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itoshiexx · 2 months

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running your fingers through their hair

you are now reading... LENA'S 1K MILESTONE EVENT FIC!

↳ itoshi rin, michael kaiser, reo mikage (separate) + cafuné (n.) - running your fingers through the hair of someone you love

notes: omg hi guys! i'm freaking ALIVE!!! i know i've been terribly inactive but life as a recently graduated lawyer has been INSANE and i barely have time to breathe, let alone write. regardless, i was able to finish this after some struggle, and i really hope you guys like it! cafuné is a brazilian word and it's something i love very much, so thank you anon, @kyukiss and @etoiile for the request and sorry it took so long ♥

event masterlist

Itoshi Rin

“you remind me of a dog, you know?”

rin’s eyes shoot open with your unexpected words, and you receive the harshest glare you’ve ever witnessed on his face when it came to you.

“excuse me?”

his tone is supposed to be threatening, but his voice is slightly laced with sleep, so it sounds a lot more like a whine. you snort a little bit, pausing your ministrations on his head, where your fingers run through his hair.

“not in a bad way, baby. i just mean you’re like a puppy when you want my attention,” you giggled a little, and if rin didn’t love the sound so much, he would have berated you.

“that’s absolutely not true.”

“it is, though. you came back from practice all tired and grumpy, and the first thing you did was put your head on my lap because you wanted me to run my fingers through your hair. you didn’t even showered, rin.”

“i did shower! on the locker rooms!”

you smile mischievously. “oh, i thought the dampness was from sweat. i was about to call you out for being stinky.”

rin’s grimace worsened, and a pout formed on his lips. you couldn’t resist the urge to squish his cute cheeks together. god, he was so adorable it tugged on your heartstrings. how was that even possible?

you lowered your head to give him a quick kiss, and although rin tried to deepen it, you pulled away fast, grinning once again. he knew what was coming even before you said it. “you’re also like a puppy when you trail after me around the house. a lost puppy.”

his groan reverberated through the whole apartment, and rin shoved your hands away from his face, scowling. “i fucking hate you.”

“no, you don’t.”

“i hate you. i’m serious.”

you giggled again. “so why didn’t you leave my lap then?”

his eyes met yours, and you kind of relished in the furrow of his brows. it made his pout even cuter. “…what.”

smugness radiated off of you, because you knew rin — your rin — like the back of your hand. and if there was an universal truth in the world, it would be that the younger itoshi was down bad for you. enough for him to stay despite your shenanigans that always got on his nerves.

“i said, if you hate me, then why didn’t you leave my lap?”

his mouth opened, but no retort came out. he gaped like a fish for a few seconds before groaning again, turning his body so that he could hide his face on your stomach. you laughed at his childish behavior, knowing it was one of the reasons you loved him so much. not many people were able to see this vulnerable side of him, and you were glad to be one of them.

“shut up.”

“yeah, yeah. you big baby.”

comfortable silence engulfed the both of you, and rin remained hidden on your stomach as you picked up the book you were previously reading, wanting to continue the story. though your left hand was suddenly tugged to lay on your boyfriend’s head.

“keep going,” he murmured, “…please?”

a gentle smile took over your features, and you were quick to run your fingers through his dark, silky strands. rin sighed softly, content with the affection you gave him — as if your angelic hands could take away every doubt swirling on his mind and wipe off the tiredness from his sore body.

“of course,” you said. and your mind completed silently: i’d keep going forever if it made you happy.

perhaps you were down bad, too.

Michael Kaiser

contrary to popular belief, michael kaiser was not a bad boyfriend.

despite his huge ego, his narcissistic tendencies and his extravagant yet somehow rude personality, he wasn’t the type of guy to treat his partner poorly. in fact, he was a very attentive boyfriend, always doing his best to make sure you were happy and healthy.

or maybe it was just you. who knows.

whatever his reasons were, you relished the fact he took such good care of you, even if he wasn’t physically present because of away games — because michael was very good at making people notice him. whether it was with a bouquet of your favorite flowers delivered to your job, a nice breakfast cooked before you woke or even a small note of love professions.

however, nothing really compared to having him there, with you, flesh and bone.

especially on those days you just felt so miserable you wanted to disappear.

“liebling? you okay?”

it was one of kaiser’s rare day offs, and all you wished for was to spend some much needed quality time with your boyfriend. though, this wasn’t possible due to your job, one you liked having despite michael saying he could support the both of you financially.

but the day at work just sucked. like, a lot. it was that kind of day where things go from bad to worse in a matter of minutes, and when you swear it can’t get shittier, it does.

you were exhausted and emotionally drained. the whole drive back to your shared apartment you were holding back tears, and the dam broke the second you heard kaiser asking you that.

“whoa!” the blonde exclaimed when your bodies collided on a tight hug. “what is it, engel? what happened? did someone hurt you?”

his worried tone just made you sob harder, and kaiser rubbed his hands on your back, trying to give you some comfort. he started to sway your bodies together while humming, doing everything to calm you down.

eventually, your sobs died down, and your boyfriend carefully brought you to the couch, making you lay on top of him; head on his chest. he started to gently scratch your scalp, running his long fingers through your hair.

“you feeling any better?” he asked in a low tone.

“yeah. thank you, mikka.”

the blond only hummed. “do you… want to talk about it?”

you had to stifle a giggle. god, he was so cute. even when he sucked at talking about feelings, he always made an effort for you.

you slowly shook your head. “jus’ had a really bad day. but it’s okay now.”

his eyes softened impossibly, and you nearly swooned at the sight. “yeah?”

michael kissed your forehead, and kept threading his fingers among your locks in a gentle caress. you smiled, because it was all you really needed to be comforted.

“yeah.”

Mikage Reo

reo’s body collapsed on top of yours, effectively knocking the air out of your lungs. you should have been used to it by now, really, since he’d always do that after you finished your smexy times, but sometimes it still caught you off guard.

“reo, you’re heavy,” you groaned, teasing him. “get off me!”

“give a guy a break, will you?” he whined. “i’m tired.”

your giggle reverberated through his body, and reo repositioned himself to lay his head on your chest, hugging your waist tightly as if to never let you go. he’d rather lose all his fortune before he let that happen.

“is mr. athlete getting out of shape? i didn’t know this light exercise could make you so…”

your boyfriend interrupted you with a groan. “babe!”

you raised your hands in mock surrender, giggling again, and reo thought maybe he didn’t really care about your teasing if it meant seeing you this happy. he loved you in all your versions, but carefree was his favorite one.

“sorry, baby. i’ll make it up to you, yeah?”

before he could make a suggestive joke, his breath hitched in his throat when your soft hands started caressing his hair, gentle fingers threading through his purple locks making him sigh. it was so unfair, he thought, how you managed to disarm him with just a small touch, reduce him to putty in your palms with a little gesture of affection. some of his friends said he was a fool in love, and reo couldn’t agree more.

your love made him silly, but he didn’t hate it. he could never hate anything about you. all mikage reo was able to feel was love, love, love, an emotion so strong it nearly overwhelmed all of his senses, making him forget about all his worries and responsibilities — heck, even the whole world. and he didn’t mind if the world burned as long as he could keep you safe and away from the flames.

“what are you thinking about?” the whisper of your voice echoed the walls of your shared bedroom.

“what makes you think i’m thinking about something?”

though reo couldn’t see you, he knew you rolled your eyes.

“it’s usually how the human mind works, honey,” you answered, your wit making him stifle a laugh. “besides, you’re always so chatty, talking my ear off—”

“hey!”

“—so it always concerns me when you get quiet.”

the heir sighed, letting the silence linger a little longer to recollect his thoughts. reo usually didn’t have a hard time expressing himself with words, but sometimes his heart swelled so much it made it hard to think. so, pretty much every time he was with you.

“it’s just… i’m thinking about how i never really believed in past lives and reincarnation. i never really believed in soulmates, either,” he said, and you paid attention to every word. mesmerized by the wonder in his voice and even more by the sparkle in his purple eyes when he averted his gaze to yours.

“but when i think about you, love… when i see you in my arms or when i rest in yours, i’m sure you are my soulmate, and that we were together in every lifetime. it’s always been you. it will always be.”

your chest swelled with love for the man laying in your embrace, and you tried to hold back the tears from falling. god, he was everything. you didn’t even know what you did to deserve a lover like mikage reo, but you were far from complaining.

you gave him a chaste kiss on the forehead, trying to convey even a fraction of the love and adoration you held for him, and looked back to caress his face. then, smiling with the world in your eyes, you answered:

“it’s always been you, too.”

2K notes · View notes

hoseoksluna · 1 month

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STEAM | myg ft. jjk

pairing: boyfriend!yoongi x oc (feat. jungkook)

genre: smut

word count: 9.2k

summary: one video call awakens your neediness for two cocks.

playlist: steam / pinterest board: steam

warnings: female masturbation, mentions of shower sex, praise kink, toying with the idea of polyamory, a hint of voyeurism, oc rly goes through it and faces mental battles, fear, intoxication, punishment, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, choking, cum eating, manhandling, degradation, provocation, mutual masturbation, rough & raw sex, brief oral sex (f. receiving), pet names

note: IT'S FINALLY HEREEEEEE SKFDSFLSFJ, okay so—let me introduce to you a new yoongi series featuring JUNGKOOK oh my god. i am SO EXCITED about this and i wanna apologize for my insane ideas in advance... i'm so sorry, guys. nevertheless, i hope you like this as much as i do, i literally went mad writing this and i smoked so many cigarettes i lost count. please, let me kNOW UR FAVORITE PARTS CUZ I HAVE SO MANY AND I WANNA TALK ABOUT THEM. oh fuck, guys. ENJOY READING SDKFJSD. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

side note: btw, the playlist i made is literally perfect and depicts the fic wonderfully. you can listen while you read! <3

The scent of mangoes finds its way up your nostrils, heating your senses through its balmy touch as you rub the body butter over the damp skin of your arms. Fingers graze along your décolletage, tucking in the fragrance for your boyfriend to breathe in when he comes home. He’s out for the night—said something about his friend finishing his military service, so the whole group was going out to celebrate it. Yoongi was so frantic in his excitement, hastily putting on the first outfit that sparked his eye. Didn’t even touch his hair, only sprayed a mist of his sandalwood and tangerine-tinged perfume. Grabbed his phone, keys, wallet. Barely kissed you goodbye before he fled out of the door.

He didn’t even ask you if you wanted to come along.

You didn’t mind, though—you’re only in the early stages of your relationship. It hasn’t even been half a year since you’ve started dating. And you figure he deserves a night out with his closest friends because you’ve been attached to the hip since the beginning. Funnily enough, you no longer live at your own place. Somehow, you’ve settled in Yoongi’s apartment, never setting foot outside, save for your walks, grocery shopping, the few dates with your friends and work. There wasn’t any conversation about it; you just mostly spend your free time with your boyfriend.

And all you do is fuck, eat and watch movies.

The last time Yoongi took you out was during the first two months you’d been getting to know him. The realization of how long it’s been sends a trail of chills down your arms and you rub it away.

But because you’ve been spending all your time together, you’re glad to have a moment to yourself—glad to be able to take a long hot shower, to do your hair and skincare. Perhaps, you’ll even have time to do your nails and that energizes you, propels you to spread the body butter further down the rest of your body. It is your rose garden, these night times reserved for your hot showers. The place you go to—your hideaway from the pressure and nerves of life that the steam loosens and soothes, especially when you let your sultry playlist echo through the mightiness of Yoongi’s bathroom, your favorite singer’s voice reaching your veins like the growing stems of those roses; pretty, pink and so feminine. Yes, Yoongi’s therapy sessions and thick length might have been a great help, the best in fact, but there’s something about letting yourself be burned off of all that’s been weighing you down and watching it trickle down the drain that is just so satisfying.

It was all that you were once used to. That is, until you met Yoongi.

Showers with him are something else.

Something you never thought you could ever have the blessing to encounter. Showers with Yoongi are intense, so out of pocket that you find yourself thinking about them fondly whenever you’re alone with your thoughts. There, beneath the downpour of the warm water, he lets you see the other side of his ever unyielding stern façade. While holding you, he would make you laugh, then make you moan and break that sound with each hard plunge of his cock. Hair slicked back, smirk adorning that delicious wet mouth, causing him to look like a Mafioso bent on absolutely ruining you. He would tell you the most insane story he heard from his friend, then talk you through the build-up of your orgasm while continuing to the point of that story—seamlessly waving through, never losing tempo. “Then, he went up to his hyung to ask him about what he did—yes, just like that, honey, take it. I know you’re almost there, just listen.” You would come all over his cock, sprinkling him with your essence, right there at the end of his story and like a hungry man, he’d get on his knees and eat you up, muttering how good you are and how well you did along with each swipe of his tongue. Your lungs would heave due to the overstimulation, your legs would tremble, unable to stand and he’d gather you into his arms, fold you like paper into the crooks of his body and let his thick duvet drape over you. He’d fall asleep first, breathing in the scent of your shampoo, snoring softly behind you while spooning you, never letting go of his deathly grip around you. And while you would breathe in the haze of lilac sprayed on his pillows, you’d become aware of the drowsy rhythm of his heartbeat, the lift and fall of his chest against your back, the snug heat of his body and it would lull you to sleep.

That has become your new version of hot long showers.

And if it isn’t this, then it’s Yoongi letting you quickly wash yourself before he’d steal you away, dragging you into this bed, only to carry you back there an hour later.

You speculate he has a serious, adorable case of attachment issues.

That is why you enjoy your exceptional alone shower all the more—you haven’t had it in so long. Only this time, it’s quite different.

You feel him everywhere.

You feel him in the drift of your hand down your tummy because you recollect the way he likes to pepper kisses there on his way to eat you out. You feel him when you round your palms across your backside because you know he particularly likes to leave traces of saliva when he presses open-mouthed kisses there. His love for you circulates in your bloodstream, mingling with the little love you have for yourself, making it bigger, turning it into a turbulent rush of liquid. You sense it tapping beneath your skin, asking for more of your body just like Yoongi does, always begging, begging for more—for more skin to kiss and lick, for more sensitive parts of you to find and nibble on.

Your hands sense the ghost of him even when your fingers slip past your mound and realize that the film of your memories dampened your cunt. You hear the words of praise he’d utter into your ear at the discovery and you sigh at your tender touch.

That’s a good girl. Messy for me.

The rotund case of your body butter remains opened, forgotten. You suddenly have better things to do—like give your body the self-care, the self-love it deserves.

It’s a part of the solo girl's night.

A mewl comes out of your mouth at the first round of circles on your clit. Furrowing your brows at the pleasure, you prop your free hand on the edge of the bathroom counter, riding the pads of your fingers. And then, just like Yoongi taught you, you take your digits away, edging yourself, taking them elsewhere. You cry out at the contact of your wet fingertips on your stiff nipple and you pinch the nub, a spasm of delight coursing through your sensitiveness.

You imagine Yoongi standing behind you. Not touching you, merely guiding you, telling you when to stop, when to pick up the pace—when to fill your hole. Watching you in the mirror, hands in his pockets, having a perfect view of your slick-caked folds, of your clit swollen and asking for his tongue. Determined to make you lose your mind by teasing you, letting you only slap your pussy once you’re close. Your essence drips out of you at that thought, making a mess on the floor and you plug it in with your finger, fucking yourself steadily, inflamed by how slippery your heat is, how easy it is to slip the digit inside. Hot flashes close over your body, pearls of perspiration kissing the crook of your neck. You fuck yourself faster and—

A sudden ring of your phone jolts you. And the picture of your boyfriend, half dressed, with the early morning sunlight leaking over the scars and tattoo on his shoulder, crammed inside your screen, greets you.

You pant hard, your finger still inside of you. Delirious.

He must be on his way home. You don’t even know what time it is.

Leaning forward, you hide your breasts behind your forearm and you swipe your finger to accept his video call.

Blurry Yoongi. The night sky, starlit and alive, behind him. A shoal of silhouettes, some lanky and some buff, all short-haired and all as woozy-lidded as you. The picture smooths into a crystal clear view and there you see your boyfriend, the nocturnal breeze brushing his ebony hair back. Not just him, however, but another male craning his neck to regard you fully.

His eyes flicking from your neck to the smallest of your exposed décolletage, a smirk blossoming on his face like your imaginary roses.

Yoongi slaps his phone face down. You withdraw your finger from your heat, a cacophony of giggles, whiny cries and the exclamations of his name emitting out of your mouth.

He is not, in fact, on his way home.

It is a warning, his low and strict call of your name back and, heeding it, you take your phone into your hands, so he’s only able to see your deeply flushed face. Device back in his hand, he’s not looking at you at all. As a matter of fact, he’s shooting daggers fueled with deadly nightshade at his friend, grumbling something that you can’t quite make out amidst the chaos and bustle of the outing. The shoal of the rest of his friends and strangers disappear out of the perspective, as if threatened by the cold energy.

You wish you knew what he’s saying to him. Even your pussy aches to hear it. The principle of him scolding his friend for looking at you at your most private moment scorches you and you’re red, flattered and majestically horny.

Yoongi turns his head to see if you’re well-behaved and you beam at him, the pulse on your clit intensifying, forcing you to say, “come home, Yoongi.”

He chuckles, aware of the reason behind your words, pretends he isn’t. “What were you doing, baby?”

The growth of your grin doesn’t falter. You show him the sheen of your wet finger in the ivory bathroom light, the glint, the stickiness as you push your index finger to your middle and pull away, your arousal on full, filthy display.

He curses under his breath. Doesn’t give a fuck that his friend sits beside him and adjusts in his seat. Bites his lip briefly. “Stick it in your mouth for me.”

Doesn’t say the words that so very often follow after in that sentence. Taste yourself.

Why he doesn’t step aside to take this video call eludes you, but something about you being watched by two pairs of eyes excites you. Enough for you to do as he says. Perhaps it’s due to the fact you don’t know the male sitting beside him and Yoongi is letting him keep his sight glued to the screen.

Two sharp inhales of breath. Not one of yours. Yoongi readies his hook to feignedly lash out at his friend and you press your thighs together to alleviate yourself of the unbearable feeling between your legs. Confidence, a bad, bad version of confidence suffuses you whole, turning you into a person gone mad by lust. You swirl your tongue around your digit, the tanginess of your taste causing your eyes to narrow, the principle of driving not just one, but two men mad just the same intoxicates you, as if you were there among them, drinking.

A pair of round eyes peek at the corner of the screen. Soft, naive, so terribly innocent. A dash of sobriety washes over you, owed to those brownish effervescent orbs, a sprinkle shame pooling low in your core. A reality check. You sense some kind of stability of that reality beneath those eyelashes of his, the stability that whispers—is this the right thing to do?

