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lolita-lollipop · 1 year

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heyy! i just binged some of your avatar works and im so in love 🥹🫶

could i request a neteyam x reader where she goes with the Sully's to the metkayinas and there she is harrassed like Kiri and the Sully boys come to her rescue? like including neteyam, lo'ak and jake 🥺💟

it's totally fine if you don't wanna write it, no pressure 💝

have a lovely dayyyyy ❤️

NETEYAM X READER X SULLY FAMILY (platonic)

When neteyam had first told you about the sully family leaving, that they were being hunted, including you, it came as such a shock, you'd known Neytiri all your life, and you'd also known that the goddess of a woman loved this land more than she loved her ikran. You were even further surprised when you learned that jake wanted you to come.

You were there when those Human-NAvi breeds had interrogated Lo-ak , those men yanked your hair and held you up like you were a slab of meat. That was when it all started, with a knife pressed to your throat, and spider being taken away, you knew something big was going to happen.

You belonged to this family since you were very young, being that your own parents were killed off by the sky people, leaving you as a child with mo-at. Jake took you under his wing, after all, You were only a year younger than neteyam, so they couldn't turn you away. Eventually, sensing the strong relationship between you and their oldest son, you were declared his promised mate.

Even so, you never truly felt like a part of the family, Jake and Neytiri tried their hardest, but often times you outcasted yourself, trying to prove yourself, trying to show them that they shouldn't regret taking you in. It didnt help that as you grew up, you and their oldest son developed some kind of complicated relationship, something neither of you could explain fully.

So, even though you loved this land, loved your home, with all of your heart, you left. The clan leadership was passed along to another family, and you all packed up your things, boarded your ikrans, and left. The ride was long, and hard, you didn't dare look back at the forest once you crossed the shoreline, fearing that homesickness would overcome you.

---

When you arrived at the metkayina tribe's village, you, along with the entire family, were greeted with a not-so-warm welcome, hostility was laced in every word they said. A woman, clearly pregnant, circled around your family, eyeing all of you down. You unknowingly caught the attention of the only son of the metkayina clan leader.

“Why have you come upon our land? Forest people belong in the forest” she spoke, hissing out the words, and locking eyes with neytiri. boys behind you grabbed at your tail and arms, yanking you about, commenting on how skinny, how frail it was. Neteyam stepped behind you and wrapped an arm around your waist, shooting a look to the greenish-blue boys.

“We are seeking refuge, and can't stay with the omaticaya clan.” Your father interjected, stepping in front of Neytiri, who was already hissing at the woman for touching tuk. For touching her. Obviously, you all were desperate, the different clans never mixed.

“Your arms are skinny, along with your tails, you will move very slow in the water. And you have no knowledge of our ways, you all will be like babies.” She grabbed Neytiri's tail, and yanked. You willed yourself not to go forward and push her off. You were just so scared, and so tired, if they didn't accept you, then you would have no where else to go. You clutched neteyams hand tight, just trying to relieve any of the anxiety you had with his presence.

“We can learn your ways, please. I’m just trying to protect my family.” Jake begged, locking eyes with you for a split second, then with the woman again, they held gazes for a few ominous moments. You stood in the back, wanting to cave in on yourself like a crab.

“It is settled, my children will give theirs lessons on our ways, and we will give them a home, treat them like your brothers and sisters.”

---

It was rough at first, having to abandon all of your traditions, the way you ate, the way you lived, the way you breathed. But as days passed, you got used to it, proving yourself to be a quick learner, catching on to the way of water fairly quickly. You werent as good as tsireya or anuong of course, But you were certainly ahead of lo-ak.

Once the anxiety of moving left you, you were finally able to appreciate the world around. All the unfamiliar excitements that came with a new home. The water that filled your home, the fish, the sand, the plants, the corals, everything was so… beautiful. That was the only word you could use to describe it.

Often you wished to live under the sea, be part of ey-wa, you grew to be absolutely fascinated with it. How the ocean could be full of peace, or rage, how it could be as beautiful as it was terrifying. You didn't think that you'd ever been this content before, in a place that you loved, with the people you loved.

But, there's always a yin to a yang. And for you, that happened to be the children of the clan leaders. Tsireya was kind, and so bubbly, the two of you got along very well, even being able to call yourself somewhat best friends, you would giggle about the sully boys being idiots or gossip about the village and it's people.

But… anuong and roxto? They were much less than happy to help you and your family, anuong believed that forest people belonged in the forest (like mother like son), and as roxto idolized his older brother, so did he. While anuong did harbor some strange feeling for you, which made him cut back on his teasing for you (and only you), he still made it a living hell for neteyam, and lo-ak, and kiri.

