hooked.

#one piece x reader #sanji x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy x reader #one piece headcanons #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #doflamingo x reader #usopp x reader #eustass kid x reader #eustass kidd x reader #portgas d ace x reader #corazon x reader #shachi x reader #penguin x reader

[iamthescalesofjustice]

fairly recently i encountered some fnv content again and had a sudden jarring re-realization that fallout new vegas is an actual video game, which has been experienced by other people, and has an associated accompanying fandom, rather than, as i had subconsciously come to classify it, a peculiar sort of psychosis i experienced during the period between by father getting a stage 4 cancer diagnosis and the months after he died. 

#cancer mention cw #genuinely i almost completely lost two years of memory surrounding these events #and the role that fmv played in my life during that time was. probably better described in terms of #horrifying yet transcendent psychological alchemy than anything else #it was not A Game I Got Into so much as a base ingredient and lens and catalyst for some eldritch emotional processes i was experiencing #the use of the word psychosis up there is flippant but not wrong. i do have a history of it and i was very much experiencing psychosis then #fnv wasnt The psychosis but it was a major factor in it at the time #iirc i think i avoided involving myself in the fandom bc both it and i were undergoing severe volatility #i barely had the resources to get a handle on my own problems let alone internet peoples problems #anyway several months after he passed i abruptly shut down all fnv related mental processes i could and then #well okay i did still lose the next several months after that as well barring a few scattered memories but i know i had like completely #forgotten it existed at all outside brief moments that were quickly lost #i guess its been enough time that the radiation levels attached to all that have gone enough to think about any of it again? #anyway i know everyone has a secret better version of it in their head But Also i did achieve the 49th level of awareness tho #my secret better version of fnv that lives in my head is so much better than the secretbetter versions of fnv that live in yalls heads etc #joking but very much it was a thing where others were honing their understanding and art by following known paths and clashing blades with #each other while i was in a pocket dimension of accelerated time with my arms cut off having to survive against beasts and shit #developing powers the old masters didnt think were possible like a shounen protag and all that lmao #anyway thats why ive only ever posted about like. pared down versions of 1.5% of whats ever gone through my head about fnv #i didnt want the radioactivity out there or for people who dont have the context to try interacting with me about it

[jgracie]

DELICATE — PERCY + DAUGHTER OF PSYCHE

masterlist | rules

❝ do u think u could write a percy x daughter of psyche reader headcannons, maybe one where shes super emotional bc psyches the goddess of the soul and stuff 🤍🤍 ❞ — anon

in which percy dates a daughter of psyche

pairing percy jackson x psyche!reader

warnings none

on the radio . . . delicate (taylor swift)

“Y/N, can you help with something?” Piper said as she barged in your cabin

Being Psyche’s only child, you got pretty lonely watching everyone else interact with their siblings. Luckily, the Aphrodite cabin decided to ‘adopt’ you, seeing as you had your emotional intuition in common

That’s how you became good friends with Piper, and how you ended up in this position: being dragged out of the comfort of your cabin and all the way to the beach

Proudly presenting you to the boy you recognised to be Percy, son of Poseidon, Piper said, “Y/N's a daughter of Psyche, she can help!”

You looked at Piper, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “I can help with what?” 

Percy answered for her, “this hippocampus is in pain and won’t tell me anything. I inspected it for cuts or anything like that, but she looks fine!” You didn’t need to hear him to tell he was exhausted. His aura had spots of dark red signifying his tiredness

You gave Percy a smile, channelling all of calmness in yourself as you said, “it’ll be okay, I’ll take a look.” You were glad to see it work - the red spots lessening. Using your voice to influence people’s emotions was something you were still working with Piper on 

As soon as you got near the hippocampus, you knew what was up. Once you got it to relax, you told them, “she’s not hurt, she’s pregnant.”

After that day, you started hanging out with Percy more. Well, if you called ‘doing occasional checkups on Sweetie the hippocampus’ hanging out. 

The two of you, along with Will Solace from Apollo, guided the hippocampus through her pregnancy. You read her emotions and Will administered the necessary medical support

Percy was just there because he’s a child of Poseidon and the hippocampi really wanted their lord to be there, as they believed it’d bless the child

When Sweetie finally gave birth, you couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. You really enjoyed spending time with Percy, and now you didn’t have an excuse to

Could you just ask him to hang out? Sure, he’d probably agree. But you wouldn’t do that. Stuff like this is really delicate to you, and needs to be treated with utmost care

Luckily, he did the asking for you

“Y/N!” Percy yelled. It had been a day since Sweetie gave birth, what could Percy possibly need from you?

You turned, “is Sweetie okay?” Ever since that day at the beach, you’d grown really attached to the hippocampus, and would hate to hear that something had gone wong

Much to your relief, Percy said, “Sweetie’s fine, I just wanted to thank you. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have even known she was pregnant. Do you wanna get ice cream with me later today? My treat.”

Your smile widened and warmth flooded your heart, “sure, Percy, I’d love that.”

The ice cream broke the ice between you and Percy, and soon enough you were laughing as if you’d been friends your whole lives. For someone who isn’t a child of Psyche or Aphrodite, Percy was pretty good with people

Your issue is that he’s too good. When he’d shoot you one of his handsome grins, or gently pull you into his chest as you’re about to bump into someone, or check you for scrapes after a game of capture the flag, you couldn’t help but fall in love 

However, he was so oblivious. Every time you read his aura, you were disappointed at the lack of pink in it. How could he still see you as a friend? 

Confused, you decided to consult the Aphrodite cabin

Another night, another sleepover at the Aphrodite cabin. From the perfume samples to the face masks, you loved it all

Clapping her hands, Piper sat on the floor next to you, completing the circle. Instantly, all of her siblings stopped talking, “we have something to discuss. Y/N, if you will.”

“So, I like Percy–” you heard squeals from all directions. Piper shushed them, “continue.”

“I like Percy, but I don’t think he likes me back. He does things for me - things that I associate with romance - but every time I read his aura, there’s nothing,” you sighed

The circle was silent as the Aphrodite kids thought of solutions to your issue. After a minute, a girl piped up, “have you done anything to show that you like him?” 

“Oh yeah, I gave him one of my chocolates yesterday.” Instantly, you felt judged, “I don’t do that for anyone,” you added

The girl next to you turned and placed her hands on your shoulders, “that’s the issue, Y/N. Sure, to you that's the epitome of romance, but it's a little too subtle for most people, babe. You’ve got to really show him you like him! If you do, then he’ll start thinking of you romantically, y’know?”

By the morning, you made your decision. You’d show Percy that you liked him

Meanwhile, Percy scarfed down yet another potion, grimacing at the taste

You see, Percy liked you too. But he was smart. He knew you’d be able to tell immediately if he liked you, since his aura would give his feelings away. So, what’d he do? He begged asked the Hecate cabin for a potion that’ll hide his aura

Considering you hadn’t said anything about it so far, he thought it worked

He felt bad lying to you, but he couldn’t have you knowing, not yet. Percy wanted to plan the perfect confession, and he couldn’t do that with your powers at play

With his aura concealed, Percy left his cabin. He was going to head to breakfast when he found you sitting at the steps of Cabin 3

"What’re you doing here?” Percy said, startling you. You were too nervous to knock on his door, so you opted to wait for him to leave his cabin instead

Taking a deep breath, you said, “Percy, there’s this movie I really wanted to see, and I was wondering if you wanted to see it… together?” You took his hand and looked down at your feet, too scared to check his aura

“Sure! Do you wanna come to mine or should I go to yours?” Percy replied, blushing. If this didn’t scream the fact that you liked him, he didn’t know what did

You looked up. His aura was the same - yellow, meaning friendship. You felt yourself tear up and ran, hoping he didn’t get suspicious

He did, of course. Percy chased after you until you got tired and he could finally catch up, “what’s wrong, Y/N?”

You snapped. You were getting sick of all of this, “I’ll tell you what’s wrong, Percy! I’ve been trying to figure you out for weeks! You always do romantic things for me but your aura’s still yellow, and it hurts, Percy, so I’d really appreciate it if you stopped leading me on!”

Percy felt like such an idiot. He explained that he did like you and the yellow aura was just because of the potion he got from the Hecate kids

Since you still had some doubts, he dragged you to the Hecate cabin and asked them to give him a potion that’d reverse the effects of the first one

As soon as he downed that one, his aura turned bright pink

True love

You started dating soon after. That night, you watched the romance movie you’d picked out and Percy held you as you cried about how cute the couple is

You can’t hide your emotions from Percy. Just because he can’t read auras, doesn’t mean he can’t tell when his favourite girl’s feeling down!

Whenever someone even thinks to tease you for being sensitive and emotional, Percy immediately gives them a lecture, telling them he’s sorry they don't have half your emotional complexity

He’s always asking you to read his aura, since he's very curious. It barely changes when he’s around you, almost always mostly pink 

You still tell him though and he gets this super proud look on his face and it’s really cute 

You’re really glad you have Percy because now you have someone to rant to about all the media you consume and how it makes you feel. Sometimes he spaces out because your voice is so soothing, but he makes up for it

You two are PDA central. Percy also has lots of feelings, so you always have to be touching in some way

You told him your mom's sacred animal is the butterfly once and now whenever he sees one he instantly thinks of you

“Oh my Gods Y/N is watching over me!” “Percy that’s a moth” 

Every day Percy thanks Piper and her mother for letting you guys cross paths, because your path and his are forever intertwined now

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson #percy jackson x fem reader #pjo #pjo x reader #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson headcannons #percy jackson x psyche reader #percy jackson x daughter of psyche #psyche pjo #children of psyche #daughter of psyche #cynwrites

[fyorina]

ᡣ𐭩 YOU AND ME (ALWAYS FOREVER)!

FEATURING: dark era!dazai osamu

SUMMARY: more than friends, not quite lovers. that's been your relationship with dazai osamu for as long as you can remember. you didn't want to push him, and you gave him plenty of chances, but there's only so long you can wait for someone. you thought you would be better off moving on—you were wrong, of course. (wordcount: 4.8k; sfw; angst (???) but with a happy ending)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: dark era dazai </3 my heart, i got a sudden urge to write for him and i wanted it to be fluff but then i got this idea and just had to go with it (warnings: fem!reader, smoking & drinking, suicide attempt mentions)

In your defense, you were never dating Dazai Osamu.

Not for a lack of trying on your part, of course. You’ve made your interest in him clear since you met him at sixteen during the Dragon’s Head Conflict, when Mori Ougai pulled you back from where you were stationed in Kyoto dealing with his associates to help with the declining situation in Yokohama. And you’d thought he felt similarly to you. You really did. The two of you had become inseparable within weeks of knowing each other, such a swift and strong connection that it almost felt unreal. You’d heard rumors of him, of course, before coming back to Yokohama—the infamous Demon Prodigy that Mori had brought in and groomed into becoming his heir, ruthless and cold and so terrifyingly intelligent that he had the entire upper echelon of the Port Mafia on edge. 

By the time you got back to Yokohama, he’d already taken the Colonel’s place as an executive—a shame, really, the Colonel was always your favorite of Mori’s five executives, he always brought you gifts when he came to visit you in Kyoto. But he never really felt like the monster that everyone claimed him to be.

He and Nakahara Chuuya had been the one sent to retrieve you from Yokohama Station, an area very close to the heart of the gang conflict, and even from the first meeting, he’d always been… well, you’re not going to say normal because he’s not normal. He’s always had an unnerving air about him, eyes a bit too cold and dark, smile a bit too teethy, but he’s always come across as just another kid your age. Maybe a bit lonelier than most, which could be off-putting to other people, but it never bothered you. And yes, you’ve seen the way other members of the Mafia treat him—they’re scared of him, go to extreme lengths so as to not cross paths with him, but you’ve never seen him in the same light they do.

Well, not until recently, at least. 

Again. In your defense, you were never dating him. 

But you’d known he cared about you as more than a friend. And you’d cared about him as more than a friend too. And you waited. You waited almost two years for him to say something. You didn’t want to do it yourself, you know Dazai is flighty and he’s not used to emotions, and you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but god, there’s only so much waiting you can take before you start to give up.

When the two year mark hit, you’d become convinced that Dazai was never going to act on his feelings for you; instead, he’d prefer to wait it out until they passed, and if they never did, he’d just pretend they didn’t exist at all. You can’t really blame him, the Mafia is not a place conducive for relationships, it’s only a matter of time before your luck runs out and one of you end up dead by a bullet through the head or captured by the enemy, and the thought of getting attached to someone only to lose them is enough to scare anyone away. 

But you don’t want to live your life in fear, no matter how short it may be, and you also don’t want to live it alone. So when an opportunity arose at a cafe near the main headquarters, where you met a civilian around your age who showed immediate interest in you, you jumped on it. And it’d caught a lot of people off guard—Kouyou was surprised, Chuuya was baffled and questioning what a civilian could possibly have that interested you, even Mori gave you a double take and an odd look the first time he overheard Elise interrogating you about your new boyfriend.