It’s not rough, it’s not stern, it’s not Yoongi coded—it’s anything but. Gentleness is what you detect, free of any prejudice.

You sigh. Millions of thoughts about how you could toy with them pass through your mind, but you decide against them, the stability a pillar that blends into your spine, helping it unbend. You can’t do this; you can’t do this to Yoongi and you need to keep your dignity intact in some way, despite the fact that every fiber of your body compels you to do the opposite. You distract yourself by screwing the lid of your body butter back on.

“Good girl,” Yoongi coos, causing you to whisk your eyes to the screen in perhaps disbelief, shame or your still pending arousal—you’re not sure. How can you be a good girl when you let another man see something so lewd? How can your boyfriend validate something like that? “One more beer and I’ll be home. Wait for me on the bed. As you are.”

Naked.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, to the surface of every part of your skin, dragging away small ounces of shame. You curse, mentally, running a hand down your face. Yoongi downs his drink without taking his gaze off of you, watching your reaction, adds once he swallows, “and don’t touch yourself.”

And with that, he hangs up.

The harsh comprehension of what the fuck just happened envelops you in a confining embrace, the precipitately increasing weight of shame now a burden on your shoulders that you just can’t shake off, even when you slink your arms through sleeves of your silky robe and welcome in the summer breeze coming to caress your face on the balcony—even when you burst your lighter to a flame and light up your cigarette, inhaling the smoke that you hoped would rid you of its such uncomfortable hold around you.

You licked your cum clean under the gape of a guy you don’t know in front of your boyfriend.

His friend heard the order. Don’t touch yourself. Yoongi didn’t whisper it. Didn’t camouflage his words in any way. Uttered them straight and bare, allowing his friend to hear them, despite the fact he almost fought him then and there for sneaking one glance at your moderately naked form.

Question marks hover in your mind and the pulse on your clit cries, seemingly knowing the answer.

Did Yoongi like it as much as you did, the aspect of having an audience?

The wetness in your heat dribbles out, staining your thighs. You squeeze them together, the drag of your cigarette hard and long, expecting to feel your nerves burn off. You gain no such thing—no relief, no lifting of the burden, just constricting tangles in your tummy, zippy spasms of butterflies going mad, mad, mad.

Perhaps Yoongi didn’t like it at first until he perceived the auspicious debauched look on your face. Saw the way you didn’t hesitate to oblige him when he told you to stick your finger in your mouth. And perhaps the fact that you didn’t express any signal of discomfort was the key to unfastening the leash on his possessiveness over you.

What have you done? What have you so selfishly and disgustingly done?

You hang your head in your hands, the white smoke intertwining with the burden on your shoulders and pressing down harder on you.

That’s why he let his friend hear the command. Don’t touch yourself. He saw the way you indulged in it, and that awakened his liking for it.

Yoongi lied when he said he’d have one more beer.

By the time you hear the thunder of his voice, all the roses in your garden have wilted, leaving faded, withered petals in its wake—leaving a path of your internal battle all around the apartment for Yoongi to follow. You’ve paced, your bare feet stepping on them. Tried to untangle yourself from the incarceration of your mind by chain-smoking, but to no avail. The only change that took place in your body was the decline of your shame, for you couldn’t help but imagine what could have happened, had you let free rein to your desire—had those round eyes never looked at you with such purity. You figured there wasn’t anything bad about letting your imagination be colored like that, and so you sat on your boyfriend’s couch, cigarette switched to a coconut-flavored vape, and dreamed.

You dreamed about those two men being of service to you, right here on the same couch, where they would lay you down and make you squirt over and over again, betting between each other who could make you come the fastest, counting down your orgasms until the number was a mere blur to you.

The throb on your clit heightened to heavenly levels and when you emerged from your dream, you found yourself being able to breathe—your momentary disappearance tricking your shame into leaving. It was difficult for you not to touch yourself and you opted to adhere to Yoongi’s wish, not risking to feel worse than you already had.

The war ended, undeterred by the fact you never expected it to.

Loud swear words roar in Korean. You rise to your feet to open the front door for Yoongi and you discover that he’s not alone at all.

The same pair of round eyes, the cause of all the ruckus you just departed from, meet yours, hauling you back there with a force. Your mouth falls agape and before you can react any further, Yoongi stumbles into you. You almost topple over, realizing you didn’t care to steal a glance at the state of him, but the male grabs a hold of Yoongi’s jacket and pulls him back. You wish you had tumbled over and the floor had opened up and swallowed you whole. It would have been less embarrassing than to be stuck in this situation. You want to run, you want to scream—

“He’s drunk out of his own mind,” the male says, his voice deep like the warm wind before a tumultuous storm, fitting just right with the thunder of Yoongi’s intonation, his gaze wandering over the entirety of your shock-stricken face, taking it in; giving you the same attention that fucked you up hours ago. Yoongi begins to mumble something you can’t momentarily focus on, his hands grasping your waist, lips latching onto your neck. No, you cannot for the life of you focus because the man steals you all over again and you hate how easy it is for him to do that, when you’re far from being available. “Don’t ask what made him drink this much.”

Did Yoongi get drunk because he let his friend in on your most intimate moment?

Humiliated, turned on and angry altogether, a concoction that simply worsens everything, you draw back from your boyfriend. You want to beat at his chest with your fists just to have some sort of relief from blaming him—because if you blame yourself, only doom consumes you. Why did he call you? Or, essentially, why didn’t he step away to take that damned video call?

“Thanks for walking him home,” you say eventually, your voice smooth, despite the violence of your feelings, despite wanting to say something else entirely. Your first words to him and, wholeheartedly—despite it all, you hope they aren’t last, even if that possibly makes you a despicable person.

Yoongi’s friend nods. Chews his bottom lip and lowers his gaze to the ground for a split second. You wonder if he feels the need to remove himself from this uncomfortable situation as much as you do because you can’t read anything in that paleness of his countenance. Not a hint of any emotion whatsoever, just blandness of expression, slightly dimmed by the few thick strands of black hair that have fallen from his disheveled, pushed back mullet. As if they did fight after all, perhaps on the way home, or wrestled if Yoongi was being difficult.

You don’t realize you and the male are just staring at each other until Yoongi places his hand on your cheek, brushing back a wisp of your tresses. Only then do your eyes flick to Yoongi’s and you finally notice him, the gloss in his hooded irises searching and searching for you, the rosy blush on his cheeks, dry parted mouth and the dart of his tongue as he wets it, softening the flecks that have been created there.

This is it. If you are focused on him, all things are made right—all things that have been stained get purified and dreams get turned into dust. This is the man you’ve fallen for, who puts you before himself and has done so every day since the moment he made you his. You can’t let anyone else get in the way of the home that your relationship has become, you can’t let your feelings flee—

“For the record,” Yoongi’s friend starts, hand massaging circles on the nape of his neck, the leather of his jacket tight around his arm. Your heart jumps and beats against your chest ferociously. “I didn’t see anything, if that helps you sleep better tonight.”

It’s such a fat lie and you’re about to shake your head, but then he looks at you with such sincere regret that, ultimately, you choose to believe him. Just to keep your peace of mind unscarred.

Yoongi tightens his hold around your waist, which grounds you, and a small part of you begins to bloom in healing, disseminating little by little across your whole body.

A healer with big, round eyes. A good man.

With a swing, Yoongi closes the door but you don’t hear the click. No, the light spills in from the hallway. Your hands reach for the doorknob but Yoongi blocks them and wraps them around his waist while swaying on his feet. He traces the shell of your ear with his lips, his alcohol-reeking breath wafting over you, and softly, you whine his name. Shuffling beyond the door, feet never entirely moving—the male is still standing outside and he hears as Yoongi hums at your call, as the sound grows into a groan at the feeling of being alone with you at last, at the feeling of all that makes you feminine under his hands. He hears your gasp as Yoongi pushes your chest flush to his body, kisses you harshly and cups your bare pussy. Hears the smack of your mouths, the pop once he withdraws, the squelch of your wetness. Hears as Yoongi murmurs, “you been horny, baby? Wet for me, hm?”

It’s those words that make him shut the door for you.

You made Yoongi drink a lot of water.

And while he downed the glasses, you ordered him Thai food from his phone, which he now devours. You had wanted to change out of your flimsy robe into your plush pajamas, but Yoongi stopped you with a tight grip on your shoulder and with the nastiest puppy eyes he could manage, considering his plastered state, he begged you not to. Informed you that he wanted to fuck you in your little robe and you told him that if he wanted that, he needed to get sober.

He’s your boyfriend and you trust him, but you don’t feel comfortable having sex with him while he’s wasted and you’re not. It’s a dangerous territory you don’t ever want to cross.

So, now he eats as quietly as a mouse, feeding you every other bite with his chopsticks, meanwhile you’re jittering your leg with your arms crossed across your chest, mind full of the male who walked him home. Of the way he pulled you under and resurfaced with you soon after. Of the calm peace you feel all over the perimeter of your mind that peculiarly stresses you out. Of what would happen if you voiced your little dream to Yoongi, especially.

Was it out of the question or would he consider it?

Your leg jitters harder.

You want to tell him, badly. Seeing his friend in real life changed fucking everything. If you hadn’t, you would’ve forgotten about it in the days to come. Yoongi would’ve fucked it out of you in most probability. But those eyes… those eyes got under your skin.

“Stop fidgeting,” Yoongi scolds with his mouth full of food, no hint of slurring. The hot meal and hydration worked a miracle. “You’re making me nervous.”

He picks up two cut pieces of chicken with his chopsticks and stuffs your mouth, adding a few pieces of vegetables as you’re chewing. Watches you swallow it, noticing how your eyes are focused on nothing in particular on the other side of the room. Tucking his utensils under his palm, he places his hand on your thigh, halting your restless motion.

You still won’t look at him. Too lost in the overthinking maze, debating whether you should speak or remain quiet about your desire. A strong part of you fears his reaction and the other half is horrified at the possibility of being turned down—

Yoongi takes his hand away. Props it on his cheek.

“I can see your pussy from here,” he says, licking his lips. “You’ve shaved?”

You breathe a soft laugh, turning your head to face him, covering yourself with the small fabric. Dark, but tender eyes, void of any glossiness, awake and stirred—amused. Cheeks awash with color. Lips puffy, a dark tinge of red coating them. A sturdy fist on his cheek, the milky jawline underneath. That messy hair, the slicked-back look ruined by the constant rake of his fingers through them, now falling to the side from the middle. That slender body, clad in the night from head to toe—legs outstretched under the table. So fine, so delicious. A beautiful strong man—all yours. Why do you want another one?

You slide your leg across his thighs and Yoongi slouches in his seat, discarding his chopsticks.

“I shaved everything,” you respond, cocking your brow at him—a sly invitation for him to feel its smoothness.

And he does. Runs his hand up and down your skin. Goes as far as lifting your other leg onto his lap, cradling them both, thumb caressing your calf. The movement causes your robe to expose you again and, cursing the fabric, you go to cover yourself, but Yoongi stops you.

“Don’t bother,” he mutters. “I wanna look at it.”

You raise your brows altogether, looking up at him. “You wanna look at her?”

Yoongi smirks. That dangerous tug of one corner of his mouth to the side. Your death, your undoing, the root of your submission to him. “I want to have her at my disposal.”

You gulp and Yoongi catches it, chuckling. Drifts his hand down your calf, to your heel, to the middle of your foot up to your toes. He plays with your pinky. You note the fact he changed the pronoun after you did.

Your arousal returns at full speed.

“Did that make you wet?” Low, low is his voice—you feel it prodding at your core, thrumming vehemently.

You blossom like your roses, thoughts put to the side.

“I’ve been wet this entire time,” you say, zeroing in your gaze on the flick of dimness that whirls past his eyes. “For hours.”

He makes a sound of pitiful nature. “Poor baby.” Furrows his brows and juts his bottom lip out, making you weak. Lets his hand roam on your thigh. “So you listened? You didn’t touch yourself?”

You merely nod your head quickly. You were too distressed to give your body the pleasure it sought. Too busy flaring your lungs with the burn of smoke. And you respected his wish enough to keep your hands to yourself.

Yoongi coos. “Good girl.”

A flashback—your lips wrapping around your slick-coated finger, Yoongi praising you and… another pair of eyes watching. Chills spread across your arms, your stomach flipping. Thankfully, your shame is kept at bay. It relieves you.

“Can I feel how wet you are?”

A sweet, devious smile. “If you can manage to get to her.”

You press your thighs tightly together. Yoongi looks at you as if you’ve greatly offended him and alas, he turns your chair so you face him head-on. Forces your thighs apart without any strain at all—and there you feel it, the embarrassment of fucking with him, once your pussy is at complete disposal to him just like he wanted.

“If your pussy wasn’t so pretty, I’d make you regret your words,” he purrs, eyes fixed on your drenched flesh, hands pushing your thighs back until your knees are at level with your shoulders, folds parting with the movement, revealing more of you. Yoongi wets his mouth with his tongue.

He thumbs your gleaming lips back and forth, collecting your essence, mesmerized by them. Looks at you intently.

“It wouldn’t hurt to say sorry, though,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. “Would it?”

You grin at him. “Sorry, Yoongi.”

He rubs your swollen clit in slow circles, still with his bedewed thumb, still with his eyes on you. You choke out a moan at the delight permeating through your being. “That’s not the proper way to apologize, now is it?”

You lean your pelvis into his touch, a natural body reaction unfolding. He disapproves. You scrunch your face. “What should I say?”

Yoongi tuts. “I’m barely touching you and you already forgot your manners?”

The only answer you emit is an uncouth whine.

He shakes his head, putting pressure into his circles for a mere beat of time before he slaps your pussy curtly. A vivid spasm of pleasure fills you and you moan. “Needy girl. Don’t I take care of this pussy enough? What’s this behavior?”

Another whine. A roll of your body, asking for more of his touch. “Spank her again.”

A cock of his brow. Harsh, stern, evil. His hand remains propped on his thigh, shoulders hunched. “I didn’t hear you say please. You wanna be bad? You want me to make you cry?”

You know just how much he’s capable of doing that. You shake your head ‘no’. You want gentleness, the kind you saw in his friend’s eyes—

You flutter your own shut to get rid of that thought. Take a deep breath.

“Spank my pussy again, please.”

Yoongi massages the apex of your thigh, dangerously close to your cunt, squeezing the flesh every once in a while.

“Apologize first.”

“You didn’t tell me how.”

He clicks his tongue and pinches your folds and your clit between his fingers. You cry out, and then Yoongi gets up to his feet, leaning over you, propping his hand on the back of your chair. He begins to swiftly spank your pussy over and over again. You just jump at every contact, moaning, eyes flicked to his, never breaking apart. Taking it, taking it so well that Yoongi kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Then, he grunts. Fingers flat against your clit, he moves them from side to side. Roses, a myriad of them, flood your form with their freshness and dewiness, with their beauty and delectation and you shudder, you scream, you arch your back off of the backrest—

“Say, ‘I’m sorry, Yoongi. I’m such a bad girl that I deserve every spank and I’ll take it until it hurts.”

Flabbergasted and horny beyond measure, your mouth falls agape. Your brain turns into mush, the pleasure paralyzing you, your sounds now loud and obscene, the roses in you flitting, growing and murmuring. Yoongi adds more pressure to your clit and your eyes sink back into your head, his darkness wafting over to you, seeping into your skin—now completely yours.

You repeat after him—word for word. With a simper on your face that causes him to scowl at you, as if you dared to toy with your punishment he bestowed upon you. But then, a tongue prods the inside of his cheek and he laughs, taking a hold of his dominant role and making sure you know. He spanks your clit twice in a row, hands lifting to fondle your nipples.

“Good,” he praises. “You like that, don’t you? Spanks on your pussy?”

You don’t like that softness. Like the personified thunder he is, it is the calm before the storm. It unnerves you, the expectation of what might come next and your disliking of it. Nonetheless, you brim with the craving to have his fingers inside of you. Your hole clenches at that and Yoongi notices, hissing under his breath. The language of the darkness rises on your tongue and you figure that if you let loose, you’ll get your wish fulfilled.

“Yeah, it feels so good—” He pinches your nipples between his knuckles and you mewl, your lashes shaking at the impact, another set of wetness coating your folds. “Please, fuck me with your fi—”

You don’t even get to finish your sentence. Yoongi plunges his middle finger into your heat, cursing at your tightness, at how slippery you are and at the delight of being filled at last, you knit your brows. With his other finger, he traces the outline of your puckered mouth, his breathing hard and ragged.

“I’ll do anything for that pout of yours, fuck, no matter if you deserve it or not,” he utters, slipping the digit inside. Instinctively, you suck on it and only then does Yoongi begin to pump you slowly. “You just need a little roughness to be good, don’t you?”

Dumbly, you nod, swirling your tongue around him, but a faint, silenced part of you begs for the gentleness that you know hides somewhere deep inside his chest, never once unfurled during such intimate times.

You pay it no matter, too fucked out to think.

When he adds a second finger into your heat, he does the same thing with his other hand. Two fingers in your cunt, two fingers in your mouth. And he fucks you with both until you gag and a light flashes in his eyes—then, he withdraws all together, leaning against the table, his bedewed fingers coming to rest at his hardened length in his pants.

Roses, opening. Roses, sighing.

You breathe heavily, needing to finish, needing to have him in your mouth—

“You liked being the center of attention today?” he husks, surveying your whole body, bent in half.

There it is—the storm. Just what you expected. Cold sweat dribbles down your spine. And it is fear, what you feel, even when you refuse to admit it. Stiff, tempered fear that pervades each and every vein on your body, regarding being possibly degraded, being made feel dirty—regarding, even, tasting the dark wine of his wrath.

Such a stark, sudden change.

You don’t want this. You don’t want any of it.

Abruptly, an internal question comes and pokes you in the middle of your forehead.

Will you succumb to it or will you, with the wildly fresh darkness within you, fight against it?

You take a deep breath, and in with the air also follows, with the little rationality you have amidst the sensuality of your lecherous appetite, the decision to take a hold of it all. To take charge. Just like he did.

You shall prioritize yourself. Your feelings, your desires—your roses.

Your choice envelops your fear in bubble wrap. It doesn’t dissipate. And as much as it pains you, you take a mental note of that.

“I did,” you spit out, angered by the fact you’re afraid of your boyfriend, and so you stand your ground. “It made me so fucking needy and I want more.”

