#so detailed!! the expressions!!! the fucking YEARNING!!!!!!

[elvisqueso]

I am on some bullshit right now, bruh

#just re-watched pocahontas for the first time in many many years and dawg #the character animation in that film is so gorgeous #like they went so hard on ACTING through the animation #im getting obsessed again like i was when i was little #like u gotta understand: the disney pocahontas character (a truly fictional character inspired by real events let's get that straight) #i was like in love with her. i wanted to be her like oh my god #and the way they animated john smith was such a departure from their other disney LI's up til then (as *i* recall) #so detailed!! the expressions!!! the fucking YEARNING!!!!!! #best love story out of all the disney flicks imho. as a Story it's so powerful #I'm gonna think about the symbolism of them having to part #after grandmother willow had told them 'only when the fighting stops can you be together' #implying that the fighting isn't over and probably never will be #fuxking painfuslfjk #i know i know: c'est ~~problématique~~ #but look. I'm from a racially diverse family okay? #my dad's side especially. nobody over there stuck to their own race/ethnic group #my parents are a mixed couple. i know how hard it is to make that work. #most interracial couples I'd seen on tv until that point were very...chaste? #mostly played for laughs (oh haha the cultural dissonance is so cute and funny!) or worse: to play up racial sterotypes #but to see one depicted as a straight-forward romance- as two people deeply in love and not played for a gag? AND as the core of the story? #mannnn that means a lot to me even all these years later #so yeah im deep in the 'hunting down feel-good fix-it fics' phase wish me luck

[elmaxlys]

got my tnbttw vol 7 today and i thought this panel represented perfectly how i feel reading this series :')

#the night beyond the tricornered window #i am sooo soso so unwell about the professor and mrs mikado y'all have NO IDEA #they make me yearn and long like no one #and erika. oh god erika. #someone help me #yamashita tomoko's art is the BEST. so expressive. so fine yet detailed. it just. it grabs me. hits me right in the fucking feels

[anantaru]

EX HUSBAND WRIOTHESLEY

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — ex! husband wriothesley headcanons

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ex]plicit, fem! reader, reader is referred to as "wife", a little sad, unprotected syx, hitting it raw, very rough fucking lmao, love sick & feral wriothesley, very messy too

ex! husband wriothesley who will hesitantly accept your upsetting decision to file for divorce, and to nullify your earnest promise— nonetheless, it's evident that it was crushing him through the very inside, the pain your words caused had invited him to explore the enormity of sorrow. however, do not be fooled because he won't show it to you, meaning his pure and real emotions, instead wriothesley will decide to verbally jester around about the current happening to brighten up an otherwise daunting interaction between two past lovers.

it was to no avail, the agony festering on his facial expressions and there was nothing in his life worth remembering other than you and a concealed shade of his past— yet, the last thing he'd want to happen was to lose you entirely, signifying that if he was to put his foot down and tell you that he doesn't want the divorce to happen, it probably doesn’t mean much after all.

ex! husband wriothesley who will reminisce about past events in front of you, your first kiss or that one particular date where he asked you to marry him, just small, little details about you that only your ex husband knew of— but, he'll do it in a subtle way, sneakily sprinkling it into a conversation in hopes you'd get a dash of sudden yearning as well— the same he did whenever he casted his mind back towards the good, old days.

ex! husband wriothesley who will speak in riddles to you, keep his quick-witted demeanor in order to fool you into thinking that he was doing quite well after the divorce was fulfilled— and his intentions weren't in wanting to make you feel bad, sorrowful or even jealous. no, not at all. in fact, he thought that if he was to hide his raw emotions and genuine feelings in front of you, you wouldn't feel awful about your decision and were able to continue living a normal life, yet without him.

ex! husband wriothesley who promised you that he will take off the ring that symbolized your once passionate marriage— but will behind your back grab a necklace to loop it inside the precious metal, so he could always wear the ring around his neck, secretly hiding it from your eyes to see while holding on to it whenever he found himself in trouble, or saddened.

ex! husband wriothesley who feels helplessly confused still, harshly drawing back for air as he let a brittle thread of a nervous laughter go when you suddenly ask him if he wanted to remain friends with you, which— in truth, he didn't, and the second after you proposed that insane idea to him he thought you must be joking, or that you surely must've lost your mind (which would make the divorce explainable).

it goes without saying that the real reason as to why the duke didn't seek out to befriend you, had nothing to do with the feelings he harbors towards you suddenly dissolving, it's quite the opposite because he was so helplessly in love with you, archons, he was bloody obsessed with you.

certainly, he thought that such friendship between two past lovers would only cause injury to you both in the end, for the main part to you who he cared the utmost about.

aside from the fact that even now, when he notices how you steadily keep your distance from him, at all times, it breaks him from within.

how cold it was when all ex! husband wriothesley sought after was your gentle caress and delicate kisses, he longed for an opportunity to just swiftly hush you with one step, raw and earnest trapping you against his strong arms while pressing his lips on top of yours when— oh, he does it again, he was indulging in fantasy, gradually yielding to an alternative version of you two ending up together.

in the duke's own words, he believed that love should be warm, a sweet addiction, a magic gifted by the universe, so why— just what had went so terribly wrong that he was struggling to understand it? you should just say you do not care for him, tell him you feel nothing so he can walk away, or maybe, regardless he will stay.

ex! husband wriothesley who despite you both being apart now, remains faithful to you, protective and nurturing to your every needs— because it was simple as that— for the duke, you are his shining sun, and will still remain it to his dying day.

to his crushed and painful body, your caressing trace was his only medication, and your smile? it was the light to his broken heart, for that is what he had called a warm love.

ex! husband wriothesley who noticed how the natural warmth surrounding his body had but faded completely as his mind began to gather around great negativities— perhaps he was flawed and that's the reason you left him all along, cursed to feel the deep sadness slither through his veins like a freezing liquid conquering his body as he shuts himself off for a while, until he can recollect himself again that is.

ex! husband wriothesley who had inappropriate thoughts enter his mind whenever he thought about you— here is to note that he utterly disliked the way his brain just so happened to work and how he wasn't able to shake off those strong and vivid fantasies playing in his mind on repeat.

but how can he not dream about his wife? well, ex-wife, which in his memories was pressed under his large figure exposed with your breasts on full display, his hips working constantly to please you just the way he knew you liked it.

because you see, the duke knew your body, in and out, one might even assume he knows it better than you do. and he still has a couple of your panties left in his drawer— in fact, he wanted to return them, please believe him, but he found himself to be quite busy these past weeks that he must've simple forgotten to do so.

ex! husband wriothesley who at some point, cannot live like this anymore and was desperate to see you again. after your marriage had crushed, you weren't visiting the fortress of meropide anymore and as the duke was rarely leaving it himself, it could've been the perfect situation to move on from each other, yet he simply could not do that, not when you were constantly on his mind.

ex! husband wriothesley who will find courage and leave the fortress to visit you at your new place, in fact, the mere sight of the duke exiting the underworld was rarely seen, so the guards figured that it must be of graven importance— as invisible and weightless as your love for him might be for now, in the middle of the night he walks out to find you, taking in a last view at the fortress  before an itching impatience got the better of him. 

he just had to see you, now.

ex! husband wriothesley who will show up at your doorstep and suddenly admit that he cannot do this anymore, that he felt incredibly miserable and heartbroken, confessing his undying love and affection towards you, using words he had once spelled out to you the night you had gotten married.

"night and day, i dream of you," wriothesley yells, as if there had been nothing left to his choice, the sight of your glowering eyes and those soft, frowning lips he just misses to kiss.

"and there is not one corner on this world that you could possibly travel to in order to free me from this torture," he adds forbiddingly.

through dark eyelashes, wriothesley stares at sudden tears welling up in your glassy eyes, a sharp amenity invading your cheeks as he places his palms on top of them in order to brush your warm tears away. "you're mine," he said, the corners of his mouth slightly quirking upwards, his hot breathing lingering around your gasping lips, "and not even a divorce can change that."

ex! husband wriothesley who places a delicate splatter of warm and passionate kisses on top of your lips the moment you pull him by the collar of his shirt, his surprised growl turning into a stifled cry when you wrap your arms around his neck in order to keep him close to you, together stumbling into the coziness of your home as one hand was firmly placed against your back, his mouth eagerly parting as your lips welcome the teasing slide of his tongue lapping across your own.

ex! husband wriothesley who will hiss upon revelling in your soft fingers tracing over his twitching muscles when you undress each other, his disheveled hair accentuated with a fond smile as his hands trail down the sides of your face, leaning his hungry lips against yours again, the lingering, familiar scent of your fragrance penetrating his nostrils turning him needier, on the brink of passing out.

ex! husband wriothesley who loves hearing you only reply in soft and crumbled whimpers of his name slipping past the edges of your tongue as he cannot wait to feel you— fuck, and neither can you wait to feel him again, a clashing pressure on your hot core narrowing the space between your bodies as he lines himself up with you, your nails slithering down his chiseled back as he slides into you abruptly, your neglected cunt instantly welcoming him.

and you squeal out in pleasure as he thrusts into you, the maddening scent of his musky perfume persisting around your shivering frame as wriothesley hooks one leg over his shoulder, the squelching sounds of your wet sex echoing throughout the entire bedroom just signalizing how much you must've missed him as well, his addicting gaze always flickering across the way your body reacted to him.

ex! husband wriothesley who shoves himself further into your soft cunt— and you're just so unbelievably cute and adorable at your desperate attempts to silence those candid whines and mewls of his name. one of his hands was now placed on the headboard for additional support as to not suddenly suffocate you with his large body towering above before he increases the pace on your cunt, setting for a deep and fast rhythm that would surely stay engraved in your walls even after he's done.

ex! husband wriothesley who kisses you like a starved animal as your tears tickle the soft features on his face, your hidden emotions running wild at the sheer passion he unlocked in you, his erection throbbing harder as he groans into your lips, triggering every last one of your nerves in your body and infusing them with persisting vibrations— now, you're gasping at the lack of oxygen in your lungs as his constant thrusts into you drove you deeper into the mattress, if that was even possible, considering the fact that your whole body had been caged in between your bed and wriothesley's frame towering on top.

ex! husband wriothesley who chokes back a desperate growl as he sought out further friction, growing feral, then hissing sharply as his sensitive cockhead reaches into your deepest parts, his shaft all the way sucked in by your used pussy lubricating him so he can ram himself in and out of you harder, slick pooling out of your hole whenever he pulls out only to press back inside with one quick snap.

ex! husband wriothesley who worships your body, making you feel every thick vein as it throbs violently against your walls, your thudding hole making him lose his mind on how you're convulsing while he curls into you— your swollen cunt tensing and releasing, grinding up a little as thick, white cum gathers at the base of his cock, his mesmerizing eyes glued on the creamy spot that was showing him just how much you enjoyed this too.

ex! husband wriothesley who resumes his fast tempo, your teeth rattling with every new impact of his hips bouncing against your flesh blanking your mind into pure paradise— your moving bodies couldn't stop anymore as you're fucking each other well over the limits of your endurance, drool dribbling down the corners of your mouth as wriothesley was fucking your cunt desperately, unhinged and making it a point to rock your hips in and out along a particular angle that you'd always squeeze over the rigid veins prancing on the underside of his shaft.

ex! husband wriothesley who exhales heavily when you tell him that you're close, his hips pressing and digging into your sensitivity once more before lifting you off the mattress, chasing your relief like a wild beast that he so graciously wanted to see unfold— low profanities and fast tumbles of his name falling from your lips as your thighs begin to shake and ache, your throat turning dry— you're done for, and wriothesley just fits so perfectly in you, into every curve, every spongy spot and every bump inside that you're so painfully full, crowded and overflowing of his thick shaft.

you're hiccuping due to the pressure he presses into your sensitivity as you're way beyond your own limits now, at last feeling a twitch and quake as your body pleads to cum, his grueling thrusts aiding you when you violently convulse around his length, a sharp intake of breath breaking every other noise in the room when you cum all over his cock, your orgasm hitting you hard, wriothesley continuing with slow, language thrusts until you've rode out your high.

the duke was being eager to watch it all happen, something primal at the back of his mind manifestikg when the sudden constriction of your fluttering hole made him grunt lowly against your ear, rolling his hips nearly painfully hard between your legs before dragging himself away, cumming inside of your walls and marking you up for good with his warm, sticky cum.

ex! husband wriothesley who watched you being short of breath, and couldn’t resist looking at the mess between your legs, your abused cunt twitching around his girth as your pussy flutters around nothing, your legs were quivering with a combination of your essence and his seed oozing out of your hole, staining the silky bedsheets.

ex! husband wriothesley who'll press himself back into you with one sharp snap, leaving his cock in so you could clench and throb, small thrusts turning sloppy and sticky with his dampened bangs glued on his forehead as he kisses the tip of your nose before embracing your pouty lips again, your mouth partly open as you whine out, your sensitivity spiraling of his cock still being nestled in you, his shaft already hard and thick again, your battered cunt jolting underneath him.

wriothesley smiles, "it is maddening, how much you consume my very being, my love." and speaks through his heart.