But no one took it as poorly as Dazai.

Your throat feels tight as you remember the hurt expression that crossed over his face when you told him. It was so brief and so foreign of an expression to see on his face that you’d thought you’d imagined it, he was quick to school his expression back into a cold and closed-off one (one that he’d never directed toward you before that moment), but there was no mistaking the way the corner of his lip twitched and the way he suddenly couldn’t meet your eyes. 

How nice, he’d told you, voice frighteningly icy, acidic, even, before he made a half-assed excuse about a mission that you knew he wasn’t assigned to. And it was so unlike him to offer himself up to handle missions, usually Mori has to force him with threats of giving Chuuya his executive position for him to do anything that makes him extend the barest amount of effort . But he did, and he handled it, very bloodily and uncharacteristically inefficient, as if he was releasing all of his pent up rage onto the unfortunate souls who happened to stumble into Port Mafia territory.

You were never, at any point, dating Dazai Osamu. 

You think you’ve told yourself it hundreds of times over the past three months, throwing yourself into your work and enjoying a relationship with a boy who clearly was invested in you and cares about you in a way that Dazai Osamu would never allow himself to admit. You also think that Dazai Osamu has no right being as bitter and angry as he is—you gave him two years to come to terms with his feelings and make a move, you’ve made your own subtle hints that he promptly ignored. If he wanted to be with you, he blew his chance a hundredfold, and he can go screw off if he thinks he can be upset about it only after you’d found someone else. 

Which is what he did, pretty much, and it was a lot harder than you expected—going from talking to him every waking second of every day, seeking him out whenever you have free time and vice versa, to only seeing him during the joint meetings between the executives and sub executives, where even then, he wouldn’t even spare you a glance. It was hard, and deep down, you don’t think being able to experience an actual relationship was worth losing your best friend, but the damage had already been done by that point, so you could only lie in the bed you made. 

And you did enjoy the relationship. The boy you’d met was sweet. He was good. He was impressively smart—a government and law major at one of the most prestigious universities in this part of the country—and humble to a fault. 

But he wasn’t Dazai. 

You knew in your heart that you didn’t want sweet or good, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise. You didn’t want the type of smart that he was, top of his class and on track for law school, seeking out a job as a public defender in Tokyo. You wanted the type of smart Dazai was, wicked and devious, putting together vicious and efficient strategies to take down enemies of the Mafia, on track for taking over the position as boss in the future. You wanted him for all of his twisted moralities and questionable thoughts.

And it was unfair to you, and it was unfair to Dazai, and most importantly it was unfair to the boy you kept leading on, that you’ve refused to acknowledge this for as long as you have just for the chance of experiencing a real relationship. 

Which is why you stand here now, outside the infamous Bar Lupin that you know Dazai has been drinking himself into oblivion at everyday for the past three months, notably single and possibly about to meet your end at the hands of a drunken and scorned Mafia executive. 

You think you must look like a fool right now. You’ve been standing right outside the door in the rain for fifteen minutes debating on whether or not you should actually go in. You’re nervous, and that makes you sad because you’ve never been nervous to talk to Dazai before, and you’re not nervous because you’re scared of him, you’re nervous because you don’t think you have the balls to actually confront him, knowing that you’d genuinely hurt the boy that everyone claimed didn’t have the emotions to be hurt. He let you in when he doesn’t let anyone in, and you chose to be careless and you chose to give up, and you hurt him. 

And you remind yourself again: you were not dating Dazai Osamu. You remind yourself that you gave him chances, he had opportunities, and he chose not to take them. You remind yourself that he’s just as at fault as you are for the falling out, but you can’t help but also remind yourself that he was the one that came out the most hurt by the situation. Yes, him cutting himself off from you was upsetting, but you didn’t have to watch him go around happy in a relationship with someone else. He did. 

With that thought in mind, you push the door open to the bar. A soft bell rings above you and instantly, three heads swivel in your direction: the bartender, and two men that you recognize as Sakaguchi Ango, one of the Port Mafia’s special intelligence agents, and Oda Sakunosuke, who you only know through Dazai’s high praise of the man from when the two of you were still on speaking terms. The only person in the room who matters to you doesn’t even bother to look to see who entered the bar, one hand circling the glass of whiskey in front of him while a cigarette dangles from the other. You watch as he lifts it to his lips to take a long drag, head falling tilting back to look up at the ceiling as he exhales a cloud of smoke, seemingly unbothered by your presence.

Already, you feel as if you’ve made a mistake, but you force yourself to continue.

The bartender nods his head in respect to you, although you can’t help but notice he flashes a wary look to Dazai. You wonder, pitifully, how much he’s said about you in this place. Sakaguchi and Oda share a look with one another. Both of them speak a low murmur of your name, inclining their head dutifully—you’re not quite an executive yet, but with the Piano Man of the Flags dead, you and Chuuya are fighting for the next spot to open up. Chuuya will likely be the one to get it, which you think he deserves from all of the heavy lifting he’s done on operations the past two years, but you feel a bit awkward when they give you your due respect when you're here with your tail between your legs trying to talk to Dazai.

Sakaguchi and Oda take their leave when you arrive, giving short goodbyes to Dazai, telling them that they’ll see him another day, and the bartender makes a fumbled excuse about going to the back to restock, leaving you alone with Dazai. Internally, you wither just a bit because you think if they’d stayed, Dazai might keep a handle on himself because you know he views Oda highly; instead, they left you in the lion’s den alone. Which you might deserve, but you digress.

You let out a quiet puff of air as you make your way over to the bar stool next to Dazai, taking a seat in it carefully. Still, he doesn’t look at you, but you look at him and the aching in your chest returns tenfold as your gaze sweeps over him fully for the first time in months. During the joint meetings between the executives and sub-executives, you were always sure to keep your glances short and sweet, not wanting to risk any lingering looks, but now, you can look at him in his entirety for the first time since that fateful discussion three months ago. 

He hasn’t changed much. Or, well, that’s a lie. He’s definitely changed. The circles beneath his eye are darker, his expression a carefully constructed blank mask. You think he might’ve lost some weight, his coat has always been big on him but the way it hangs over his shoulders now is looser than it was before. If it weren’t for the way his fingers were tense around his glass of whiskey, you’d have thought he was entirely unperturbed by your arrival.

You don’t know what to say, and you know you need to be the first to speak because you’re the one that showed up here to talk to him, but now that you’re sitting in front of him you’re floundering for words. You could just come out and say that you broke up with your boyfriend, but you feel like that would be a bit weird, and he’d probably laugh in your face and make a comment about how he doesn’t care. You could ask him how he’s been, but you think he might genuinely put a bullet in you for trying to make small talk with him like that right now. 

The longer you stay silent, the more awkward it becomes, and you want to cry because you’ve never been awkward with Dazai before, and for a brief second, you wonder if things really have changed too much to go back to how they were. 

Finally, you decide to just come out and say, bracing yourself for the inevitable derisive words that are going to leave his lips. “I broke up with him.”

Dazai’s scoff is loud and instantaneous, you bite your tongue, eyes sliding shut as you turn to face ahead instead of looking at him. Cowardly, you know, but you don’t want to see the sneer on his face when he asks you why he should care. 

But he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t say anything at first. If you were looking at him, you’d see the way his cold expression shifted into a more conflicted one, still staring ahead because he can’t bring himself to look at you. You count each passing second, and it’s agonizing waiting for him to speak, a part of you thinks that maybe he won’t, and you’ll just have to leave the bar with your tail between your legs, humiliated. 

But then he does. 

“Why?” he finally asks coolly, and your eyes snap open and your gaze slides over to him when you realize he did not, in fact, hit you with the derogation you expected.

He still isn’t looking at you, and you watch as he lifts his free hand back to his lips, taking another long drag of his cigarette as he waits for your response. You swallow thickly when you try to figure out what to say next. 

What you want to say is ‘because he wasn’t you,’ but you’re not ready to bare yourself vulnerable in front of him like that when he’s still so unpredictable. Just because he didn’t immediately hit you with the harsh words you expected, doesn’t mean he isn’t going to lure you in just to slap you in the face with it, which is how you’re sure he perceived what you did three months ago. 

Rather, you say quietly: “He was boring, I guess.”

It’s a lie. Well, a partial lie, at least. He was a good guy, he was just boring compared to what you wanted, and what you wanted was Dazai Osamu, who no one in the world could hope to compare to. 

“He was boring,” Dazai echoes your words, a cruel and mocking lilt to his voice, and you brace yourself now, taking the sudden switch in tone as the flicking off of the safety. But he shakes his head as he lets out a puff of air, you can’t tell if it’s another scoff or a laugh. “How cold-hearted of you. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, given your track record.”

Two paths lay before you: you can take the words as well-deserved, trying to avoid the inevitable fight, or you can spit back equally venomous words, dive in headfirst so the two of you can get everything off of your chest. Both choices are double-edged. If you avoid the fight, it means avoiding the topic altogether, and even if the two of you choose to speak again, the resentment of what had happened will only poison and fester. If you dive into the fight, there’s a chance of saying words you can’t take back, and everything might fall apart anyway.

What do you want? You want to ask him, because you aren’t sure what the right decision is. Three months ago, if you and Dazai got into a disagreement about something, you would know in an instant whether or not he wanted to fight it out to let off steam or just pretend it didn’t happen. Now, you aren’t so sure. He’s still not looking at you, so you can’t use the look in his eye as a hint, but his shoulders are tense beneath his jacket, and his knuckles are white around his glass of whiskey. Your gaze drags up to his face, catching the way his jaw is tight, teeth probably grinding together, and you know. 

You look ahead again, leveling your vision on a particularly nice bottle of wine on the third shelf of the wine rack as you say: “I’d rather be cold-hearted than a coward.”

For the first time since you’ve arrived, Dazai’s gaze cuts in your direction, head snapping to the side. You turn your head toward him just enough for you to eye him from the corner of your eye, catching glimpse of the way his lip curled up into a snarl and the way flames now rage in the browns of his eye—a far cry from the bottomless void, but you prefer the anger to the emptiness. 

“A coward?” His voice is low, cold, dangerous. 

You’re treading on thin ice, but you choose to stoke the flame more, gaze sliding back to the wine racks ahead.

“A coward.”

The silence that hangs between the two of you is tense and damning, you have to force yourself not to react to it, keeping your expression as stony as his as you wait for his response. He’ll either hit you back with more venom or he’ll settle down, one will lead to a blow out fight and the other will lead to a very tense conversation. 

You don’t want to fight him, but if that’s what he wants, you’ll give it to him. 

After what feels like an eternity, Dazai makes another scornful noise but he doesn’t say anything, gaze snapping back ahead as he takes a drag of his cigarette, this one clearly fueled by anger, far more aggressive than the last one. As if to piss him off even more, he hardly gets half of a smoke, down to the nub already. Frustrated, he puts the lingering cinders out on the bartop before reaching for the pack in his pocket, pulling out a new cigarette and his lighter.

You watch as he tries to flick the lighter on, cigarette dangling between his lips, but the old thing refuses to cooperate. Distantly, you wonder why Dazai is so damn stubborn: working with an old lighter, living in a shitty shipping container, wearing the same few pairs of clothes every day when he probably has more money than god hoarded from his executive paycheck. But you only force yourself to not roll your eyes as you pull out your own lighter, flicking it on and holding it out to him without looking at him. 

You watch from the corner of your eye as he stares at your hand suspiciously before he exhales from the side of his mouth, dipping his head down to light the cigarette before he faces ahead again. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he reaches out for his glass of whiskey, still mostly full, and then he slides it over to you.

An offering. A white flag. 

You barely withhold the breath of relief that nearly escapes you, accepting the drink and taking a long sip of it. It’s his favorite brand, smooth and familiar on the tongue; you haven’t been able to bring yourself to drink it since your falling out with him. 

“Was it really because he was boring?” Dazai finally asks. He’s not looking at you again, but you can see from the way his fingers are tense against the bartop that he’s probably waiting for a certain response from you.

You let your eyes slide shut. “No,” you admit.

“Then why?” he presses, as if he doesn’t already know. 

“You know why,” you say tightly, shaking your head and looking down.

“Tell me anyway,” Dazai responds quietly, you can feel his gaze on you but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. Irrationally, even though the atmosphere between the two of you has shifted, you wonder if this is it: he’s going to get you to admit it and then laugh in your face, cruel but probably deserved. 

“Because he wasn’t you,” you finally force out.

He doesn’t respond. Your heart sinks to your stomach, a sick feeling churning. You brace yourself again—you don’t know what for, maybe a laugh or a derisive comment, but he does nothing of the sort. 

A long exhale, smoke billowing around his face, a heavy look in his eyes. He doesn’t look at you as he says: “You’re right.”

You don’t respond because you’re not sure what he’s referring to. Finally, he tilts his head to look at you, a wry smile on his lips—your chest feels warm at the sight, you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him smile. Probably not since the falling out. 