The relief that hits you almost causes you to weep and you lower your legs to the ground. Not wanting him to see the film of tears clouding your eyes, you avoid his gaze. Yoongi crosses his arms across his chest and clicks his tongue at you, disapproving.

“Keep your legs where they belong.”

“No.”

A lift of his brow. He crouches down to your level and cradles your face in his hand, forcing you to look at him. And there he sees, under the waterfall of your hair, your emotions at his disposal. Yoongi studies you, frowns at you and you want to sob, you want to go home. Shame slithers towards your spine like a ghost, and although it keeps a distance, you feel its presence prickling your back. You cover your cleavage.

“Why are you crying?” Yoongi asks, a silky murmur, eyes flicking between yours. His fingers don’t caress your skin; they merely hold you firmly, making dents in the skin.

You don’t trust that voice, dismayed by what might lie under.

“Why did you do that to me?” you ask in return, and it’s a blue fire shooting out, engulfing the room in stifling heat. You catch a glimpse of its sparks in the dimness of his eyes, of how he’s momentarily stricken by it before it folds beneath the shadows.

“You want to get fucked by someone else?”

A question for a question.

You swallow down the lump in your throat, caused by your frustration.

Your devotion to him didn’t let you go as far as to imagine being fucked by his friend while Yoongi watched, but the brief flash of it in your mind is enough incentive for the heat to spill into you, mingling with the darkness, turning you candescent, traveling through you until it finds your core—and there, it stays. There, it finds home.

The pulse on your clit returns, filling you with abrupt energy.

There’s something about him coming up with it that makes you unhinged, but you’re so utterly sick of the instability of your feelings. You need it to stop.

“And what if I do?” you retort. “What will you do?”

Truthfulness, at last.

Yoongi takes in a sharp inhale of breath, and that is the only reaction you receive from him. Nothing else on his face flickers; no wrath, no sliver of jealousy, not one thing. You stare at an empty canvas, ready for you to paint on. And you simply decide that you want to start.

You push his hand away from your face. Stand up to your feet. But the hardened look he gives you inclines you to sit back down.

You fight against it.

Untangling the knot on your robe, you let him see your bare femininity. The perkiness of your breasts, the long dip of your stomach that he likes to pepper kisses on. Yes, you’re aiming for his weakness.

And you decide to repeat history.

You reach your hand down, lower and lower while he stares you down, and you collect your glimmering essence. Sinking your finger into your mouth, you make a show of rolling your eyes back and moaning faintly, softly. Your other hand, in the meantime, unbuttons his pants.

The breath Yoongi inhaled hitches in his throat.

“Is this not evidence enough?” you purr, dragging down his zipper. “How else am I supposed to show you?”

You pull his manhood out as you suck on your finger, all while maintaining eye contact. You don’t touch him beyond that. In fact, you withdraw your hand altogether.

And then, you collect your essence again.

This time, you smear it across his bottom lip. Yoongi lets you. Your heart thuds, threatening to jump out of your chest.

“Your actions during the video call told me everything,” you whisper, catching the sliver of wooziness scattering along his narrowed eyes. “And I think you liked it more than me—the thought of sharing me. You can’t hide it. Not when I saw it.”

Yoongi growls. Then, he surprises you.

He parts his lips for you.

And the contact of the pad of your finger with his wet tongue coaxes a string of your dewiness to drip down the side of your thigh. You moan for him. Relieved, fucked up, woozy just the same. Finally, finally, finally.

You’re in charge. And it feels divine.

His length twitches against the fabric of his T-shirt. Long, hard, drooling. Such a delight for you—and so you continue.

“I also think it made you hard. Not just because you called me when I was touching myself, but because your friend was right there beside you,” you purr, your voice a seductive sound of silk—leading him to wrap his lips around your digit. You moan for him, showing him how much you like that. “Isn’t that right, baby?” Your walls clench at the pet name, solely due to the fact that these soft terms of endearment have always been addressed to you, never the other way around. It thrills you. “I’d always be devoted to you, even if he fucked me. I’d look at you the entire time. If that’s what you want. I had a different idea, but yours is just—” you pause, and again you make a show of sighing and rolling your eyes back, “better.”

A straight hit to his core. A glee for you.

But you don’t realize how much you fucked up until Yoongi grips your waist and the hold hurts enough that you wince.

And then—then he manhandles you.

Lifting you and laying you down on the table, Yoongi spreads your legs. Watches you drip, watches as the satiny fabric follows the movement of your limbs and reveals you in all your entirety. He pulls you closer to him with a sharp tug until you collide with the tops of his thighs. Bends over you. Hovers his lips above yours. You expect him to kiss you—he even angles his head and rubs the side of his nose against yours—but he never does.

He only leaves you waiting. Leaves you submitted to your empty expectations, taking charge, taking his control back from you. You shiver in anticipation, reaching for him, however he pins your hands down on either side of you. An angel in a rose garden.

Yoongi chuckles, darkly, his teeth glinting in the yellow light. You fight against his hold, hips rolling against the underside of his length, beckoning him to do something, anything. You merely manage to prolong the thunder of his laughter.

“One cock isn’t enough for her, so baby wants two,” he spits. That smirk, the crinkles around his eyes—he’s enjoying this. The hint of degradation doesn’t reflect what’s swarming inside of him, doesn’t reflect the face of pleasure coursing down his body. You smile and he scoffs. “I have enough friends for you to choose from in case you want more. I think you’d be stellar at taking three cocks. Four, even, huh? Would you have enough then? One in your tight little virgin ass, two in your cunt, one down your throat?”

You gulp, frozen, eyes widening.

Yoongi bites his shiny lips, nudging the tip of his nose against yours. Kisses you once. Begins to rock his hips, his length sliding across your wet fleshiness. The moan that escapes your throat trembles with each delicious motion.

“You watch too much porn, honey,” he coos, giving you tiny kisses on the mouth. “I’d kill anyone who would come near this pussy. And I’d kill Jungkook, too, if he so much as glanced at her.”

So that’s his name. You mewl, knitting your brows. That’s his pretty name. The entirety of your form shivers at the discovery, at the pleasure given to your throbbing clit.

Yoongi pulls back, setting your hands free.

You prop your elbows on the table, pouting. Yoongi grasps his length, spreads his arousal and begins to jerk himself off.

“You’re not fucking Jungkook. You’re mine.” He groans, squeezing his tip; your hole clenches. “Rub your clit.”

Like him, you spread your arousal on your seashell, the arousal long caused by his presence and now the mention of his name—the reason behind your frustration and his, the reason why you’re spread on the dining table, why your boyfriend is hard. You rub your clit from side to side, amused.

“No,” Yoongi disapproves, knowing you do the motion when you want to prolong the build-up. “Circles. Make yourself come.”

You change direction, obeying him. A sly grin blossoms on your lips, dark eyes looking up into his, permeating them, permeating into his soul. You pick up the pace, moaning into your expression of elation.

“Jungkook is such a pretty name,” you provoke and you heighten your sounds in volume and intensity just to piss him off, just to have your way.

A grunt escapes him, matching your pace. He wraps his fingers around your throat and squeezes. You hum.

“A pretty name to moan in my opinion.” A layer of sweat coats your body. Yoongi grasps your jawline firmly and your satisfied laughter inches you closer to your orgasm. You feel the hot flashes, roses surrounding you—its tender petals grazing your feverish skin. You give in, watching Yoongi do the same, his mouth in a tight line, hissing and sizzling, an open fire, an open fire you want to be radiated by, burned whole by. “Just imagine him here, watching us. Oh my god, imagine him knowing he’s the reason why you and I are doing this.”

Yoongi has had enough.

He pushes you down harshly. Fills your hole to the hilt without letting you adjust, observing himself disappearing inside of you and begins to pound you into the table. The sound of skin slapping, the hard and quick strokes, the ravaged grunts he lets out, the fast change—it all takes your breath away, so much that you can’t, in fact, breathe. He grabs your face and makes you look at him. The dead of the night captured in his features, you absorb it, whining like the brat you are onto his mouth, mingling into your noises your approval, your yes’.

Swallowing it, he kisses you, keeping his eyes open. “He could never fuck you like this.”

You laugh. He swallows that, too, moaning. “What if he could?”

He taps you on the cheek, a warning, giving you an exceptionally hard stroke that causes you to scream. He pauses. Does it again. Over and over—and your screams echo across the room, your own soul slipping out of your body. Petals flutter against you and you’re done for, hanging off the edge. You’re close, so terribly close. Your eyesight blurs and Yoongi pulls out entirely and rams into you. Again and again, abusing your cervix.

You moan his name, gone—entirely gone.

“Yes, moan my name like that. Just mine,” he mutters. “Who’s fucking you this good? Who’s gonna make you come?”

He rams into you more rapidly than before. Your senses leave you until all that you know is Yoongi. His name, his scent, the wholeness of the night encompassing him.

“You, Yoongi, you. Fuck, I—”

Yoongi laughs maniacally. “Yes, that’s right. That’s my good girl.”

He rolls his hips, slowing down the coming of your orgasm, owning you. Lets your senses come back to you momentarily. You swallow, your throat dry and you blink, dazed still. Yoongi kisses you, giving you all that he took from you.

“Who’s only capable of fucking you like this, honey, hm?” he asks, his voice tender and sing-song. “My pretty honey, so fucked out. So out of it.”

You whine and you don’t control what comes out of you, your body answering for you. “You, Yoongi. You’re fucking me so—so good. I can’t—fuck. You’re the only one.”

He smiles down at you fondly, kissing your nose, then your lips, parting your mouth and swirling his tongue around yours briefly. Then he withdraws, begins to fuck you again, slowly, reaching to the side for something.

Once you see his phone in his hand, your heart stops. And when he puts the device to his ear, your throat dries up even more. You suddenly become aware of the silence all around, especially in your chest. You can’t breathe, you can’t blink—

Yoongi jackhammers into you, purposefully luring your loud noises out of you. “My girlfriend wants to fuck you.”

You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut, the suddenness, the quickness of pleasure you haven’t yet felt piercing you. Fuck hot flashes and petals, you feel a heavy urge of your orgasm closing down on you.

“She’s so desperate for you, even when I’m fucking the life out of her.”

You flutter your eyes open to see Yoongi surveying you. You scrunch your face—so close, so fucking close—and then he puts the phone to your ear. Breathing, hard, ragged breathing fills all of your senses and you come.

It’s an explosion. Roses bursting, their dew soaking you and Yoongi whole and you exit. You exit out of this situation, this world, this universe while your soul remains here with them. Vibrancy, colors so beautiful and sensations so vivid, ardent and fierce. You don’t know what it is you’re feeling or where you are. That is, until Yoongi’s voice yanks you back to planet Earth, back into this world, this situation—back to them.

“In fact, she just came for you. Squirted.”

You sob. Overstimulated, rhapsodic, but effulgent. Yes, you emit light and glow. You can see it in Yoongi’s softened eyes.

“Think about it. No pressure. Just know she won’t shut up about you. I recall her saying your name would be pretty to moan while she played with her pussy. I think it’s only right you fuck it out of her.”

With that, he hangs up.

You brim with so many emotions that it numbs you. Happy tears flow out of your tear ducts—and happily, endearingly, Yoongi chortles. You don’t even feel humiliation or shame. On the contrary, you’re ready to come again.

Yoongi kisses you and the sounds he slips into your mouth divulge how happy he is about this, how pleased he is with himself.

You pout, burning your eyesight into his. He begins to rut into you.

“What, you’re not even gonna thank me?” he says, grinning, as if he wasn��t fucking you at all, as if you two were still sitting at the dinner table, conversing.

You stammer, head empty, silencing yourself and trying again. “What—what made you change your mind?”

Yoongi places open-mouthed, wet kisses along the bone of your jaw, and there he seals his answer. “I made up my mind the moment you admitted you wanted to be fucked by him, but you wouldn’t shut up about him. I wanted to hear you babble for me. About me. I just had to mess you up to get to that point.”

You mewl, running your hands through his sweat-slicked hair. Like a cat, he perks up to your touch, lifting his head, angling it. He kisses you, deeply. Kisses your relief.

“Where are your manners, hm?” he whispers onto your mouth, giving you hard strokes that erase your vocabulary. You want to make him come and so you push against his thrusts, but to no avail. The intensity won’t allow you.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you murmur, cradling his face, pecking him, giving him the softest eyes you could muster so you can show him how much it means to you.

He approves of your effort on bettering your manners and to reward you, he lifts you up and fucks you in the air. Your breasts bounce against the material of his T-shirt, stimulating you and he alters between jackhammering into you and sliding you up and down on his length. Your pussy squelches around his girth, tightening and Yoongi—

Yoongi loses his mind.

And it’s him who begins to babble when you snap your hips down on him in circles.

“Just like that, honey, oh fuck. So good, so good for me.”

He takes it until his sounds grow in volume and you focus so much on his pleasure that you forget about yours.

But you don’t let him take charge.

“Let me fuck you, please, Yoongi. I wanna make you come.”

Just like you, he’s out of it and because of that, because you asked so nicely, he lets you.

His chest heaves, staccatos of his choked out breaths sail through the room and you can see it on his face that he’s close. Brows furrowed, bottom lip bleeding due to the way he bites hard on it, the way his mouth pops open and his eyes flutter closed.

You hold onto his neck with your dear life.

“Look at me,” you demand and swirl your hips in slow circles around his tip. “I want you to look at me when you come.”

You’re so stunned that he allows you to be in charge, even more when he truly does open his eyes and pierces his gaze into yours.

“I need to pull out,” he breathes, but you shake your head, snapping your hips down on him harshly.

“No, I want your cum in me. And I want it to be inside of me when Jungkook fucks me.”

Yoongi grunts and this is it for him. His cock twitches in you, over and over again and then you feel it—the hot, thick ropes of his cum stuffing you full. You’re so mesmerized by the feeling, by the blissfulness evident on his face, by the smoothness between his brows at last that you can’t even milk him dry. You’re frozen, stupefied by his beauty, by his personal rapture and you want to feel it in unity with him. You kiss him.

It’s him who fucks him cum into you, burying it deep, moaning into your lip lock.

It’s him who lays you down to your original position and briefly, feebly licks the sheen on your spread lips before devouring your clit.

It’s him who gives you the fastest orgasm of your life.

And it’s him who tells you—in the shower—the story of how he almost beat up Jungkook black and blue once he heard him say how pretty you are.

And it’s you who checks up on him.

“You sure you’re okay with this?”

You’re stroking his hair in the bed, the duvet heavy and warm around your body and his, the night overflowing into morning—Yoongi, too.

He’s falling asleep, but still conscious, still here with you, purring.

“I wouldn’t be waking him up in the middle of the night if I wasn’t,” he whispers, opening his eyes to look at you, to see you enveloped in the extra blanket of the dawn’s rosy light—glowing, throwing the sun off of its throne. “Poor guy just got out of the military and you’ve already rocked his world.”

You smile, fondly, thumb caressing his temple. Yoongi hums in appreciation.

“I’m happy for him he’s getting pussy—one that’s mine. Before he enlisted, he spent all his time painting and getting drunk alone,” he pauses in a thought, blinking at the light. “You still want this?”

You nod, settling into his chest. Yoongi pulls you closer, tucking the duvet into the lines of your form, bringing in comfort and sleepiness.

“I’ll make sure you have the time of your life. I’ll be here the whole time, taking care of you,” he promises against your hair and you squeeze him.

“He hasn’t said yes, though. He could turn me down.”

“I’ve seen the way he looked at you. You have nothing to fear. He’ll come to you like a puppy.”

Yoongi sinks the promise onto the plane of your forehead and holds you as you drift to sleep. Happy, relieved, steamed off of all the negative things you went through. It evaporates into the dawn—far, far away from you.

BACK to masterlist / READ part two

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dustofthedailylife · 1 year

Note

Hihi! I just read ur befriended a slime post and o would love to see more characters react to you befriending a slime! I love ur writing so much💛💛 I don’t have specific characters in mind so any you want to do is fine🥰

Hey! Thank you so much for the compliments, I'm glad to hear my silly little stories brought you joy! I too absolutely adored the concept so I added some more I could come up with something for. I hope you like them <3 P.S.: I also love how your username is very fitting for this specific fic request. I love it! 😭

"That Day I Befriended A Slime" (II) ft. Ayato, Itto, Kaeya, Kaveh, Albedo x Reader [Fluff, Crack]

→ Part I (Xiao, Zhongli, Tighnari, Alhaitham, Childe, Diluc) → Masterlist || → Taglist

→ Ayato didn’t anticipate returning home from his meeting to find you sitting in the small pond in front of the Estate. You are drenched from head to toe and are just about to be tackled by the hydro slime in front of you.

"Oh, Archons no!", Ayato yells, dropping everything he is holding to rush towards your position and practically dives into the water to shield you from the attack of the slime. He pulls out his sword and tells you to get behind him. Slightly nervous he looks around because he knows he will have trouble defeating it alone. A hydro vision is useless against hydro slimes. He hates feeling so helpless but he might have to rely on someone else here. "Thoma! Ayaka! Get here quick!" "Ayato...", you giggle, placing a hand on his shoulder and brushing a strand of drenched pastel blue hair behind his ear. "It won't harm anyone. I found it in Chinju Forest and it followed me back here." "...w-what?"

He watches in disbelief as the slime slowly crawls into your arms and nuzzles into your chest before it closes its eyes and starts emitting gurgly purring noises.

→ Itto is faced with your beaming smile before you pull him by his hand, prompting him to follow you. All you had told him was that you need to show him something and he is practically bursting with excitement about what it was.

"What, what, what?! Come on, tell me. What do you want to show me?!", Itto beams. "Patience! We're almost there!" You lead him to a small enclosed garden behind one of the shops in Hanamizaka, taking a little glass jar out of your bag that contains some rocks. You shake the glass a couple of times and Itto looks around, seemingly waiting for a reaction. His eyes widen in surprise as soon as a small geo slime crawls out under the hedge and in your direction. "Do you want to give him a treat?", you ask teasingly, but you don't even have to wait for an answer as he is rushing straight towards the little slime with open arms already. "Oh by the gods, look at the little dude!! We gotta give him a name. Itto the Second? Itto Junior? Whadda'ya think?"

Needless to say, the slime is now a new addition to your little family. And another upside is that Ushi seems to get along with it as well.

→ Kaeya meets up with you at your apartment after being done with work for the day. He was thinking about your homemade dinner all day already and is ready to melt into your arms as soon as he is able to. What he does not expect today is walking into your apartment bathroom and finding a sleeping cryo slime in your bathtub.