© 2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut #genshin x you #wriothesley x you #genshin impact x you #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons

[justblades]

⌕ TEAMWORK MAKES THE DREAM WORK, 18+

⟢ CHARACTERS : blade x afab! reader x kafka WC : 1.5k

⟢ WARNINGS : EXPLICIT, MDNI. 3some, bondage, spitting, degrading, cunnilingus, squ!rting

⟢ SUMMARY : getting it on with blade, kafka suddenly walks in on you two and . . . joins in the fun

"blade." you coo to the navy haired's ears, rocking your hips in an attempt to ease the pain of depravity pooling in your body. you were stuck straddling his right thigh, hands propped up to keep you stabilized.

he doesn't response, more so his puff of deep breaths were his only replies. crystalline tears start to well up in your eyes, carnal desire searing from your taunting gaze. your clit starts to throb for some attention, evident from how much you've been making friction with your exposed cunt against blade's lap - tongue stuck out in hopes of your yearning to be quenched by the stellaron hunter.

panting like a bitch in heat, it was all too much for blade to restrain. in actuality, his bulging erection was starting to ache, aching for it to be smothered with saliva and to be provided some company as well. he reaches his limit and so he quickly removes the bandage wrapped around his forearm and swiftly slithers it around your wrists— tying you with the makeshift of a binding. a yelp escapes your lips, feeling the object tighten its hold on you.

if anything, it's a win-win. you successfully managed to rile up the male so that he can tend to your needs, going through such far lengths such as this. blade immediately goes for the nape of your neck to forcibly make you seal a kiss with him, an open mouthed sloppy one so currents of pleasure and shock ride on your skins. "since you want it that bad, there's no going back." his deep voice chimes into your ears, a coy smile playing on his lips.

"do me however you like." with an instant approval, blade lets out a guttural chuckle, amused at how much you're obsessed with his dick that you're giving up your last remaining bit of dignity for him. "i'll fuck you to death then."

suddenly, the door of the confined room busts open— revealing a lady too familiar for the both of your visions. with the dim lighting glinting at her black, circular sunglasses, as if in unison, the both of you utter her name. "kafka." for someone like kafka, she was not one bit fazed at the scene unfolding before her stature. her curiosity only thrived, trekking towards the both of your figures.

"you really are a charm." she mumbles from your back, gloved hands tracing each detailing of your wrinkled clothing. as if the time comes to a standstill and your hearts were nothing but clocks, they continue to tick endlessly, striking every line and numbers for many laps already. "bladie here won't show his vulnerabilities to us and yet . . you've got him wrapped around your pinky."

kafka's next movement stirs the concoction of confusion brewing further in your conscious selves. she seats herself beside blade and leans forward to your face, her lifeless two hued irises fixate on your bewildered expression. "show me what you're made of." and with that single sentence, she envelops her soft lush lips onto yours.

your heart performs a somersault upon her action, unable to register everything happening but it definitely felt blissful. her gloved hands brush on your stomach, escalating up to where your clothes' buttons are placed. the dark magenta strands tucked behind her ear eventually came undone but kafka pays no mind as she finds herself basking in such sensation as soon as she tangles her soft tongue with yours.

saliva with a tang of sweet cherries, it makes a perfect mix with yours although you also previously exchanged sloppy kisses with blade earlier. kafka deepens her reach inside your wet cavern, the pigment of her baby pink lipstick rub on the margins of your lips. blade quickly catches on as he plays with your clit, the bandages wrapped around his hand become drenched from how hot you were feeling - being stimulated from both your upper and lower lips makes your body jolt with pleasure and shockwaves of excitement.

"i- i can't breathe." you protest as you were being smothered with kisses— to which

kafka immediately withdraws from your face and wipes her chin clean with a handkerchief she happened to carry. "we're just getting started." on e again her falsely sweet voice sounds into your ears.

with ease, she snaps the buttons of your top open, making your tits spring free as well as your nipples becoming perked at how the wintry air caresses the sensitive parts. the only heating source as of now are kafka and blade's lips, they were both quick with it as they fiddle their sticky tongues around your hardened buds.

blade was aggressive, almost as if his intention is not to pleasure but to devour you. he roughly squeezes and cup your right breast while kafka was the complete opposite. she lightly nibbles on the part all the while lathering her spit with it. meanwhile you were a moaning mess, throwing your head back as more of cloudy white liquids seep out of your cunt's folds.

"you're about to cum that fast?" she queries, eyes now widened, carefully scrutinizing the beads of arousal dampening blade's bandaged fingers. "well, what do you think about this then?" you fix your posture and trail vision back to the dyad and witness them engaging in a french kiss, making noises that were sloppy and naughty, mewls of pleasure mostly slipping from kafka's throat. as if you were inebriated with lust that it fills your system, ". . i feel hotter than before."

an alluring chuckle erupts in the room just after she breaks off the kiss, "no wonder bladie took a liking to you, you're a full on slut." as kafka uses such a degrading term to describe you, you were uncertain how to feel about it. all you know is that the male is behind you, holding you down and the other stellaron hunter is currently in front. she descends to your position, a kittenish smile sits on her lips.

your pussy was then intruded by two unfamiliar digits, accompanied by it was her warm tongue - pleasuring your slit with utmost skill. your back arches, knees folding at how it felt rhapsodic, better than how your clit was being toyed around by blade. kafka doesn't halt but only quickens the pace, sucking your folds in as if her mouth was a black hole and you're nothing but a mere planet to conquer for the lady.

more of your libido levels spike up once blade forces to you to face him with his fingertips on your chin, inviting you to exchange more of those open mouthed kisses. there were too much liquids flooding the both of your tongues that you couldn't help but gulp a good amount, to prevent getting messier than intended.

not for so long, a feeling of climax throbs on your clit. kafka quickly picks up this detail, sucking and fingering you all at the same. "i'm cumming!" you squirm under her touch as stream of liquids spring out of your hole, drenching the hunter's hair and clothes.

"okay, bladie's time to shine." with hasty shifting of positions, you find yourself on top of the male as you ride his throbbing cock while kafka sits on his lips, vis-à-vis with your lustful figure. the three of your clothes were strewn across the floor, and with a rapid thrust, kafka catches your lethargic body, nestling her face in the crook of your neck.

blade's girthy cock twitches from the confinements of your velvet walls, it pulsates everytime your pussy spasms from his shape. the navy haired was unable to supress his guttural moans, sending vibrations through kafka's cunt to which she bucks her hips for more sensation.

kafka now continues to mark your skin with her love bites, canines burrowing deep as well as sucking on your sweet spot— earning her more of your messy moans of satisfaction along with squelching sounds from blade's dick pistoning into your slit.

"bladie's toy is such a whore . ." she whispers in between her lustful kisses, words libidinous as ever. upon hearing it for the second time, you were addled at first how to feel but now you're more than certain. being degraded makes you drift into euphoria, into ecstasy, into the seventh heaven.

both of the stellaron hunters' whimpers signaling release echoe inside the four walls, as well as yours which was the loudest - followed suit by more strings of gratification springing out of each of your holes. the whole place was littered with busted, creased clothes as well as pools of cum, leaving a pungent scent that wafts into the air to which anyone could've guessed correctly from how strong the smell was.

at this point, sweat covers the entirety of your fatigues yet satisfied body, it glistens from the faintest lighting. kafka leaves a peck on your cheek with a pseudoinnocent smile playing on her lips, "i shall get going then. you can continue your episode with bladie now." as quickly as she bid her farewell, as fast as a lightning does the other stellaron hunter graces your vision.

"i'm not done with you yet."

my masterlist !

#kafka #kafka x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader smut #kafka smut #blade x reader #blade x reader smut #hsr x reader #blade honkai star rail

[dez78]

A night of passion

-----------------------------------------

As requested by @ghoulspirits

Hope I captured the moment! Enjoy!

-------------------------------------

Fandom: Fallout 4

Pairings: Hancock x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+)

Additional Tags: Smut with plot, romantic Hancock, Public sex, massage leads to sexy time.

Summary: You and Hancock finally find time to have a break and things get heated quick.

-------------------------------------------

(Not my Gif)

You and Hancock headed into the Third Rail. The last few days have been hell, you have been retrieving caches and dead drops for the Railroad. You needed a break from the constant fighting, you yearned to just sit and have a beer.

"Hey Chuck, two beers." Hancock said as he leaned on the bar,

"Coming right up, mayor!" Charlie replied as he went over to the old, rusted out fridge.

You went to sit on the stool, but Hancock caught your wrist. You looked up at him with a perplexed expression on your weathered features.

"No, no, sweetheart. You and me got a reserved section in the VIP." Hancock said to you in a sensual tone. You quirked your eyebrow and smirked at him.

"Is that so?" You asked with a snarky tone and a mischievous glint in your eye.

"Hm mhm." Hancock hummed in response, he grabbed the two beers and whisked you away to the shadows of the VIP lounge, tucked away from the prying eyes.

-------------------------------------------------

Upon entering, Hancock handed you one of the beers. You took it and popped it open with your pipboy. You plopped down on the old, worn couch. The springs protested under yours and Hancock's weight.

The ghoul flipped his feet up, resting them on the ottoman, taking a swig of his beer. You sipped your own, relaxing finally. Your muscles were tense.

You felt all the pressure in your joints as you rolled your shoulders with a low groan and a furrowed brow.

"You alright, sweetheart?" Hancock questioned, looking over at you.

"Just sore from all that damn fighting and walking." You whined, rolling your neck.

"Well, I ain't no expert, but I can try to help." Hancock offered, you didn't respond verbally, only nodding your head.

Hancock sat up, he put his beer on the floor. You unzipped your vault suit, revealing your skin to your partner. Hancock bit back the moan as he saw your skin for the thousandth time. It didn't matter how many times he saw you; you still stole his breath.

His rough hand trailed down your smooth back, unclasping your bra with only two fingers. You sighed a long breath as you felt the freedom. Hancock watched his fingers mapping your skin and the details of it.

Then he gripped your shoulders, you groaned low, throwing your head back.

His palms and thumbs massaged in the right places. You felt the popping of your joints and the release of your muscle tensity. You were lost in the sensation that Hancock's voice sounded yards away.

When you came to, Hancock was laughing.

"Now come on, sunshine. You keep making those noises, I'll have to cut this short." He said as he growled low, his breath on your neck. You bit your lip; your cheeks were flushed a bright pink.

"Would that be such a horrible thing?" You questioned innocently.

"I would certainly take you up on that offer." Hancock replied, still massaging your neck and shoulders. You turned then, catching Hancock's breath. He bit his lip as his coal eyes were fixed on yours.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous." He said stunned, admiring every detail of your face in the dim light. You were surprised, the first thing he didn't look at were your breasts, instead he fawned over your face, your eyes, your lips.

You smiled to yourself; he had his charm, but sometimes he was about more than sex. Only for you. You weren't an object or a one-night stand that meant nothing. You were his equal, his partner, you were his and he was yours.

Hancock cupped your jaw, you leaned into his touch, kissing his palm. He hummed with contentment. He pulled you in and captured your lips in a tender kiss. He ran his other hand up your body, feeling every inch of your stomach before finally cupping one of your breasts in his large hand.

He gave you a gentle squeeze, you moaned into his mouth and that was his invitation. He dipped his tongue into your mouth. You let him in with no hesitation, your lips danced with each other in a smooth rhythm.

------------------------------------------

It wasn't long before things got hot and heavy, Hancock had torn off your vault suit and his own clothes. He held you up by your waist as he laid on top of you, leaving a trail of love bites across your neck and breasts. His fingers were graceful as he smoothed up your back.

He drove powerful thrusts into you, you were glistening with beads of sweat and were a mess of sound. It was music to Hancock's ears.

"That's right, baby girl. Let them know who you belong to." He rasped through thrusts. You cried out, arching your back. Hancock kept you steadied as your body convulsed for the fourth time that night.

Hancock leaned down, kissing your jawline as he slowed to an even pace. Giving you time to recover. He kissed your neck tenderly as he pushed into you slowly.

"You like that, sweetheart?" Hancock purred into your ear; you nodded slowly enjoying the feeling of him filling you up with his immensity.

"You're such a good girl for taking it all." Hancock praised you, you shuddered with delight as his voice rumbled against your sensitive skin. He kissed your lips with a tenderness he only had for you.

You usually liked it the way he gave it, but sometimes you wanted slow, and he provided and proved to be an excellent lover in both times. It all depended on you. He respected your feelings. He never did anything you were against. He always made sure you were okay and if you liked what he was doing. If not, then he'd stop.

He was never rough unless you wanted it. You loved that about him, he gave you options and freedom with your love life.