“I was a coward.”

Oh.

The frustration you felt all of those months ago returns with a vengeance. You had danced with possibilities back then: that you were reading too much into things, that he didn’t actually care for you the way you did for him, that he simply did not want to be with you even if he did care about you that way. Now, faced with confirmation that he had felt the same but was just too pussy to act on it, your chest swells with that familiar anger. You force it away. 

“Why?” you ask after a few moments of silence, nails digging into the palm of your hands as you rest them on your lap. “I… I waited for two years, Dazai. I gave you so many openings. You knew how I felt.”

“I know.” His voice is quiet, barely audible. 

“Then why?” you repeat his words back to him, pressing hard just like he did. His throat bobs beneath his bandages as he swallows, averting his gaze, or trying to, at least, because you don’t let him. You reach out to grab his chin tightly, forcing him to look at you, and the pads of your fingers burn against his skin, hyper aware of the fact that this is the first time you’ve touched him in three months. “Why?”

His hand comes up to grab your wrist as if to pull your hand off of him, but he doesn’t, grip firm around your wrist, fingers pressing against your pulse point, and you’re acutely conscious of the fact that your pulse is probably racing but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

“I told you why,” he says, voice uncharacteristically soft. Vulnerable in a way that you’ve never seen him before. “I was a coward. I… didn’t want to risk ruining our friendship... I don't have many friends. You know that. I would’ve rather just ignored how I felt and kept you as a friend, because I didn’t think there’d be a chance of losing you that way. I thought if I acted on how I felt, one day you’d eventually see me for what I am and I’d lose you altogether.”

“Some good that did you.” You can’t help the resentful words that spill from your lips, but you feel guilty when he winces, hand dropping back to your lap, his grip slipping from your wrist. “You think I don’t already see you for who you are? We’ve known each other since we were sixteen, Dazai. I know all of the sick and twisted thoughts that run through your head, I knew exactly what I was getting into.”

Dazai shakes his head, as if to deny your words. You get frustrated.

“I spend hours at your recovery bed after your attempts, I’ve caught you in the middle of them myself, do you know what the first thing I did was after I told you I had a boyfriend?” you demand, and he stares at you, unsure. “I put a protection detail on him because I thought you’d try to have him killed, or try to kill him yourself.”

Dazai winces. You shake your head and look away, settling down again. 

“For someone so smart, you really are so goddamn stupid sometimes,” you sigh, taking a long swig of his drink before placing the glass back down on the table. “I saw you for who you are, and I wanted you anyway.”

“Wanted?” Dazai asks, an uncertain expression on his face as he zeroes in on the past tense.

“Want,” you correct, voice little over a breath, and something akin to relief sweeps across his face as his gaze drops down to the bartop.

The silence that hangs between the two of you is more comfortable this time. Reassuring, even, because maybe things might still be awkward between the two of you for a while, but there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, one much brighter than the one the two of you lived in three months ago. 

“I can’t believe you went for a civilian,” Dazai suddenly says, almost sounding indignant. “A civilian. You!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you snap when you hear the incredulous tone he takes when he says ‘you’.

“You’re a stone cold bitch,” Dazai accuses and you gape, but you can’t find it in yourself to be offended because his eyes are lit up for the first time in months, a lopsided smile painted on his face. “And you’ve got as much blood on your hands as I do. You. A civilian. I think I would’ve been less offended if you went for Chuuya.”

“We both know that’s a lie,” you snort, and then you add, a bit amused, “you know what he wants a job as?” 

“Tell me,” Dazai drawls, resting his chin on his hand as he leans on the bar, watching you with such a fond expression that it makes you feel warm all over. 

God, you missed him the past three months. 

“He wanted to go to law school. Become a public defender.”

Dazai chokes over the smoke he inhales, and you press your hand to your lips to smother your giggles as he desperately wheezes between laughs. You’re not sure if he’s actually choking, you think he might actually be dying from how red his face is getting.

“Maybe you should keep in contact with him then,” he gasps between laughs, “we might need one of those one day.”

“As if you’re sloppy enough to ever get caught,” you say dryly.

He winks at you, his grin sharpening, and you know you’re not going to like what he’s about to say. “Oh, I’m not. By ‘we’, I meant you.”

“Douchebag.” You roll your eyes, letting another silence settle over the two of you, a smile on your lips now as you take another sip of your drink. He’s the one to break it again.

“... Odasaku convinced me not to, by the way.”

“What?” 

“To kill him. I was going to. Odasaku convinced me not to.”

You let out a sigh of utter suffering, giving Dazai a pointed look—see, you say silently, I know you. He has the decency to look a bit sheepish as lifts his cigarette back to his mouth in lieu of responding to your unspoken words. 

“Stop with the self sabotage, Dazai,” you finally say, tired. “For both of our sakes’.”

He doesn’t respond, and you know him well enough to know that he’ll probably never stop with the self sabotage, but he does reach out to lace your fingers with his, and the warm feeling that spreads through your chest is enough to satiate you. 

Little steps, because no, the Mafia is not a conducive place for relationships and yes, it’s only a matter of time before luck runs out for one of you, but if your life is destined to be short, there’s only one person you want to spend it with.

#ᡣ𐭩 carina’s archives #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

[libbyfandom]

“In This Life, and the Next. I Swear.”

Happy Holidays, have a bittersweet reincarnation fic.

Summary: Mizu may not believe in reincarnation, but you do. You'll believe in it enough for both of you. You may not be strong, but your soul is. You'll carry her to a better lifetime.

Content Warnings: Did your really think no one would die in a reincarnation fic? Hmmm?

“Next lifetime, you have to court me,” you murmur into Mizu’s neck as her fingers trace along the bare skin of your back where you lie atop her. “None of this... stoic loner act where I have to wear you down into letting me love you. Yeah?”

Mizu snorts, her other hand resting over her eyes. “Not on your life.”

Making an offended noise, you bite her collarbone in retaliation, hearing her laughter fill the inn room.

“When we come back, I want our lives to be simple,” you say as Mizu helps you down from the horse you borrowed on your escape from the last town.

Resisting the urge to let a sigh slip at this fantasy coming back up again, she mutters, “Yeah? You’d prefer to have a boring life, after you basically attached yourself to me and Ringo to escape your home?”

“Well yeah, I’m getting all of my adventuring done in this life cycle.”

“And you don’t want that again?” Mizu starts to lead the horse toward the outer skirts of the city, hoping to find a stable to leave it without being spotted.

You walk alongside her, studying her passive expression. “I do." A beat. "But I want you to have peace more.”

Her eyes dart to you, genuinely caught off guard. The openness, the honesty in your face has a bubble of overwhelming emotion welling up in her chest.

Her head turns back to the road, retreating into her silence to avoid speaking and risking her voice betraying her.

But after a few minutes of her staring off into the distance, she quietly says with a softened brow, “That’s kind.”

‘Do you regret choosing this life, knowing how quickly it will all end? Or did you walk into it blindly, optimistic for some happier resolution?’

Mizu jerks you up into her arms, apologizing frantically over and over as you scream in pain when she applies pressure to the stab wound deep in your stomach. She tenses her grip as your body tries to seize and jerk away from the splitting, hot pain radiating through your nerves from pressure on the gash. You’re too scared to look down and see your own insides peeling away from each other.

Taigen and Ringo are fending off the last few bounty hunters, the clashing of swords and knives fading into the background as you dig your bloodied fingers into her haori. “Come find-find me again,” you say with frantic eyes, swallowing back another mouthful of metallic blood forcing its way up your burning throat.

“What?!” Mizu’s attention is torn between keeping an eye on her back and wrapping a torque around your middle from the fabric she torn off your kosode.

You grab her face, leaving a bloody streak on her cheek as you force her to look at you. Her widened blue eyes are forced to look into yours with no barrier, her glasses lost somewhere in the snow from the fight. You can feel how fast your body is losing warmth. The edges of your vision are blurring, and the draw to fall asleep is growing more powerful than the burning gap in your stomach. Mizu may not know how to die, but you-

‘I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so, so sorry.’

You need her to hear you before everything stops. So you grip her cheek and stare into her panic-stricken eyes. You’re scared too, but you’re more scared of coming back to this world and not seeing her again than you are of not coming back at all.

“Come find me again.”

Mizu hates the concept of promises, and the bigger and more impossible they sound the more she avoids them. But you nose is turning pink from the cold, or from your crying. Tears are trailing down the sides of your temples, cutting through any blood stains across your face.

And she hates promises.

Tears well in her own eyes as she clenches her teeth against a violent sob.

But she hates denying you proof that she loves you more. If you pass without it… if you die with the last words in your ears being 'I can't'…

Every whisper and cry of “Onryō” she’s ever heard echo louder and louder in her head until they're all scream chanting in unison. She blinks, and for a heart-freezing moment your terrified eyes turn her shade of blue.

“Onryō!”

“ONRYŌ!”

"𝔬n҉𝔯y҉𝔬o҉𝔫r҉𝔶o҉𝔬n҉𝔯y҉𝔬o҉𝔫r҉𝔶o҉𝔬n҉𝔯y҉𝔬-"

Her hand lifts away from the rapidly growing stain of blood coming through the makeshift torque across your abdomen and settles on your cheek.

She forces the corners of her mouth up into a reassuring smile as her own body trembles.

“Okay,” her voice wavers as she blinks out tears. “I’ll come find you.” Her voice is like a child making their first vow. “I’ll, I’ll come find you again.”

You smile weakly, and despite her own forced one, her eyes fill with terror for just a moment at the blood staining your teeth.

You reach up and tug her hair out of its high bun, watching it tumble around her shoulders.

You need your soul to memorize what she looks like when she’s not hiding. For next time.

Your own smile wavers. “You have to. I won’t… I won’t forgive you if you don’t.”

The fragile look on her face crumples into despair. Mizu leans her temple against yours as the sobs overtake her, her long hair draping over both of your faces and blocking out the world. “I will. I will I will I will I will I-“

Her fractured voice fades away, and your vision swims.

But your soul is at peace.

‘It's your turn, Mizu.’

‘I ended up burying you with as many red spider lilies I could scavenge. They’ll help guide you to the next life. I made Ri( ) swear to bury me next to you with just as many. If he’s around to collect my corpse when I go. If anyone is. ( )I used to not care if anyone did, as long as I finished my mission. But now I’m terrified something happens and I can’t keep my promise.

I’m sorry. I miss you. I’m sorry I made a promise that’s out of my hands.

( )

I’m sorry.’

You stare down at the spread of papers and antique diaries written in kanji. You’re trying to organize them by chronological order based on context from the letters and diaries, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult as you go. Especially with words smudged and faded by centuries of time. You rub your eye behind your glasses.

‘She really is making this hard for me.’ You sigh through your nose as you bite down on the end of your pen.

“Excuse me?”

“Hm?” You glance to your side, surprised to be pulled from your work and come face to face with probably the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever seen. “Hello?”

“Sorry,” she smiles, lowering her head to pull her tinted glasses off. “I just saw you over here and uh-“ her expression goes a little strained as she looks for the right words. “I just, uh-”

You glance between her and the spread of antique writing from the archives. “Are you the person that checked these out last? Do you need them back?”

“No. I just-" She makes a face. Whatever she planned to say when she came over was quickly unraveling. Her eyes dart away, and land on the diaries. Her eyebrows furrow slowly, something flickering in her blue eyes.

Very pretty eyes…

She jerks her chin down at the spread of papers. “What is that?”

A little thrown off at the changes in conversation, you pick up one of the diaries. “Um, this is work for my master thesis. I’m studying unknown woman and queer history of Edo Japan.” Your fingers drum over the cover. “Came across this treasure when going through the archives. It’s a bunch of writing from a rogue swordsman to his lover after her death. But in my review of it, I’m positive I can prove that he was actually a woman,” you grin a little with pride, shifting your weight side to side with delight at getting to discuss your research.

“Lesbian samurai,” she laughs lowly, eyes warm.

“Something like that,” the corners of your lips lift up.

“Well that’s really fascinating,” her fingers trail across the edge of the table as she steps closer. “I’d love to hear more about it. Maybe… over dinner?” The corner of her mouth grimaces for a moment, her eye twitching once with frustratation at herself with that cheesy delivery.

Your lips part, eyes widening with a breathless little “Oh.”

The woman gains confidence from how your eyes light up behind your glasses as you flush. Her hand squeezes her shoulder, a nervous tic. “I’m sorry. I saw your over here and had to give it a shot.”

“No, I’m glad you did,” you’re quick to reassure her. You look up at her with bright eyes as you dig through your backpack for notebook paper.

“I wouldn’t have forgiven you if you didn’t.”

A tilt of her lips, her hand outstretched. “Mizu.”

You introduce yourself.

You hold out the pen and paper to get her number, and she asks as she leans over to scribble it out on the table, “Anything good in those letters?”