They poked fun at the skinniness of your people's arms and legs and tails, bullying lo-ak for having a hard time, at kiri for being a strange girl, and especially at neteyam, just for having you.

And you. Anuong couldn't find an ounce of reasoning why, but he hated you, because he couldn't stop liking you. Which resulted in only the most loving teasing and bullying from him and his goonds. You couldn't tell the difference.

They always knew where to find you most of the time, with your head buried in the sand, or sitting on top of corral with a turtle, or picking seaweed for no reason at all. You had the strangest habits.

Like now, you floated on top of the shallow water, a few seashells sunbathing on your back, your hands stuck in the sand below. You didn't even notice the three boys coming up close, commenting on what the hell you thought you were doing.

“She's looking at the sand! What kind of freak are you?” one of the boys yelled above the water, pulling your tail up, that you did hear. Your head perked up from under the water, and you kicked his hand away from you. Wiping your eyes, you let out a soft

“Huh?” confusion laced through your tone, you stared at the three, anuong stood in the middle, looking strangely meek, while the one pulling at your tail giggled at your “idiocy”, the sight of them towering over you explained enough, and brought fear to you.

“Huh?” roxto mocked, splaying his hands out “I said- What kind of freak, are. You. “ he repeated, and as you stood up he got close to your face, and placed a hand on your shoulder, sticking his tongue out and hissing. You cowered back, and shrugged his hand off.

“I’m not a freak.” you spoke, and began walking towards the village and shore, hoping you could lose them, or they would just give up. They didn't, and instead followed you, tugging at your braids, and your tail.

“Are you sure, looking at stones, playing with fish. Freak.” anuong was the one this time to speak up, pointing at the little pile of seaweed and seashells on the shoreline. He leaned over, and hissed the word in your face, you were on the verge of tears at this point . Footsteps behind him were swift and soft as they came closer.

“Back off man, leave her alone” Lo-ak smacked him across the back of his head, coming up in front of you to serve as a barrier from anuong. He'd known that you weren't the most normal person, but it still pissed him off to no end that people like anuong could walk all over you.

“Awwww, does the freak need her little brother to come and save her?”The boys around teased and pulled on lo-ak, grabbing at his “baby” tail and poking fun at him, lo-ak was dumb, you'd known this since he was young, he was reckless, and didnt think. But, his recklessness made him strong. But also gets him into situations like this. Where the two of you end up in an equal amount of trouble, tears threatening to spill from your eyes , and lo-akabout to set somebody on fire.

You automatically felt safer seeing neteyam rise frm the ocean waves, clearly hearing the commotion on the beach, he had been out here with you and lo-ak, but the three of you separated for a short moment. Of course anuong had to start something when he wasnt there to protect you.

“He said, leave her alone” Your mate shoved roxto back from you and set a hand on your shoulder, anuong raised a brow, but hushed his friend when he began mocking you for needing neteyam to come and save you too. The man you loved locked eyes with you and grabbed your hand, clearly trying to rub it in anuongs face that you were his. Then, he walked, and lo-ak followed.

“Demon blooded freaks, all of them. You don't belong here.” Anuong hissed, eyes narrowing at the three of you beginning to walk away. You held onto lo-ak, knowing that the remark would set him off the edge further, trying to pull him back when he turned around. He just shook your hand off, and hurried over to anuong.

You didnt even care to listen to what Lo-ak was saying, knowing damn well that it would just end with him throwing punches, you were proved right when neteyam left a small kiss on your forehead, and sprinted over to jump into the mix. They yanked tails, and ears, and eventually, you sat in the sand and watched, laughing when they wined.

When both sides had tired out, and anuong and his little trio had run away, neteyam and lo-ak returned, you already had your lecture prepared, which was just a soft version of what Jake and Neytiri would say.

“What happened to not causing a ruckus? Dad is going to kill you.”

“I Wouldn't let them talk to you like that, my y/n, not ever.”

---

You listened to Your father as he talked to the two boys, which turned out to be a lecture exactly as you had predicted, a-lot of yelling and “yes-sir’s”, you were praying to ey-wa that netetayam wouldnt take the blame again as he usually did, knowing that it would only make things worse. But as usual, he did the exact opposite of what you needed,

“It was my fault, I started the fight. They called y/n a freak,

told her she was strange.” He spoke, which only made jake angrier that his boys couldn't control themselves. Although he couldnt really blame neteyam, you were his mate, of course, the two of you hadn't completed the ritual, but you were head over heels for each other. Jake would certainly fight a metkayina boy for Neytiri. Anyday. By the end of the lecture, both lo-ak and neteyam were exhausted.