"You ready, love? Or do you want this some more?" Hancock asked you, kissing your neck gently.

"I want it rough." You growled, Hancock got that mischievous glint in his eye and gave you a devilish grin.

He sat up.

"Spread your legs for me, baby." He commanded, you opened your legs for him, and he devoured you. You threw your head back, screaming in bliss. Your thighs quivered. He was hitting your sweet spot. Your hair was falling over your face, wet from sweat.

Beads trickled down the curve of your breast, your lips were swollen, your body glistened, and your eyes sparkled. You were beautiful. It sent Hancock over the edge. You arched your back, contracting around your lover. Your whole body shook.

"Fuck." Hancock breathed with a hoarse laugh. You laid there for a moment, catching your breath. Hancock smiled, drawing circles on your stomach.

"Enjoy, sweetheart?" He smirked; your eyes were half lidded as you looked at him.

"What do you think?" You quipped with a tired smile. Hancock didn't say anything, just gave you his own genuine smile. You loved how he wore it. It suited him. You were the only one to ever see his true smile. He faked it for others, but he put all his trust in you.

You felt lucky to know him, the true him. Not the show ghoul that he put on for everyone else. The facade. You grabbed his face and pulled him on top of you. He rolled his tongue at you,

"Round two already?" He teased; you shook your head.

"No, just kiss me." You told him, he looked a bit surprised, but didn't protest to the request. He leaned down. He wrapped his arms around your waist, his lips against yours.

The kiss was sweet, not heavy and hot like it was moments ago. This one was tender, gentle, and full of love. Hancock poured his all his feelings into his kisses. This time was no different.

The two of you pulled away for only, but a moment. In that time, your eyes met. You saw the sincerity in Hancock's expression.

"I love you, sunshine." He said, brushing strands of hair from your sticky forehead, you smiled up at him.

"I love you too, John." You replied lovingly. Hancock's smile was bright, he loved his name on your lips, it was a beautiful sound, even more beautiful than your moans, he admitted.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours again, savoring the kiss. Savoring the moment. It was perfect, you were perfect.

#fallout 4 #fallout 4 hancock x reader #fallout 4 hancock #john hancock #hancock fo4 #fo4 #my fanfiction #my writing #hancock x sole survivor #female reader #hancock romance

[bitsauur]

pretty (m) (f)

pairing: ex boyfriend! hyunjin x f!reader

cw: nsfw mdni, unprotected sex, spit play, mating press, creampie, swearing, sucking fingers, a little dumbification, a little praise kink, pinch of angst, slightly toxic

edit: can't stop thinking about how baekhyun's love again is perfect for this small fic <3

"Don't you want me back? want my cock?" Hyunjin coaxes you, rubbing the fat tip of his cock against your folds, coating himself with your slick.

"I'll give you anything you want," he murmurs. You feel the stretch of his tip inside your pussy, making you throw your head back, eyes rolling from pleasure, because it's been too long—too long without his perfect cock teasing your aching cunt.

Hyunjin's eyes doesn't leave your face as he caresses your cheek endearingly, pressing his forehead against yours. "Tell me you want me back," he whispers softly against your lips.

You mewl and claw the sheets, still not giving him an answer.

But Hyunjin is patient. He's gone without you for months—he wouldn't mind waiting a few more minutes for you to take him back, he just needs to convince you with his cock.

"C'mon baby, hmm? tell me," he says as he presses his lips on your hot skin, giving into your pleas, wanting to spoil you rotten by slowly slipping the head of his cock in your pussy.

"H-Hyunjin please," you hiccup, your nails clawing into his biceps.

"It's Jinnie," he corrects.

"J-Jinnie—" you rasp, as you suddenly feel his dick twitch against your folds.

"Want you, please?" you plea, your pussy clenching around the tip of his cock, cunt hungry for Hyunjin's dick.

Hyunjin grunts and kisses your cheek. "Good girl," he praises you.

He grips the back of your thighs, folding your knees to your chest as he slowly sinks his thick cock inside your warm cunt.

"Oh fuck—s' fucking tight," Hyunjin groans, the familiar feeling of being buried in your perfect pussy turns his brain into mush. "missed this so much--" he chokes out.

You whimper, your body shuddering as he bottoms out and you feel his balls slapping against your ass.

"L-Love you," you babble without thinking, wrapping your legs around his waist, the feeling of being full with his cock turning you into a horny mess.

Hyunjin's expression softens, momentarily forgetting how dumb you can get on his cock.

"Love you more," he sincerely says, coming down to your face to give you a kiss, dick twitching at your sudden declaration. He breaks the kiss, pushing back strands of hair sticking to your pretty face as he looks at you with pure adoration.

You whine and tighten your legs around his waist, wanting to leave no space between your bodies.

"Love you so much," he coos, dragging his dick against your walls to slam his cock back inside your pussy. "gonna—fuck—gonna give you everything,"

Hyunjin looks at you endearingly as he pumps his cock deep into you, your eyes brimming with unshed tears and your lips quivering.

He loves this position, he realizes. He could see every detail of your pretty face—and it filled up every sense of yearning he had for you when you left him.

A tinge of possessiveness creeps over hyunjin, the thought of you leaving him again making him want to bury his cock even deeper into you, wanting to make you drunk on his cock to even think of leaving him. Hyunjin's hands move to your jaw, prying your mouth open.

Your body responds quickly without him having to tell you, your lips parting and mouth hanging open, welcoming hyunjin's silent request.

Hyunjin gathers spit on his tongue, letting strings of his saliva fall onto your mouth. You swallow with delight, and Hyunjin almost cums at the fucked out look on your face. His hips stutter against your clit, making you moan.

"You're mine, right? mine," Hyunjin drawls out.

"J-Jinnie—" you gasp. "Almost there," you let out deep sighs, toes curling as you feel your release building in your stomach.

"Cum, baby," he coos, fingers going down to rub your clit. "Make a mess on my cock for me, hmm? you're so fucking perfect,"

You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him as you feel your release. You huff in his mouth, whimpering at the feeling and clenching hard on his cock.

"Oh fuck—fuck, too tight, fuck," Hyunjin looks down to see your sweet pussy milking his cock, hypnotized by the sight of your slick streaking down your cunt as your pretty pussy continues to swallow the whole of his dick.

"C-Can't—I'm cumming," he moans, hips rutting into yours in a fast pace.

After your body settles down from your orgasm, you look at Hyunjin's pretty face, adoring the way his eyebrows scrunch in desperation and how his plump lips part. You absentmindedly run your thumb across his plump lips.

Hyunjin sucks on your thumb lewdly, tongue running over your fingers, as his hips begin to stutter.

"Cum inside," you say without giving it any thought, holding your legs wide open for your ex boyfriend.

He whimpers as he licks his lips and nods desperately. "Anything--Anything for you," he says, as his eyes start to burn up, the overwhelming feeling of finally filling you up making his cock twitch.

"Feels so good, fuck—so good—" he cries.

You shudder as you feel spurts of Hyunjin's hot cum fill your pussy. Hyunjin's hips stutters as he stills, making sure to give you every drop of his cum. "F-Fuck,"

Hyunjin is out of breath as he collapses on top of you, wrapping his hands around your figure with his cock still inside your pussy. He suddenly lifts his head to look at you, a tinge of panic in his features.

"We're back together, right?" he presses. " It's too late to take back what you said," he huffs.

You give him a sweet smile, wrapping your hands around his body and nuzzling your face on his neck.

was this too nasty? i have nastier works here! ♡

if you'd like to be part of my taglist, click here

#hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #skz smut #skz x reader #stray kids smut #hyunjin x reader #jinnie smut #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin scenario #skz imagines #hyunjin fluff #pretty.fic ♡

[eoieopda]

lacuna (knj)

lacuna (n): a blank space, a missing part

In his twenty-eight years, Kim Namjoon had made countless mistakes. Most of them were insignificant and could be shoved easily enough into the back corner of his mind. The worst of them were all tied for first place, keeping him up at night.

Loving you, losing you, and now – picking up the phone. 

Pairing: Ex!Kim Namjoon x Fem!Reader Type: One-Shot (Angst, Smut - 18+ or else.) Word Count: Like, 7K (?!) Content: ex-boyfriend au; exes to something?; literally so much angst; yearning; pov switches; oral sex (f receiving); unprotected sex; p in v penetration; cursing; texts from Yoongi. A/N: For reasons unknown, I decided to break my own heart today! The lyrics you'll see below are from "Sooner" by The Low Blow. There's also a reference to one of my favorite tv shows at the end - did you catch it? (1/9/23) The sequel, Redamancy, is finally here! (3/17/23) There is now a playlist 🥲

Sitting cross-legged on the rug, your weary, unfocused eyes stared somewhere in the vicinity of Min Yoongi. Shrouded all in black, you nearly assumed he was your sleep paralysis demon, hunched over his keyboard with his eyes narrowed in thought – but you hadn’t slept much at all lately. Not with your deadline looming overhead like the sword of Damocles. 

He relayed what was already looping through your brain. “It’s missing something.” 

You scrubbed your hands over your face, too burnt out to care if your foundation stayed where it was supposed to. “I know,” was all you said, though it wasn’t all you were thinking. Listening to this demo – this crushing song about love lost – you knew what was missing.

Or rather, who. 

Once again reading your mind, Yoongi spoke with a wary sigh. This time, he said the quiet part out loud. “Listen, I know that on a personal level, this is a terrible idea. But if you really want this track to ache –” 

“I’ll call him.” 

Yoongi turned to look at you over his shoulder. He, like you, hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours; but his surprise still managed to crack through an otherwise impassive expression.

“You sure you want to be the one?” His frown was microscopic, but it was there and it bruised. “I have to hit him up, anyway, so I can handle this for you.” 

You’d never told him – or any of your friends, come to think of it – the details of your whatever it was with Namjoon. You couldn’t call it a breakup; that would necessitate a relationship. You couldn’t comfortably assign that word to this indescribable something.

But maybe that’s precisely why it hurt to breathe when you thought too hard about it. Maybe the thing that burned in your lungs was the fact that whatever it was wasn’t much of anything at all. 

The universally known narrative was that you met Kim Namjoon at a release party two years prior. After years of putting out extended plays, he was dropping his highly anticipated, full-length masterpiece.

That’s what your label called it; that’s what the press called it; but you couldn’t agree. That word wasn’t heavy enough – it didn’t give due credit to the pieces of himself he broke down and buried within those twelve tracks. You felt seen when you heard it. When you saw him, it was game over. 

As the story goes, you went home with him that night. While true, it was the tiniest fragment sitting sharp at the tip of an iceberg. The rest was an ill-equipped ship, sailing in slow-motion through the dark. 

He'd spent the entirety of his celebration focused on you. What you thought; what you wanted for yourself; what made that tipsy, uninhibited giggle come flying out of your chest. And then, holding his hand like it’d been tailor-made for yours, you followed his lead out of there while confused partygoers murmured in your wake. 

He fucked you like he knew you – on a cellular level – and he looked at you like you were all there was. You’d spent the entirety of the following day there, draped over him or nestled underneath him. You were never not touching in some way – in the little interludes of sleep; while cooking a breakfast too big for the two of you alone; on every surface of his apartment. 

He changed your life in those twenty-four hours, but not enough for it to stick. 

You’d spent as much time with him as you could in the year afterward, until your twin ambitions sent you both rocketing in other directions. Your various obligations never allowed you to be in the same place for long; and when they did, it was over too soon. No amount of time would ever feel like enough, but half a day, here and there, felt like a cosmic joke.

Like the universe was punishing you for wanting everything, all at once. 

Eventually, you came to a fork in the road. His career, though international, was rooted in Korea – home. Yours took you to Los Angeles, to a vastly different time zone, and a schedule that refused to make space. And you tried, but when it came down to choosing – idling together or racing forward alone – your respective dreams were so heavy that they tipped the scales.  

Neither of you could blame the other. After all, you’d both made the same decision. There was some small comfort in knowing that he understood you. That consolation couldn’t keep you warm at night when you’d instinctively reach out and find half of your bed still empty.

It would’ve been so much easier to live without him if there was some horrible betrayal to pin it all on, but he was as perfect when you lost him as he was when you found him. 

Shaky legs pushed you off the ground. Without meaning to, you groaned as your body returned to its regularly scheduled programming. Yoongi simply muttered, “Same,” as he made additional adjustments in his editing software.

You affectionally touched your knuckles to his shoulder as you passed by, though you quickly realized this gesture wasn’t made to comfort him. 

You shut the door softly behind you and headed up the hallway. Having kicked off and subsequently lost your shoes several hours ago, you padded in socked feet across the hardwood. The pattern – the various evolutions of Eevee – clashed so blatantly with the extravagance around you. Glancing down, you chuckled. At least some parts of you were still recognizable. 