“Most of it’s pretty grief heavy,” you smile sadly. “But in a poetic and romantic way? Like, even though her love was gone, probably pretty young, she kept her memory alive as she fought through life.”

Mizu glances up at you, and something tightens in your throat and sinks into your stomach. You don’t know why you admit quietly, “The first time I read them I started crying in the archive room.”

A beat, where you feel dread creep up your neck at suddenly tanking the mood.

Her face grows impassive, deadly quiet for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

You quickly blink back tears that come on alarmingly fast. “What?”

Mizu blinks too, straightening up. “Just, sorry that it made you sad. I guess.” She smiles again, albeit a little smaller this time, and hands over the paper. “I guess I’ll see you? Hopefully soon?”

A soft laugh huffs out your nose as that melancholic moment passes. “Yeah,” your hand brushes against the inside of her palm as you take the paper. “Really soon.”

She leaves you with a satisfied grin, her nose scrunching up as she turns and walks off.

You watch her go, feeling something tighten in your stomach again at how relaxed she looks.

You look down at her number, and see that she slyly signed it with the kanji for “Promise”.

As you begin to organize the letters to skim through them again, your hesitate on the one you had just been reviewing. You hold it and the notebook paper up side by side.

The letter unfolds and a single, dried, book pressed red spider lily flutters to your feet.

Mizu perfectly copied the handwriting of the swordswoman’s kanji.

“Huh.”

#mizu x reader #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu #modern mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #blueeyesamurai

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING GREEN !!! CHARLES L. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: it was his turn to play once, and now he has to beg too.

content warning: use of explicit language, smut under the cut (minors dni!), sub!charles, themes of jealousy and friends with benefits, brief descriptions of oral sex (m receiving), possessive!reader, not filthy enough… i think, pwp

note: i really should be writing my papers rn. enjoy xx

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

his eyes weren’t the only greens that made their presence known in the party tonight. no, it was also not just the dress that she had slipped on in hopes of catching his attention and taking him back to her place. 

her emotions were, in fact, turning into a form of jealousy as she watched him dancing with some other girl on the dance floor. her eyes forming into a heavy scowl as she sipped on her daiquiri, watching as charles smirked at her and attached himself to a stranger while they dirty danced.

he was having too much fun with someone else as if he hadn’t done called her to his room the other day only to dominate her.

he was acting like this and she had no control over that; he wasn’t hers after all. they were nothing but “friends” who casually fucked each other’s brains out as a pastime.

but then again… if they were friends, then he wouldn’t have marked her neck until she couldn’t go on a date with some stranger from an app, right? he wouldn’t have done that knowing that she had a date a day or two after— that those marks would last longer than intended. friends don’t do shit like that. 

if they were friends, then maybe… maybe she’d make him realize that she, too, could mark him to the next week— so he wouldn’t go to that date that their stupid friends set him up to because “he needs to get laid.” 

it was his time to play once, but they were taking turns— and it was now hers. 

“ngh~ amour,” his voice croaked as his mouth gaped open, feeling her mouth wrapped around his cock as she hummed. the bassy vibration around his cock made him whimper in desperation. the urge to cum was just there and she was torturing him. “‘m gonna—“

he whined quietly when her mouth pulled away with a ‘pop’, her hand replacing her mouth as she wrapped it around the base of his cock. she firmly said, “keep your eyes on me, charles.” 

“i ca- c—“

“sure you can,” she laughed. if he could even think right now, he would’ve said that she wasn’t like this days ago. she was an angel begging for him to let her cum days ago— and now she was a vixen who wanted him to die a slow death. 

she continued to give his tip kitten licks as he whined. “i want you to look at me so you know who’s the only person that can make you feel like this.” 

“i- amour,” he whimpered, urging himself to open his eyes as he peered down at her. his adam’s apple bobbing when he caught sight of the lust and possessiveness that washed through her features. 

her tongue traced over the saliva that dripped down his cock, eyes still trained on his hazy green ones before her gaze trailed down his purple-marked chest and abdomen. she had too much fun nipping at his body that she hadn’t realized the difference between marking him and seeing the aftermath of it. 

“so beautiful,” she murmured quietly, stroking him continuously as she gave him a mocking pitiful look. “quite a shame that others would see you like this.”

“n- no,” he shook his head frantically, his brain short circuiting and heart desperately wanting her as he babbled, “no- no one’s seen m- me. no o- one will. i promise, m- mon amour-“ 

“that right?” she teased, her hand moving up for her thumb to rub on his tip as she continued, “what about the lady earlier? you were so ready to give it to her, charles— as if you’d already forgotten about me.”

“no! she- i- wan’ to make you jealous,” he whimpered, his eyes shutting closed again as his head dropped back at the pleasure. “ple- please, amour~ i want to be inside you.” 

“oh? you wanted to make me jealous?” her eyes darkened a little before leaning up to him and giving him a sweet kiss on the lips. “you sure did. you sure made me jealous...” 

she sunk back to her knees and said, “and i’m going to make sure you wouldn’t have to do it again. after all, nobody would be able to see you in this state if it isn’t me, hm?” 

she let her mouth devour his cock once more, bobbing up and down as charles moaned aloud, begging for her to let him cum inside her as sounds of squelching escaped her mouth and dribbles of saliva fell down her chin. he was writhing under her, and he was too fucked out to even say anything— he loved it. 

he loved her.

if she was going to be this controlling in bed, then he might as well continue to make her jealous. at least now he knew that she wanted him to want her and her alone.

#formula one imagine #formula one fic #formula one x oc #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula one fanfiction #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #formula one smut #f1 smut #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader #cl16 x you

[familyvideostevie]

a kind of hunger | chapter 2

joel miller x fem!reader

series masterlist

an offer from your employer sets your life on track and throws it into a new kind of chaos at the same time. where does joel miller fit into it all?

length: 5.9k

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem!reader, unspecified age gap, heavy petting, joel having a moment with r's tits, hand stuff, dirty talk, painful sex for a second, riding (p in v sex), like a really small smidge of breeding kink, emotional turmoil from r cause what else is she gonna do, some plot! wow! a/n: finally! another chapter. it’s short but i think we’re getting somewhere. Let me know what you think! huge thank you to @macfrog for your eyes and for keeping my sanity in check and @bageldaddy for teaching me how to use commas, letting me borrow your bar, and telling me to just “slutty hallmark it.” this is for you guys. 

navigation | 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | 𝗴𝘂𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀

---

Bill’s offer costs you one night of sleep and that’s all.

Taking over the bar goes against every rule you've had for yourself up until now, everything that’s kept you going and on your feet.

You lose when you stick around. You get hurt when you get attached. Always keep moving. 

But your night with Joel seems to have shaken something loose. You’ve got a pit in your stomach, a hunger set alight by his eyes and his hands and his attention. It’s like he reminded you how to want, how to stop letting the world turn under your feet and dig in your heels instead.

And there’s what Bill said, the thing that won't leave you alone. You think no one notices, but I notice. We all notice.

It’s easy to lie to yourself about a lot of things: that you don’t mind this life, its constant movement and instability. That it’s made you crafty. That if you picked up and left right now, you’d be fine. No one would miss you, no one would notice. The names and faces you’ve learned would fade as soon as you found new ones somewhere else. 

You’ve been a tight fist your whole life, only hanging onto what can fit into your rough and weathered palm, half-moon crescents bleeding that damn desperate hope you can never seem to scrub off. It means a whole lot of avoiding things that could matter so you can’t lose them, can’t let them slip through your fingers. A family who saw your need for space and control and turned it into isolation and disinterest, who drove you away as soon as you were able to leave. College was a bust. Relationships gone sour have taught you not to rely on anyone. Failed experiment after failed experiment, just looking for something to stick. It’s better to be alone, right?

That tight fist keeps anyone out, anyway. It’s carefully rolled bills in plastic bags in the toe of a pair of sneakers just in case. It’s talking just enough to get you a place to stay, a job, a ride, but not enough that anyone remembers your face, even if you wish they would. 

It’s not one big thing. It’s a million small ones. And nothing ever lasts. You never last; always cutting and running before it can get real, before they can see the truth of you and find it lacking.

You’ve been looking for the missing piece for years now, the thing that will make you feel like you’ve finally made it somewhere where you’re needed enough to stick around. Where you can stop quitting, where you can put down roots. Where you can be wanted.

You just aren’t sure it’s possible. You’ve done so many things, seen so much, that you feel like it’s too late to be anything other than this.

It’s easy to believe all of that until someone like Joel sees through it – until someone like Bill tells you none of it is true. 

Fuck it. 

You call Bill the next morning and tell him you'll take over Frank's. 

According to him, the turnaround will be quick. He'll have someone "official" draw up the paperwork. You tell him you won't change the name. You tell him you will make some repairs, fix the cracked vinyl booths, and give the floors a refinish, and –

"Do whatever the fuck you want," he grumbles over the phone. "It's your bar."

It sure is. 

You own something, now. You belong somewhere – even if it’s just because you have payslips to sign and counters to clean. But maybe this time, if you try hard enough, you can get it right.

You have a meeting to tell the staff that you’re taking over. There are only five of you – two college kids from a town over, the guy who works part-time at the garage by the highway, and an old butch called Pat you find vaguely frightening who’s been working here longer than you care to ask. 

It’s probably the first time all five of you have been in the same room. None of them seem disappointed in Bill’s retirement, and they’re on board with your plan for renovations. Especially after you assure them they’ll be paid even if you close for a bit to get it all done.

Joel doesn't come in. You notice, but don’t spare it too much thought. You can’t because the bar is a fucking nightmare all week.

The keg lines keep blocking, the jukebox dies a sudden staticky death, and some asshole scratches the pool table hard enough to tear up the felt. Everyone and everything is pissing you off. It’s an effort not to spend all of your breaks on that milk crate in the alley with your head in your hands. 

It feels like Frank’s is hazing you. After all you’ve done for it, you feel a little betrayed.

“Why the hell do you think I’m retiring?” Bill says when you call to bitch about it. “This shit is a fuck ton of work.” 

By Friday, you're at your wit's end. 

The rush has come and gone, and now it’s slow. Slow enough that you might be worried, but Pat has told you before that this is just how it is in small towns, sometimes. 

That, or maybe your bad mood scared everyone off. Maybe they're tired of the shitty atmosphere, of the cloudy glasses and squeaking stools, maybe they –

You pop an olive into your mouth.

“Chill the fuck out,” you mutter to yourself. No one is around to hear.

The only patrons left are some bikers at one of the back tables playing cards. Their laughter is too loud without the music going. The mats behind the bar are sticky under your boots, and your temple has started to throb. You feel like locking yourself in the office just for the silence.

The air shifts when Joel steps inside.

The hunger you feel is a familiar fire, coals that stoke themselves and never go out. Lust, infatuation as you take in his broad shoulders and grey-streaked hair. You’re strung out and a fuck might help.

But there’s also a weight in your chest at the sight of him, one you haven’t felt in a while. It sits heavy above that smoldering flame in your belly, a bruise you can’t stop yourself from pressing on.

Maybe part of you expected him to stop coming in after you fucked. Regardless of how it made you feel, you’re just some woman who serves him two fingers of liquor when he wants to run away from his life. Just someone who gave him one good night and nothing more.

But this weight – this big, thorny emotion that looks like affection and attachment and something real – you don’t know what to do with it. 

It’s never been this way with a one-night stand. Yeah, you know the weight of him above you, inside you. You know the taste of his sweat on your tongue, the feel of his head between your thighs. That kind of shit usually doesn’t change anything with you, but Joel is…different. 

Careful, that voice inside you says. 

Joel peels off his jacket and tosses it on the otherwise empty bar, pushing up his sleeves to reveal his tanned forearms. The stool creaks under him and his gaze is heated as it travels over you. He doesn’t bother to hide the fact that he’s looking. 

He shakes his head when you hold up the bottle of whiskey. 

"Water's fine," he says.

You blink. If he’s not here to drink then what is he here for?

He seems like he always does. Relaxed, like the room was made to have him in it. But you look a little closer, now that you figure you can. The deep scar on the bridge of his nose stands out and his cheeks are a little pink. The temperature must have dropped once the sun went down. His jaw isn’t tense so much as set, determined. He rubs his chin with a flat palm as you fill a glass using the soda gun.

“Whatever you want,” you say. 

He looks around the bar. You figure he's taking in the out-of-order signs on the beer pulls, the flickering light pointing to the restroom, maybe even the goddamn ruined pool table. 

You pick up a rag and start to clean to keep your hands busy. 

 “Quiet for a Friday,” he says. "Things goin’ alright?”

You bristle at the implication. It’s been a shitty week, and you don’t need anyone reminding you that you’re probably not cut out for this.

“Fucking peachy,” you snap.

Joel raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t rise to it. "Seems like things are a little tense.”

You swallow a flash of genuine annoyance. 

"All it takes is a roll in the sack and now you're a talker?"

Joel isn't phased. He takes a small sip of his drink, rolls the glass between his hands. Nice hands, you think. Hands that felt so good between your --

"Just makin’ conversation," he says lightly.