"Uuuuh... sweetheart?", he chuckles with unease in his voice. "Yes, Love?" "You are aware that there is a cryo slime peacefully taking a nap in your bathtub, yes?", he inquired and scrunched his eyebrows in concern. "Yes." "Yes?!", he exclaims in disbelief. "Yes.", you reassure. "I bonded with it when it was hot outside and we both took shelter under the same tree. Poor thing looked scared to death. It probably thought it would melt. So... I put it in my bag and put it in the bathroom because it's cold there.", you satisfy his curiosity. "Plus... it kind of reminds me of you." You have never seen him that quiet before. What a rare moment to see the Cavalry Captain lost for words.

And as much as finding the little slime flabbergasted him. He soon warms up to it and you sometimes even find him napping on your sofa with the slime pressed flush to his chest.

→ Kaveh comes home only to find a dendro slime on his desk, happily chewing away on his blueprints. Taking a few seconds before processing what is happening he darts forward to push the slime off his desk and pull the saliva-drenched remnants of his blueprints out of the slime's mouth.

"No, no... noooo.", he groans, pulling on his hair. He has no idea how it got in here but there is only one possible explanation for it. Angrily he marches into the living room with his fists balled on his sides. "Alhaitham! Why did you put a slime into my room?!", he fumes. "Because your partner dropped it off here earlier even though I told them you're not here yet. They said something about a... pet? It wanted to chew on my books so I threw it into your room.", he explains without looking up from the book in his hands once. "Oh grand. And you didn't consider that it would continue to chew on my things there?" "I fail to see how that is my problem."

However, it sort of starts to become his problem as soon as Alhaitham finds out you and Kaveh named the slime "Hai-Hai" in reference to the sprouts on its head that apparently share similarities to his own hair.

→ Albedo finds you and Klee kneeling in the grass just outside of the Mondstadt city gates. A beaming smile on the little girl's face and reaching down towards something that he is unable to make out at first, due to your backs blocking his vision. As soon as he steps closer he identifies what you are kneeling next to. A little geo slime is nuzzling into your lap while Klee pats its head.

"Mr. Albedo!!", Klee cheers. "Look what we found. Klee made a slime friend!" "Ah, that is wonderful, Klee!", he smiles in her direction. "So that's the project you were working on the past weeks I assume?", he inquires directed at you. "Bingo. Turns out my slime-tamer elixir is a success. With this, we might be able to domesticate them. As you can see, this little guy over here turned from a little feral blob into a snuggly little pet.", you explain. He eyes the slime with curiosity. This is certainly a most amazing find. As expected of you. He never had any doubt you wouldn't succeed with anything you had set your mind on. "Fascinating. You've got to show me your notes on this-" "Mr. Albedo! Can we keep it? Please, please, please!", Klee interrupts and excitedly jumps up and down clutching onto the Alchemist's coat. "I don't see any reason why we shouldn't." "Yaaay!"

Watching you and Klee play with the slime and seeing your proud smile makes his heart swell in his chest. You are truly the most gifted person he has ever met.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always appreciated!

#astronetwrk #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #ayato x reader #kaveh x reader #itto x reader #albedo x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin x reader #genshin drabbles #genshin headcanons #genshin scenarios #genshin fluff #genshin crack #🍁 dust mail #🍁 garden visitor: jellyslimesofficial #🍁 dust reqs

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kissesfrombangtanatnight · 2 months

Text

Pillow Talk: Jey Uso

You kiss your husband's tattoo on his ribcage as he lies on his back, eyes closed and enjoying the comfortable silence.

"Don't start something you can't finish." He says in his deep voice. He had just finished putting it on you and now y'all are both tired. Who wouldn't be, it's 4 in the morning. He woke you up an hour ago hungry and horny. Though you never got to making him a early morning breakfast, too tired to move.

"Who says I can't finish?" You smirk kissing along his jawline now. You pull away and relax in his open arms as he rubs your bare back.

"You remember how shy and quiet you were when we first met? Barely gave ya boy any of your time. Hell even when we started dating you were still standoffish. Wouldn't let a brotha do shit for you." Jey jokes reminiscing on when y'all started dating.

"I'm sorry about that baby. It's just, you've shown me love that no one else has ever given me outside of my family. It felt weird to be with someone that actually cared."

"Of course because you deserve it. We all deserve love. I mean I understood why you were the way you were. If the people you love are the ones to constantly hurt you, you tend to expect others to be the same."

"Yeah I mean, all before I was never anyone's first choice you know? No one got excited when they talked to me. No one thought of me. It was just me, myself and I. When I did try to open up to a guy, he didn't want me. So to be put in a position where I have to be vulnerable with someone else after being hurt so many times, it was scary." You admit. Jey pulls you closer to him and kisses the top of your head.

"I think we've all had that experience. Shit sucks and it honestly makes you wanna give up on love. But damn, I was determine to make you mine. We were both taking a leap of faith, but I'm glad we did. Or else how would we had learned that there is true love out there? People love flexing being able to have this person to call when the other acting up. Treating peoples hearts and bodies like backup plans. Nah, the real flex is being able to come home to the one person you know is going to be there til the end. I love the hell out of you girl, and ain't nothing gonna change that."

"I love you too Joshua. More than you could ever know. No matter what we go through, don't ever walk away from me. Fight but never forfeit." You say turning his head to the side to kiss his lips.

"Fight but never forfeit." Jey repeats after you. You stare up at his beautiful face and bite your lip.

"Round two?"

"Oh fuck, enough Joshua!" You moan softly throwing your head back. You hands rest on the headboard, scratching it up. You've been riding your husband and even though you came, he showed no signs of stopping; fucking you right through your orgasm. Your walls kept spasming around him and even though you created a puddle on his lap, his hips kept rocking into yours hard and fast.

"That's right say my name. Baby you know I gave you my last name so you could scream my first. Say..that..shit..again." He demands hitting your g-spot with each hard thrust. You tried running and that didn't help, only making him put a vice grip on your hips.

"Oh my God, Joshua! Fuck me, shit!" You scream. "Come on baby, fuck me daddy!" Mouth open, you grip his shoulders as it felt like he was beating down your walls.

"Fuck bae, I'm deep inside that pussy. You like that shit don't you ma? Talk to me." He says smacking your ass. Only momentarily does he pull out just to get behind you. He takes his big tip smacking it against your clit rubbing your juices all over his tip, coating it.

"Stop playin Jey and put that dick inside me! Bout to show you how to bust a nut baby." He shivered at your words, a shiver going down his spine.

"Fuck." He groans sliding between your tight wet walls. You begin throwing it back on him as he looks down at where you connected. Watching as your cream coats his dick. He reaches down, grabbing you by the back of your neck, causing your back to arch. He rolls his hips into yours, the sounds of skin on skin filling the room.

"Mmmm baby I'm so close!" You grip the sheets feeling a knot form in your stomach. He was too fucking deep. Your walls tighten around him, trying to push him out from how intense he was fucking you.

"Shit don't do that, bout to make me nut baby!" His thrust become sloppy as he was nearing his orgasm. He couldn't handle the way you were going fool on the dick. He kept pumping into you as you beg him to cum.

"Cum inside Jey! Give me that nut!" You look back to see sweat dripping from his face down to his abdomen, his skin glistening in the early morning. He looked so good as the veins in his neck popped, his eyebrows furrowed as he concentrated on pleasing you. You feel his dick throbbing inside of your slippery walls as he cums.

"Yeah baby, I'm cummin'!" You soon feel the all too familiar as he releases ropes of cum into you, coating your walls. "Shit!" He falls to your side as you try and catch your breath.

"Dammit Joshua, you knocked my damn lashes off." You say peeling a eyelash extension off your pillow case. He says nothing and just smirks as he rests his hands behind his head.

"Don't know why you so fucked out, we not done yet." You look over at your husband like he's crazy.

"Boy what?!?!?!"

"Nuh uh, come hop on this face Mrs. Fatu."

FUCK! This man trynna kill me!

#wwe smut #the bloodline #jey uso x black reader #jey uso smut #wwe bloodline #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction #jey uso #jey uso x reader #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso imagine

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whimsyfinny · 3 months

Text

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

Chapter Word Count: 1762

—-MDNI—-

A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.

——————————————————————

I'm Not Your F*cking Maid

Please read Prologue before starting.

Chapter 1

I sat in the window booth at the typical sleepy diner, tapping my fingers on the sticky wooden table and checking the time on my phone every minute. She was late. She was never late. And now I’m getting worried. I’m sure she’s fine, I had convinced myself as I reached for my backpack and pulled out an old tome on burial rights over various different cultures. I might as well read to distract myself whilst I wait for her to arrive. I try to relax into the monotone ambience of the room, and just as I get settled into the scrawling text on the ancient pages, a growling engine pulling up outside draws my gaze away from the long paragraph on ‘Cremation’. I return my attention back to the book after a second as the engine ticks over outside for a few more beats before being turned off. The waitress returns to my table to collect the empty beer bottle I’d drained when I first arrived; she smiled and asked if she could get me anything.

“Just another one of those please,” I smiled back, hearing the bell ring as the front door opened and my gaze jumped from the waitress to Charlie as she came skipping towards where I was sitting, sliding into the booth opposite me.

“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I’m late, I had an errand to run and it took waaaayyy longer than expected.”

“It’s ok, I was starting to get a little worried so I’m just glad you’re alright….” I felt my voice trail off as I felt the booth cushion dip as someone sat next to me. I whipped my head around and came nose-to-nose with a man I’d never met before; with the most enticing green eyes I’d ever gazed into and annoyingly kissable lips pulling into a devilish smirk. Just as those lips parted to speak, I blurted out without thinking:

“Who the fuck are you?”

He blinked in slight shock, and paused like he was rethinking what he was going to say. He opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted a second time.

“Dean, don’t sit so close,” another man, who I didn’t even realise was there, had sat down next to Charlie. He was taller, with impressive hair and softer features than this Dean guy, who was practically sitting in my lap and eyeing me up and down. Dean gave this other man a look as if to say ‘shut up’, before turning to me once more, devilish grin back in place. He opened his mouth to speak a third time right as the waitress returned with my beer.

“Here you are,” she said sweetly, not knowing she was interrupting as Dean threw his hands up in defeat at not being able to get a word in, slumping back in the chair. The waitress put the bottle down in front of me.

“Can I get anything for your friends?” She looked around the table and before either of the men could answer, Charlie jumped in;

“Three very strong coffees please.”

Dean huffed, “Oh so I can’t even order a beer?”

“You two boys have been living on pizza and beer for God knows how long. At least drink something that contains some water,” Charlie quipped, looking at them both like they were naughty children. She sighed when she realised they looked slightly ashamed of themselves. “Anyway, (Y/n), this is Sam and Dean. I know you’ve been looking for work and these two might be able to help. They’re good friends of mine and they’re-“

“Hunters,” I interrupted, feeling my blood start to run cold, “yeah I know who they are. Winchesters,” the name felt bitter on my tongue, like poison.

They must have noticed the change of tone in my voice because the table went quiet, even the mischievous glint seemed to have gone from Deans gaze as he looked at me with intrigue. Annoyed at myself for not realising who they were sooner, I grabbed my backpack and unzipped it, packing away my book. I stood up and glared down at Dean, about to bark at him to move when Charlie grabbed my wrist.

“(Y/n) what’s wrong? What are you doing? Please don’t go, we…they could really use your help right now.”

“And why should I? They’re the reason I’m struggling in the first place,” I paused, staring down at the two men who now had dark, ashamed expressions cloaking their features, almost like this wasn’t the first time they’d heard this side of the story where they weren’t always the hero’s. “They’re the reason my family is dead, and I’m all alone.” More silence hung over the booth like a dark cloud. It was Sam who spoke up after a minute or so, genuine sorrow in his eyes.

“(Y/n) I’m so, so sorry. Who-”

“Bobby Singer.”

The Winchester brothers shot each other a stunned look.

“B-Bobby?” Sam stuttered whilst Deans eyes widened. He looked like he’d taken a blow to the chest and had the air knocked from his lungs, “We didn’t know he had any living relatives…”

“He was my uncle,” Deans jaw clenched, “And you guys didn’t know because he knew I’d end up being used against him. I collected books for him to help you guys on all your bullshit missions, so haven’t I already helped you enough? Don’t you owe me some peace?” I threw my bag on the floor and picked up my beer, taking several gulps before slamming it back onto the table before continuing, the words just spilling out. “He was my only living relative for as long as I can remember. So fuck you guys for taking him away from me.”

“We loved Bobby,” Dean spoke suddenly in a grave tone and his gaze went dark as he stood up to face me. His tall form with strong, broad shoulders loomed over my much smaller stature, one of his fingers jabbing into my chest.

“Dean-” Sam started but was silenced by a wave of Deans other hand.

“You can get down off your high fucking horse if you think that you’re the only family that he had. You weren’t. He raised us more than our own father did, and I’ll be damned if I don’t think about him every day and wish he was here. You’re not the only one grieving him so stop acting like a precious little bitch and grow up,” Deans voice grew louder and more pissed as he spoke, and with every word he spoke he got closer and closer until he was right in my face, our noses almost touching. My heart rate was starting to pick up and I could feel the anger start to boil in my veins. Without missing a beat I threw my fist out and punched him in the face, making him stumble out of the booth and into the aisle in the diner. I heard gasps around me but didn’t look up. When the anger in my veins didn’t fade with the single punch, I didn’t give him a chance to gain his composure as I tackled him, making him fall on his back as I straddled him, my knees gripping his hips as I began punching him again and again right in that stupid face of his. Charlie and Sam seemed to sit there in disbelief for a few seconds before springing into action and lifting me off the older Winchester brother. Sam held me back gently but firmly as Charlie helped Dean to his feet, handing him a napkin from the table for the blood pouring from his nose and lip.

“You crazy bitch!” Dean spat.

“Fuck you!” I tried to break free so I could slap him but Sam held me tight.

The whole diner had gone silent as they watched me lose my shit, some amused but most were horrified. It took a few more moments of silence before they all went back to what they were doing and Sam let go of me, watching me like I was a time bomb. I heard Charlie giggle quietly.

“Holy crap (Y/n) I had no idea you had that in you. I’m actually a little impressed, you were always so quiet.”

“What can I say,” I turned to glare at Dean “I learnt from the best,” as I turned away I heard him mutter under his breath.

“Yeah you aren’t the only one.”

For a second time I saw red, and before Sam could grab me I spun on my heel and threw my fist out. CRACK.

The car doors slammed closed next to me after I was crammed into the back of Deans car. It wouldn’t have been that bad - the seats were oh so plush - if it wasn’t for the handcuffs tight round my wrists and duct tape across my lips. Oh, and that my thigh was rubbing up against the man that I had just assaulted. Dean was in the same situation with the handcuffs and the tape, his long legs having to spread wide so he can fit in the back of his own car. I could feel his gaze burning into the side of my face as I watched Sam and Charlie apologising to the diner staff through the front window. I was trying to find any sort of distraction right now, as Deans body temperature was hot and I could feel it through both his jeans and mine as he pressed into me. He was starting to make me sweat a little. Luckily it wasn’t long before Charlie and Sam hopped into the car, Sam in the drivers seat. They both turned to face us, smiles of bewilderment on their faces as if they were still processing what had just happened. Sam spoke first.

“(Y/n) is now officially barred from that diner, and honestly they wanted to call the cops. Charlie managed to save your ass as she still had her FBI badge on her,” he shot her a look and she grinned.

“So because now, you technically owe me a debt of gratitude, you will be staying in the bunker with the boys and helping them with their research.” She chimed, like she had won a game. In the end they got what they wanted.

I groaned and rolled my eyes. Of course. I heard Dean huff next to me, and he sounded just as displeased as I did. To be honest at this point, that’s fair.

Although he had it coming.

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Up Next

Chapter 2

#dean x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean x female!reader

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brokebonewritings · 3 months

Text

Be Mine, Forever?

Matt Murdock x Reader

Tags/ Warnings: 18+, Smut, Fluff, Valentine's Day Special

Summary: Your day is interrupted by an impromptu girl's day. and your night is filled with passion as Matt surprises you for Valentine's Day. You had a surprise for him as well. Song: Here (In Your Arms) - First Dance by Hellogoodbye

Word Count: 4.4K

Navigation | Series Masterlist

The day started normally enough. Of course, Valentine’s day fell on a week day this year so you were stuck at work. You sent Matt a few ‘Good Morning’ and ‘Happy Valentine's Day’ texts, but it's been radio silence from the other end. This was expected though, since he had already informed you that he was going to be in court all day.

You sit back at your desk, you've been preparing all month for a new exhibit at The Met. The plans that spread across your desk puzzle you as you try to figure out where to place each case and art piece.

As you meticulously arrange the plans for the new exhibit, your mind can't help but wander back to Matt. The silence from him is starting to feel unusual, as he's always been the one to send you sweet messages and surprises on special occasions. But you brush it off, he's never disappointed you.

Just as you're about to finalize the placement of the last art piece, Marci rushes into your office, a mix of urgency and excitement in her eyes. "Hey!"

"How did you get in here?" You respond with a raised eyebrow. "Did my assistant let you in?"

Just as you finish your question Justin, your assistant, rushes in behind her. "I am so sorry. I tried stopping her, but she is so fast in those heels."

"Lawyer walk." Both you and Marci say in unison.

She turns back to you with a smile plastered on her face. "I need you to come with me for the rest of the day."

"Marci, I can't just leave work in the middle of the day." You cross your arms over your chest.

"Oh yes you can, I already spoke to your boss! So come on." She grabs your coat that's by the door, along with your umbrella. "We got things to do, come on."

You sigh and thank Justin for trying, and invite him to also take the rest of the day off. Which he does happily.

"So what are we even going to do?" You ask. Grabbing your bag, and putting away your belongings.

"Well we're gonna go get ready for our Valentine's Date Nights, duh." She helps you get your coat on, and you both were off. "I just know that Foggy, and Matt are planning something special for us."

You smile at the thought. "Have you heard from Foggy today? I know they had a busy day."

"Not a word. You didn't hear it from me, but apparently their client is very demanding of their time."

"Oh shit, really?"

You loved the gossip you got from your lawyer friends. Not that it was filled with a ton of details. Client/Lawyer confidentiality and all that.

"Mhm, Needs lots of attention to detail." She says before dragging you into a nail salon. You realize how nice this salon is after looking around. "Hey, wait, I don't think I'm gonna be able to afford this right now. Trying to save up for a new apartment with Matt, remember?"

She laughs before checking the both of you in for the appointment she had already made. "Who said you were paying? It's all on me today, hun."