“Go apologize, he's the clan leader's son, make it count.” lo-ak huffed at that but still walked out, you did feel bad for him, you always did. But there was nothing you could do to change your dad's mind about this. He would just have to do it. When neteyam began to leave the hut, you started sitting up to go talk to him, not before your father could stop him though.

“Wait, neteyam. How did those other guys look?”

“Worse.”

“Good, thats good.”

You laughed.

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

*extra*

Later that day, when the eclipse darkened the sea, the entire family was all inside, eating dinner and talking about their days. You stayed outside, preferring to watch the fish swim at your feet. You weren't upset, per se, just mildly off-put. You didn't think that anoung hated you THAT much. You did notice the loud footsteps behind you on the wooden peer, clearly belonging to your dad, but you didn't say anything. When he sat next to you, and you lay down with your head in his lap.

“I heard about what happened today, did they hurt you? I'll beat them myself if they did” He threatened, a way-too serious look on his face for him to be joking. You let out a chuckle nonetheless, letting his hand place itself on the center of your back.

“No. They just made fun of me.” your voice was hushed, and it was apparent you were at least a little embarrassed by the incident. You didn't think you were a freak, you didn't know as much about this place as the natives did, so you were obviously excited about everything. That's the only reason you liked to collect the seaweed or look at the sand. You let out a sigh.

“Babygirl?” He spoke, beginning to rub circles into your back in a comforting motion.

“Yeah?” You were relaxed now, being in the arms of the only real father figure you've ever known. You swished your hand in the water below, watching the glowing little guppies follow it around.

“If one of them boys ever speaks to you like that again, punch them so hard in the nose that they won't be able breathe for a week.” He threatened, making a fist with his free hand and motioning a punch. You just stared up at him and snickered at how serious he was.

“Okay, i’ll make sure to do that next time” you laughed at the thought of you even remotely trying to fight, you were good with arrows, knives, and medicines, but not fists.

“And if you don't want to, call me, or lo-ak, or even better,

Neteyam”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------wrote this at 5AM this morning with no sleep, so the grammar is probably not the best quality, however. ireallylikethisfic and I hope yall do too.

Anyway, thank you so much for requesting, I really REALLY enjoyed writing this, it kinda follows similar scenes in the movie and I really like writing like that.

ALSO, thank you for reading:) Have a great day, bye!

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puckinghischier · 23 days

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Locksmith - Nico Hischier

nico hischier x fem!reader, jack hughes x platonic!reader, luke hughes x platonic!reader

summary: reader has been friends with the hughes brothers for years, and when she finally arrives in Jersey to move in with her best friends, she finds herself locked out and stuck in the hallway, with only the neighbor to save her

notes: this is my first time ever writing ANYTHING, so this could be terrible. BUT it’s really only a peek at where i want the story to go so possible series if anyone actually wants to read it??? 🫣

part 2, part 3, part 4

[2.4k]

You know, three suitcases didn’t seem like enough when you were packing, but trying to roll three suitcases down the long, carpeted hallway is proving to be one of the most difficult tasks you’ve ever had to do in your life.

Seriously, the building didn’t look this long from the outside.

After a trek that felt like miles, you reach the door you’ve been scanning for, only to find it locked tight. “I swear to god I’m literally going to kill them,” you said to yourself, out loud. “They tell the doorman to let me in, have me bring all this luggage up by myself, only to leave the fucking door locked. Why did I expect anything less?”

Grabbing your phone, you dial Jack’s number, silently begging him to pick up. You know he’s at a charity thing with Luke, but surely he’s allowed to answer his phone, right? Wrong. His phone goes straight to voicemail, twice. Classic Jack. You know there’s not any point to calling Luke, he always leaves his phone during charity events in order to connect with the kids better. Usually you find that endearing and admirable, but right now you wish that he was maybe just a bit more selfish.

“Well, I guess I live in the hallway now. Hope the carpet is plush enough to sleep on.” You’ve always had a habit of talking out loud to yourself when you’re nervous or, in this case, annoyed. It helps you work through your thoughts and not dwell on anything for too long. Purges your emotions a bit.

“Trust me, it’s not. Speaking from experience here, you’d be much better off sleeping on the couches in the lobby” a voice startles you.

“Oh my god,” you jumped. You turned around to see the door to the apartment behind you wide open, a dark haired man leaning against the doorway, smile on his face.

“I- how long have you been standing there?” you asked, hand on your chest trying to calm your racing heart.