You’ve always thought you were hard to read – hell, you’ve been told that many times. One of your flaws, people always say, but it makes it easier to slide in and out of places without too much damage. And yet, Joel, a man who has been in your bed once and sits at your bar when it suits him, sees right through you.

Your shoulders slump.

“I’m just tired,” you tell him.

Joel rubs his beard with one wide palm. He moves his jaw back and forth like he's giving you the chance to shut him down, like he’s chewing on the silence.

"Heard somethin'," he says. "Wondered if it was true. Thought I'd ask." 

"Are you asking?"

He eyes you, takes another sip of his water like it's a tumbler of amber liquid instead. Like anything you pour him is something to be savored.

"Guess so." 

You set the glass down and put your hands on the wood, leaning towards him with your head cocked. 

“Are you keeping tabs on me, Joel Miller?”

“Nah,” he says, eyes flashing before they slide down to your lips. “Ran into Frank in the frozen aisle at the store.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

The corner of his mouth tugs up. "Known him and Bill a long time." 

That explains why he looks like he belongs here. He's probably been in this room more times than you have. All of the things you don't know about Joel hang in the air between you.

"Does Bill...?" 

Does your buddy know you fucked me in the apartment I rent from him?

Joel shakes his head. "Frank told me Bill was giving the place to one of his employees. Figured it was you."

And that’s that. But it sounds like a compliment.

“Well, it’s me alright,” you sigh, slumping a bit. “And there's a lot of shit to do.”

Joel puts a hand on your forearm. It's a light touch, a quick one, but it sends sparks along your skin. A moth to a flame.

“Ain’t no small thing. Ownin’ a bar. Big deal, if you ask me.”

You roll your eyes but pride swells in your chest. He’s right. It is a big deal. 

And here you are in your bar.

With Joel, who fits into all of this somehow. You just don’t know where yet.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask you,” you say with a smirk.

You want to draw it out of him, make him flirt with you for the answers he seems to want. You want something to sink your teeth into after this week, something to play with.

Something to make you feel in control. And that’s what Joel gave you, last time you saw him. He pushed when you pulled, met your touches and your quips with attitude and hands of his own. You felt alive, you felt present. You felt wanted. And it was fun.

If you’re not careful, you might forget what sex was like without that – his attention, his touch. Your name in his mouth. But now that you’re giving staying here a shot, maybe it’s time to indulge. To reach out and take.

Joel snorts. He leans forward and raps his knuckles on the wood. “Should we toast to it?”

You laugh. “I don’t drink on the job.”

He raises his water glass.

“Alright,” you scoff. “Fine.” 

You pour yourself some water and clink your glasses together. Joel’s eyes never leave yours, not when he takes a long sip, not when he sets the glass down. He keeps looking at you with that heavy, unshakable gaze. 

It’s unnerving, the way he makes you feel. You’re still tired, still annoyed, but there's electricity at the base of your spine, the embers in your belly. You want to talk to him. 

You clench your hands around your glass. You want to touch him, too.

“So,” you say. He’s wearing a henley this time, the buttons at the top undone just enough to give you a glimpse of a peak of chest hair. You swallow and flick your eyes back to his. He’s smirking. 

“So,” Joel echoes. “Why’d you take it? The bar.”

You shrug. “Seemed like a good deal.”

“Bill ain’t in the habit of good deals,” he huffs. “He must like you.”

It’s an effort to squash your smile. “I don’t think Bill likes anyone much.”

“Real asshole, ain’t he?” 

That gets a laugh out of you. “Well, he’s your friend.”

“Not much choice in a small town.”

You hum.

The noisy group from the back stumble their way to the door, waving at you as they file out into the night.

“Those idiots ruined my pool table on Tuesday,” you hiss, though you smile at them.

“Gotta be pretty fuckin’ bad at pool to do that.” He looks around and realizes he’s the last one in the bar. “You closin’?”

“It’s only eleven, Joel.” 

His eyes rake up and down your body. Is he thinking about how he touched you, how you fell apart under him? Heat curls lazily in your belly. He runs his finger around the rim of his glass.

“Damn shame,” he says. 

Normally you wouldn’t shut for a few hours, but it’s pretty dead for a Friday and…

And Joel is looking at you like that and you want to touch him.

You don’t mess around with regulars.

You’re already breaking your rules by taking over Frank’s. What’s one more?

The pulse between your legs agrees with you.

“Colin,” you call over your shoulder, stepping back from Joel’s hot gaze. The barback appears immediately.

“Yeah?”

“I’m shutting early. Go home. Tonight’s tips are yours.”

He sputters. “Are you sure?” His gaze flicks to the stacks of glasses behind the bar, the tables that still need wiping down.

“I’ll take care of it. See you next week.” 

He just shrugs and turns on his heel. A minute later the back door slams and you know the kid is gone.

You lift the bridge and slide out from behind the bar. Your boots are loud on the shitty floors with no one in here and each step to the door feels longer than it should because of his damn stare. You feel Joel’s eyes on you as you lock the door and flick off the neon BAR sign that hangs outside.

When you turn around, his eyes are dark.

Joel stays on his stool, one foot on the ground so that his knees are spread wide, watching you. One hand rests on his thigh, thick fingers tapping to a tune only he hears. His other arm is on the wood of the bar, stretching his shirt across his broad chest. 

When Joel looks at you, sometimes it feels like he’s the first person to ever see you.

“Gotta settle up,” he drawls.

“What, you gonna tip me for water?”

“Not exactly,” he says, words dragging in his mouth. “Got somethin’ else in mind.”

The air in the bar sparks and crackles like one of those long Texas summer days when a thunderstorm looms like a threat. The electricity of it crackles down your spine, turns it molten, turns you dangerous. It’s never felt like this before with someone you’ve slept with. Just being close to him is enough to kick your pulse into gear. You feel hyper aware of every part of your body as he looks at you like you’re offering him something better than what you can pour.

Which, you guess, you are. 

“And what would that be?” 

He hums.

“C’mere.”

You can see his cock straining against the front of his jeans. 

“Bossy,” you say. “That for me?” You jerk your chin towards his lap and take your time walking back to him.

He smirks. “You wanna go upstairs?”

As soon as you step between his knees, the hand on his leg moves to your hip. Two fingers sneak under the waistband of your jeans to find bare skin. You brace yourself with one palm on his thigh, another on his neck, and thread his soft hair through your fingers.

“I don’t see why we have to,” you say slowly, watching him carefully. “No one’s here. And I know the owner. She won’t mind.”

The hand on your hip slides further back and his fingers press hard into the swell of your ass. 

“Oh, that right?” he chuckles. “Well, as long as we ain’t breakin’ any rules.”

You’re not sure who moves first. You’ve got a few inches on him by being on your feet so you pull him towards you just as he surges up and your mouths meet sloppily, hungrily. Joel tugs you closer and you dig your fingers into his thigh as he swallows your giddy laugh, his beard scratching your skin deliciously.

You’re going to fuck him. In your bar. 

“Somethin’ funny?” he asks, lips trailing over your jaw. He’s got both hands on you now, one on your ass and the other on your hip, holding you like he expects you to disappear.

“No, not really–” You cut yourself off with a gasp when he nips your pulse point. “Joel.”

He kisses you again, licking into your mouth. You remember the sounds he made in your apartment and tug on his hair. Joel’s moan is your reward. You press close and grind your hips against the hardness in his jeans and he growls.

“Hard as a rock the second I step in this damn place,” he says, holding you there. You pull back to see his lips spit-slick, his pupils blown. Seeing him undone like this by your touch is just as thrilling as it was last time. His teeth scrape down your neck and he unbuttons your jeans.

“Sounds like a – ah – you problem.”

Joel’s fingers drag through the curls above your cunt before he goes where you really want him. You gasp against his temple when he circles your clit.

“Seems to me I’m not the only one,” he rasps.

The fingertips on his thigh become nails digging in even harder when he slips one finger inside you.

“Gonna leave bruises, sweetheart,” Joel says. Your cunt clenches around him. “You like that? Markin’ me?”

“Maybe I do,” you groan. “You left some last time.”

The angle can’t be ideal but Joel fucks you as best as he can with one finger, then two. You drag his face back to yours and suck on his bottom lip, tugging his hair all the while. Every part of you feels like it’s on fire, like you’re burning up from the inside. 

His other hand rucks up your shirt until you tug it all the way off. He pulls down the cup of your bra with one hand and rolls your nipple between his fingers. 

You could come like this, Joel’s hands everywhere. 

Gripping him through his clothes isn’t enough. You scramble to undo his belt and get your hand in his jeans, button popped and fly down. 

He grunts your name when you spit into your palm and take him in hand, velvety soft and tip leaking. 

“Careful,” he hisses. “Don’t want to stop this before it starts.”

“I’ll be gentle,” you say. He thumbs your clit in response and you gasp.

Time blurs with his fingers inside you. Your strokes are lazy but he hisses each time you drag your thumb over his tip. Is it going to be this, you two pawing at each other against the bar until someone bursts?

“Joel,” you gasp. “Joel, I want –”

He finally returns to your clit with a strained smirk. The veins in his neck are visible, telling you it’s getting to him, too. 

“You remember what I said last time?”

Ask for what you want, you hear me? You ask and I'll do my damn best.

You could have him bend you over the bar. You imagine it, quick and dirty, the wood digging into your waist as he slams into you, flesh on flesh. It would be better than last time, you know it. But you want to see him.

You want Joel’s face in your neck, your hands in his hair as he fills you up. You want to watch him fall apart under you.

You dig your nails into him again and he hisses. You lean forward so your lips drag along the shell of his ear.

“I want to ride you, Joel,” you say. 

His eyes flash. He kisses you hard, swirls your clit one more time, and pulls his hand from your cunt. Your knees feel a little weak so you keep your hands on his shoulders. 

Joel brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean.

“Gotta get at least a taste,” he says. “Just as sweet as I remember.” You surge forward to kiss him. You can taste yourself on his tongue and he groans into your mouth.

“Alright, baby,” he says, breath a little ragged. He thumbs your nipple again. “Where’re you gonna ride me?”

“Booth,” you manage. “Over there.” You jerk your head back towards the cracked vinyl seats he’s never once sat in since you met him. He pats your hips and you step back. The stool scrapes loudly on the floor as he stands. 

He cups your cheek with one callused palm and just looks. His hair is a mess from your hands, lips swollen from your kisses. And yet he’s looking at you like you’re the answer to all his problems. 

“So damn pretty,” he says.

Somehow you make it to the booth, a tangle of lips and hands, shedding pieces of clothing as you go. Your bra, his shirt, his belt. Shoes toed off and left in a pile, Joel shoves the table between the vinyl benches to the other side so there’s enough room for him to sit, for him to drag down his jeans and boxers and take his cock in one hand. 

Your mouth waters at the sight of it. God, he’s thicker than you remember. One of these days you’re going to take him apart with your tongue.

You could just stand there and admire him but you’re so wet you think you’re going to drip onto the floor. His solid thighs, the dark hair gathered into curls at the base of him trailing up to his navel. If you were a painter you’d put him to a canvas.

Joel spreads his legs wide, and you run a hand down his bare chest before balancing on his shoulder as you step out of your bottoms. It’s almost funny – the two of you naked but for your socks, Joel’s pants around his ankles.

You want him too badly to spare a thought for laughter.

A condom comes from somewhere – his wallet, maybe, or his pocket, you don’t much care – and he slides it on with a hiss. 

It’s different than last time. More desperate but in a fun way – and you know this won’t be the last time. You know each other’s bodies, now, and this can be quick, can be dirty, because you’ll be doing it again.

So you don’t waste any time straddling him. Joel lines his cock up with your entrance, his other hand on your hip.

“You ready?” he asks. You lean in to kiss him and sink down at the same time in response.

You moan in tandem as he fills you, the angle different from when you were on your back, so different. The stretch is deeper, and somehow you feel fuller than last time. It’s overwhelming, it’s all-consuming, it’s a little painful.

“Fuck,” Joel groans. “So tight. I ain’t gonna last long.” 

It really is a tight fit, so tight you think maybe he was right to ask if you could take him without at least one orgasm to prepare you. The girth of him is splitting you in half, stretching you so much you whimper against his mouth.

Joel’s hands cup your face. “Y’okay?” he says, strained. “Hey, talk to me.”

Your eyes are shut tight, knees pressing hard into his solid thighs as you breathe.

“Need a sec,” you say. “It’s different like this, it’s –”

“I know, baby,” Joel murmurs. “Doin’ so good so far.” 

He shifts his hold on you just a little and you whine. The vinyl cracks underneath his shifted weight as he whispers an apology into your shoulder.

The pain of the stretch dulls to an ache and you know what’s just on the other side. You roll your hips and the head of his cock presses exactly where you want it. It sends a shock wave of pleasure through you so intense that you fall forward a little, Joel’s face pressed to your chest.