"Oh my god, no way! I seriously cannot accept this."

"Too late! It's already done, you don't wanna ruin this day for me do you?" She pouts after turning back to you.

You sigh and shake your head. "Thank you, this is incredibly kind of you."

"Don't even mention it. I wanna make sure we both are dolled up!"

You're both called back after about 5 minutes. The salon was nicer than you thought. When you had both settled at the manicure station, they had offered you both a glass of champagne. Who were you not to accept a free glass?

It was truly relaxing, you were glad that Marci got you out of work early. You both spent the next two hours getting your nails prepped for a night out. Usually you don't get long nails since you work with your hands most of the time, but she insisted you get something more elegant. You couldn't refuse since she was the one paying.

Just as the nail technician finished with your right hand, your phone buzzed on the table beside you. Your heart skipped a beat as you saw Matt's name flashing on the screen. You quickly picked it up and answered, not wanting it to go to voicemail.

"Hey! Happy Valentine's Day!" You chirp happily. "How is court?"

There was a brief pause before Matt's voice came through, heavy with exhaustion. "Happy Valentine's Day, Sweetheart." It's been chaos. I couldn't even find a moment to catch my breath."

You let out a sigh of relief, understanding his predicament. "Then I guess tonight will be a good night to cash in one of those massages I owe you, huh?"

Hearing the low rumble of his chuckle sent chills through your body. "Yeah, guess it will be." He pauses. "I was wondering if you would meet me on the roof tonight, like we used to?"

"Yeah, of course I will." You blush, it has been a while since you both sat on the roof together. "What time do you want me there?"

"8:30. There is room for you to be fashionably late, of course."

You let out a giggle. "Yeah okay, 8:30 then. I'll see you then."

"I love you." He says with a loving sigh.

"I love you too." You respond before hanging up.

"Soooooo," Marci pipes up. "Romantic Dinner?"

The blush was still tinting your face from the conversation. "Yeah, on his rooftop."

"That sounds lovely, very romantic."

As you finish up at the nail salon, Marci insists on taking you to a cafe nearby. She called it a Galentine's Brunch, just the girls. When you both arrived, you were surprised to see that Karen was able to join you.

"I thought you were in court with Matt, and Fog?"

"Oh no, I told them I wouldn't be in today. Playing hookie." She laughed lightly. "Besides, Im not going to deny Marci a girls brunch. We need it."

As you settled into the cozy booth at the cafe, sipping on your latte, the three of you began catching up on each other's lives. Karen shared stories about her latest investigative assignment, Marci talked about her recent courtroom victories, and you filled them in on the details of the upcoming exhibit at The Met.

Marci nudges you playfully. "Have you thought about what you're going to wear?" she asks with a mischievous smile.

You shake your head, realizing that you've been so caught up in work and the surprise day off that you haven't even considered your outfit.

"I just figured I would wear what I was wearing right now."

"You're joking." Marci says. "You have to wear something else. Not saying that what you're wearing right now isn't cute, but this is Valentine's Day."

"Yeah you gotta wear something he can undress you with" Karen chimes in with a mischievous smile. "Cause you know he'll love it if you wore something hot."

"Okay, okay. I have been saving a silk dress for a special occasion."

"Silk? I gotta see this." Marci says forcefully.

You pull out your phone and find the dressing room photo you took of the dress in question. It was a lavender colored dress with a cowl neckline. They both stare at the photo then back to you.

"Where have you been hiding that!" Karen says in disbelief.

"In the back of my closet." You respond with a laugh. "I just didn't know how to style it."

"I will simply just have to come over and help you with that." Marci states.

"And." You pause. "There's matching lingerie."

They both squeal before you change the subject back to Marci and Foggy's plans for the evening.

You stare in the mirror at the dress you had shown Marci, and Karen earlier in the day.They had left about an hour ago to get ready for their own plans. Not without them giving your outfit their seal of approval though.

Sitting on your bed, you pull on the heels Marci had carefully chosen. This was going to be a good night, but you didn't know why the butterflies in your stomach felt so prominent. You haven't been this nervous since you started dating Matt.

Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself that there's nothing to worry about. It's just a rooftop date with the love of your life. You run a hand down the front of your dress, feeling its smooth texture against your skin.

As you do your makeup, you can't help but replay all the beautiful moments you've shared with Matt. From late-night conversations under the stars to stolen kisses on the rooftop, every memory fills you with warmth and love. Tonight is just another chapter in your story together, a celebration of your deep connection.

With your hair styled in loose waves, you stand in front of the full-length mirror and admire the final look. The dress drapes perfectly over your figure, accentuating your best features. You feel confident, more confident than you've felt in years.

You look at the clock on your nightstand, and see that it just hit 8:00. Perfect. You grab your bag and set out walking towards his apartment building.

The city is alive with the energy of Valentine's Day. Lovers walk hand in hand, their laughter and joy filling the air. As you make your way through the bustling streets, you can't help but smile. The anticipation in your heart grows with every step.

Finally, you arrive at Matt's apartment building. Taking a deep breath, you enter and climb the stairs towards the rooftop. The familiar sound of the door creaking open greets you as you step onto the familiar space that holds so many precious memories.

The sun has already set, casting a magical glow over the city skyline. The soft twinkle of lights fills the air, creating an atmosphere that feels straight out of a fairy tale. And there he is, standing near the edge of the rooftop, tall and handsome as ever.

Matt turns as he hears your footsteps approaching. A smile spreads across his face, lighting up his eyes in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. That's when you realize that you're not alone. You turn to see that your friends are there. Not only your friends but also your Aunt May and Peter.

"What is happening right now?" You say with a nervous laugh.

"Sweetheart," You hear him say and you turn back and give him your full attention. "I have been meaning to do this for a while, but I didn't know how to go about it."

"Matt, are you?" You begin before he cuts you off with a kiss.

"Ever since I met you I have been so entranced by you.You've brought so much light and love into my life, and I can't imagine a future without you by my side," Matt says, his voice filled with sincerity. He takes a step back, reaching into his pocket and retrieving a small velvet box. Opening it to reveal a dainty opal ring, he drops to one knee.

You stand there for a moment, wondering if this was actually happening or if you were have a really specific dream.

"Will you marry me?" Matt asks, his voice filled with vulnerability and love.

The world around you seems to fade away as you lock eyes with him, feeling a mixture of excitement and overwhelming joy. The weight of his question hangs in the air, and time seems to stand still.

Tears well up in your eyes as you try to find your voice. This moment feels like a dream, but the warmth in your heart tells you it's all too real. You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the question like a beautiful promise.

"Yes," you whisper, barely able to contain your joy. "Yes, Matt, I will marry you."

The rooftop erupts in cheers and he stands and slips the ring onto your finger. You glance around, realizing that they had all conspired together to create this magical moment. Aunt May wipes away a tear of happiness while Peter grins ear to ear. Marci and Karen are practically jumping up and down with excitement, their eyes shining with joy. Foggy is trying to conceal his tears by wiping his eyes with his sleeves.

Embracing Matt tightly, you feel an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude. This rooftop, once a place of solace and refuge for the two of you, now holds even more significance. It symbolizes the foundation of your future together, a place where love can blossom and dreams can be realized.

Amidst the cheers and laughter, you take a moment to soak in the beauty of this milestone in your relationship. The twinkling lights of the city below seem to dance in celebration, mirroring the joy in your hearts.

"This is so epic, and I got it all on video." Peter says amidst the celebration.

As the cheers die down, Aunt May steps forward, her eyes glistening with tears. "Oh, darling" she says, her voice filled with emotion. "I couldn't be happier for you both. You deserve all the love in the world. Your father would have loved Matt."

"Thanks Aunt May." You say with a tearful smile.

As the rooftop continues to buzz with excitement and congratulations, you and Matt share a tender moment together. He pulls you into his arms, his embrace warm and comforting. You feel safe and cherished as you rest your head against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat echoing in your ears.

"I love you so much," Matt murmurs softly, his voice filled with emotion. "And I promise to spend the rest of my life proving it to you."

You look up at him, your eyes filled with adoration. "I love you too, Matt," you reply, your voice filled with sincerity. "And I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

After the shared dinner with all of your friends and family, you all decide it's time to head home to spend the rest of Valentine's Day in the comfort of your homes.

Saying goodbye to everyone, you and Matt clean the roof top and share a few intimate moments with kisses and lingering touches.

On your way back down the stairs, you can feel Matt's presence hovering over you. So you stop for a moment and turn to see what he is doing. As you turn, you feel his hand slide up your jaw as he pushes you against the wall. You gasp as he presses himself against you, one hand around your neck and the other sitting on your waist.

"Ive been waiting all day to be alone with you." He growls into your ear before kissing you roughly.

Your heart races as his lips claim yours, a hunger and desire that electrifies your senses. The intensity of his touch against the coolness of the wall sends shivers down your spine.

His hands explore every inch of your body, igniting a fire within you that only he can quench. The urgency and longing in his kisses leave you breathless.

With each touch, each caress, the connection between you deepens. Your bodies move together in perfect harmony, driven by a love that transcends words.

As he pulls away, you feel dizzy with the intensity of his attack. "We need to get back to your apartment." You state.

"Oh do we?" He questions. "I have no problem ravishing you right here in this stairwell."

You huff, as you stare at his smirking face. "I would actually love for you to ruin this dress, but in the comfort of our bed."

"Our bed?"

"Yes, our bed." You smirk as you push his hands away and begin to walk back to his apartment.

He follows closely behind you, his eyes never leaving your body. The desire he has for you is palpable, and it fuels you as well. As you pass each door, you can't help but imagine what would happen behind your own.

Approaching his door, you grab the keys from his hand and begin to unlock the door.

"I promise, I'll ruin that dress, right here," he whispers in your ear, causing you to shiver.

You hear the click of it unlocking as you turn to him, "Well, Mr. Devil. Ruin the dress then." you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

As the door creaks open, the sound echoes throughout the hallway, the anticipation in the air is palpable. Together, you step inside and kick the door shut behind you. He pins you against the wall, his hands roaming over your body like a man possessed.

He seems desperate to claim you, to conquer every inch of you. You're aching for him too, the want and need between you undeniable. You need his touch, his kiss, his warmth. You're completely vulnerable to him, ready to give yourself to him in every way.

His lips meet yours in a searing kiss, his hands holding your neck as your fingers dig into his shirt. You break the kiss, both of you panting heavily, your hearts pounding in sync.

"I love you so much," you whisper, your voice shaking with emotion.

"And I love you more," Matt replies, his voice filled with warmth and devotion.

With that his hands grip the top of your dress and he pulls, ripping the dress down the front. You moan at the intensity of the moment. He really did ruin the dress.

You're left in the lingerie you had on underneath as the dress drops to the floor. He takes a moment before feeling up your sides and realizes what you have on.

"Oh you dirty girl." He groans. "You wanted this to happen tonight, didn't you?"

You smile, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "Maybe I did"

"Well, I'm not complaining." He says slowly. "You have no idea how hard this is making me."

"I think I have some idea." You say as you lift your knee, feeling his erection already straining under the fabric of his pants.

His hand maneuvers down to pull your lingerie to the side, revealing your most intimate parts. "I'm going to make you scream, baby."

With that, he lifts you into his arms and carries you to the bedroom. The moment you step into the room, he drops you onto the bed and crawls on top of you.

"I want you so bad," he growls into your mouth. You feel his erection pressing into your thigh, and you're more than ready for him.

He breaks the kiss and starts to unbutton his shirt, you lay back watching as he undresses himself. What a sight it was, he could have been a Greek god.

Once he's stripped down to his boxers, he leans down to kiss you again, his hand traveling down your body, tracing patterns on your skin as he does. His fingers run along the edge of your underwear and you shudder at the sensation.

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and slowly pulls them down, revealing your naked body to him. He leans down and begins to kiss your inner thigh, nuzzling into the most inner part.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, his thumbs brushing against your waist.

Before you can respond, his tongue swipes up against your core. You gasp at the sudden electricity of the situation. He repeats the motion, his tongue swirling around your clit in slow, steady circles. Your hips start to rise in response, your hands finding their way to his hair, pulling him closer. You arch your back, moaning softly.

Matt responds with a gentle growl, his fingers still moving against your waist, caressing your skin. He reaches down and slowly pushes two fingers inside you, drawing out a loud moan.

His other hand moves to your breast, gently squeezing and kneading it. You mewl, your body trembling with need. His tongue continues to dance around your most sensitive flesh, and you feel yourself growing closer and closer to the edge.

"Oh, Matt," you moan, "I need you inside me."

He stops his ministrations, lifting his head towards you. "Not yet," he says, standing up and helping you off the bed. "I want to make you beg for it."

He leads you over to a table by the window, bending you over it. The cool glass feels amazing against your naked skin, as you're exposed to the room with your legs spread apart.

Matt positions himself behind you after dropping his boxers. You can feel his erection pressing against your ass, precum leaking out. You know he's ready for it.

"You're going to make me come so hard," you whisper.

He rubs his tip against your entrance, teasing you, making you crave him even more. Sliding his cock between your folds. You push back against him for any sort of friction.

A loud crack echoes through the apartment. His hand lingers, massaging the area he just spanked. "You need to be a good girl for me. Or else the next one will be a lot harder. Do you understand?"

You nod, pleasure spread across your face as you lean against the table.

"Good girl, sweetheart. Such a good listener."

Beginning to slide against you once again, you hold back every instinct to push back against him. With every teasing thrust, you feel electrified, your desire for him only growing. He knows what he's doing to you, and he loves every moment.

He slowly begins to tease your hole as you stand there whimpering. Pushing the head inside you, and quickly taking it out.

"Please, Matt, fuck me," you plead. "I can't take it anymore."

He pulls away, a devious grin on his face. "Not yet," he says, kissing the side of your face.

He picks you up, carrying you over to the bed. He lays you down, spreading your legs wide apart and kneeling between them.

"I need you to beg. Okay, sweetheart?" He says and you nod.

He slips two fingers into you, pumping and curling to find your sweet spot. You cry out in pleasure as he hits you right where it feels good.

"Please, oh god, Matt" You moan loudly. "I'm going to come, please I need you in me."

That must have been enough for him. With a low growl, Matt plunges into you, filling you up to the hilt. He thrusts deep inside you in one swift motion, the bed frame creaking under the force of his passion.

He pulls out almost immediately, leaving you emptiness. "Please," you beg, wanting more.

He chuckles softly, teasing you by running his cockhead up and down your slit. "Patience, sweetheart. I want this to last."

He thrusts back into you, moving slowly, savoring every moment. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

The way his cock pulsed inside of you was almost too much to bear. He began to pick up the pace, each thrust harder than the last.

You let out a loud, trembling moan, your head falling back as pleasure washed over you.

"I love you," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

"I love you too," you choke out, the emotions taking over you.

He picks up his pace, driving into you harder and faster, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. Your body responds in kind, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you.

"I'm going to come," you gasp, your voice breaking as your orgasm starts to build.

Matt's thumb found your sensitive clit, sending you soaring towards the edge. "Come for me, baby." he growls.

You let out a wail, your nails digging into his back as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your inner walls clenched around him, milking him as you shook uncontrollably.

He continued to thrust into you, driving you further over the edge. Your orgasm seemed to go on forever, your body writhing beneath him in pure ecstasy.

Finally, he slides out of you, leaving your inner walls quivering. He pulls you into his arms, holding you close as your heartbeats sync.

You lay there for a moment, basking in the afterglow of your intense lovemaking.

"My ass hurts." You after taking a deep breath. He begins to chuckle as you giggle.

"Sorry, too much?"

"Not at all."

"Good" He says as he pulls you closer and peppers your face with kisses.

As you lay there entwined in each other's arms, your skin still flushed and sweaty, you can't help but smile. This was more than just sex; it was a powerful expression of love and intimacy.

Matt pulls away and smiles, a look of pure contentment on his face. "I just can't get enough of you."

You giggle and wrap your arms around him, feeling safe and loved in his embrace.

"Can we talk about the fact that we're engaged now?"

"I've been planning it for the last 2 weeks with Foggy, Peter, and your Aunt May."

"There is no way that Peter kept a secret for that long. How did you even manage that."

"You can thank your aunt for that one. She basically grounded him from texting you."

This made you both laugh. "You know, I'm gonna have to get used to being called Mrs. Murdock."

A smile spreads across his face, "I'm already getting used to it."

As he pulls you in for another kiss, you can't help but feel a rush of emotion. This man. This strong, protective, and passionate man, is now your fiancé. The thought brings a smile to your face, and you wrap your arms around him even tighter.

"I can't wait to see what the future holds for us," you whisper.

He pulls away slightly, a gentle smile on his face. "The future is ours, my love. And I promise to love and cherish you, always."

"Though I do have one complaint."

"And what is that?" He raises an eyebrow.

"You never asked me to be your valentine."

Chuckling, he pulls your hips closer before whispering in your ear. "Be Mine, Forever?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

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aechii · 10 months

Text

₍⁠₍ OF LOVE AND FASHiON ₎⁠₎

A/N ?! last fic for the day booooo 😥 i dont know if i will be able to post any tmrrw, but i hope i can. anyways enjoy my lovelies

p.s. there's a little written part in this but it's abt 500-600 words

[y/n]'s heart's racing. every palpitation hammers against her chest with much force, so much so that her full-upon-entry water has decreased to less than half left in just 30 minutes. the heat still fused with the air, but as the sun begins to sleep, it loses its energy, leaving a cool undercurrent that presses into the skin of all the attendees. she's so glad about the cooler weather, finding it completely unfathomable how she would've coped if the heat joined tham at night as well.

but the man seated beside her crashes all of her composure, and her body begins to feel hot and strangled.

she hasn't seen such a visually blessed male specimen in all the years of her living, and the fact that his body was so close to hers because of the crammed seating made matters worse. she can't think, breathe or concentrate on the influx of dressed models that come and go non-stop.

"you look disgusted."

the voice comes from right beside her, and her head whips around, startled. the man that has enraptured her entire conscience smiles goofily at her, and her heart wavers.

"what? me?"

"yes," he chuckles softly, "you."

his eyes turn back to the show before them, yet he continues speaking before [y/n] can justify herself, "i don't blame you, though. some of the outfits are... questionable."

his facial expressions are priceless, and [y/n] falls into a bout of laughter, "you're sick!"

he looks on seriously, eyes flashing with extreme judgement, "i'm not lying! how does anyone find pairing a skirt and baggy trousers aesthetic?"

the combination, that [y/n] had, most likely, missed from being consumed by her thoughts, makes her grimace, "yeah, that wasn't a good look at all."

he turns back to face her and, god, he stares so intently that she has to look away.