The door to the stairwell creaked as you pushed it open and ducked inside. No longer camped out in the soundproof studio, you could hear the smattering of raindrops as they pummeled the exterior walls of the building. Somewhere between a drum roll and machine gun fire, you couldn’t figure out if the noise emphasized or relieved your anxiety. 

Gently, you lowered yourself down on a step halfway up the flight. As you stared down at your phone, your knee bounced of its own volition.

For once, you were thankful for the seventeen-hour time difference. This was the kind of call you needed to make at midnight, but one you didn’t want him receiving at midnight. It felt so much safer in daylight.

At least one of you had eyes on the sun. 

You’d deleted his number from your phone months ago because you thought it might help you let go. It didn’t. And to make matters worse, you still knew it by heart. As you typed it out easily, you wished this realization surprised you. You also wished that you’d catch him at a bad time, so you could simply leave a message. 

You’d never been lucky, though, had you?

Namjoon was half-asleep at a café table when the vibration of his phone against the wrought metal snapped him out of it. In his under-caffeinated daze, he couldn’t determine what that unbearable grinding noise was.

He could, however, see the way the elderly woman nearby was scowling at him. He furrowed his brows and blinked back at her; silently asking what the fuck her problem was. Just as silently, she pointed an angry, wrinkled finger to his tabletop. 

By the time his brain kicked into gear, he was too late. He picked up his now-quiet phone and nearly dropped it in an instant when he saw your name tied to a missed call.

He didn’t think twice before returning it – he should have – having figured there was only one way to know if he was truly hallucinating. You picked up immediately in a voice so you that he couldn’t have imagined it. He knew because he'd already tried.

“Hey.” 

People who didn’t know you often mistook the natural rasp of your voice for tiredness, but he did know you. You were beyond exhausted, more so than the last time he’d heard from you. Five months and twenty-one days ago.

This sounded like another all-nighter; like you got so consumed in creating that you couldn’t sleep until you finished. Remembering you like this opened a black hole in his chest – all this fondness with nowhere to go, collapsing in on itself, pulling.

What kind of masochist was he, voluntarily subjecting himself to this conversation? 

“Hey,” He croaked. Even his voice didn't know what to do. 

He heard shuffling on your end. You always pinned your phone between your right ear and shoulder to start — he immediately recognized the sound of your hair against the receiver when you switched it to your left side. Vanilla and honey flooded his nose despite the thousands of miles that separated him from the scent of your shampoo. 

There were a thousand questions spinning dizzy in his mind, but he couldn’t untangle them to spit one out. The longer you both remained quiet, the worse it got – and the worse he felt for his silence. Even without seeing you, he knew that your brows were knitting together. He knew that quiet made you feel too exposed. 

Namjoon cleared his throat to speak at the same moment you asked, “How are you?” His words echoed, a half-second from being uttered in unison. 

He prayed to any god that he’d stop feeling so nervous. There was no reason to be, not with you. You were his comfort zone, his safe space and – oh. Past tense.

Presently, you were – what, exactly? Could he call you an “ex” if you’d never had a title? It all felt too juvenile, hearing people whisper about his girlfriend. You were –fuck – You were home, and now his house was haunted.

A ghost. 

“I’ve been good,” he said quickly, planting a hollow smile on his face that wouldn’t have convinced you if you were there. Liar, liar, liar. “Busy. You sound –” 

“Awful?”

“– like you’ve been working all night.” 

He heard a sheepish chuckle and his clumsy, thudding heart went flying off into the void.

“That’s actually why I’m calling,” you admitted in a voice so tiny he nearly missed it, “And I wouldn’t be – I promise – if I could’ve bothered anyone else with this. This one, though… when I hear it in my head, I can’t imagine anyone –” 

“Say less.” 

It slipped out of him automatically. He couldn’t stop it. Now it was dangling there in dead air where he couldn’t reach it and shove it back down his throat. He must have said that to you a thousand times, giving you whatever you needed before you could even finish asking.

This was the first time he’d ever said it without punctuating it with a kiss to your forehead, though. And now, his equilibrium was off, like the staircase had one less step than he was expecting. 

When you finally broke the silence, he could’ve sworn he heard you sniffle, but he quickly kicked that thought back into the cage it escaped from. Your voice didn’t sound sad at all, so you couldn’t have been crying. Why would you be?

“I can have Yoongi send you what we have so far, lyrics too. If you’re interested, just let me know – verse, bridge, whatever you want.” 

“You’re with Yoongi?” 

It came out exactly as he hadn't intended – accusatory. It was no business of his who you spent time with, professionally or otherwise. And it didn’t even surprise him that Yoongi would stick around after the – whatever it was. All your shared friends stayed shared. His confusion was solely that Yoongi never mentioned working with you, let alone flying stateside to do so. 

Why hadn’t Yoongi said something? Did he assume Namjoon wouldn’t be interested in hearing about your project? Because he would - he kept up with all of your releases, even if it hurt. Was he scared that the mere mention of you would exacerbate the tailspin Namjoon was barely surviving?

Or was it something else? 

“Yeah, he got here a few days ago. I offered to send the vocals to him, but he said he wanted In-N-Out,” Your laugh, even under the weight of your sleepiness, still packed a punch. “Might be the longest trip anyone’s ever made for animal-style fries.” 

Namjoon felt like he was going to pass out, but for your sake, he tried to echo your laugh. “Sounds like he’s got his priorities in order, as usual.” 

That uncomfortable silence crawled back in and settled in the space between you. It never used to be like this. His mouth remained open as if his broken brain could think of a single thing to say. There were hours in every second that passed, but he didn’t hang up – and neither did you. 

“So, if I figure something out, I can shoot it back over –” 

You interrupted this time.

“No need,” You chirped. You must’ve sensed that his train of thought now consisted only of question marks because you dove right back in, “I’ll be in Seoul at the end of the month, so we can put all the pieces together then.” 

Please be speaking metaphorically. Please say – 

“I’ve gotta hop off now, but it was –” Your voice petered out at the end of your statement, and he didn’t know what to do within the pause.

What pleasantry would you settle on to end this conversation? Was it nice to hear from him, or did you also feel like you’d walked through the emotional equivalent of a car wash?  

It was heavy when you exhaled the amendment, hitting the ground with a thud that could’ve knocked him over.

It was torture, and it drop-kicked him into the abyss at full-speed. No light above, no hope below. A black hole that he kept selfishly refusing to close – all because he answered your call. 

“Thank you, Joonie.” 

Fuck. He was doomed.

You spent a shocking percentage of your life on international flights. It was a privilege – you knew it – to travel to the extent that you did, but it was so lonely.

If you were flying, there were two justifications. The first was the most common – touring. You’d touch down in cities all over the world, stay for a few hours, and then you’d leave again as soon as you could blink.

Your interactions were limited, either one-sided conversations from a stage; or facilitated entirely by a local translator. Never truly connecting, missed phone calls and texts sent too late to get a response. The same stale conversations with the crew that had been stuck with you for months. 

The second was less common, and somehow even lonelier – visiting a home that was no longer yours. 

It always went the same way. You’d touch down at the Incheon International Airport in your home country and feel just as foreign as the tourists bustling around you. You’d gather a suitcase’s worth of belongings and try not to think about the fact that they – and everything else you owned – once lived there, too. You’d hit customs and then, as a reward, snag yourself some boba from the café on your way out the door. 

In all those trips, you’d never once hailed a cab because Namjoon was always waiting. You’d hear him before you saw him with how loud he kept his car’s stereo, but when you did finally lay eyes on him, you’d light up like a sparkler. He’d shower you with affection – publicly, despite his usually private nature – and swap out the luggage in your hands for some thoughtful surprise. Flowers, usually, after painstaking deliberation over the meaning he wanted to convey. 

Now, you stood on the sidewalk with your empty hand in the air. 

Shortly after settling into your cab, you fell asleep. The person who would have gently scolded you for taking this risk wasn’t there to do so. Instead, you woke up stiff and disoriented to the sound of your driver honking his horn. You quickly learned that he wasn’t honking at traffic; he was honking at you with a scowl on his face. 

“Time to go! Wake up – your stop!” 

He was speaking in English, so it took you a few moments to determine whether you were dreaming. Impatient, he honked again.

Did he think you were a tourist? Was he right?

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you threw the door open and hurled yourself out. You ran to the trunk, snatched your suitcase, and tried not to remember that you didn't used to have to do this part yourself.

Yoongi had the foresight to give you a spare keycard before leaving California, so you were able to get into his building quickly – before you were honked at again. Spoken to in English again, like this place had never been home.

You, belonging nowhere and to no one, kept yourself together until the elevator doors gave you some semblance of shelter. 

Alone, alone, alone, you cried so hard that your shoulders shook. The mirrored walls around you showed infinite versions of you, all pitiful like you were still that little girl who’d gotten separated from her parents at an amusement park. It was incredible how you felt smaller in that elevator than you did as a child.

And fuck, did that embarrassment make you cry even harder. 

Eventually, those doors would have to re-open, and you’d have to let yourself into Yoongi’s unoccupied penthouse just to wait for his return. You were so sick of walking into empty apartments and hearing nothing but your own footsteps. No warmth, no laughter, just a black hole of your own creation. 

You chose this, you reminded yourself. This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? You were so busy chasing broader horizons, you didn't notice that the sun had disappeared. If you’d known – really, truly known – what the fall would be like, would you have taken that leap of faith? No, you think, but you did and there’s no jumping back into the airplane once you’ve dived out of it.

Ding. 

There was a post-it note waiting for you on the inside of Yoongi’s door that you would’ve missed if you hadn’t taken so much time to shut it behind you. His handwriting was shockingly neat for someone who was always in a rush. His note told you that he’d be home in two hours, that there was food for you in the refrigerator, and that you should help yourself to whatever you needed. 

The sinkhole in your stomach wasn’t created by hunger, so you pushed that down to the bottom of your to-do list and dragged your luggage to the guest bedroom down the hall.

Every inch of his place was undeniably Yoongi – monochromatic and edgy, but still so confusingly inviting. His guest room was similar in style, but with more personalized touches than most visitors tended to expect. Framed photos of friends, and the collaborators he was most proud to work with.

Your eyes eventually found one of you, beaming brightly. 

It hurt to look, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away. It was taken in a photobooth at Kim Seokjin’s wedding last spring. You were sandwiched on a small bench seat between Yoongi and Namjoon.

The former, like you, was captured in the middle of a laugh - smiling at the camera with all teeth, eyes crinkled at the edges but still sparkling. The latter wasn’t looking at the camera at all – just you, like you were all there was. 

Forcing yourself to look away, you returned the frame to its place on the vanity and kept moving. Your primary instinct was to hurl yourself into the plush bed and never leave it. But you felt stale after spending so much time traveling, and you didn’t want to collapse into those beautiful sheets until you’d scrubbed the day off you. 

Shuffling off to the bathroom, you finally remembered to take your phone off ‘airplane mode.’ All at once, the floodgates opened. The onslaught of texts, emails, and voicemails was so overwhelming that your phone froze.

When the flurry stopped, you scanned through your various inboxes for anything that might require an immediate response. Finding nothing urgent, you were about to set your phone down when you saw an email from Namjoon, addressing both you and Yoongi.

His verse, you realized as you opened it. 

I think I lost you sooner than I wanted to  And I know you can't say the same  But I can't hate you for doing what you've gotta do  Cause I'm just in bed sleeping through the pain  Do you see wasted potential when you look at me?  Of what we could be if it wasn't like this  I know you asked me not to try and change myself  But when I was with you, I felt fixed 

It took everything you had not to drop to your knees.

Namjoon was an incredible liar.

He didn’t utilize the skill often – in fact, he was usually too honest – but when he did, he could get himself out of any unwanted scenario.

In the distant past, he’d slip out of obligations made by his label to stay home in bed with you. It worked every single time. Instead of putting on some over-priced suit, wasting his breath swapping empty pleasantries with industry tools; he’d be hooking his arms around your quivering thighs, pinning you to his face as he fucked you with his tongue. 

In the present, he lied again. 

Yoongi asked, “How did it feel to hear from her again?” 

“To be honest,” Namjoon started, knowing full well that nothing he said next would be, “That shit’s behind me, man. I was surprised her number was still in my contacts, you know? She’s been a non-factor for a minute.” 

Yoongi rolled his eyes, “With the number of girls you’ve gone through in the meantime, I imagine it gets hard to keep track.” 

Hook, line, sinker. 

Namjoon offered a smirk and a shrug in response, which Yoongi accepted without further comment. The relief of being believed did nothing to cure the nausea swirling in Namjoon’s stomach, though - not just for the cruelty of his lie, but for the way he’d acted since you left and stayed gone.  

He learned early on that it would take more than fucking someone he didn't know to keep warm, but knowing better didn’t mean he did better. None of them – and there were many – could pull him from the limbo he found himself in without you. There was an emptiness gnawing at his insides that he couldn’t fill, and the more he tried, the more it tore at him.