He presses a kiss to your breastbone, so light you almost miss it as you start to ride him in earnest. Your knees press into the rough vinyl and Joel’s lips find your nipple. 

“Didn’t give these ‘nough attention last time,” he says. “My mistake.”

His tongue laves at your breasts, one after the other as you swirl your hips over and over. You tug on his hair as your thighs start to burn but you keep going. 

Joel’s teeth scrape against your nipples, the skin of your chest as he nips and soothes, nips and soothes. You’re going to be covered in marks tomorrow. 

Maybe it’s the thrill of that, of just seeing him again, maybe it’s how bad you want him, who fucking knows – you’re already so close.

Everything fades away but this. Joel is everywhere, on you, around you, inside you…It’s just the two of you, limbs tangled and sweaty, panting each other’s name.

The smoldering in your belly is a fire climbing higher and higher and you’re going to explode with the heat of it.

Firm, rough-skinned hands hold you steady as you lift and sink, gasping every time he hits that spot inside you. 

“Joel, I –”

His grip turns bruising as he starts to fuck you on his own, the wet smack of his balls filling the bar.

“I know, baby,” he pants. “I know. You hear that? You hear me fuckin’ you? You’re takin’ my cock so good.”

You plant your hands on his shoulders and try to meet his thrusts.

“Swear I dreamed ‘bout this,” he growls. “How wet you were. Those fuckin’ noises you make when I –” He circles your clit with his thumb and you keen. “There we go. Just like that.”

“Joel –

“Gonna ruin this booth,” he says with a rough chuckle. His forehead is tacky when you press yours against it.

“I – fuck – need new ones anyway, don’t I?” 

Joel grins, all teeth as he pounds into you. 

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says, breath hot on your lips. “Soak my cock. Know you can, so tight and –”

Your orgasm rips through you, a broken litany of Joel and yes and god knows what else torn from your throat as he fucks you through it. His thrusts become erratic and you try to keep your seat as he finishes with a deep groan. 

Joel presses more of those light kisses to your collarbones, the base of your throat, so like the one he left on the back of your hand that first night. You drag your fingers through his slightly sweaty hair.

“I’ll move in a second,” you say, catching your breath. 

“Take your time,” he says. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” 

His grip on you is practically gentle, fingers lazily stroking patterns into your skin. You drag a hand up and down his chest. 

It’s tender. It’s…something it maybe shouldn’t be. Something that doesn’t belong in whatever you’re doing. 

You get out of his lap as carefully as you can and stand in front of him, naked. Fucking with a condom is smart and all, but you wonder what it would feel like to have him dripping between your thighs.

He doesn’t hide his stare, though it’s not as charged as before. He’s looking just to look.

“Put your pants on,” you grumble at him. He laughs. 

You scoop your clothes off the floor and head for the bathroom. The tarnished mirror displays your sated smile and bright eyes. You run a hand over the bruises he left on your neck, your hips. Well-fucked is a good look on you. You look exhausted but happy.

Joel is dressed and back at the tabletop when you return. He’s got his usual bottle of whiskey on the wood, two glasses already sporting a pour each. 

“Not workin’ anymore, are you?” he asks you. 

You laugh. “No.”

The soreness starts to settle into your thighs when you take the stool next to him.

The momentary silence isn’t uncomfortable. It is comfortable, which is the strange part. Sitting here with him at your bar after he fucked you a few feet away and sipping at your drinks. 

Joel, for his part, seems unbothered. You can’t figure him out. It makes you feel a little unsteady to know that he sees right through you, but you don’t know what he’s thinking. Would he tell you if you asked?

“So,” he says. “What’re your plans for the place?”

You sigh. A piece of his hair is sticking up and you tuck your hand between your thighs so you don’t smooth it. It’s different with your clothes on.

“There’s a lot to do,” you tell him. “Jukebox is broken. Neon signs need replacing. Plumbing could do with a refresh. I want to refinish the floors, maybe tear off this ugly wallpaper –”

“Make sure you get a good gel for that,” he says. “Shit’s old and won’t come off easy.”

You lean your chin in your hand and shoot him an amused look. 

“Do a lot of wallpaper removal in your spare time?” you ask.

He fiddles with his watch, jaw working around whatever it is he wants to say. 

“I’m a contractor.” 

“Really?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he grumbles. “You think I sit on my ass all day?”

Honestly, you don’t know. Most of the thoughts you have about Joel aren’t to do with his job. You have no idea what he does when he isn’t here.

You shrug. Joel rolls his eyes.

“Well, I am,” he drawls. He takes a long sip of his whiskey. “And I know the folks around here who you’ll need. Materials, all that.” 

“Are you offering to help me, Joel?” You keep your voice neutral.

He looks at you head-on. It feels like he’s seeing through you again. “If you want it.”

“If we do that, it has nothing to do with…” You gesture between you. “With this.”

Joel just looks at you, letting you sort out what you want to say. 

“I mean, I don’t want charity, okay?”

He shakes his head. “Ain’t charity. I owe Bill some favors. This’ll square us up. You’ll cover all the other shit, I guess.”

“It’s not his bar, anymore,” you remind him, but it’s a weak protest. 

Joel knocks back the rest of his drink.

You’ve been working out how to finance the renovations all week. All that cash you’ve squirreled away over the years finally has a purpose, other than a cushion in case something really bad happens. It’s looking tight between paying the staff and sourcing the work. You’d only be able to close a week at a time and any delays will fuck the whole thing. 

But if Joel’s offering discounted labor, materials on the cheap? You could get it all done faster, get it done right.

“Why do you want to help me?” you ask. 

Joel huffs and if you knew him better you’d say it was in offense. 

“Let’s just say I’m invested in the state of this place,” he says. “And you really gotta replace those booths.”

Your face feels hot. “Asshole.”

“So,” he says. “You interested?”

It’s not a bad idea. Hell, it might even be a good one. Money aside, Joel, whatever his story is, is connected in this town, and if you’re staying it would do you some good to start making some connections of your own. Start settling.

The fist in your chest, your heart, your mind – it loosens just a little bit. 

“I’m interested.”

Joel knocks on the bar once, twice, and stands. He digs in his back pocket for his wallet and hands you a business card with his phone number. 

“I’ll be here Monday morning,” he says. “We can start goin’ over stuff, figure out when you wanna close. All that. Call me anytime. Sound good?”

You just nod. The fatigue is starting to hit and Joel must be able to tell because he just smiles at you.

“Goodnight, boss lady,” he says. “Put the whiskey on my tab.”

Joel grabs his jacket and unlocks the door, sliding into the cool night with a wave. 

“You don’t have a tab, asshole,” you mutter, but you’re smiling a little. 

It feels like pieces are falling into place.

You know you could get the bar fixed up on your own. But with Joel’s help, it’ll get done faster and you might even have some money left over at the end of it. 

It’s a lot all at once. But for some reason, it feels different this time. It’s not another job about to fall through, not another relationship going south because you got spooked. It’s not you getting bored and cutting your losses. 

You want this. You want it to work. Usually, you’d have left by now, before you got too attached, but it’s too late so you’re going to make it work. 

This thing with Joel, though – you’re going to have to be careful. If you’re not, it’ll run away from you and – well. You don’t want to lose control of it.

You look around the bar and sigh. Unwiped tables, a booth that no one should sit in, floors to clean. A few hours of work before bed. 

You know you’re going to spend them trying not to think about the man who just left. 

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction

[anadiasmount]

now it's real - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: continuation of the "is this real?" parts! based on this request i received where jude gets the biggest surprise of all... can be real as a standalone also!!

wc: 1.6k | masterlist | jude's masterlist

psa 🗣️: hiiii!! when the anon asked me to do this I HAD TOOO!! you can find part one and part two here of the "is this real?" series! the fic has an insta au and story included all in one, like always hope you enjoy! 🤍

ynusername

liked by: judebellingham, gioreyna, jobebellingham, yourbsf, otherbsf, erlinghaaland, others.

ynusername: a one of a kind surprise 🤍

comments:

username290: HIS EARS!!!

judebellingham: family keeps growing, your welcome baby 🤍🙏

↪️ ynusername: best surprise ever :(((

gioreyna: coming over asap. going to teach him how to attack jude when he's being mean 👍👍

↪️ jobebellingham: i second guess this 👍

jobebellingham: 'its a german shepherd dog!' congrats you two! ❤️

user473: STOPP HES SO CUTE AND FLUFFYY

username33: aww :(( what's his name??

↪️ ynusername: his name is duke!!

user22: baby face!! he is so adorableeeeee

—————————

judebellingham

liked by: ynusername, gioreyna, jobebellingham, marcoreus, jadonsancho, and 1,787,230.

judebellingham: when all he knows is how to play, bite, eat, and sleep 🙄🙄

comments:

ynusername: he's just a baby, let him be!! 😡😡

↪️ judebellingham: i wonder who he learns it from?? he's literally attached to you.

gioreyna: #attackingjudetrainingclasses are going very well i seem??

↪️ ynusername: they are indeed 🤭🤭

user44: stop his little floppy ears ❤️

username245: his tongue peeking out white he sleeps 😭😭

↪️ ynusername: just like jude fr 😂🤍

jobebellingham: why does he kinda look like you??

↪️ judebellingham: bc he's my kid obviously 😒

↪️ ynusername: our kid ***

username282: stop he has grown sm since the last time we saw him!!

user485: that second picture looks personal? what did you to do him jude??

—————————

old ynusername stories from "duke's🌎 "

august 21' | september 21'' | december 21'

—————————

old judebellingham stories from "y/n and duke 🤍"

october 22' | january 23' | may 23'

—————————

“you know duke, if this is positive you’ll be a big brother right?” you say biting your nails, sitting in the carpet and scratching behind his ears, your words making him tense and bark. “yep. means you’ll have to protect another human, but it means more treats!” you say excited his tail wagging.

“i’m scared… this is scary duke… if i’m pregnant i don’t know how i’ll tell jude,” you frown, feeling duke set his head on your lap looking up at you. you had been feeling the symptoms for a month. constant nausea and headaches, taking naps earlier than usual, duke following you everywhere when he didn’t need to, or getting protective when someone came near you.

you had also missed your period, realizing that when you look at the box of pads/ tampons under the sink. you felt the random wave of emotions, the tiredness and aching back even after having a nice and relax day. all you needed was the test to confirm it. to confirm your worries and feelings.

as you felt anticipated, something inside you also felt panic. carrying a baby for nine months, the labor and delivery, the long road of recovery and now taking care for two. you’ve wanted to be a mom as long as you could remember, but now that reality was hitting, it made you overthink.

overthinking if you’d be enough for you and your baby, also jude and duke. being supportive even during the hard times especially now with jude. any traceable though ran through your head. but despite that, you were ready. you were young, had a stable job, a perfect relationship, and supportive family and friends. it was the perfect time to go from a family of three to four.

duke huffed and followed you to the restroom, waiting by the door as you took a breath of nervousness and tapped your nails against the marble counter. you needed to be sure, so you took three tests to make sure they all had the same result. tears were already beaming in your eyes, before you could even remove the box on top the tests.

with shaky hands and now shivers running along your body, you saw the plus sign and the double lines. you struggled a laugh and broke into tears excitedly. grabbing three of tests and looking at them closely to ensure you weren’t dreaming or your head playing games with you.

“duke! we’re having a baby! a baby inside me now! now wonder you followed me everywhere,” you say sarcastic, leaning down and placing kisses on his head, tail wagging. “i can’t believe it… me and jude are having a baby,” you say breathless looking out into the room and already picturing a crib and small stand where diapers and baby towels would be.

you pictured jude sitting on the bed, reading a story, kissing their cheeks, tucking them to sleep, making them laugh until they squealed or snorted. you brought a hand to your barely bump, rubbing it smoothly and feeling a wave of confidence and excitement run through you.

“let’s go! we need to find a perfect shirt to tell jude!”

you ended up taking duke to a local pet store, picking out a small bandana that mentioned he was going to be a big brother. then going to a crafts store to get a box and some paint, along with some confeti strips to place inside. the last thing to do was find a small real madrid jersey and baby replicas of jude’s iconic red predator boots he wore for his games.

you decide to wait it along to see if jude could fit the pieces together. not drinking coffee or refusing wine when he offered when eating dinner. declining a sushi date and going out to eat at one of your favorite outdoor spots in the city. saying no to going on a hike because you were afraid of falling or getting hurt before you could see the doctor.

jude couldn’t even see right through it. understanding maybe you were busy or tired after being at work. or giving you a small frown when you had to say no. or give you a confused face when you randomly eat your cravings. if there was one thing about jude, is that he is the slowest person, so of course he didn’t see this coming.

“you got not only an assist but goal as well tonight baby,” you say kissing his hand as you waited in the taxi to go home. to say you were nervous was an understatement. you were absolutely mortified to tell jude but you figured today would be the perfect night. after a special night in the bernabeu, you figured why not tell him.