"speaking of outfits, what brand you wearing? 'cause i know it's not lv for sure, i'm not seeing any," he thinks of the right words, "over exposure of the logo."

"that's one way to put it," [y/n] snickers, looking down at her outfit, "i made it all myself... apart from the shoes of course."

the boy is taken aback, mouth agape and eyes wide, "no way!"

she begins to feel flustered by his reaction and just smiles.

"that's so cool, honestly. i would take more pride in that than wearing a slutted out luxury brand."

"slutted out?" [y/n] can't believe her ears; he's going to kill her, she's sure.

"how the hell did you come up that?!"

the boy purses his lips, looking smug, "i'm just that amazing."

"you're delusional."

he pretends to think for a moment, "delusional enough to think i'd get your number?"

[y/n]'s eyebrows shot up, "you want... my number?"

he doesn't hesitate to nod, "i don't think i'll be leaving without it."

jobe, who had been painfully listening in on their conversation, decides to make himself apparent, "don't do it, you'll regret it."

she turns around, coming face to face with a younger boy who looks almost identical to the one she had been speaking with for the past 15 minutes.

"you two brothers?"

the older one responds, "yeah, he's a cockblock though, don't listen to him."

"cockblock? jude, i'm trying to save her life!"

ah, so that's his name.

"clear off, jobe," he rolls his eyes, turning back to the girl sitting beside him, "sorry about that- so, your number?"

"don't do it!"

and much to his dismay, she does.

y/n_l/n

liked by judebellingham and 23,899 others

y/n_l/n paris photo dump !! met some cool ass people there lowkey

view comments...

judebellingham was lovely meeting you, such a vibe 😆

y/n_l/n you too!! <3

yfn__ best time of my life honestly

y/n_l/n paris at night is a sight to see

user1 you look GORGEOUS

user2 i really missed pfw just a day after i left france </3

user3 JUDE????

user4 I'M ACTUALLY SO SHOCKED

user5 😮

user6 WE FOUND HERRRRR

user7 and jude beat me to it already 😐

judebellingham

liked by y/n_l/n and 899,231 others

judebellingham ❤🇫🇷

view comments...

y/n_l/n love the after party candid, send it to me plz xx + tell jobe i'm sorry but not sorry

judebellingham you look so pretty in it ofc + he'll see it anyways xx y/n_l/n @/judebellingham stop plz 😭🛑 jobebellingham @/y/n_l/n buy me croissaints and maybe i'll forgive you

jadonsancho freshh 🔥

user1 who's that girl in the last pic????

user2 someone who he met at the lv show, got her number and everthingggg 😭

user3 AND SHE KNOWS JOBE TOO? that's my chance stripped unrightfully away from me </3

user4 icel, she's gorgeous AAAAA

user5 this is my 13th reason

#work de aechii 🫧#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham angst #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham romance #jude bellingham #jude bellingham headcanons #jude bellingham fanfic #borussia dortmund #football imagines #footballer x reader #footballer x you

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ponderingmoonlight · 5 months

Text

(y/n) being there for Shoko when no one else is even after her boyfriend Gojo got sealed

Pairing: Shoko x bestie!reader; Gojo x girlfriend!reader

Word Count: 1k

Synopsis: Shibuya brings even a strong and collected woman like Shoko down to her knees. Especially when you, the only person who seems to truly care about her, ask her about her well-being when your boyfriend just got sealed....

Warnings: bestie - energy incoming, I know I said I'm not able to write hurt anymore, but I feel sooo sorry for my girl Shoko and she's so underrated, that's why she definetely deserves her own fic okay😭 also added Satoru and even more hurt to this lol, just a cute lil micro fic so don't expect that much of a plot line

„I thought you quit smoking some time ago.”

“What the hell is your lazy ass doing here? Aren’t you supposed to die on the battlefield like everyone else?”

“Huh, seems like I didn’t get that message.”

Your sly grin paired with the sheer amount of crimson that covers your frame makes Shoko’s blood freeze in her veins in an instant.

“Why didn’t you come earlier, idiot? Can’t you see that you’re about to die?”

“I’m not dying when you are around, babe.”

You lean against the mirror of the abandoned public toilet you and Shoko are in, watching in silence as she puts out her cigarette in the marble of the expensive looking sink behind you.

What a hell of a day. No, what a hell of a life. You came here with no real plan, just following after Satoru to get him going. Well, you definitely didn’t expect your boyfriend to get sealed in front of your very own eyes. Just like you didn’t expect to find the corpses of Kento Nanami and your student Nobara Kugisaki, laying in pieces on the cold ground of this cursed train station. Fuck, not even you were enough to protect them, not even the infamous girlfriend of Satoru Gojo was enough to stop this fucking madness.

“You look like shit”, Shoko comments dryly, her eyes fixed on the multiple wounds that special grade curse inflicted on you in his beach sphere.

“Just like you. When was the last time you’ve slept, Ieiri?”

It should scare her, the fact that she can’t put a finger on a single night this month. Since Geto and Haibara left, she always remained in the shadows of the friendship that used to exist when times seemed to be easier. Not even you were able to fix that. You, who came like a ray of sunshine in her life. You, the girlfriend of Satoru since being in your first year. You, the only person who seems to really care about her. No, not even the fact that you survived this hell is enough to get over the fact how many people died that night.

“I don’t know”, Shoko finally mumbles.

Why the hell do her eyes start to water, slowly but surely taking her sight? She’s been through some shit since being a jujutsu sorcerer, never belonging anywhere due to the fact that her reversed technique is too important to get risked. People come and go, countless lives ended on the table of her office, even the one of her lover. But this night…

Nanami and Nobara’s deaths, Megumi and Ino almost losing their lives, all the others she hasn’t heard a single word from since they left a few hours ago, her oldest friend sealed until who knows when.

And then there’s you, sitting in front of her severely injured, barely able to make it to her. You are here.

And it seems like you are everything that’s left.

“Hey, don’t you dare to cry. Or I…”

The big lump forming in your throat stops you from speaking any further. God, how much you hate the concept of crying, how useless shedding some tears is. But at this moment, with the dark circles underneath your best friend’s eyes in front of your sight, with the singing fact that you might not be able to ever see your boyfriend again, you begin to crumble.

“Fuck, you can’t believe how glad I am you’re here, Shoko.”

There you sit, staring into each other’s glossy eyes while your hand grabs hers roughly.

“How are you feeling?”, you breathe out.

“I feel like shit, (y/n). I feel like all I do is sitting in the dark while everyone around me dies. I feel so fucking lonely and useless”, she blurts out, her head sinking into your lap with her hands holding onto your uniform for dear life.

The girl who always looked so cool, the girl with enough sass for whole Jujutsu High. Even though you were constantly able to tell because of the numbness in her orbs, you never thought that she feels this bad. Your best friend, the person you spent most of the time with aside from Satoru.

Satoru, Shoko…You feel like dying from the inside, tears now running down your very own cheeks like a waterfall.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to save them. Not Kento, not Nobara, not Suguru. Fuck, I wasn’t even able to protect my own boyfriend…I-I…I wasn’t even able to say goodbye”, you cry out.

“B-but…I have you, right? After all, you’re my bestie for life…”

Her bloody eyes dart towards you, a weak smile forming itself on her lips.

“Don’t you dare to cry about that white-haired idiot. Do you really think he lets himself get sealed and just stays in there? He’s just as annoying as you are, (y/n).”

You huff while shaking your head, a little giggle escaping your lips.

“And yes, you have me. I’ll always have your back.”

“And I’ve got yours”, you reply in an instant.

“You’ll never be alone, Shoko. I’d rather crawl back to you like the biggest idiot than leaving you alone in this hell. It’s somehow better with two, isn’t it?”

Shoko lifts herself off your lap, wiping her tears away in the most unlady-like manner you’ve ever seen. All these years, she always felt alone in a room full of people, always out of place even though being told over and over just how important she is. But you…you see so much more in her than just a useful tool. No, you look at her as a friend, you look at her with true curiosity in your eyes, like you care about her well-being.

You’re standing by her side no matter what.

“I hate to admit it, but somehow you right I guess.”

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @risuola @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez

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talkbycolor · 1 month

Text

on the other side.

A/N; sigo ardido con la gente cis pero sigo horny

Pairing; "John Doe" x AFAB!Reader

CW; glory wall, ou yea, from here you can already tell this has sex / creampie ofc, unprotected sex, kinda public too, rough and messy / one eye doe my little meowmeow / tentacle hair dick. yes. you heard me. / non-con mgmhgmh

How did you end up in a situation like this? You simply wanted to move to a new city, go to your new job, and have a quiet life.

In The Uncanny Valley? You expected too much.

Your escape from that Mason had been successful but you were trapped in another problem, to be more precise, you had run like a headless chicken, full of fear.

And you crashed against the wall, leaving your body stuck.

It's not that bad, you didn't have brain damage, although the gap was too narrow for you to get out of there quickly.

"It's okay, I'm not afraid, a house tried to eat me, I'm not afraid, there's debris in my hair, I'm not afraid!" You repeated, perhaps in a tone that someone without fear wouldn't say but somehow you had to relax, the situation wasn't… flattering for you.

"Hello! Hello?! Someone, please help me! Help!" You shouted but there didn't seem to be anyone around.

Or so you thought.

Something strange crawled up your leg, unfortunately, you couldn't see it but the only description that could be given was… a tentacle of hair?

"Hey! What the fuck?! WHO IS THIS?! IT'S NOT FUNNY!" You shouted confused.

But there was no response.

The hair tentacles soon stopped, making you sigh, at least they weren't touching you anymore but you knew something was still there.

Then a heavy breath reached your ears, and not only that, a pair of hands with… four fingers? He pulled down your pants insistently, that was finally what broke the glass and the panicked tears came to your eyes.

"ENOUGH! LEAVE ME ALREADY! I-I'M GOING TO CALL THE POLICE! LEAVE ME ALONE PLEASE!"

He tore your pants, he tore your fucking pants, whatever was on the other side of the wall was going to destroy you and you knew it.

"M-MY LOVE! HERE YOU ARE! I'm so glad Mason didn't kill you~ that would have really driven me crazy, how would I be able to go on without you?!" That voice, whoever it was, knew about Mason and knew about you, maybe a stalker.

A stalker with a very clever tongue.

Huh?

"O-Oh god! Wait! MGH! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING THERE?!" you screamed as you tried to kick your legs, it was difficult to hold your body on the other side of the wall but the person on the other side considered it child's play because he held your legs with ease, leaving you motionless.

"D-don't-…! Huff* Huff* Don't worry, honey! After this we'll go home and cuddle together!" That voice sounded uneasy, saying bizarre things so casually, the tone was terrifying.

But it was difficult to think with a tongue pushing into your pussy, it was strange that he sucked the vaginal lips and licked like a dog, sniffing as if he were tasting the best lunch of his life and wanted to remember every detail perfectly, like a hungry stray.

"NO! NO! NO! ENOUGH! I DON'T WANT TO, I DON'T LIKE IT!" It was so humiliating to have someone sticking their nose to your hole while they filled your entrance with saliva, so much saliva as if you were made of honey and it melted them.

The worst part is that you were getting wet.

"I'm going to put it inside, dear! p-please relax" the panting voice requested.

That wasn't a dick, it was hair.

"BUT WHAT THE FUCK?! GET OFF! GET OFF NOW!" You begged between cries, kicking was useless and you tore your throat in screams, hoping that the stranger would have compassion.

A variety of hair tentacles caressed your ass while one of them entered your pussy, it felt so strange and uncomfortable, nausea had invaded you.

"A-After this let's go home and watch TV! I want to hug you all night, s-sleep in your arms!~"

Too loving words for a monster, because that's what it was, the tentacles of hair invaded both of your entrances and pushed violently inside you, causing spasms.

Then you vomited, you couldn't take it anymore, you were drowning in tears while a stranger fucked you.

You were very sure that you were even bleeding, you wanted to escape but you were still stuck in the wall, the kicks you wanted to give were useless and even if you could now you were too weak.

You couldn't faint, you seriously wanted, anything to not have to endure that, not be conscious, not hear, feel, see your vomit.

Then came the first discharge, a mirror and hot strange liquid, you didn't need to know what it was, the feeling of being full was disgusting.

And the monster didn't stop, he continued to hit his hips against your ass, you were sniffling, crying, drooling, maybe your mind wasn't even there anymore, your body and the distant sound of the monster moaning and breathing heavily filled the air.

Just a couple of hours later he pulled away from you, the absence made you moan shakily, your stomach felt strange and a waterfall of semen came out of both your pussy and your ass.

He broke the wall and held your body so you wouldn't fall, he was gentle when carrying your body

"Let's go home, love"

In those kinds of moments, all you could do was nod and try to snuggle into his chest, you were cold, half-naked and in pain.

♡

#john doe visual novel #john doe x you #john doe x reader #john doe game #john doe #dating sim #yandere #request open #yandere x reader #yandere visual novel #smut #glory wall #afab reader

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idkwhatimdoinghere1655 · 7 months

Text

What A Shame - Daniel Ricciardo

A knock on the door. The only person that ever knocked on your door, apart from room service. They never showed up unannounced, or out of the blue. That, quite frankly, wasn't how this worked. It couldn't work like that.

You never turned up to him without warning either. That would be dangerous. Fun and spontaneous, yes, but reckless. It would ruin both of your lives, and that wasn't something that sounded like a good option right now.

You opened the door and quickly ushered him in, not wanting a single soul to see you. None of his friends knew, none of your friends knew, so you certainly didn't want a random, untrustworthy person to know.

"Look, I don't have much time, but I needed to come. I needed you," he said, approaching you as you closed the door. "Well, my door is always open for you, Daniel," you smirked, wrapping your arms around his neck as he immediately attached his lips to yours.

Not breaking the kiss, he walked you backwards until your back hit the wall with a hard thud, your entire body jolting at the impact. "Shit, sorry, you OK?" He asked, pulling back from you as his brown eyes scanned your face for any sign of discomfort or pain.

"Yeah, don't worry. It's OK to be rough, you know I'm a little tougher than your other girlfriends," you told him, tugging him closer to you for another kiss. "You sure?" he asked, wanting full confirmation. "I can handle this stuff," you grinned, and he could feel your warm breath on his face.

Without another second, he captured his lips with yours as his body pinned you against the wall. He had you now, and he needed you. For some reason, he was enchanted by you. Entranced. It was this quality that he couldn't put his finger on.

He thought it was because you made him feel young again, you made him feel free. It was like you unlocked the shackles that he felt tied down by, and he could let loose and live. He was able to unleash his wild side, and have some fun in life. You were the thing he needed to relive the old times, to be Daniel again.

But you weren't... Realistic. His current girlfriend was already well-established in the public eye, and you had only just started out at McLaren. It would be seen as you, sleeping your way up the team, and neither of you wanted that. She was the practical, you were the fun.

But, the difference was, you knew about her. She didn't have a clue about you. And that was how the two of you wanted it to stay.

His hands roamed all around your figure, before travelling underneath the hem of your shirt. He tugged it off and discarded it, the papaya fabric sent fluttering to the floor. "God, you know how hard it is for me to keep my hands off you all day? It's like torture for me," he breathed against your lips.

"Seeing you in my colours all day, every day, it drives me crazy. You drive me crazy, baby," he mumbled, letting you pull his sweatshirt over his head and sending it along with your shirt. You trailed your hands across the skin of his chest, slithering your fingernails down his abs.

Your nails tickled his tanned skin, and he couldn't help but let a smile dance on his lips as he kissed you. "You think it's easy for me to see you with that race suit of yours rolled down to your waist? Watching you is agonizing," you groaned, glad to finally have him.

"Well, I'm all yours for now," he told you, picking you up with your legs locking comfortably around Daniel's waist. He carried you over to the bed, before dropping you down onto it. He crawled over you, his hands holding himself up at either side of your head.

As he leant down to kiss you, a loud beep blared out around the room. Daniel groaned and rolled his eyes, scurrying to turn it off. He searched through his sweatshirt, producing the beeping phone out of his pocket.

He scoffed as he saw who it was, placing an index finger to his lips as he picked the phone up. "Hey, babe," he said with feigned happiness, and you could hear muffled words coming from the other end of the line. "I'm-" he started, but he was cut off before he could get another word out.

"I said-," he said, before getting cut off again. "I'm on my way I said, OK?" he confirmed, putting the phone down with a huff. He clumsily pulled his sweatshirt back over his head and put his phone in his pocket. "I'm really sorry, I've got to go, but I promise to make it up to you," he apologised, rushing over to you.

He kissed you again, savouring every second and tattooing the taste of you onto his tongue. The sweet vanilla of your lipgloss lingered in his mouth, and it drove him crazy. It was better than any dessert he could buy in an patisserie.

"Don't worry about it," you meekly smiled, instantly feeling dejected. You didn't want to be the second choice, the one who was left behind at the end of the day. The one who slept alone at night, the one who woke up in an empty bed in the morning.

"I mean it, Y/N, I'm really sorry," he repeated, not wanting to leave you here. He wanted you so badly, and it took every ounce of self-control he had not to quickly fuck you against the wall before he left. "I'll see you tomorrow, Daniel," you said, gazing at him, taking in his every feature like you were never going to see him again.

"I'll see you tomorrow, honey. Again, I'm really sorry," he said, standing in the doorway. As he dashed out the door, you muttered a small, "Yeah, me too," and the door closed behind him. He only called you 'honey'. No one else. Not even his girlfriend. That was the one thing that you had, and only you had.

When you didn't have him, have his smile, have his laugh, have his charm, you had that one nickname that was reserved for you. When she had everything else, you had that one, precious little word.

You didn't have anything or anyone else to take up your time, so you just thought you'd head to bed early. You weren't hungry. Well, not for food. What you were craving wasn't available, and wouldn't be until further notice.

You were miserable. Truly miserable. You stood in the corner of the McLaren hospitality, forced to watch the perfect picture of happiness in front of you. Daniel was talking and laughing with her. You couldn't even let yourself think of her name, let alone look at her face.

As you tried to tear your eyes away, your mind couldn't help but wander. You just wanted him to glance in your direction, just so he acknowledged that you were there. You wanted him to pay attention to you, not ignore you like you were any other person around.

Because you weren't any other person. You were the person who made him feel alive, who rejuvenated him. Just a small glance from across the room, just a small morsel of eye contact that only you would see - to show that he cared.

Then again, you didn't want it to just be you who saw. You wanted everyone to see just how much he cared for you, just how much he longed for you. You wanted him to offer his jacket out to you, or ask if you needed anything while he was passing by.