The only thing he succeeded at was becoming someone he didn’t recognize –someone he didn’t even like. 

Yoongi pulled into his parking garage and turned to Namjoon, staking him through the heart with words alone. “Well, the non-factor is upstairs, so try to remember her name when you see her.” 

Namjoon chuckled, but it didn’t sound anywhere close to convincing. There was a flicker of doubt in Yoongi’s quickly flexed eyebrow, though he kept any questions he may have had to himself. Without a word, they clambered out of the car, and they stayed quiet until they stepped into the elevator. 

“How has she been?” Namjoon asked more quietly than he meant to. Like someone who’s scared of the answer - or worse, being asked why he’s asking. Quickly diverting further inquiry, he provided clarification Yoongi hadn’t sought. “Sounded tired as fuck on the phone.” 

Yoongi glanced at Namjoon before selecting the button marked with his floor number. “You know how she is,” He hummed. 

That one hurt. He knew how you were – past tense.

Except for that one phone call, he hadn’t heard your voice in months. He hadn’t seen you for even longer than that. Your number hadn’t changed, but for all he knew, everything else could have. All he had now was his memory’s pale imitation of you, always in sight but never within reach.

A ghost that disappeared into the walls before he could get too close. 

When the elevator door opened, Namjoon was fighting between running forward and running away. Incapable of doing either, it was Yoongi’s light punch on his bicep that prompted his feet to move. Namjoon trudged along after him until Yoongi stopped short with a groan. 

“The fuck?” Namjoon coughed as he collided with Yoongi’s back. “Don’t tell me you’re already winded, dude. I’m not giving your old ass a piggy-back ride.” 

The scowl he received could’ve scorched the Earth.  

“I forgot my fucking phone in the car.” Yoongi tossed his apartment key at Namjoon. It thudded against his unsuspecting chest only to be caught on the rebound.

Then, Yoongi pointed at the door. “Go play nice and figure out where we’re getting take-out from. I had a dream about bulgogi last night that was borderline sexual, so keep that in mind.” 

Namjoon’s face scrunched up. “I’ll be trying my best to keep it out, so thanks for that.”  

Yoongi had already turned around, waving a dismissive hand as he stalked off. 

As soon as Namjoon heard the elevator doors close, his phone chirped in his pocket and caught him off guard. He glanced down to find a text from Yoongi – who was, apparently, also a liar. 

Yoongi [18:19 PM]: fyi you always say “to be honest” when you’re about to say some bullshit Yoongi [18:19 PM]: "non-factor" my asssssss

Namjoon grimaced and shoved his phone back into his pocket before walking to Yoongi’s door with his heart in his throat.

Clearly, Yoongi wanted Najmoon to fix things with you. He’d crafted some false narrative to get himself out of there, to give Namjoon the time and space to do it. But there wasn’t a single fucking thing he could say to rebuild the bridge you’d both demolished together.

That is, if you even wanted him to try.

After unlocking the door, he froze. A full minute passed before his hand received his brain’s signal to turn the knob, and even then, his feet felt as if they were encased in concrete. If hearing your voice made him spiral, he was terrified of what the sight of you might do.

More than anything, he was scared to see how you looked at him – and he didn’t know what reaction he wanted. If you lit up the way you used to, it might kill him. If you had no reaction at all, it would definitely kill him. 

He would’ve stalled at that threshold all night if you didn’t appear in the hallway, straight ahead. You froze like a deer in headlights, one hand still on the door you’d exited from. Eyes wide, lips parted ever so slightly in surprise.

He didn’t notice the red rims around your eyes right away, but once he did, every cell in his body screamed at him to run to you, to hold you.

But he didn’t.

Touching you now only to lose you again tomorrow - well, that was a scab he couldn’t rip off again. There was only scar tissue where his heart used to be.

“Hey,” You smiled so sweetly when you saw him, but it didn’t reach your eyes. Those fucking eyes! He’d give up everything he had to erase the sadness swimming behind them, threatening to spill out. 

Why were you still so far away?

You glanced around him, noting Yoongi’s absence, but didn’t ask where he was. “I was thinking we could get something from that –” 

The longer he stared at you, the more impossible it became to keep his distance. He couldn’t stand on that doorstep with you over there, trying so hard to look like you hadn’t been crying – like you weren’t about to start again. 

Fuck it.

If he was so dead-set on re-breaking his own heart, he’d do it with you in his arms.

“Joonie, is everything oka–” 

No, nothing was. Nothing had been, not for – fuck, are his eyes getting misty? - a long time. Not since you walked out of his apartment for the last time, and he let you. He couldn’t make any of it okay, but with you there now, he didn’t give a fuck about where you were before. 

Your eyes were as big as the moon when he finally reached you, blinking your surprise up at him.

Did you really think he had any other option than to hold you? Did you have any idea how you looking at him like this - bare-faced, freshly-showered, vulnerable - demanded his immediate affection?

It felt like coming home, sliding his fingers through your still-damp hair. He could’ve fallen to pieces when the familiar scent of your shampoo – vanilla and honey – crashed over him, but he didn’t. His lips collided with yours, and for the first time in a fucking year, he felt whole.

You clung to him so desperately, you could’ve ripped a hole in his shirt. You couldn't care about that, though, because he kissed you and it was pure starlight. He kissed you hard, nicking your lip between his teeth until you opened your mouth against his.

You whimpered into him, drunk on the wet heat of his mouth, melting and falling and spinning and flying. You felt it all fall to the wayside, every second wasted without him, every text you didn’t send, every wrong turn that led you so far away. 

You didn't realize until you finally broke apart that the tears on your cheek weren’t exclusively yours. His gaze locked with yours, and all either of you could do was gasp for air - chests heaving, lips kissed swollen. If not for the arm around your back, pinning you against his chest, you would’ve floated away. But he had you, completely.  

Finally, you felt tethered. 

Your trembling hand settled on the side of his face. Fuck! That face. The warmth of his skin, the heights of his cheek bones, the gentle slope of his nose.

How many mornings did you wake up and miss it? How did you ever fall asleep without it nuzzled into the crook of your neck, without the whisper of warm breath on your skin?

You wanted to scream until the hurt left your chest, but you didn’t dare – not with that face so perfectly close to yours.  

He spoke first, “I’m so –” 

Your eyes followed your thumb as it swiped over his bottom lip, unearthing a quiver that burned you up inside. He was paralyzed by your touch. Enraptured. Leaving that clause hanging open in the air.

His eyes were wide with anticipation as he watched you, pupils dilating when you whispered. “Say less.” 

Faster than you could process, he lifted you off the ground as if you weighed nothing at all. Automatically, your legs locked behind his back; your lips re-captured his and his kiss never faltered as he carried you back into the guest room. Quickly and with a shocking display of control, he kicked the door closed without slamming it – or breaking it. 

Like so many times before, he laid you gently onto the mattress as if you were crafted from porcelain. And when he finally pulled away from you, you gazed up at him in awe.

This was one of the million reasons you couldn’t seem to let him go – the way his eyes softened when you were breathless underneath him, like you were the only thing in the universe worth looking at.

There were too many things to be said that neither of you could verbalize. You felt them all falling down around you like confetti, loose ends to be tied up later. He didn’t need to say a thing, so long as he kept looking at you like that. 

When his fingers landed at the hem of your shirt, you knew what came next. A dance you’d done a thousand times, you lifted your arms for him to pull it up and off. Still damp from your shower, the ends of your hair raised goosebumps as they chilled the bare skin of your back.  

He moved slowly and without breaking eye contact as he unbuttoned your jeans. Your zipper followed, then your jeans and underwear in tandem. The denim dragged so deliciously against your thighs as he slipped them down, down, down. As he tugged them off your ankles, you discarded your bra and tossed it aside. You were entirely bare and shivering with anticipation when his gaze found you again.

His shirt soon joined yours on the floor. Kneeling between your legs, his bare chest burned against your own as he kissed you for the third time. So many more were needed to make up for lost time, but you could feel how much of himself he poured into the kisses he’d credited you with so far. The taste of his mouth on yours was indescribably intoxicating after so much time apart. 

With you sufficiently distracted, the hands that cupped your face began to migrate. You felt so small under his touch, reduced to putty in the warm expanse of his palms. His face lowered too, freeing your mouth to moan as he placed open-mouthed kisses down the length of your neck.

Involuntarily, you gasped when his fingers pinched at one of your nipples. The curve of his smile impressed upon your throat as he suckled at the sensitive skin he found there, leaving clouds of indigo behind. 

As he marked you, he rolled and tweaked your nipples in turn. Your eyes fluttered shut and you keened while your head crashed back against the pillows, “That mouth – feels s-so fucking good.” Your fingers carded through his hair, fingernails scratching lightly against his scalp; his silence broke with a shuddered moan. 

“S’all I want, baby,” He hummed as his lips trailed down from your neck and beyond your collarbone. “To make you feel good.”  

You were trembling when he claimed one of your nipples with his mouth. Then he had the audacity to look up at you from under his lashes when he released it with a lewd pop, causing your back to arch against his chest with a gasp. There was a rumble from deep within him when your grip on his hair tightened, and the sound alone made you gush. 

“To taste you,” His tongue left a wet stripe above your navel as he continued his descent, large hands dipping beneath you to squeeze the doughy flesh of your ass. Shit - you would simply never recover from this. “To devour you until you melt in my mouth.” 

Another sharp tug at his hair, another guttural moan breaking free from your chest.

How often had you dreamed of this in your time apart? How many times did you try to remember how it felt when that timbre whispered sins against your naked body? Fuck. With those words alone, he had you on the brink. 

You whined when he pulled away from you; but it quickly turned into a gasp when he hooked his arms around your thighs and dragged you with him towards the end of the bed. Now kneeling on the floor, he ducked below your knees until they rested over the tops of his shoulders. 

Face so near to your aching core, he growled, and you felt it. “I missed this pussy –” He placed a wet kiss on your inner thigh, prompting you to clench them reflexively. “I missed the way your thighs squeeze around me while you fuck yourself against my tongue.” 

Shivering, slack-jawed, and stupid, you grabbed fistfuls of the comforter below you. He was so painfully close to your cunt and still so fucking far from you. You knew he could see how badly you craved him - you’d beg for his mouth if you had to. 

Of course, you didn’t have to - you never did.

Seconds before your impatience could drive you fully insane, he was on you, tongue flat against your cunt, dragging up against your slit. When the tip of his tongue flicked over your clit, you cried out with a buck of your hips. His grip on you tightened, pinning you flush against him as he teased you. 

“That it’s, baby. Good girl.” 

It’s a miracle either one of you could form words with how relentlessly he licked, nipped, and suckled on your throbbing cunt. All you could do was babble in response to his praise – until the tip of his tongue penetrated your weeping hole, and you screamed. 

A flurry of curse words spilled from your lips; his name sprinkled in between the obscenities. Fuck, you needed more. More, more, more. You extended your arm and reclaimed your grasp on his locks. Once you did, you began to grind yourself against his tongue until your abdominal muscles burned - you hadn’t utilized them to this extent since the last time.

His hand squeezed your thigh, goading you, encouraging you to use him the way you needed to. The pressure of his tongue increased with your pace. You had no control over the sounds you made; the breathless moans escaped you before you could think of trapping them. The coil was tightening, burning red-hot in the pit of your belly. 

So good, so good, so g – 

“Fuck!” 

One by one, your muscles tensed in quick succession until your body shook violently in his grip. Toes curling, back arching, head crashing backwards into the pillows, mewling. 

When you finally gathered the strength to re-open your bleary eyes, there were spots dotting the edges of your vision – and then there was Namjoon, fuck-drunk between your weakened knees, with a mixture of his saliva and your orgasm shining on his chin. 

Lustful eyes locked squarely on your flushed face; his tongue slid from between his swollen lips to attend to the mess you’d made of him. His panting rivaled yours, but unlike you, he was still capable of speech.

“I will never – ever – get tired of watching you come,” he sighed before wiping his mouth against the back of his hand, “You’re so fucking beautiful like this.” 

As he climbed back on top of you, he placed a chaste kiss on your sweaty forehead. “So vulnerable –” Then the tip of your nose. “So vocal –” Then, too briefly, your lips. “Perfect.” 

“Joon,” You murmured against his lips. His mouth curved into a smile at the nickname, which you used almost exclusively to win arguments, or to persuade him to do something. It worked every time. 

He nudged your nose with the tip of his as he tried to conceal his laugh. “Baby?” 

The fond look in his eyes was quickly covered by fluttering eyelids as your fingertips whispered down over his chest. They snapped open and bored into you as your fingers slid over the waistband of his joggers, tracing a feather-light trail over the bulge below. You felt his cock twitch autonomously against the warmth of your palm. 

“Shit,” He hissed through gritted teeth as you squeezed him. Eyes drifting shut once again; he rolled his hips to exacerbate the friction. His neck tensed, head thrown back, when you finally dipped under the elastic and took him into your hand. Skin to skin, burning up.