“i’m feeling very much proud and in the mood for some celebration drinks. what do you say hmm? we open a bottle of wine and cuddle? maybe in time for some celebratory sex?” he teased kissing below your ear making you squirm. “jude!” you say refraining yourself, heat building up your cheeks and chest.

“what? i’d love to celebrate with my beautiful girlfriend tonight, and i will because i not only had an assist but winning goal,” jude smirked reciting your words in a teasing and flirty manner, making you hit his chest shyly. “ok keep the act up… you know you want it too,” he said turning away looking forward where the fans yelled his name and cheered.

you leaned up and kissed his cheek, grabbing his face and whispering an “i love you.” jude was in a daze, completely enamored by your beauty. drowning himself into your eyes and bright smile. you had this new thing shining across you, it looked like a fresh glow of something new along you. "i love you y/n." jude places a kiss on your lips, leaving you lingering and out of breath.

"looks like a package come," jude remarks, grabbing the wooden box and shaking it to see what was inside. "from the stork company," you say with a smile. "stork company? i've never heard of that," jude says dumbfounded, grabbing the keys and opening the door. he set the box down by the kitchen island and brought his bag to the laundry room.

jude return to see you propped on the island swinging your feet excitedly. "what are you hiding?" jude says suspiciously, raising his brow and coming over to you. "nothing... are you gonna open it?" you point to the box, hand running down his box. you look at your phone that was hidden and propped nearby, jude eyeing you againg before going to open it.

the familiar butterflies and adrenaline runs along your veins, your hand coming to your bump, as you bite you lip watching jude fiddle with the opening. jude scrunches his face confusedly, taking out the confeti. "duke!" you call out who was already wearing the bib.

jude stops what he’s doing, seeing the infant jersey and tiny football boots. he lets out a laugh, smiling upside down as he takes the baby jersey and holding it out, doing the same with the red predator boots. he glanced around eyes landing on you. “is this what i think it means?” jude says with tears in his eyes.

you giggle and nod quickly, feeling jude trace his hand on your thigh and the other behind your head. “you’re serious? we’re having a baby, y/n?” jude needs the confirmation before he can cheer outloud. a bubble of joystick trickling down his spine as he sees your eyes glimmering. “yes jude… i’m carrying our baby right now,” you look down a hand on your bump jude intaking a breath of air.

jude doesn’t waste any second, kissing you all over your face, tears running down his face emotional, whispering how much he was grateful and thanking you repeatedly making you cry out harder. “i-i-i can’t believe it… we’re having a baby y/n!” jude cheers wipping his face and looking at duke who wagged his tail.

“and you knew about this duke? and you didn’t tell me?” jude leaned down, scratching his ears and reading his small bandana. “no wonder yo wouldn’t let me get near momma. always barking or growling when i wanted to kiss her. not cool man…” he says playfully looking at you still in a daze.

“now you have to protect her from gio and jobe okay? if you do that it means more treats,” jude says teasingly making the german shepherd bark and jump. “oh god,” you chuckle, hand coming to your forehead already picturing the banter and training sessions.

“our family is getting bigger,” jude approaches you and leans down, kneeling and raising his jersey up. jude places delicate kisses in your tummy, making you squirm and hold the back of his head, watching with a huge grin. “my baby in there… i’ll protect you with my life. i love you already, and i can’t wait to meet you,” jude whispered lovingly, hugging your waist.

jude holds your bump, looking into your eyes and feeling your smaller hand interlock with his. “the greatest gift you could ever give me is this, thank you y/n,” jude says wiping a small streak from your cheek with his free hand. “i want to hold our baby now,” jude says along your lips. “patience jude, we have forever to cherish and hold our little one,” you peck his cheek and nose. “love you so much jude,” you kiss his lips slowly, relishing the memory that will forever hold your heart.

“also where did you find those small predator boots?”

————————

ynusername

liked by: judebellingham, gioreyna, jobebellingham, vinijr, tchuameli, brahimdiaz, audreylunin, yourbsf, yourbestie, others.

ynusername: yes rumors are true… patiently waiting for you angel 🥹🤍

comments:

judebellingham: couldn’t hold it in longer, you’re stunning baby 🤍

gioreyna: ❤️

jobebellingham: IM GOING TO BE AN UNCLE??? WHAT?? THIS IS HOW IM FINDING OUT?? 👎👎

↪️ ynusername: to be fair you’d probably spill the beans 😂🤍

yourbestie: BSJDJDJDUJD IM SO EXCITEDD 😣😣

username383: they’re going to be parents?? WERE GETTING DAD! JUDE???

user29: oh lord… i love this pregnancy announcement 🩷

sophiaamelia: congratulations beautiful! will be rooting for a boy!! how is duke taking it?? 😂💙

ynusername: ohh goshh he follows me everywhere i go 😭😂

↪️ judebellingham: he refuses to leave her side, i can’t even hug or kiss her without him barking at me 😒😒

↪️ gioreyna: LFMOAOSOS 😭

username1092: ISNDDNKSKSBBD HELLO WHAT?? THIS IS ONE WAY TO CONFIRM IT!!

————————

judebellingham

liked by: yourusername, realmadrid, gioreyna, jobebellingham, brahimdiaz, thiboutcortois, yourfriend, vinijr, aurelitchuameli, camavinga, 3,904,999 others.

judebellingham: not only have i been gifted with the most unforgettable gift, but i get to do this along such a strong and beautiful woman. y/n i love you so much 🤍

comments:

yourusername: JUDEEEEE 😣😣 stop i’ll cry and my hormones all over the place 💔

camavinga: congratulations bro ❤️

vinijr: HERMANOOO FELICIDADES!! ❤️

brahimdiaz: UN BEBÉ?? HERMANOOOOO FELICIDADES 🤍

gioreyna: so happy for you bro ❤️

user453: the way he holds her ☹️☹️

jobebellingham: i still can’t believe this is how i’m finding out??

↪️ judebellingham: you’re shit at keeping secrets jobe 😭😒

danicarvajal: enhorabuena jude! el regalo mas hermoso es esto ❤️

lukamodric: jude you’re so young 😂 congratulations golden boy! 😂🤍

↪️ judebellingham: thank you luka 😂🤍

nachofernandez: enhorabuena judey y y/n ❤️ nueva adición al equipo y familia!

username234: OMGG SHES SO BEAUTIFUL?? 😍

user49384: JUDE YOURE SO LUCKY 😣

userreee23423: she looks so stunning… like i will never get over this 😣😣😣

username9579: THEIR ANNOUNCEMENT HAS BEEN MY FAVORITE OUT OF EVERYONE!!! so happy for you two!!

————————

ynusername added to their stories!

————————

judebellingham added to their insta stories!

————————

ynusername & judeballingham

liked by: ynusername, judebellingham, gioreyna, jobebellingham, vinijr, brahimdiaz, camavinga, england, realmadrid, others!

ynusername & judeballingham: our bundle of joy has joined us and we couldn’t be anymore happier 🤍

comments are restricted!

realmadrid: enhorabuena jude y y/n!

england: congratualtions you two!

camavinga: congratulations! ❤️

vinijr: hermanoo felicidades !!! 🤩

gioreyna: you’re going to be great parents! congratulations you two! can’t wait to meet baby ❤️

jobebellingham: proud uncle! very happy! 💙

————————

#jude bellingham #judey thoughts 5️⃣ #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham instagram au #jude bellingham one shot #football fanfic #footballer #football x reader #football one shot #football instagram au

[starlitmark]

Summary: He already knocked you up, but that doesn’t mean a damn thing to him. Pairing: Dilf!Seonghwa x fem!reader Tropes: dilf au, established relationship au Genre: smut Rating: R 18+ Warnings: language, pregnancy, aged up!Seonghwa Smut Warning: unprotected sex, cream pie, pregnant sex, cumplay, clitoral stimulation, fingering, oral (f receive) Word Count: 1,174 Host Tag: @sanjoongie @thelargefrye February Filth Masterlist Before You Interact

Listen to ♡ 3D by Jungkook

Since that week, Seonghwa has had you locked up in your bedroom together. He’s been attached to your hip any chance he’s gotten. About a month after that week in the summer, you found out you were pregnant. Of course, Seonghwa was over the moon and wanted to tell his daughter, but you told him to hold off until you told her mother first. When you and Seonghwa met up with her to inform her of your pregnancy, she had her drawbacks. One, you were the nanny. As far as she knew, you weren’t dating. (Which had changed since the first time she met you). Two, you’re much younger than both of them are. Which isn’t her concern, but she still said it. Regardless, she knew now, which meant you could tell Seonghwa’s daughter. She was over the moon that she was getting a new baby. She was convinced she was getting a sister. She was right. 

Seonghwa was the one who was the most vocal about his excitement. It even went as far as a new kink discovery. You both knew about it, but now it was much more present. Since you told him, he’s had an obsession with cumming inside you and watching it drip out. Often times he’ll finger it back into you until you cum again. To say the least, he’s also really enjoying this libido spike induced by your pregnancy.

“Seonghwa,” you whine, nails gripping at his shoulder.

“I got you, love.” He moans in your ear, and out of the corner of your eye, you see the small bits of silver hair growing in by his temple.

You throw your head back against the pillow harder. Seonghwa starts lining small kisses along your neck and shoulder as his slow, smooth thrusts continue at the same pace. You’ve had him in so many different ways over the years of being with him, first as a quick release, then much more. The way he holds you gently and slowly helps an orgasm burn through you has to been one of your favorite ways to have him. 

“Such a pretty girl, fuck,” he groans, “You’re so tight and warm around me. Can’t believe I get to be the one who helps you become a mom.”

It’s a silly comment to say during sex, but it warms your heart still. You hold him tighter as if you could get any closer than skin-to-skin. Seonghwa pulls back slightly to capture your lips in a kiss that conveys a thousand emotions in one. 

“My pretty fiancée,” he sighs against your lips, “All mine.”

Soon enough, you feel that familiar heat bubbling in your stomach. You don’t need to tell your fiancé what’s impending. He already knows. His hand snakes between your bodies to toy with your clit in just the right way. Your legs wrap around his waist, trapping him there as you ride out your high. Seonghwa’s follows not long after. He cums inside you, making you whimper at the feeling of the warm ropes inside you as you come down from your own high. Seonghwa thrusts shallowly a few more times as he coasts through his high. He starts laughing airly as he comes down from his orgasmic high, still plugging his cum inside you.

“What are you laughing about?” You ask quietly.

He kisses your temple, “Soon enough, we won’t be able to fuck like this. Little Miss is still relatively tiny now, but give it a few months.”

You whine, “Don’t remind me, I’m gonna look like a whale.”

Seonghwa chuckles at you again before pulling back so there’s space between you, but he’s still inside you. You let out a broken, quiet gasp as he starts to pull out. The feeling of his cum trickling out of you is something you could always feel. Some people can’t stand the sensation. You can’t get enough of it. The moment he’s fully pulled out, you’re immediately met with the feeling of his fingers on your clit again.

“So damn pretty with my cum leaking out of you. I could look at your pretty pussy like this forever.”

“Hwa,” you whine, “‘M sensitive.”

“I know, my love. I know. You’re so good for me.”

You watch him and take in the absolute beauty that he is. He has small wrinkles on his eyes from smiling so much and very faint ones on his forehead. As much as he gets annoyed by the small lines, you absolutely adore them. The small pieces of silver hair growing in only add to his beauty in your eyes. You watch as he pushes his fingers into you, pushing his cum back into you. He leans down, eyes fixated on yours as his tongue comes out of his mouth and finds purchase on your abused clit. Your back arches off of the mattress at the sensation. He’ll never admit it out loud, but the taste of your arousal mixed with his cum is something he can’t get enough of, either. 

Your hands fly down to lace through his salt and pepper hair. Your engagement ring stands out against his mostly dark locks. It makes the entire situation that much more exhilarating. He’s yours. All yours. And you’re all his. He uses his fingers and tongue in the perfect way that takes you to your second orgasm of the afternoon. 

He kisses up your stomach, giving a few extra to your belly, before locking your lips together. You kiss for a while until the feeling of drying cum finally starts to get to you. Seonghwa steps into your en suite to get a damp cloth and clean you up before himself.

Collapsing in bed beside you, he pulls you close—your back against his chest. One hand runs gently over your baby bump while the other fiddles with your fingers and engagement ring. Neither of you speaks for a few moments; the comfortable envelopes you. The only sound that is heard is the sound of your heating system turning on and your breathing.

“Do you think she’ll be like Haeeun?” He mumbles, half asleep.

You smile and giggle lightly, “Maybe we’ll just need to wait a few more months to find out.”

“Four months, two weeks, and four days, to be exact.”

You snuggle closer. Just knowing he tracks your pregnancy as close as you are makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. Your doctor did say that the butterflies in your stomach randomly could very well be your daughter, too. 

“Daddy!” you hear Haeeun call.

Seonghwa chuckles, “She probably wants to cuddle. You get dressed and meet us on the couch, okay?”