Just something to show that he cared. If he even cared at all. Maybe he could even take you home, and kiss you slowly, lovingly, tenderly. With every ounce of love that he held in his perfect body. It was like he was stuck on your mind with superglue, and there was no way of yanking him off.

Your sadness quickly turned to spite. Spite towards him, if you were being honest. He was getting the best of both worlds: a girlfriend to keep his domestic life chugging along like an old steam train, and a girl on the side to make pure euphoria surge through his veins.

Despite these feelings towards Daniel, you always set your sights on her. The one thing in your way. She didn't really offer anything of value to him in your opinion. She didn't do the job, so you were there. There to make the pain go away, to give the old dog some life again.

No matter how annoyed you were at him, you would always go crawling back when he asked. You'd drop to your knees for him at the drop of a hat. He was addictive - like straight cocaine off a club table, mixed with the sordid flush of alcohol.

The taste of him clouded your lips, and his scent clung to your skin after you'd been together. He was like the eye of the storm, the calm before the chaos. Being with him was like drowning in the swell of a stormy sea, the moments you stole with him better than the brief gasps of air you clawed to take.

You heard her laugh again, and turned to see her draped over him, struggling for air. It was almost ironic. He always had you struggling for air in the complete opposite way, and your tears certainly weren't from laughter.

You couldn't help but think what a shame it would have been if he just stood from the table and left her there. What a shame it would be if he came and pinned you against the wall. What a shame it would be if he ran his hands through your hair, tugging harder as they caught on the knots.

What a shame it would be if he kissed you as if there were no one else around, do whatever the hell he wanted to you because he could, and nobody would be able to say a goddamn thing about it. What a shame it would be if he never had to stop again, because he'd be yours, and there would be no one to stop you. No one to get in the way.

What a shame it would be if he left her now.

A/N - The next bit of Five Seconds Flat... I will finish it all I promise! Sorry I haven't been posting much, I've been super busy and I literally have barely had time. It was so relaxing for me to just sit down, put on Charles Leclerc and just write for you guys. Hope you enjoyed, and I hope you're having a fantastic day/evening! Love y'all 💖

ALSO I WENT TO SEE 5SOS AND IT WAS THE BEST NIGHT OF MY LIFE HOLY FUCKING SHIT BALLS THEY WERE SO INCREDIBLE I LOVE THEM MORE THAN WORDS CAN DESCRIBE LIKE THEY PLAYED SHE'S KINDA HOT??? OUTERSAPCE/ CARRY ON??? WHY WON'T YOU LOVE ME???? Sorry I'll leave you alone now.

NO I WON'T THEY WERE SO AMAZING I CAN'T EVEN HANDLE IT. P.S Requests are open 💖

|masterlist|five seconds flat|

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lennadanvers · 15 days

Note

oh my gosh, your writing is so great -- thank you for sharing! if you're taking requests, would you consider something featuring simon and a christian reader? (honestly, i'm really glad that there's a longfic writer in the fandom who doesn't focus on nsfw scenarios. the 'delirium' section in your masterlist is a really cute addition that i personally haven't seen before, and i'm older than you are. haha sorry for rambling, thanks again! <3)

Hi! I’m glad you enjoy my work!

I'm gonna be honest; I wrote a whole paragraph about nsfw-centered fics and what I think about them, and ended up deleting it bc it wasn't the point at all. It's too easy for me to start rambling sometimes. In short, I'm not in the mood to read nsfw sometimes, and I wish there were more sfw fanfics, so that's what I usually write.

Let me warn you, I’m not an expert in any religion, so there can be mistakes here (and this is kinda (very) nonspecific). I did my best though. Also, sorry it took me so fucking long. Hope you like it!

Mercy

Ghost doesn’t believe in your God.

Maybe Simon once did. He’s not sure. How could he, after everything he’s gone through? If he had any faith inside him, it should have survived. If a God like that existed, they should have helped him.

But there’s no faith left in him, and he hasn’t been helped by any God.

He knows only one pair of hands that are holy. Only one forgiveness he’d spend this life- and any other- seeking. Only one name he mutters before falling asleep. There is only one place he goes to every Sunday, and one face he wants to see when he dies.

Yours.

Maybe he does believe in god -he believes in you, after all.

He’s seen you pray. You close your eyes, sometimes move your mouth without talking, the words taking possession of your lips. It’s the same when he mouths “I love you” under the mask, in the shadows. He thinks your God hears you the same way you hear him: you don’t, but you know.

He's noticed how you pat the cross hanging around your chest when you need support. When Ghost is about to jump into a storm of bullets, when Johnny is messing with a suspicious wire, when he’s only got one magazine left… He pats his chest: the heart beating inside is yours.

He’s gone with you to church. You keep quiet when you’re there, reverential for the sacred atmosphere. When Simon is at your house, he doesn’t talk much either. He bows at the pictures on your walls, though, a savior depicted in all your glory.

He knows when you’re scared, you ask your God for protection. When he was injured in battle, the only thing he thought about was you. The only one at the hospital, the only one tending to his wounds for months, the only one.

Ghost doesn’t believe in God. He does, however, worship you. That’s why he’s standing at the altar, looking at you in your white dress. He is a religious man, after all. A devotee. One to whom you’ve granted entry to Heaven, now that you’re saying yes. One that is loved, even with blood under his nails and gunpowder deep in his pores.

Ghost is a sinner that’s been forgiven before even asking. A coarse attempt at being like you; so pure, good and loving. You let him kneel before you once, a ring in his trembling hand; you took him. You put one on his finger, a gift he’ll never be able to repay, but that he’s infinitely thankful for. He’s not perfect, he’ll never be; and he knows. But he’s doing his best, and you know that. So you kiss him as if he were.

When you leave church -hand in his, husband and wife- he speaks to your God for the first and only time. Says only two words.

Thank you.

#ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x reader #cod #fanfiction #simon riley cod #simon needs a hug #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #cod 141 #fanfic #lennadanvers #len answers #christianity I hope

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surftrips · 1 year

Text

bad habit

pairing: rafe cameron x female reader

summary: y/n finds out rafe cameron had a crush on her. is it too late for them to pursue their feelings?

word count: 1153

a/n: i had so much fun writing this! inspired by one of my fav songs, "bad habit" by steve lacy. hope you enjoy <3

It was summer break. You, along with the Pogues and various other company from the island (Rafe and his friends) had decided to take a trip to a nice resort for the week.

At the end of another long day spent lounging on the beach, the group was gathered around a fire on the hotel rooftop, debriefing the day's events.

"Oh my god, did you see Sam and Jenna? They were totally flirting with each other!" Sarah brought up.

"Okay, I am SO glad you brought that up. I thought I was the only one that noticed," Cleo said.

"Wait, they're not already dating?" JJ asked.

"Babe— they're dating other people," Kie told him.

"W-what? That makes no sense-" A wave of realization hit JJ. "Oh... ohhhhh..."

The group laughed.

"But isn't that crazy? That you thought they were already dating but they're both in separate relationships already?" Pope said.

"Right?" you responded. "I mean, how hard is it to lay off when you find out someone's already taken?"

"No yeah, when I heard Y/N had a boyfriend, I backed off," Rafe said.

You nearly choked on your drink, but tried to compose yourself. Did you just hear him correctly?

"Wait, what?" you asked, turning toward him.

"Well, uhhh, how do I put this?" He took another sip of his drink, for liquid courage you presumed. "When I first met you, I kinda had a crush on you but you were dating that guy at the time so I never said anything."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah... but it didn't matter anyway. You made it very clear you didn't like me."

That's not true. You almost blurted out.

Instead, you tried to change the conversation back to Sam and Jenna, willing everyone else in the group to follow you.

"Yeah, I saw him check her into his hotel room, wonder what that's about," you said, trying your best to look unfazed by Rafe's confession.

"Oh, I think we know...." Topper was saying, but you were already zoning out.

—

As the night came to a close, people began heading back up to their rooms.

You picked up a few cans on the ground and made your way to the elevators.

"Hey, Y/N. Wait up," Rafe sped up to catch up with you. "Can I walk you back to your room?"

You couldn't talk to him, not right now. You needed at least 24 hours to process what he had just told you. It may not have been a big deal to him, but it was to you.

"Oh, you know I'm really tired so I was just gonna go to sleep," you said.

"That's alright, I just wanted to talk to you on the way down. If that's okay with you."

God, you were never able to say no to him.

"Yeah, sure," you gave in.

At the elevator doors, you clicked the down arrow. It seemed as though they were taking longer than usual to come.

Rafe looked down at his watch, "It's nearly 1 am, they can't be busy on other floors."

"Guess we're stuck here," you tried to relieve some of the tension in the air.

Luckily, at that moment a door opened up and the two of you stepped inside.

"Thank god it came, it was getting cold up there," Rafe commented.

You knew he was just trying to fill the awkward silence, but you'd rather he get straight to the point.

When the doors opened on your floor and you stepped out, you asked him, "So, what is it you wanted to talk about?"

He seemed taken aback at your straightforwardness for a second, but quickly answered, "About the thing I said about liking you."

"What about it?"

"Well, you didn't really seem to react to it at all. In fact, you kinda just went back to the conversation, I didn't know if you actually cared."

You often hid your emotions around people, but especially around those that threatened to tear down your walls. Someone like Rafe.

It was no surprise to you that he couldn't read your feelings for him all those years ago, nor earlier that night when you were silently panicking.

This was just something you did to protect yourself from getting hurt. If you revealed your true emotions, it was a sign of weakness, a way for someone to come in and take advantage of you.

You sighed, "Look, Rafe. Of course, I cared. I was just shocked, that's all."

"Shocked? I thought I made it pretty obvious I liked you," he responded.

You were outside your hotel room at this point, deciding whether or not to go in.

"Obvious? Rafe, I thought you were just teasing me or something. I didn't believe you could like me."

He seemed genuinely hurt by this. "How could I not?"

The air flew out of your lungs and you swore you stopped breathing for a minute.

He continued, "Y/N, when I met you, you were so incredibly kind and sweet. I wasn't used to that, I guess. Everyone on the island has this preconceived notion of the kind of guy I am, but no one ever really takes the time to get to know me. I feel like you did."

You couldn't help but smile, "I wanted to see for myself what all the fuss was about."

"Stop," he chuckled. "And what was your verdict?"

"I thought you were too good for me."

"You seriously don't believe that."

"I seriously do. I met you and I swear I've never felt that way about anyway before in my life." You tried to find the right words to articulate your thoughts, "It scared me."

"So that's why you acted like you hated me?"

You laughed lightly, "To be fair, that's just how I flirt with people. Sorry you didn't get the memo."

"Wait- but what about that guy you started dating?"

"Now, I thought this was obvious. I only started dating him because I thought you didn't like me."

It looked like Rafe was joining you in having revelations tonight. The miscommunications were enough to make him dizzy.

"Are you serious?" He couldn't help but laugh. "You didn't even give me the time of day, how was I supposed to know you liked me?"

You shrugged, "I wish I knew you wanted me."

"Would that have made a difference?"

"Yeah, honestly. I have a bad habit of biting my tongue and staying silent on these things but if I knew I'd be with you..."

He was closer to you now. "Well, would you mind if I made a pass on you now?"

"Now that you know?" he added.

You turned around, scanning your keycard to open the door to your room.

"Funny you would come back to me like this," you tugged on the collar of Rafe's shirt, pulling him into your room. "Wanna come find out, Cameron?"

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #obx #outer banks #obx x reader #obx imagine #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron x you

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just-a-torn-up-masterpiece · 10 months

Note

Hiya~

I know I've sent you so many asks already (and feel free to tell me to stop if I'm annoying you. I'll understand) but I was thinking maybe a Melissa's reaction to reader bringing home a puppy without letting her know first. Maybe one of the Italian breeds like a Cane Corso.

i literally just wrote this quickly because i love dogs and couldn't resist so i hope you don't hate it - but also i love your requests sosososososo much!!

hoagie

melissa schemmenti x reader

this is just pure fluff | wc: 799 | masterlist

Melissa had been waiting for you to come home after your trip to the store; she’d sent you out to pick up a couple of ingredients for dinner. An hour ago. She was almost done with her second glass of wine and you’d still not come back.

She was beginning to get worried, only hoping that her wandering thoughts of something terrible having happened were way off the mark.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she finally heard the front door open and close, soon followed by you, bag in hand and a smile on your face.

“What took you so long?” she asked you, taking the bag from you to begin unpacking. “I was beginning to think you’d started another street brawl.”

“That was one time. And an accident. And hardly a ‘brawl’,” you argued with a huff whilst she just laughed. “My friend called me whilst I was out, she was nearby and I got distracted, I’m sorry.”

“Mm, and I see you bought my favourite coffee to get in my good books,” she muttered as she put it away.

“Has it worked?”

“Definitely, honey,” she answered, pressing a kiss to your lips. When she pulled away she eyed you inquisitively, eyebrow raised. She knows you too well not to notice something was up.

“What?” you laughed, shuffling where you stood.

“Which friend was it?”

“Angela.”

“The one with all those dogs?” she countered whilst you nodded and she began chopping vegetables.

“Don’t you think having a little puppy would be so perfect?”

“No,” she returned. “I love them but I don’t think I could handle two of you with the zoomies every night,” she added with a chuckle.

“I get that,” you agreed. “Want me to help?”

“Sure.” Her voice questioned your intentions and she was convinced there was some kind of ulterior motive. “You tryna butter me up or somethin’?”

“Can’t I help my girlfriend, just because?”

“I guess,” she shrugged. “But don’t actually touch anything.”

“Y’know, her Cane Corso just had a couple puppies,” you muttered as you took a seat on the kitchen counter, mindlessly stroking her hair to try your hardest to appease her.

“Proper Italian dogs,” she mused.

“Here, I’ve got some photos,” you responded, shoving your phone in front of her face excitedly. “They’re a few months old and one of them nibbles on your fingers with his toothless mouth which was a little gross but I love him so it’s fine.” You were getting antsy, glancing towards the front door, and luckily Melissa was distracted enough to not notice.

“He sounds like you - is he gassy as well?” she teased, only receiving a little shove from you in return.

“Rude,” you pouted as you hopped down from your seat, heading back towards the front door. “I just remembered I forgot something in the car, don't miss me too much - also don’t forget how much you absolutely adore me, and how you can never be mad at me about anything ever.”

“God, what’d you do?” she sighed, turning off the stovetop, but you were already gone, muttering to yourself words she couldn’t clearly hear.

You were glad to see her facing away from you when you walked back inside and you were able to walk up behind her before she could chastise you right away. The dog in your arms sat comfortably with his head against your shoulder, soft fur against your cheek and his tail wagging slightly.

You cleared your throat to get her attention and her eyes widened, though she wasn’t overly surprised considering you're always causing a mischief she only pretends to find annoying.

“No. No, we cannot have a dog,” she spoke, keeping her eyes on your face to avoid his.

“Aw, but look at him,” you pouted, using his paw to wave at her. “Hi, mom, I woof you.”

“That was terrible,” she groaned, unable to hide her smile at your silly grin. You both looked so adorable, both of you sporting puppy dog eyes. “We can’t keep him. He hasn’t got a name so it’s not too late fo-”

“He has got a name,” you interrupted. “I named him Hoagie and I love him.”

She hated how she couldn’t resist the pair of you and how her own body betrayed her when she cupped his face between her hands, letting him chew on her thumb excitedly.

“You’re both gonna cause me a lotta trouble.”

“Yep,” you grinned largely, instantly grimacing at the sudden appearance of a certain smell you don’t care to sniff ever again.

“I knew he was gonna be gassy,” Melissa groaned, pinching her nose between her fingers as she grabbed the air freshener. It would soon be clear that the cotton fresh spray would have to make a regular appearance.

#melissa schemmenti x fem!reader #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary

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mattmurdocksscars · 5 months

Text

Back From The Dead Epilogue

I know you guys waited a long time for this and I'm sorry it's so short. But the good news is, I've left it open for future installments and potentially requests. This won't be the last we see of Sweetheart and Matt, I promise 💖

So, without further ado, here's our temporary goodbye.

Word Count: 841

Pairing: Matt x Mom!Reader

“Matt! Is Michael almost ready?” You called from the kitchen. Matt had been tasked with getting your two year old son ready for his birthday party while you finished getting everything set up. A herculean task given that the toddler had much to say about his outfit choices nowadays.

“Incoming!” Was all you heard before the sound of little feet running across the hardwood floors reached your ears. You had just enough time to turn around before Michael was launching himself into your arms.

“Mama!”

“Hello, my love! Look at you!” You exclaimed. Michael was dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that said “Two Rex” with a T-Rex below the writing. Michael grinned then made a face like he was growling.

“Rawr!”

“That's right, baby. The T-Rex says rawr!” You heard a chuckle coming from your room and smiled, looking up to see Matt walking into the room. He was dressed down for the day, jeans and a simple blue shirt. He walked over to the two of you and wrapped his arms around you both, kissing first your head then Michael's.

“Is he dressed to your satisfaction?” Matt teased.

“Yes, he is. How'd you convince him to wear this shirt. He was so against it this morning.”

“I may have promised him extra cake if he wore it.”

“Matthew!” His deep chuckle rumbled through you as he grinned.

“Come on, it's his birthday. Let him have the extra cake.”

“Alright, but when he's all hopped up on sugar and doesn't want to sleep tonight, that's on you.” You giggled. Your joking was interrupted by a knock on the front door and Michael immediately began wiggling to get down.

“Uncy Foggy! Aunty Karen! Grammy Maggie! They're here!” You laughed as Michael ran for the front door, little hands reaching for the door knob but not quite able to turn it. Matt followed him over and opened the door, letting everyone in with a cheerful greeting. You put the finishing touches on the cupcakes you'd made just as everyone came around the corner.

“Hey! Thanks so much for coming. We really appreciate it.”

Foggy, who was currently holding Michael, shook his head.

“Like we'd miss this little guy's birthday for anything!”

Everyone nodded their agreement and you and Matt smiled, glad for the little family the two of you had. It hadn't been easy, raising a baby, but the help you'd gotten from the three individuals in the room had been absolutely critical in the two of you making it through.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you guided everyone back into the living room where you all began to play and spend time focusing on Michael. The day passed by in a whirlwind of fun and before you knew it, everyone was heading home and you were putting a worn out toddler to bed.

Heading to the kitchen, you quietly called out to Matt.

“I think I'm gonna have a glass of wine, do you want anything?” You were just reaching for the glass when arms wrapped around your middle and a warm body pressed against your back. Matt settled his head on yours and began to sway the two of you back and forth.