The next moan from his fawning mouth was something you hadn’t heard in his voice for months – your name. “I need you. Now.” 

In the few moments he pulled away to remove his pants, a chill crept in and settled where the weight of his body had just been.

There it is again, you thought, the feeling of having him and losing him.

When this night was over and he was gone from you, would he stay that way? Should you have gone this far, knowing nothing would be different in the daylight? 

You were blinking fast when he reclaimed the space above you. Something flickered in his eye as he assessed the look on your face, but he didn’t ask. Instead, he leaned down and kissed you so gently that you could’ve imagined it – but so completely that your brain could never have fabricated it. Not successfully, anyway.

You’d already tried. 

Breaking apart once more, he reached down and stroked himself slowly. His eyes never left yours. You both held your breath as he slid into you, millimeter by millimeter, reminding your body – after all this time – how to take him. All of him, to the hilt, until you could finally exhale.

Stretched to accommodate his width, so fucking full, you saw a way out of the nothing that had you trapped like quicksand. It was him, always. Your safe haven.

Neither of you could speak once he began rolling his hips against you. The quiet was electrified by heavy breaths and whimpers. The wet heat of your cunt squelched as your walls enveloped him, just as unwilling to let him go as the rest of you.

Over and over, he grinded into you, dragging his length across your most sensitive places; hips swiveling slightly to the side as he pushed and pulled himself through you, the way he knew you liked it. 

Open mouth beside his ear, you keened and sighed, wordlessly informing him that you wouldn’t last much longer. He was perfectly attuned to your subconscious movements, and he responded to each of them without hesitation.

He’d never need to be reminded that the fingernails digging into his biceps meant faster, and the upward tilt of your jaw meant deeper. That when your eyebrows rose above your closed lids, you were seconds away from your release. 

He remembered exactly how to fuck you through your orgasm when it came – shallow, staccato thrusts that unraveled you further as you writhed against the sheets. The spot on your neck to nip at like some secret switch, praise dripping hot in your ear like honey.

“Such a good girl, squeezing me like this,” He panted, “Taking me so well – so fucking perfect for me, angel.” 

As soon as you crashed down through the atmosphere, his movements threatened to ricochet you right back into space. You keened helplessly with your half-numbed fingers gripping any part of him where they could find purchase.

“I c-can't stop -” You mewled, “How am I s-still c-coming?” 

His response didn’t come in the form of words. His lips collided with yours hard enough to clink teeth as he drove himself deeper and deeper and deeper. Sloppy, kiss-bitten lips laying claim; relentless in their mutual need for closeness. Your walls were still fluttering around him – was this your second orgasm or your third? - when he moaned into your mouth.

Every part of him tensed above, around, and inside you as the flood of his release filled every crevice of your cunt. 

Breathing ragged, his head fell into the crook of your shoulder. Considerate as ever, he tried so hard to keep his full weight off you, but his exhaustion undermined his efforts. You didn’t mind at all – you’d re-build your home there, staying forever between his body and that borrowed bed if you could. 

But you couldn’t, could you? If you felt empty before, how could you feel whole again after this? His name etched itself into your ribcage, and now your body would never re-acclimate to his absence.

Why did you do this to yourself? 

You squeezed your eyes shut tight when you felt tears prickling in their corners.  

Everything you felt for him – over the course of two years – came crashing down over you. You buried your face into his shoulder and tried your best to keep your crying to yourself.

You’d never get his scent off your body now. 

He could sense your shaking; it forced his heavy lids open. 

“I don’t know what to do with it,” you sniffled, silently begging yourself to stop. You felt yourself shrinking under his eye. It would only be a matter of time before you disappeared entirely.

His tone dripped with concern, serving only to deepen that infernal ache in the pit of your stomach. “With what?”  

“All the love I have for you. I don’t –” You sobbed, “I don’t know where to put it now.” 

His breath caught in his throat as if you’d punched him straight in the chest. If you listened hard enough, you might’ve heard his heart break. You could certainly feel it in the way he tensed in your arms.

When he moved off you, you feared the worst – that your incessant crying overflowed the bathtub, and your admission was the toaster thrown recklessly inside. But unlike the last time, he didn’t leave - and neither did you.

The mattress shifted as he claimed the space at your side - where he should have been all this time. Strong arms enveloped you as he turned to face you, and even though he held you, he couldn’t stop you from shattering.

For a while, he let you. Squeezed you hard, stroked your hair the way he used to, let you cry out all the poison that filled the spaces in the cavern of your chest.

And when you could finally breathe again, he kissed your forehead. “I’ll trade you for it.” 

(1/8/23): Check out the sequel, Redamancy, here.

#bts #bts army #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts rm #bts rm angst #bts rm smut #bts namjoon #rm x you #rm x y/n #rm x reader #namjoon angst #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x you #namjoon imagine #namjoon fanfiction #namjoon fanfic #namjoon fic #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #jade writes

[reallyromealone]

Hi can you do Angry and Diluc for the NSFW event with C,D,I,N,Y please?

241 bb

ANGRY

C🍬 Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Souya was fascinated as he looked at his boyfriend, face covered in sticky cum and without breaking eye contact began wiping it off with his finger and licking it, (name) already erect as he watched Souya lick his salty cum.

D🍬Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Souya hummed as he got ready for the day, going commando in hopes that his boyfriend would bend him over or he would take him in the bathroom though (name) never did.

I🍬Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Souya was teary eyed as he fucked himself on (name)s cock, (name) whispering sweet nothings and praising him on how well he was taking him as the lights were dimmed in their apartment, all that mattered was them "god I love you" (name) tender and warm, making sure Souya knew how much he loved him.

N🍬No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Souya wasn't expecting the conversation with his friends to go to this direction but here he was.

"Absolutely fucking not" Souya said simply when Chifuyu mentioned a threesome, Souya didn't share.

"What happens in our bedroom stays in our bedroom and is between (name) and myself"

Even worse was when someone commented about a threesome with him, (name) and Nahoya, the concept of his dick being remotely near his brothers made him nauseous.

Y🍬 Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

"So how often do you two ya know...?" A friend asked and (name) was unphased as the conversation was about sex afterall"maybe twice a week, though more when we aren't busy"

That was a lie, Souya didn't say anything as the two loved lying about their sex life to people because frankly it wasn't anyone's business to know the exact details also because they would be horrified at how often they did it.

What could (name) say? Souya was insatiable.

DILUC

C🍬 Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

"Sweet..." (name) mumbled as he licked the cum off the others cock, on his knees under Dilucs desk, cum already leaking out of his poor abused ass as Diluc used him anyway he wanted and covered him with cum the way he liked (name) to look.

D🍬Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Many times has Diluc fantasized about bending (name) over and fucking him stupid, showing everyone who he belonged to.

Especially when Kaeya was chatting (name) up.

The blue haired flirt constantly trying to get with (name) and it infuriated him.

Maybe one day...

I🍬Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It was late as Diluc pounded into (name), all the annoyances and stress of the day washed away as he fucked his lover stupid, (name) shaking as he had another orgasm.

"Gimme another baby... Come one be good" Diluc urged as (name) drooled and let Diluc manhandle him.

"Good boy..."

N🍬No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Though the concept of fucking (name) infront of people sat in Dilucs dreams, the actual aspect of doing it made his dick go soft almost instantly.

Those expressions...

Only he got to see them.

Y🍬 Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Though the concept of constant sex was nice, Diluc had to admit something.

He had the sex drive a rock.

He didn't have the time nor did (name), the two often tired by the end of the night and Diluc reading him books as they fell asleep.

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #male reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x male reader #x male reader #angry x male reader #angry x reader #diluc x male reader #diluc x reader #angry smut #diluc smut

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

I can imagine Darling trying to initiate something sexual with Yves, but due to their inexperience, they fuck up and offend Yves. Yves would have that serious talk with Darling and they would be filled with so much guilt and embarrassment from the rejection and scolding. They apologize and vow that this will never happen again, and begin to over correct themselves, never having their hands make contact with Yves ever again. The only time the two would touch is if Yves is the one initiating it. Even then, Darling's hands are glued to their side, not wanting to make another mistake.

Do not make things sexual with Yves.

Yves knows you better than anyone. Even yourself. If he knows that you tend to beat yourself up repeatedly after being scolded, no matter how mild, he will take on a much more gentle approach.

Immediately after telling you off, receiving a satisfactory apology, and knowing that you're in a very vulnerable state, full of debilitating shame, Yves will soothe the pain by reverting back to being flirty and sensual in nature. Praising how you're such a sweet and good person for recognizing your transgressions and having a strong will to change for him. Intent is also very important, he will make sure you know he deeply appreciates that you find him extremely attractive, making lewd comments and/or touching him inappropriately is just not the way to express it.

He will take you in his arms, and let your hands touch him as long as it doesn't stray too near to his no-no territories. Yves wants you to know that he still yearns and craves for your skinship, he is not at all disgusted at you. He still wants you fully, just not in a way that degrades him.

The talk will be long. It will go to many different places relating to your views on sexuality, consent, and decorum. There will be guilt, there will be embarrassment, yes. But Yves is someone who likes to be clear, and direct and leaves no room for misunderstanding. He will firmly and lovingly lay out his expectations in the future, telling you what is okay and what is not for him. You are free to ask him any hypotheticals and he will answer it precisely without sparing any details.

You are free to tell Yves what you're expecting of him too even if he already knew what you thought of him. If you think that he led you on with his teasing, he will remind you that the nature of his flirting is nowhere as lewd, raunchy, or filthy as you thought it was. Looking back, it is true. It may be sensual, suggestive, exciting, and heart-fluttering, but it was never explicitly, horrendously sexual. What you said or tried to do completely came out of left field. Going through this route will leave you red-faced.

You will have to face some difficult emotions and heaps of awkwardness, you will cringe at yourself and at Yves. But, he will guide you through it all. He will teach you patiently how to navigate through your feelings and let go of any anger or hatred that you hold against yourself for doing something wrong. You will learn that there is nothing to be afraid of when having a conversation about heavy topics like these Most importantly, you will learn how to forgive yourself and move on.

You might think the 'magic' is gone after this chat. Perhaps you may think affection from you or he feels... icky and strange. But, it isn't. You would surprisingly enjoy it much more than before, now knowing what to do. It will be much more comfortable, knowing his boundaries and knowing yours.

Yves isn't cruel. He wouldn't let you marinade in your anguish for offending the man you care about, his goal wasn't to punish or hurt, it was to teach a lesson and rectify unacceptable behavior. He would only do so if you're hostile and defensive, refusing to accept what you did was depraved and blaming Yves for being too sensitive instead.

This lengthy, laborious conversation will occur regardless of your personality type. Because, while Yves may be the closest thing to a mind reader, you are not. But that is quite alright, he isn't afraid to feel, and he isn't afraid of awkwardness.

He loves you and only wishes to see you happy, thriving, and unburdened.

#yandere male #yandere concept #oc yves #yandere oc #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere #male yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader

[ohimsummer]

GOJO, EREN + your favs

—fem!reader, your fav x reader, flirting?, suggestive, teeny tiny mentions of fucking lol, use of 'good girl', one(1) use of princess, modern! au, reader is so down bad they look stupid

wc 1.2k

"Good girl."

It comes out of his mouth as a light chuckle, a slight tease at you for doing something he asked (with little complaint, anyway). Just a simple joke with a smug grin to match because that's just what he liked to do — poke and prod at your patience until you grew too tired of his antics to bicker with him.

Your lips part ever so slightly in a state of shock, maybe a little embarrassment at having gave such a reaction to the statement at all. It's such a miniscule response, one that only lasts a split second and is barely noticeable. Unless you're him, who's always gazing over every detail of your face. Because you were cute, yes, but also so he could catch even a flicker of expression that may come across you.

So he notices. He takes note in the way you react to the name and, though he says nothing (and you're not entirely sure if he could even tell the words had an effect on you yet), he locks and loads the info away in his brain. For him, it's new ammo to break you down.

Things change ever so slightly over the next few weeks. You can't tell if your feelings for him have devolved into pure hatred or skyrocketed to an intense yearning for his attention, both the result of making you weak in the knees for his praise. Every 'good girl' he utters in your direction leaves you dizzy. As the days pass, the phrase goes from leaving a light tingle in your tummy to igniting a fiery-hot ache between your legs. You want to shut him up, but you can't decide if it's with your fists or your thighs. And if you he’d have the mercy to give you a break, forget it. There was no avoiding him. You don't know why you tried to start leaving before he did, you should've known he'd catch onto that tactic immediately.

"Y/N!", he calls out to you as you're halfway to your car. Your feet cement themselves to the ground. Where did he even come from? You didn't catch sight of him anywhere. Your mind illogically says that he was probably hiding, but maybe if you weren't so focused on getting the hell out of there that you would have noticed him standing besides the entrance.