“Long enough to know you’re thinking about sleeping on the carpet, not long enough to know why,” he states, humor lacing his tone.

“Well, if you must know, my roommates left the door locked, no spare key, and won’t answer their phones. So, until they get home, the hallway is my new bedroom,” you surveyed the stranger.

He was tall, much taller than you were. He wore a simple white t-shirt, black sweatpants, and a backwards hat on his head, hiding what looked like hair that was in need of a trim based on how much it was spilling out the sides of the hat. But what made you stop in your tracks were his eyes. You don’t think you had ever truly understood the phrase ‘warm eyes’ until now. They were the most spectacular shade of brown you had ever seen in your life. And they were filled with amusement. Amusement directed towards you, since he had just heard you talking to yourself like a madwoman.

“Ahh, you must be Y/N! I thought Jack said you weren’t coming until tomorrow?” He asked, understanding washing over his face.

“I caught an earlier flight and was going to surprise them. However, Jack texted me earlier this morning and told me he and Luke had to go to a charity skate, so I had to tell them I was coming early. He told me he’d leave the door unlocked so I could go ahead and settle in, but, as you can see, they did not,” you explained, only slightly shocked Jack told his neighbor about you. That boy sure liked to talk, yapping anyone’s ear off who would listen.

“Well, lucky for you, I happen to have a spare key you can use,” the stranger tells you, walking out of your view for a brief moment.

“Should I be concerned that the neighbor has a spare key? Does he just go around handing out spares left and right?” you ask, starting to feel a bit awkward standing among all of your luggage.

“No, not exactly,” the man laughs. “He gave me a spare after one too many nights of me hauling him home from the bar only to realize he didn’t have his key with him.”

He walks out of his apartment, a small golden key in hand. The stranger, whose name you forgot to ask, unlocks the door and stands back with a warm smile on his face.

“There, you just got upgraded to a real bedroom,” he recalls, standing in the now open doorway.

“I would say thank you, but I’m still a little concerned that a strange man just had to let me into my own apartment,” you (semi) joke, attempting to gather your suitcases.

“I’m Nico,” he explains, taking the suitcase you were struggling to heave into the apartment.

“Oh, you’re the captain!” you exclaim, recalling all the times Jack and Luke had talked about their beloved leader to you. “Jack never mentioned you lived next door!”

“That’s me. I only just moved in about a week ago. Was looking for a place closer to the rink and Jack told me about his previous neighbors moving out, so I decided to move in. Nice having them just across the hall. They’re like the little brothers I never had,” Nico pronounces brothers like ‘brudders’. You nearly forgot Jack had mentioned he was from Switzerland, too distracted to have picked up on his accent before now.

“Yeah, they seem to have that effect on people, huh?” you understood the sentiment behind Nico’s words all too well.

You’ve known Jack, Luke, and Quinn since you were all kids. Your family owned the lake house next to theirs when you were growing up. You spent every summer with them up until Quinn got drafted to the Canucks a few years back. Then Jack to the Devils, then Luke following Jack. Your families grew incredibly close to one another over the years, though. Trips to visit the other outside of the summer months became a regular occurrence. Trips to watch their hockey games, traveling to watch Luke play college hockey, and attending their drafts. These three were the brothers you never had but always wanted. They treated you like their own sister from the very start.

“They especially have the annoying aspect of younger brothers perfected,” Nico replied, both of you fully inside your new apartment now.

“God, don’t I know it,” you laughed.

Looking up, you finally took in your new home. Geez, this place is nice. It shouldn’t surprise you, really, with how much Jack and Luke both make, but the apartment is like, really nice. Definitely out of your price range, by likely a couple thousand dollars. You suddenly feel bad that Jack refused to let you pay any share of the rent. You had fought him on it, several times. He insisted that they had the spare bedroom anyways, and they had no trouble making rent as is. You demanded that you contribute in some way, so you were now tasked with grocery shopping and cooking for two professional hockey players. Honestly, after seeing the meal plans the team nutritionist gave them, it might be a fair trade.

It's only as you look over towards the kitchen at the thought of having to go grocery shopping soon, you realize Nico is still there. He’s just standing there, watching you take in your surroundings, lost in your own thoughts.

“Well, thanks for not letting me waste away in the hallway. And helping me with my luggage. I think someone from TSA filled my suitcases with rocks or something. I swear it didn’t seem like I had that much stuff when I left home,” you explain, not knowing what else to say to the stranger.

“No problem, seriously. I feel like I’m over here more than I’m at my own apartment, anyways. Jack is always calling me to come over or insisting that we have to watch game film together after practice. It’s a little concerning how obsessed he is with hockey. I mean, I’m the captain of the team and I feel like I spend less time thinking about work than he does,” Nico chuckles, not seeming to want to end the conversation just yet.