“I don't think that's a good idea.” Your brows furrowed and you lowered your hand.

“Why's that?” You could feel his face shift and you assumed he was grinning. His hands shifted so one was on your hip and the other rested on your lower belly.

“We're pregnant.” He breathed out. You froze, eyes going wide with shock. “You'll need to take a test to be sure but… I'd recognize that sound anywhere.”

“Oh my God, Matt…” You felt tears well up, your hands coming up to cover your mouth. Anyone else would assume you were panicking but Matt, knowing you so well and knowing your body, knew you were excited.

“Oops again?” He said, with a small laugh. It brought out your own laughter and soon the two of you were giggling like crazy. It took a few minutes for the two of you to calm down. You wiped your eyes.

“Oh, Matt. I'll get a test tomorrow and we'll check but I trust your ears. I can't believe it. How long have you known?”

“Just a couple of days. I wasn't sure at first but then we were laying together the other night and I had my head on your stomach. It was pretty obvious then.”

“Why'd you wait to say something?”

“I wanted to wait until after Michael's party. In case you reacted differently.” You hummed and nodded. That was fair. If you had reacted badly, it would have affected Michael's party and that wouldn't have been fair to the child.

You turned in Matt's arms and faced him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“A lot of things are gonna change. You and I are gonna be evenly matched. Are you ready for this?” You asked him.

“Sweetheart, with you by my side, I am ready for anything.”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x mom!reader #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x fem!reader #back from the dead

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itsjustaninchident · 10 months

Text

✼ Drunk Under the Rain

Mick Schumacher x Fem!reader

Summary: A very drunk y/n and a very worried and amused Mick

Warning/s: None

Author's Notes: Would love to hear what you think of it <3

It was late at night and everybody's asleep, snores from Angie can be heard around the room and faint lightning storms present. Mick sprawled on the bed, a kind of emptiness enveloping the mattress he's no longer used to for the past months. Coldness is ever present in the room added by the slight rain from outside.

A ringtone can be heard from the room jolting Mick to wake up, his senses on alert as his significant other is still not present by his side. He immediately picked up the phone not caring who called him late in the evening.

"Mick?" A voice that belonged to one of y/n's friends rang in his ears.

"Yep?" He answered groggily, anticipating what the sudden call was about. He can hear quiet muffles from familiar voices but what caught his ears to perk up is your whiny voice causing a smile to tear on his face.

"Well, y/n's really drunk right now and she wouldn't come with us to go home. She kept on calling for you and wanting you to pick her up." He couldn't be more glad to pick you up missing you already as if you were gone for days. You would definitely tease him for that if you find out.

"Okay, I'll just go grab my keys." He said not to waste any time picking you up. But before he could put the call down, "Is that Mick? Micky~ Baby, help they're trying to kidn-" Your friend saving you from embarrassment decided to end the call.

He chuckled to himself quite questioning if he can handle a drunk you.

He drove to the club you and your friends partied at. As soon as he parks his car he can see you on the pavement of the parking lot, sitting and barely keeping your eyes open as you often fall asleep and jolting when your head abruptly bobs down.

He went to you, your friends scattered around the vicinity and muttering a quick goodbye when they saw him approaching you, already leaving with their own partners or an uber they hailed. He thanked them all but still focused on your figure slumped off the pavement. He sighed, you're wasted yet still stunningly sporting it. How unfair, he thought.

He gently touched your shoulders trying to slightly shake you still entranced because of the alcohol. You must've enjoyed it a lot given that you never get this wasted in a party before. Nonetheless, he's happy you're letting loose as he knows some days were very stressful for you.

"Stop touching me. I told you, I won't go with you. I'm waiting for my boyfriend." You told off the 'stranger' he chuckled at how feisty you sounded.

"If he sees you touching me, he'll get mad. Plus, you won't stand a chance. He's literally massive." Not able to keep his chuckle anymore from spilling from his mouth, he laughed loudly at that. No way you just called him 'massive'.

"Liebling, it's me." He said and with that with all little consciousness in you, you stood up almost falling down if it weren't for Mick's fast reflex by holding your waist you would've face planted on the pavement. He chuckled at that, he can't keep count of how many times he's found this situation amusing.

"Micky! I missed you! Are you taking me home? Some people were trying to take me home but I told them no. They're bad they kept on pulling me." You told him off as if you're a child being told no. You were an explaining mess trying to get your point across almost slurring the word coming out of you. Pouting the whole time, Mick can't help himself but peck you on the lips causing you to back down and cover your lips, eyes bulging from shock.

"Oh my god!" You muttered, causing Mick to grow worried because of your reaction. Did he do something wrong?

"I told you, I have a boyfriend!" You were tired of telling people that, why can't they just leave you alone? And now a stranger kissed you! "Schatz, I am your boyfriend." Mick can't believe what's happening right now, he's so amused yet so intrigued by you. A while ago you were a mess explaining everything to him and now he's a stranger. He would definitely have a field day tomorrow telling the story to a hungover you.

"Well, if you're really my boyfriend then prove it to me. What's my favorite color?"

"Purple."

"Well, purple is a popular color."

"What's the name of your dog?"

"Angie"

"What's my favorite F1 Team?"

"Ferrari"

"What's, my fav- Wait. How'd you know my favorite team?!" You were freaking out, partly because you never told anyone that and you didn't want to hurt Mick's feelings as he drives for another team.

"Everybody is a Ferrari fan, love." Mick said, quoting a familiar statement from his great friend.

"Okay, fair enough. Fine, I am convinced you're my boyfriend. But! If you try to do something funny I'll let you know I know self defense and I will not hold back on you even if you have the prettiest blue eyes and the cutest smile." You said earning another chuckle from Mick.

"Fine." He held up his arms as if he's surrendering.

He was holding your waist and guiding you to the place where he parked his car when suddenly big droplets of rain came pouring down. As if on cue, you started jumping in the air and holding his arms swaying it up as you seem to enjoy the pour of the rain. The drunk version of you is really something. He can't help but shake his head and admire your carefree state.

Right then and there he already knew, he's never gonna let you go. As the street lights glow off your face, the water from the rain drenching you, and the moves you make while jumping in the rain he's realized that he's deeply and madly in love with you. He hates the rain moreso being drenched in it but when he sees you having fun he can't help himself but put rain as one of his favorite things now that it reminds him of you.

He kissed you, completely taken aback by his action. You were stiff in the first moment but as the kiss deepens you relaxed through it and kissed him back and entangled your arms on his neck, not wanting to let go of this moment.

Both of you arrived in your shared apartment drenched in rain water, you're a little more sober than before but still drunk to not be able to remove your shoes upon entering the apartment. You were so tired that the moment you saw the couch you immediately plopped yourself on it not caring if you will wet it.

Mick sighed to himself, still finding you adorable nonetheless. He removed your heels and slightly massaged it, noticing the faint red marks on your feet. He then went to the bathroom to go get some towels, you're only wearing a tube dress but due to your drunken state you're not even shivering at all. He tried tapping your cheek, whispering softly for you to wake up but to no avail he didn't get any response so he tried to sit you up and slowly dry you with the towel he was holding.

You murmured something inaudible for him. Yet the last part managed to make it to him "I love you, Mick." He smiled contagiously, he's sure the smile will last him a lifetime. "I love you too, Liebling."

He then proceeded to his room to get you his sweatshirt and sweatpants. He removed your dress and your accessories and then dried you before putting you in his sweatshirt, he knew how much you love wearing his clothes even if you don’t admit it plus he loves seeing you in his clothes as well, a win-win situation.

He then carried you to your shared room, slowly putting you down on your side of the bed.

Opening the bathroom, he grabbed for your cotton pads and your makeup remover. He's always observing you doing this every time you both go out and you have makeup on.

Slowly he wiped off the makeup residue on your face. "That feels cold." You slurred in your sleep, he chuckled slightly.

When he finished with your makeup he went downstairs and got you a glass of water and an aspirin for tomorrow as he knows you will be getting a very bad hangover. He put it on the bedside table and turned off the lamp.

Settling next to you he hugged your waist and as if on cue, you leaned onto him memorizing the move even in your not so normal state. Perfectly fitting into each other as if you're molded together. "Still clingy when drunk?" He laughed to himself as he slept with the brightest smile waiting for another day with you

#mick schumacher #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fluff #mick fluff #mick x reader #cute #fluff

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silverskye13 · 2 months

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Hi, I just came from reading the last chapter of RnS, and I am once again shaking by how strong it made me feel, which is also finally giving me the strength to ask this, finally.

How do you write compelling, logical emotions? Like, you are writing as you go, and yet I go back and everything reads with such a sound conclusion, like the characters are feeling what they're meant to be feeling, like their emotions are deeply complex and it's just, how? Are there any tips you can give?

Have you studied any writing theory, or have you got any advice on dissecting pieces of writing for improvement? Because I feel like there's oh so much I can get from "improving from writing more"

Thank you for the kind words. Gosh I'm glad the emotions all make sense. I feel like that's one of the harder things to juggle -- especially when posting chapter by chapter, where sometimes weeks go by between scenes. It gets easy to lose things.

Answers to questions [as best I can] under the cut, because I can see this getting long and rambly.

How do I write compelling, logical emotions?

Uhm! This is a bit hard for me to articulate, because writing emotions is very intuitive to me. I'm a very emotionally aware person -- generally speaking I can recognize how I'm feeling and why very quickly within myself. That, I think, helps being able to write them. But some tips that are hopefully helpful:

Study yourself Emotional intelligence aside, the best way to write feelings is to figure out what they feel like. It doesn't have to be in-depth. You don't have to psychoanalyze yourself. It is enough to be able to go "I'm nervous. My stomach feels tied in knots, my throat is dry." or "I'm happy. I feel like I could dance, there's energy I need to get rid of. I feel full to bursting." Any time you've read something and gone "Oh god, that's exactly what that feels like!" It's because someone sat down and studied it for a few minutes. Sit with the uncomfortable feelings, or bask in the good ones. Root yourself in the moment and really stew. It doesn't have to be for big life events. If a movie makes you feel excited, just take a second to describe how it feels. If a book makes you cry, give a thought to what the tears are like. The next time you sit down to write a feeling, you might not be able to remember exactly what it felt like, but you will probably remember the words you attached to it.

Emotions in real life aren't logical, but stories are If you've ever gotten really angry, or really sad, or just any Big emotion, you know they're often overwhelming and paralyzing in their own special little ways. It is so easy to get swept up in the feeling of a thing that your brain turns off, and your body does crazy irrational things, and then its hours later and you've calmed down and it feels like you'll never get that emotion back again, because it was just so... much. That is allowed to exist in a story, but writing incomprehensible feelings takes your reader out of it after awhile. We need something to stay rooted in, if only so we have a reason the character is feeling as they are. Story emotions have a beginning, middle and end that you can chart. We see what causes them, we feel them, they come down from the high, and then they get a resolution. All of that doesn't have to happen at the same time. The character can feel anger over something and it drives their progression for the rest of the book. But, if at the end of the story, we don't see a resolution, it gets harder to believe -- even if in real life, emotions aren't always nearly so neatly tied. [Depending on the type of story you're writing, sometimes you might choose to intentionally leave emotions unresolved by the end, but generally they're still addressed in a "X was still angry, and would always be, but life moves on" sort of way. As long as it was an intentional choice that thought was put into, and that's evident in the character, people will believe it on a writing/empathy level.]

Emotions keep your character relatable, so keep them reasonable Emotions are how your readers connect with your character. Its the little moments where you get into their head and empathize where your attachments grow. Being able to see not only that a character is feeling something, but also see why they feel that way, does a lot of heavy lifting for making you like a character. Even if their feelings are inherently irrational [ie. thinking your friend hates you because they don't want to hang out one day], if you know why the character would feel that way [main character has social anxiety, which has been a problem through the whole book] you can sympathize with them, and care about their struggles.

Think about body language There is so much more to emotion than just "his stomach tied itself in knots" and "his anger was a lightning strike." Emotions are movements and mannerisms. Even something as simple as pacing can convey a thousand different things: quick steps, talking with your hands, in fast circles, leaning forward, beaming [Excited, sharing ideas]. Slow, ponderous steps back and forth in a line down the hall, hands clasped behind your back, brow drawn, gaze low [Contemplative, troubled, turning an idea over and over]. Stomping, storming, glowering, fists clenched, stopping sometimes in front of the door you're pacing in front of, scowling and turning back to your solitude [angry, bracing yourself for an unpleasant confrontation, could be calming down or could be building yourself up to something]. Body language can sometimes convey more of an emotion to the reader than writing how the feeling feels can, especially in a limited POV where you're only inside one character's head.

Physical pacing to show emotion, through word choice Make. Your readers feel things. With punctuation. This is where reading poetry will really help your writing, tbh. Poetry is where punctuation gets really contemplative, really intentional, and you can use that to your advantage in prose too. My thoughts are running. You can tell they're running because I'm in a rush and the words are longer and this sentence is running just like I am. It's one step over and over and over, and ignoring periods for commas because commas feel a little more like a step and less like a hard rest -- and sometimes you do breaks because it feels like a tumble what does this make you feel? It's breathless your readers are waiting for you to stop so they can stop reading and it feels distressing like maybe it's panic or thinking too quick and -- There's something. Creeping. Up on you. A hesitant feeling, like a predator in the grass. There is something disjointed here. In the sentences. The hard stops make you pause. The longer sentences lull you into something. It feels off-balance. Unsafe. Are you scared? Hesitating? What is it, exactly, creeping? You can also get really crazy with it. A character isn't thinking clearly so y o u s ss t art b r e a k i n g up t he wo r d s. You have to be careful. It has to be legible still. But it can be bold, and it can mean something and it can be eye catching and it can be a thought without acknowledgement. Play in the space! Words are toys.

Emotions are your stakes, just as much as bodily harm is If your readers care about how your characters feel, you have a compelling tool to drive their care for the rest of the plot. It's not just bad enough that they could be physically hurt by a situation, putting them in emotional distress makes your readers distressed. This does, however, need balance. In the same way you wouldn't keep your foot on the gas in a car at all times from point A to point Z, lingering too long on one emotion when your readers are invested emotionally drains your readers. There needs to be periods of rest and happiness, to balance the periods of emotional turmoil, guilt, and apathy. If you've ever read a book and thought "Man this character is a crybaby, they never stop whining" or "this book is making me depressed. Everything keeps going wrong all the time!" the balance is skewed too far towards the sad/depressive emotions, and you are emotionally distancing yourself as a result. Something similar happens the other way, if you ever read something and feel like the characters are never in danger, or the plot isn't taking itself seriously. Everyone's tolerance for this is different, but generally speaking, adding small moments of comedy and levity to temper hardship can go a long way to keeping your characters emotionally relatable -- so many people cope with humor anyway.

Read and analyze what you like in other works For the same reason people trace a drawing when they're trying to figure out how the original artist drew it, for the same reason you first knit a pattern instead of knitting a sweater from scratch, pick up a book you love, that gets you emotionally invested in the characters, and really pick apart why you like it. Write down words or descriptions you thought hammered an idea home. Reread a scene once or twice and feel your heart squirm over it and ask yourself why? Just, sink your teeth in and analyze. It helps a lot.

And on the subject of analysis...

Have I studied any writing theory, or have I got any advice on dissecting pieces of writing for improvement?

Also kind of hard to answer! Specifically because I haven't studied much writing theory, outside of reading comprehension classes in high school that I'm 10 years removed from now. If I had to give advice, I think it would have to be from my experience which is: Read a lot and take notes.

You're correct, "practice writing" can only get you so far, in the sense that anything in a vacuum is hard to learn from. If I've only ever eaten a PB&J, it's gonna be real hard to learn how to make spaghetti. Chances are I don't even know tomatoes exist. So, read a lot, and read critically, and take notes.

When I say read critically: I mean read with your eyes open. Ask yourself "why?" as often as you can. A book makes you cry, why? Is it specific to the character? Is it because you want them to be happy or because they're going through something you've been through? A book makes you frustrated, why? Was an important plot point forgotten? Are the characters hard to understand? If so, why are they hard for you to understand? Does the author not explain their motives correctly, does it feel like you skipped a chapter? Or is it because their motives are understandable but you still think what they're doing is stupid? I recommend going back and reading your favorite book with that lens. "This is the best fight scene I've ever read!" Why? Was it important to the characters and therefore important to you? Did it wrap up a plot point well? Was it just fun watching the bad guy get beat up?

I learned how to do this first with descriptions. A few years ago I was reading Kings of the Wyld, and about halfway through the book I realized I thought Nicholas Eames was the best writer I'd ever read. That's objectively untrue, I'm sure there's some better, but it's how I felt and I wanted to know why. So I read the book again. I figured out it was because his descriptions were great. It wasn't just that I could see what was going on in my head, the descriptions told me things about the world.

"The wheat was as gold as the Summer Lord's beard." It's autumn, the wheat is ready to harvest and they have a god named the Summer Lord who is cloaked in gold. That's a lot of information packed into one sentence.

"He had learned long ago that harboring regrets was akin to stashing embers in your pockets: hopeless and bound to hurt." That says so much about the character. He has regrets, ones he's worried over so much he's learned how futile it is. And the image of someone holding onto embers because maybe they deserve that pain is poignant and relatable. We have all done something we regret.

I started writing down all the descriptions of his that I liked, picking them apart to see how they work. I like descriptors that inform you about the world, that are unique to the character, and that are rooted in the physical. I think that's successful writing, so I emulate it.

If you want to get better at writing, really study the stuff you like and ask yourself why you like it. If you can't do it in your head, if you can't just read a book and figure out what went well, write it down! It doesn't have to be a 10 page paper. Just writing "I loved X character and I think xyz reason is why" is enough to get you started. The more you practice figuring out what you like, the better you'll get at identifying and describing it. The more you know about those things, the better you can transfer it into your own work. Study can be really fun when you really dig your elbows into it.

I also think it's equally useful to do this to media you don't like. Pick a book you hate and do the same thing. Why don't you like it? Is it because you don't like the themes, or because the characters were too frustrating to relate to? Was it because the plot seemed forced? Were there plot points and ideas that seemed awesome that the author just ignored? Figure out what you don't like, what you think doesn't work, so you can figure out how to avoid it.

The thing about studying anything is: everything has rules. Learn the rules. Learn why the work [or why they don't]. That's studying.

Learning when its appropriate to follow or break them, that's writing.

This turned into a very, very long rant! Hopefully it helps :'D if not, my apologies.

#writing advice #answering asks #anonymous #writing #long post

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