"Wait there for me, princess.” Your brain, bent to his will, doesn't even consider 'why?' let alone think to argue against the command. All that echoes in the familiar voice is his past praise of you.

He strides over towards where you still stand on the concrete, head high and looking down at your shorter stature. You always nagged him about looking down on you like that, like he was that much better than you even if he didn't mean to come off that way. You hate it even more so now that the look makes your thighs squeeze a little tighter together. He's since noticed, of course, because you're just that easy to read, which is why he keeps doing it.

Breathing out a sigh and ignoring the strain of your heart, you take hold of the waver in your voice and ask,"What do you want with me now?"

Your false confidence might as well be glass the way he looks straight through it. "Goin' to a party some time tonight. Be ready when I pull up, okay?"

He doesn't consider giving you the option to deny his request, because in his mind this wasn't optional. Not to mention that now he's treating you like some fancy doll, dragging you to a party you know nothing about and likely (definitely) intending to show you off like his trained little puppy. A dog lapping at his feet, keen to do what he asks just to hear two words of praise from him.

His fingers pinch your cheeks and a low laugh slips from his mouth when you scrunch up your nose. "Oh, and make sure you wear that cute skirt I like."

You already know which one he's talking about. The one you wore a few months ago that had him eyefucking you the entire night. But you wanna be difficult; you have to snatch your authority back somehow, plus there's no harm in having a little fun. "I think you'll have to be a little bit more specific."

The look on his face doesn't change, but you can see something far less than innocent form in his eyes."The denim one with the gold buttons?" The one I almost fucked you in, he wants to add. "Wear that one."

He walks away and you go home. It takes a while to quell the feeling in your stomach, some sensation between excitement and anxiety. Remnants of it are still floating around your tummy as you look over your outfit in the mirror: a cute baby tee with a nostalgic pink design, your favorite denim skirt, and some white tennis shoes, topped off with some matching accessories and glittery lip gloss.

You find yourself glancing out the window every few minutes once you're finally all dolled up. It's only a 10 minute wait, but it feels like hours have passed when you finally spot his sleek, upscaled car rolling up at the end of your driveway. A bated breath leaks out and you feel relieved because, truthfully, you thought he'd forgotten about you. Thinking about the possibility made your stomach turn, and you come to the conclusion that you really don't care how desperate for his attention you are at this point, as long as you have it.

If the enthusiasm didn't show on your face, it absolutely did in the way you hurriedly skip out to his car, eager to show your outfit off to him. His eyes skirt obviously up and down your body as you relax into the leather seats, and you swear he leaves a trail of heat wherever his gaze lands. His stare finally halts on the taut, pink fabric hugging your thighs. A low hum sounds from his throat. One of approval, but also laced with something unknown.

He reaches over to play with the hem, fingers brushing over your bare skin."You're wearing the perfume I like, too." He says it like he just knows you're trying to grab his attention. In an "Of course you'd wear it." kind of way.

Heat spreads quickly across your cheeks, and your lips poke out in a cute little pout. Maybe you were hoping he wouldn't outright expose how apparently obvious you're being. "I am?"

"You know you are." A low chuckle follows the statement. You must think he's stupid. "I told you it was."

You give a low, pondering hum. A familiar ache forms in your core when you remember how he pulled you into him that night, whispering against your skin about how good the sweet fragrance smelled. "I guess you did."

He pinches your thigh in response, smirking before smoothing over the area with his thumb. You stare at his hand lingering on your bare thigh, very sure that he could hear the thudding of your heart against your chest. He turns back to face forward, foot easing off the brake to ease the car ahead.

"Good girl."

#gojo x reader #eren x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #eren yeager x reader #jjk x reader #aot x reader

[facioleeknow]

Unconventional pair•Kim Mingyu

Tw: suggestive, shit writing too prob lol

Kim Mingyu. One of the most popular guys at Pledis University. He was tall, tan, handsome and chiseled. Other than the looks he was also blessed with wits, he was smart and he was aware of it which made it the worst kind of smart. His mother raised him to respect women and he never was less than a gentleman to any girl he met, whether he was attracted to her or not.

His girlfriend on the other hand was completely different. Short and deliciously chubby. Spunky and mistrustful of others. She wasn't popular and she didn't want to be, people got on her nerves very easily and she liked her company. The only person she tolerated was Mingyu, when she felt particularly emotional she would even tell him she loved him.

The people around them were way more than confused every time they saw him together, Mingyu wrapped around you like an octopus and sporting a huge smile, while she had a relax expression and let him do his thing.

Their love story began at the beginning of university, they had been friends for a long time and had always stuck together despite their differences. One day of middle school Mingyu simply decided that he wanted to be her friend so he started gravitating around her, which she let because she greatly enjoyed his company.

The more time passed the closer they got, they shared every single detail of their life with each other except one: the romantic feelings they were both harboring.

The older they got, the more they developed, the thicker the tension between them got.

It all exploded one evening.

The two of them were watching a trashy horror movie, Mingyu was absolutely terrified while she was actually pretty bored. Every jumpscare pushed Mingyu closer and closer to her, his hands creeping up her legs. The places that his fingers touched felt hot like fire, little sparks of electricity traveling through her whole body. It was tortuous.

Mingyu's hands started to squeeze her thigh, one of his fingers slipping past the loose hem of her shorts. A switch flipped inside of her, she pushed the man down on her couch and straddled his waist.

"What-"

"Can I kiss you pretty boy?" She asked languidly, her fingers running up his body. He just nodded with wide eyes.

Their lips crushed together, the kiss was intense, full of longing and tension that built up over the years. It left them both breathless and yearning for more.

"Shall we turn off the movie and make our own?" She giggled.

"Fuck yes!"

#kpop #reader insert #mingyu x reader #seventeen #seventeen x reader #kim mingyu #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu #seventeen imagines #mingyu imagines #kim mingyu imagines

[funnyexel]

Intruders

Baron Zemo Imagine

“You need to be careful, even if you’re in the house.” His accent stays thick in his words. 

You adored when he spoke like this and you were comprehending his warnings although they started tuning out. Your mind occupied with a detailed memory. Your thighs pressing together, yearning for his touch. Aching to feel his calloused hands rubbing up against your hip dips and stretch marks as you beg and plead for him to fuck you harder. Your eyes stare straight at the phone, dazed yet still trying to focus. His calloused hands pushing the back of your thighs up as he pounds into your cervix so he can hear your soft lips let out loud, lewd sounds.

“yes baby.” You respond softly, snapping yourself out the daze you were in. Not sure what you responded to.

“Wipe the drool off your lip.” 

The dry monotone of his voice proves you are testing his patience. Seeing your indecency, he doesn’t need to ask what you’ve been thinking about. He can’t help but feel less restrained every time he looks at you, with those live eyes and full lips. Roughly wiping the spit slithering down the corner of your lip, you give him a small awkward smile. Feeling a bit apologetic but not wholly sorry for your thoughts.

“Soon.”

He utters vaguely, rarely expressing himself. Especially on business.

“Goodbye, my dear.”

He hung up. Not even giving you the chance to respond back. Sighing to yourself, you find something to occupy your mind. Not wanting to guess what he meant by soon. Descending to the first floor of your home, you feel an eerie feeling follow you around even when it was lively with more souls other than you.

That familiar ache in your thighs came back when you sit down on the couch. A chill crawling up your spine but the heat of lust for your husband is keeping you ignorant to the scary feeling. Purposely letting your nightgown ride up against your wide hips, you pull your panties to the side and hesitantly rub your clit. Your breath hitching as you lick your index and middle finger before smoothing soft circles over the sensitive bud. Allowing soft desperate moans escape your lips as you throw your head back in tainted desire. At the very fact that he hates when you touch yourself.

With your mind clouded with horny motives you allow yourself to ignore the prominent tapping. A clear danger in the comfort of your own home that you purposefully ignore until you’re in danger. Life threatening danger.

Clenching your jaw tightly to suppress the sounds of chittering teeth as you hide in one of many closets. Keeping silent, you hear the muffled sounds of two men outside the door. They continuously pace back and forth around the house, their constant movements not letting your heart get a rest. Your heartbeats sitting at a permanently high rate with these intruders in your space.

Parting your lips in a silent scream as you are dragged out by the roots of your hair. Your hands fly to your hair to loosen the inhumane grip on your scalp. Tears manifest to the borders of your eyes as the two men eye you with infatuation. The bad kind. Grunting in this mans hold, you can feel their eyes on your body, crawling up your legs and over your nightgown like a parasite. Degrading your very being and depleting the very confidence you fought so hard to build up. Throwing your fragile body against the wall, you stay slumped against the drywall. Seeing how they frantically look around the home for an item. 

They’ve seem to forgotten about you as they venture into your house. Ascending the stairs to the master bedroom and the many other rooms, along with darting down few of the many hallways. Sure that both of them are occupied before shakily moving to your feet. Taking one slow step after the other, you suck in a sharp breath while a sick slug of a feeling tickles your legs. You mocked a sheep, soft, innocent, cute and helpless.

He likes that. He loves that. Being able to throw you and swing you every which way he pleases because he can. So, when the moment comes and he can be your hero, he seizes the moment and takes advantage of your cold and shivering body. Distracting your mind from the bodies he recently discarded as he leads you up to the comfort of your bedroom. He could see the safety in your eyes, the relaxation in your shoulders as he shut the door behind you. 

Your unsuspecting frame in front of him as he takes off his gloves steadily, watchfully observing you. Wondering how stupid you have to be to let a man of his nature get you so easily. 

Feeling the biting sting of his finger on the strap of your nightgown, he tugs effortlessly. Spinning on your heels to face him and he wants to devour you. Your features are still shaken up from the invasion, your jaw exhausted from biting down on your own teeth for so long. Poor thing. Using his thumb to pull down the second strap, you let the silk nightgown drop down. Your full hips stopping the fabric from touching the floor, you cannot help the reflex of covering your breasts with your palms.

“I know what you did.” 

His voice drops critically low as he leans down into your ear. Lips parted to utter a silent moan. Dropping your hands to your sides, you look up to him shamefully. His index and thumb, rubbing and pinching the sensitive bud on your breast. A stunted rumble leaving his chest as he sees your bodily reaction to his touch. Goosebumps erupting from your chest to your arms and legs. Gripping the sides of your dress, he roughly tugs them down your thighs and grabs you by the back of your neck. Making sure to squeeze the sides of your airways to slowly cut down your air supply.

Shoving your face down on the bed, you attempt to push yourself up with your palms flat on the mattress but he knocks you back onto the sheets. Pulling up your hips for your knees to dig into the plush comfort of the bed. His thick finger coated with saliva invades your tight hole, coming out dipped in your wet arousal.  

“Say it. You waited for me.” 

You are hysterical, feeling his curved cock abusing the ceiling of your stomach. Your legs fighting to keep your ass up for him without collapsing. He’s teasing you. Speaking to you, knowing you don’t have the mental capacity to answer. Halting his movement to grab you by the hair and drag you higher onto the bed, you moan loudly. Your vocalized pleasure ending in broken pleads as he holds the backs of your thighs.

“Say it to me.” 

Widening your dazed eyes, you try to rise up off the bed but he forces you back down. It’s laughable in his eyes the way you want to resist him, knowing it’s all the embarrassment of being caught in your little act.

“I- I waited..” 

Your soft and hoarse voice croaks out an answer, in hopes to satisfy him in some twisted way. But no. The only satisfaction he can get it from you writhing under him with every powerful thrust to your cervix. The burning in your core when he bullies his way into your tight cunt and continues to ram into you until he sees those salty tears run down those tinted cheeks. He wants to squeeze onto your meaty thighs as he uses way too much force to keep your lower half in the desired position. His nails imprinted onto the sides of your skin and muscle lined femurs.

Even when your legs are shaking violently against his chest and the sides of his head, he won’t be near satisfied until he feels the bump of him in your lower abdomen. Your shattered breaths forcing air in and out of your lungs to keep you from falling into a delirium. Constantly driving his cock into you to feel you squeeze the skin off his dick when you cum. And even when he fills your womb with a fiery white substance, he even now will not be satisfied. 

kinktober list

writing list

#suggestive cw #marvel smut #baron zero imagine #baron zemo #marvel imagine #freaktober #horror #intrusive thoughts #fanfiction #smut #marvel cinematic universe #mcu fandom #mcu imagine #mcu villian #zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo #zemo x you #zemo x y/n

[the-wayside]

I'm at the laptop with not my first alcohol beverage but definitely my bougie-est - a salted caramel espresso martini.

I am once again bountiful of unnecessary opinions, my drum a lonely beat. This is not a complete rundown, an initial pass shall we say.

Firstly, the issue with this episode is a ripple effect. Tharn was involved in multiple plot points and in multiple capacities. So getting the breathing space was hard to come by, but I'm going to focus on the culmination and why it worked for me.