“Movie time?” you smile. Seonghwa nods, “I’ll be right there.”

Seonghwa leans over and kisses your lips softly before climbing out of bed to get dressed. You follow right behind him, kissing his shoulder before he walks away.

“I love you, old man.” You tease.

“Watch it, my love.” He playfully chastises, “You may be carrying our baby, but I will still punish you for acting out.”

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2024© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted. 

Neworks: @cultofdionysusnet @kwritersworld @k-vanity

Tag List: @bratty-tingz @yeosangiess @minjaeluver @abbietwilight @wooyoungmybelovedhusband

#seonghwa smut #cultofdionysusnet #kwritersworldnet #kvanity #joongfryefff24 #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez smut #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa x reader

[prettyboykatsuki]

oliver talking his partner through it and calling him d**** god your brain is so huge my stomach hurts thinking about this. he’ll never tell you he loves you to your face and tries to fuck you more like he hates you because he doesn’t want to get too attached but as you’re getting close he’s all in your face and your neck, teasing you, biting your ear and softly begging you to tell him how you feel, how it’ll be better for him if you tell d**** just how close you are and how much you need him. takes you over the crest so sweetly, and continues rolling into you, chasing his own. his kisses are nonstop and so overwhelming, and he knows they are but he just really needs to connect with you like this. never the first to say “i love you” but unfortunately (in his opinion) he expresses it in so many other ways. sorry.

but i crumble completely when you cry | a. oliver

✮ tags ; DADDY KINK, afab + fem!reader, situationship!oliver, hooking up, unresolved romantic tension, p in v, praise, soft sex, it gets emotionally strange, riding, creampies, unprotected sex, under-negotiated kink in a sense though oliver is very careful

✮ wc ; 2.2k (i dont want to talk about it)

✮ a/n ; anon im going to haunt your dreams for putting this absurd image into my head when i dont even go here im crying screaming throwing up ive been thinking about it for hours. hours of my life wasted on this guys dick. upsetting!!!!!

also i do not write this often and do not plan too again any time soon so if ur seeing this and thinking about following me for content like it i would not recommend!!!

✮ synopsis ; you don't trust oliver with your heart or your feelings. nor do you expect anything from him.

but it's hard not to lean into him when he decides to cradle you so gently.

Your relationship with Oliver is both very ambiguous and very clear.

There's a line drawn, and you both steer clear of crossing it in your interactions. Oliver is fun. He's attractive and charming, a massive flirt but just genuine enough to be interesting.

It helps that he's hot. Physically, he's got an unreal build.

He's an athlete, so he's big. Wide chest and strong arms, thick thighs and the height to top it off. He's 6'3, and he's sexy (and his dick is huge) - and you sleep with him because of that. You don't date him explicitly because he's a womanizer. If you'd met when you were a little younger, a little more naive - you might've tried to dog-train him into being your boyfriend.

Because on top of the immaculate dick, he's fun to be around. He's funny, he drinks well, he's not a scumbag in the ways that turn you off.

You're old enough to know better. You have a career. You're too busy, and too jaded about love to try and fix whatever weird shit he has going on. So even if the two of you harbor some sort of emotional or romantic feelings for each other, you're smart enough to not get invested in those feelings and smart enough to have no expectations.

Oliver is your fun. He's your sneaky link, your weekend off. You come to him to blow off steam. You have rough, fast sex and it's good. Sometimes you chill afterwards, and you'll indulge each other in some physical affection but other times you take your shower and leave. It's a good time, and you know well enough not to ever ask him for any of your emotional needs. You have your therapist and girl friends for that.

Normally, when you're having a rough week - it's prime time to go to him. He'll fuck you a little harder than usual, and sometimes he's nice enough to kiss it better. But it's still, very distinctly, never crossing that boundary.

But some weeks, like this week - shit is bad. Not just stressful bad, but everything in the fucking world that could go wrong, is going wrong bad. It's not the kind of thing you can get over by compartmentalizing and even when you try to do your usual thing it doesn't really work.

You're trying right now - to get over the fucked up week you had. And you're turned on, but somehow - it's still not enough to get you completely out of it.

Oliver pauses mid stroke, in missionary - hetero-chromatic eyes staring you down as your thoughts are somewhere else completely. You don't notice the first time he stops, or the first time he calls you.

And he only gets your attention by cupping your face and making you look at him. You startle as you cast your glance his way.

"What's with you?" He asks, though he's not pissed or anything "Not feelin' it? Want me to stop?"

"No, you don't have too."

"Not what I asked," He chastises, letting go of your face "Not having your full attention is making me go soft,"

This makes you laugh, and Oliver cracks a smile seeing the tension melt off your face if only slightly.

"I'm cool with stopping." He assures. You let your hand reach up to his shoulder.

"It's not like I want to stop, necessarily? Like I wanna do something to get my mind off it and sex feels like the best option, but you know how it goes sometimes," You say, trying your best to avoid the emotional baggage of your words "We can stop though. I'll pay you for your wasted time," You tack the joke on at the end to ease the tension.

You're expecting him to pull out and stop, or maybe challenge himself into fucking you so good that you forget. Something more quintessentially Oliver than what he does do.

He gives you a blank look first, than a laugh that is a touch too sincere for you to be comfortable "That bad of a week?"

You're suddenly in dangerous territory. Somehow, this strange intimacy makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You swallow thickly, the emotions coming over you so quick you end up looking away.

"Yeah. You know. It's fine, but you know."

"Mm," He says. He leans into your space. His breath is warm and his stubble tickles your skin as he whispers in your ear. You feel your breath hitch. And the air feels heavy "Wanna try somethin' else?"

"Like what?"

"A surprise," He says first, and find your stomach tightening. A hollowness in your nerves "Gotta trust me."

"You're scaring me." You joke.

"I'm a sex expert, you know?" Oliver says, humming against your skin "If I can't remedy your little problem with my dick, it's bad for my street cred. My yelp reviews will tank."

"You're such a dumbass."

"Do you trust me?"

You don't know how to answer. Yes, for the most part. Not with everything, but with your pleasure at least. Whatever this is, it doesn't feel the same. But you say yes, anyways. Oliver kisses your jaw in reply, then he pulls out.

He flips position easily. He ends up on his back, then he grabs you to rest on top of him. You're not sure what you're expecting. He holds you by your hips as your sex hovers over his cock. His thumb is rubbing circles into your skin as he sinks you down slowly onto him.

You only stare at him, mouth opening as you feel him stretch you open for a second time.

You're more aware of it this way. He's so thick, and so intrusive - and normally, you're feeling that in hard strokes. Fast and rough, like something knocking into your cervix. But like this, he's hitting a deep angle. You can feel every curve, every inch, as you come down slowly.

He keeps you there. For longer than you'd expect. Just keeps you, settles you, holds you gently. You stare at him as he grabs your hand, locking your fingers. Your first instinct is to panic, or crack a joke - but there's an intense look in his eye that shuts you up.

Uncharacteristically gentle, you find yourself frightened. Oliver's hands reach for you again. They hold your waist and slide up the planes of your body. He holds your tits in his palms and squeezes.

He does this a lot, but there's not usually this much touching. This much foreplay. It's grabby, a deeper pressure. He doesn't...feel you, in the way he is now. You stare at him, and he looks back at you so fondly you feel a strange urge to pretend it never happened.

"Play with your clit," He says, though there's no urgency in his voice.

Deep and smooth, the timbre in it has you shaking. You listen, on auto-pilot as you play with yourself clumsily and build a slow pressure. He just watches.

"C'mere, baby. And don't stop touching yourself."

Another pause. It's not the first time he's called you that. He likes to call you all sorts of things when you're fucking, and baby is one of the few. But not like that. Not like this. He gives you a lazy, self satisfied smile and encourages you by placing a hand on where he can reach on your low back.

You lean down, and Oliver tucks you into his chest. He's warm, and strong - and smells so good, like musk and cologne. Your free hand is on his chest, as he grips your hips and fucks up into you.

"That's it," His voice is pleasant to your ears. It feels funny to you "Just gotta listen to me."

He starts fucking you slowly. It's a familiar feeling, a pleasant stretch that dulls into a euphoric fullness. But it's never been this slow before. Each thrust is slow, and punctual, and so deep you feel yourself gasping. It's not enough to push you over the edge, but it's enough to make your mind feel a little numb.

You think he's going to keep at you like this, maybe edge you to take you out of it. But he doesn't. He keeps his pace.

"Had a hard time this week, didn't you, tough girl?" He mumbles, so low it doesn't feel real. You feel your heart start to race. You feel your throat start to close around something, choking "Did a good job and came to me. Gonna let me take care of it?"

You stumble. You aren't sure what to say, you nod and hope he feels it. He laughs a little. You can't be sure if you're fucking Oliver or not.

You know it's him but he's never been like this. Not once. Not ever.

"Gonna let daddy take care of you?" He says, though it's tentative. Your breath hitches. Something strange overwhelms your senses "Tell me, baby."

"Uhm," Your first reaction is a sense of resistance, an immediate pull away. Not that you hate it but you aren't sure how to adjust. You squirm, but you don't tell him no. You feel like you can't in this state "Uh-uh,"

He keeps surprising you, pressing his lips to yours where you hover over him, tender as he ups the pace of his thrusts.

"That's what I like to hear," He almost sounds proud "You'll hurt your head if you think too much. And I'd be a bad daddy, letting that happen, yeah?"

A vulnerable, foreign sensation drives you to speak "You're not bad in that way."

He laughs "Just in other ways, right?"

You giggle "Uh-huh."

"But not in this one," He repeats, very carefully. He fucks into you harder now, pays extra special attention to you. It's all for you, is what he's saying in a language completely foreign yet somehow so known. One only the two of you will ever know fully, confined in the four walls of this room "Daddy is good at taking care of you like this, so you should let him do just that. Tough girls always need their daddies, hm?"

It's what ends up tipping you up over the edge. You cling to him, succumbing to whatever weird space the two of you have fallen into you. Suspended in this odd sense of comfort that Oliver has thrust you in unannounced.

You don't trust Oliver with a lot, and this is more than what you should ever find yourself giving. In the back of your head you think you should pull away.

But he's comforting. It feels good, and strangely feels safe - and even for all the ways he's awful, you trust he'd never do anything bad to you. Even if it's a blip in the timeline, for now it's what you need. A blurry cross into your emotional needs that translate into your physical ones. Too much and so overwhelming, you hug closer to him and take a deep breath.

"Mm," You let yourself lean into him. Just this once, you promise yourself. "I wanna cum."

"Want it a little harder?"

"Mhm,"

"Then Daddy will give it to you a little harder, yeah? Anything for you." He says, and you try not to think to deeply on what that really means. Because even in this state you know it's not nothing, but you should never pry "Daddy can give you anything you want."

"Yeah?"

He chuckles a little as he fucks into you hard. Fucks into you how you need. You're wet enough, and wondering if you were always so into being doted on. Or if it's just the fact that it's Oliver. Another thing you decide to overlook as you zero in on the sensation of being pistoned from underneath. You're soaking. The room noisy with the sticky noise of Olivers cock penetrating you over and over, skin hitting skin as his hips press against your ass. His grip is bruising but not intentionally, his chest huffed in pleasure.

He's just as close as you are, you know all of his cues. You play with your clit faster, sensitive bud throbbing hard as all the blood rushes south. Your mouth has fallen open as the slow, thick desire coiling and culminating into something cosmic. Something big and heavy, but not too fast. Not a crash landing like you're used to.

But a single weight, the force of a star dropping to Earth. You figure Oliver is the gravity in your universe, holding you down so you don't float too far. You want to cling onto him for much longer.

And somehow, you're inclined to think he would let you.

"Oliver," You say his name as it builds, then decide on something else "Daddy,"

"I'm here, baby," He says back, like it's all he has to say for everything to make sense when nothing about this does "I'm right here. Let go."

So you do. You cum hard, and it comes in long never ending waves. Too much. It makes you collapse in Olivers arms, both arms coming around his neck as he continues to fuck you through the aftermath.

"Gonna," He voices, rasping as his thrusts become sloppy "Shit. Cumming, shit."

He cums with you, cums deep inside like usual and you mewl at the feeling of being filled with hot, sticky seed.

When it's over, you're almost afraid to look at him. When the tensions settled, and his chest goes back to it's steady breaths - you wonder whats going to happen next.

"Wanna stay like this for a while?"

You nod.

"Mm. Sleepy."

"Stay like this, then. I'll wake you in a little."

"So you can kick me out?" You joke, trying to pretend nothing is different. He pauses.

"Just to shower," He whispers, hand resting on your lower back "Sleep."

There's too much to think about. Tomorrow will be strange. You let yourself succumb to your own exhaustion.

"Okay."

#return to sender #daddy kink cw #oliver x reader #oliver aiku x reader #oliver aiku smut #bllk x reader #bllk smut #writing tag #this wouldve become a 10k fic if i was not so fucking careful