The groundwork. The veil/tether that Tharn has been holding onto is made of gossamer. His front, made of paper. His yearning was a whole moment last episode (thank you, Babe, your face is a blessing). But Way, all of the arguing--exactly. Phaya and Tharn with other people and Phaya and Tharn together in their bubble are two very different things as we know.

I will tell you the exact moment I knew it had flipped. Tharn standing with Phaya's art, the deep expressions of his creativity, his passion and Phaya admitting his fear and the steps he had taken to overcome it and Tharn saying I'm trying too. He's trying to get to a place where he isn't terrified to love Phaya because he does have these feelings which he goes on to inadvertently admit with tears in his eyes.

What I find so beautiful about them is that it isn't explosive. To have loved someone in a previous life (lives), it's like coming home and recognizing on a deeper level, it's you. Phaya voices it in his own way, that he feels like he has longed and liked Tharn longer than he can remember. Sometimes the world doesn't end with a bang but with a whimper. One man shooting his shot with his beloved reincarnated soulmate who *chooses* to lean in and kiss him.

Tharn and Phaya don't function like they do alone with other people. It's honestly so interesting to see the walls, esp. Tharn puts up. He's so secretive and squirrely about Phaya that if someone hears a lick of emotion from him the whole deck of cards will come falling down. And I still feel in my bones that Dr Chalothorn's presence fucks with people. Like a poison, he seeps in everywhere. It hypes Phaya up because he's so scared Tharn will disappear like smoke and Tharn, in his denial/not as in tune with his true self, can't understand.

So I see the tenseness in Tharn but also how it unspools as he spends an evening with Phaya's family. How naturally he could fit, how easy it would be to be with Phaya. He is in a constant state of war and when Phaya says, I'll take care of it. I will carry your burden, your heart and keep it safe. Karma, past lives, it's ephemeral. Phaya. Phaya is real. Doesn't Tharn deserve something real for once in his life? To take one chance in a sea of doing exactly what he's told? Him allowing himself to allow Phaya in...*emosh*

And I love intimate scenes because you can't bullshit with them. If the emotion is off, it won't land. It won't feel honest. When I tell you the DETAILS had me chomping, I was full fang into it.

Tharn being covered by Phaya and his hand over Phaya's wing tattoo. Phaya is the freaking bird god. He is covering Tharn and protecting him with his wings (tattoo) being exposed to the rest of the world (side note: feral for the camera angles because Billy *covers* Babe) and Tharn is embracing and stroking them intimately. Like *growls*.

The straddle of showing desire versus intimacy versus delicacy over Tharn's first time. It's not awkward but the details, Phaya's hand is tucked under Tharn's chin and he checks in with him wordlessly before he touches the curve of his hip, slope of his rear (Babe, thank you again, your body is *nonsensical hand gestures*). It's the unspoken question and answer that flows between them. Tharn biting his finger when he's entered. You don't see it, you don't need to. It plays out perfectly. All of Phaya's feelings and care go into how slowly and carefully he cherishes his/their first time.

It's not an explosion of feelings but a steady confirmation of them and I--. Rawr. With them, it was never gonna be about the high heat horny bang, god how we love her. They're beyond that. They're an epic, spanning continents, destruction and death in their wake. Them being together is taking a breath and coming home. Being afraid but being taken care of anyway.

I just really, really loved how they did this; however, I do think it got a bit mishmashed in the convergence of plotlines but no one's perfect and I'm having a great time.

#the sign the series #look motherfuckers i feel what i feel #i sneezed six times during the writing of the first three sentences fuck #you don't understand i will bite someone about this #i am so deep in my feels

[mxnaluv]

Can I req Wataru and/or Eichi with A, E, B, D, F, K, L, O, P, Y for the NSFW Alphabet ?

UGH I LOVE THEM BOTH OFC

Wataru and Eichi NSFW Alphabet

MDNI!!! 18+

Warnings: Sexual Themes

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Wataru:

He likes to make you feel extra loved. He loves to make food for you or bring you whatever you need afterward. He just wants you to feel special with the princess/prince treatment he gives you

Eichi:

Eichi is really tired afterward, so he loves to just lie down and cuddle with you while you both talk about what to do that day or how much you love each other. He's just very sweet and loving towards you

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Wataru:

Wataru has had one lover before you that he's done things with, but he's not super experienced, although he definitely knows what he's doing

Eichi:

He's NOT experienced at all. I mean, he knows what sex is and everything, but he hasn't really had the time to really get "experience". He does know what he's doing and is not completely lost, but sometimes you have to help him

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Wataru:

His favorite part is the little details on your body. Whether it be a scar, stretch mark, or a part of your body that you're the most insecure about, he'll make it his favorite part of you.

His favorite part of himself is his hands. He loves them because he gets to hug you with them, hold you with them, or finger you with them

Eichi:

His favorite part of you is your waist. He thinks your waist is really attractive and loves to hold it during sex

His favorite body part on him is his eyes because he gets to see how beautiful/handsome you are

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Wataru:

His secret is that he loves to see your reactions whenever he teases you or pleasures you. Your facial expressions and body language during sex is what he loves the most

Eichi:

He fantasizes about you a lot. He thinks about how you would look in skimpy clothing or how you would look bent over his work desk. He would never voice what he wants because he's too embarrassed to tell you

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Wataru:

His favorite position is table top. You lying down on a surface while Wataru stands and fucks you. He loves seeing your expressions, so this position is his favorite

Eichi:

His favorite position is cowgirl. It takes less energy for him and he gets to hold your waist so it's a win-win for him!

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Wataru:

He has an aural kink. He loves hearing you moan. It feeds into his love of seeing your reactions. He just LOVES to see the way act whenever he pleasures you

Eichi:

He has a dominance kink. He loves whenever you top him and take the lead which is another reason why he loves cowgirl. He wants you to tell him what to do or even manhandle him

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Wataru:

His favorite place is the dressing room. He loves to have sex right before he's supposed to go on stage. It gives him the energy to perform to his fullest

Eichi:

His favorite place is his bedroom. He wants to be able to lay down and most places won't let him do that so he prefers the bedroom

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Wataru:

He is VERY good at giving and he even prefers to give instead of receiving

Eichi:

He is not the best at giving at first but he does get gradually better at it. Because of that, he prefers to receive than to give

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Wataru:

Wataru likes to go fast because it gets the most reactions out of you. But on some nights, he likes to be slow and romantic whenever he gets into a loving mood

Eichi:

Eichi switches up the pace depending on the mood that he's in, but he rarely gets too rough or fast. He likes to feel everything so he does everything sensually and slow

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Wataru:

His drive is higher than you think it is. He gets horny very often and it often results in a lot of quickies

Eichi:

His drive is not very high and you have to initiate sex first but there are times when he is super stressed and needy and he becomes a horny monster lmao

#wataru hibiki #wataru hibiki x reader #hibiki wataru #eichi #tsumugi #eiwata #i love eichi #tenshouin eichi x reader #eichi tenshouin x reader #eichi tenshouin #enstars eichi #ensemble stars eichi #wataru x eichi #wataru #wataei #ensemble stars #ensemble stars ibara #ensemble stars smut #ensemble stars x reader #ensemble cast #ensemble girls

[ellie-shy]

The long awaited kiss.

I am OBSESSED with Halsin's romance scene. Each and every frame for the kiss alone screams longingness, passion and yearning. No amount of words could express Halsin's want for Tav, SO HE FUCKING SHOWS IT. Action speaks louder than words, baby!!!

And of course the superb animation too for capturing the details 😫😫

Also, good references to draw kisses 👀

Silvanus bless you, Larian Studios 🙏🏻

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 halsin #halsin #bg3 tav #bg3 oc #bg3 screenshots #bg3 tav x halsin #I LOVE THEIR KISSES SO MUCH. #AND FCKING FINALLY I WAITED SO LONG FOR THIS SCENE WITH MY GIRL SALJU #this scene is what motivates me to buy this stupid game 😮‍💨 #RAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH 🦅🦅🦅🦅 #my post #my oc #Salju the Winter Songstress

[macravishedbymactavish]

Abandoned Driveways

Alex Keller x GN!Reader

| Blog HQ | Modern Warfare 2019 / 2022 Masterlist |

| Series Masterlist | Previous Part | Next Part |

TW for eventual angst, light swearing and flirting, mostly all fluff

Chapter 03

“How'd supper go?” Your best friend asked a few nights later, insisting you phone them and give all the details of your “date that wasn't really a date because these beautiful idiots are in denial”.

Biting your lip, you smiled to yourself. Reminiscing on how comfortable the night was. No forced conversation, no awkward small talk. It felt as though you had known him your whole life, and he moved back to town.

“Comfortable.” You decided on. “It was good, comfortable.”

“Seriously?” Your friend deadpanned, “all I get from you is it was comfortable.”

While they reamed you for not providing detailed explanations, you let your mind wander. Concerns you buried deep within your subconscious floating to the surface once more.

How answers about his past and employment seemed to be scripted. Rehearsed.

How he dodged any personal questions about his past and family.

“You two are living an entire Disney movie and all I get is fucking it was comfortable!” Your friend continued, pulling you back to the present.

Furrowing your brows, you scoffed lightly. “Not a damn Disney movie. I'm not planning a marriage to him, we get along really well like best friends. Simmer down.”

“That's not what the barista was saying.” They snorted. Your cheeks burning as you glared at the phone.

“Best friends banter too, you know. That's all we are, and all we ever will be.” You pointed down at your phone, like a parent giving their child a stern lecture.

“Famous last words.”

Not that you'd ever admit to your friend, but over the next few months, the lines between best friends and something more began to bend between you and Allen.

The neverending banter and teasing continued; but you found yourself holding his stare a bit longer. Making small motions of physical contact more often. Inhabiting each other's space became a norm in your lives.

You popping over to bring him coffee in the morning, him joining you on the porch late at night when the subdivision was asleep.

An unspoken favour system, a silent running tab for coffee orders, and multiple meals shared in the others' presence. Maybe it was just his personality or the two of you vibing in all the right ways. But he genuinely felt like someone you've known your entire life.

Your best friend from the start, slowly morphing to your boyfriend. Which became official on one cool night.

Sitting on your porch swing, it was one of those late nights, thighs touching as his body warmed yours. Stars shining brightly overhead when he softly asked if he could love you the way his heart yearned for.

You told him he sounded like a cheeseball.

He told you that sounded like a yes.

“So, uh, my name isn’t actually Allen. It’s Alex.” He confessed one of those nights, glancing over at you with a genuine smile. Relief flooding his eyes, finally able to tell you the truth. Finally able to reveal the specks of gold that hid behind the muddy shell he had to protect himself.

You stifled a laugh, causing him to tense as he shifted to face you. The porch swing creaking at the sudden movement, the seat tiling as he held a hand out to you.

“Alex Keller, nice to meet you.” Laughter leaving both of you, smiles wider than they’ve been the entire time you’ve known one another. You took his hand, shaking it dramatically.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Alex. The name fits you way better than Allen. You’re not an Allen.” Leaning over to press a quick peck to his cheek, you ignored the faux offended expression that spread across his face.

“This entire time, the entire time you’ve said you’ve liked me a lot. It was a lie? Because you didn’t like my name?” He laughed, arms wrapping around you as he continued laughing. Body shaking with the unfiltered joy and amusement; stomach aching by the end.

Laying your forehead against his shoulder, you smiled. Mind wandering to thoughts of a possible future; nothing too crazy. No thoughts of marriage or white picket fences with small screams. But how your life would look in a year or two with Alex around.

Coming home to find him in the kitchen serving a meal for the both of you that he made. As you really hoped to get off night shifts sooner than later.

Or going on road trips, falling for the tourist traps you find along the way. Filling your walls with cheesy pictures of the two of you posing together. Would he buy a corny hawaiian shirt for holidays like that? Or would he be on the “edgier” side, Ray Ban sunglasses, and skate shoes.

Ringing in the new year with a loving kiss at midnight, a silent promise for a better year ahead.

“It’s so funny how the world works,” you started softly, pulling back to look him in the eyes. “You moving here of all places, my quaint little neighborhood.”

You almost missed the flash of pain that crossed his eyes, like there was something he was avoiding telling you. Tilting your head slightly, starting a silent conversation where you silently inquired about his reaction. After a few beats of silence he finally spoke up.

“I uh, was moved here due to some conflicts with work. I can’t go into too much detail, considering the circumstances but it would be pretty bad if word got out that I’m here.” He shrugged, explaining the reason behind his false name and identity. Why he found himself sticking to his home and the neighborhood. Never venturing too far, never getting too close.

Until he found you. You were everything he shouldn’t have right now.

General taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221 @v1naco @bowtruckleninja

Alex Keller taglist: @deadbranch @glitterypirateduck @gcing-back-to-505

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #alex keller #call of duty modern warfare 2019 #cod mw2019 #cod alex #alex keller x reader #alex keller fluff #alex keller angst #abandoned driveways