“God, don’t even get me started. I’ve had to listen to him ramble on and on about hockey for years. I’m just glad someone else finally understands my pain.”

“You know, the only other subject he seems to talk about as much as hockey is you. And his family, but according to him the two are one in the same. Every time I’ve seen him this week, which is nearly every day, he’s updated me on the countdown to when you were set to arrive. He’s seriously excited to have you here. They both are. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name,” Nico reveals.

You and Jack had always been the closest out of the three brothers. With your age falling directly in-between Quinn and Jack, you and Jack had the most common interests as a kid. Quinn was always trying to be the grown one, not concerning himself with whatever you and Jack were interested in while growing up. As teens, Quinn was always training or going off by himself to do who knows what. Luke was still slightly too young to go off with you and Jack alone, so it was usually just the two of you embarking on your own little adventures on those summer days. Once Jack got his boating license neither of your parents would let Luke go out on the water without them. So, more often than not, you and Jack would take the boat to God knows where in the middle of the lake and spend the whole day there, not returning until after dark. Those days were your favorite to think back on. The conversations between you and Jack never ceased to flow. From hockey, to your boy troubles back home, to whatever girl Jack wanted to impress that summer, to what your lives would look like one day, to always vowing to be in each other’s lives, even if he became a big shot hockey player that lived on the other side of the world.

“Yeah, well, he always has been the sentimental type, no matter how hard he tries to deny it,” you chuckle, a fond smile finding its way onto your face.

“Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around, Y/N. If you ever find yourself faced with sleeping in the hallway again, you know where to find me,” Nico drops his eye into a wink, walking over to the door and opening it once again.

“Thank goodness someone around here understands the severity of the situation at hand. Me and my back thank you,” you wave your arms around for dramatic effect, walking to take hold of the open door as he steps into the hallway and back into his own doorway.

“Welcome to Jersey. We’re glad to have you here,” Nico turns to face you after he’s back in his own apartment, a genuine smile settled on his face.

“Thanks, Nico. It’s good to be here,” you respond, matching his smile, thinking of how well it suits him.

———————————————————————————

“Y/n!!!! Where are you!?” you hear, currently elbow deep in suitcase number two, trying your hardest to unpack everything. You really don’t know how you managed to fit so much clothing in three suitcases. Or how you ended up with so many clothes to begin with. You stand up and start making your way to the door of your bedroom, hand on the doorknob as it flies open, revealing a very excited looking Jack and Luke. You suddenly feel your body flying forward, face hitting a clothed shoulder.

“Ow! Jack, that was my nose!” you tried to say, but everything was muffled because of how tight your body was being held in place. Seriously, he acts like he hadn’t seen you in years. You were literally here a few months ago to visit and arrange plans to move in. Leave it to Jack to always bring the dramatics.

“Just a few more seconds, I missed you,” he mumbles, squeezing even tighter, if that was even possible.

“Jack, no fair! Quit hogging her, I missed her too!”

“Luke, please save me. I might suffocate soon if he doesn’t let go,” you beg the younger brother.

“Oh my god, will you two quit being dramatic? Can’t a man be excited his best friend is finally moving in after months of waiting?” Jack whines as he releases his hold on you.

“No one said you couldn’t be excited, Rowdy, but suffocating me two minutes into living together might not be the best way to show your excitement,” you say, smoothing out your sweatshirt and making your way towards the open arms of the younger, yet much larger, brother.

“Oh Moose, how have you been? Have you been getting enough sleep?” You question, always worried about his wellbeing, especially these past few weeks.

“Yeah, m’alright. A little tired, but we have some home games lined up soon. I’ll catch up on sleep then,” he responds, squeezing you a little tighter at the end of his sentence.

Luke’s rookie year has been a rollercoaster not only for him, but for you as well. You worry about the youngest Hughes, having such a soft spot for the boy. You know he’s talented, and you know he’ll do well, but you can see the exhaustion on his face and in his actions. You know he carries the weight of the foul comments he receives about his gameplay, and you try your hardest to take some of it off of his shoulders.

“Alright, but now that I’m here just know I’ll be holding you to that,” a stern look on your face.

Turning back around towards Jack, you find him surveying your room, looking over the mess you created in the few hours it took for them to return home.

“So, are you going to spend the rest of the day unpacking, or can we go have some fun and celebrate the fact that you live in New Jersey now?” Jack spoke, looking at the pictures you decided to display, most of them pictures of you and the brothers throughout the years.

“I mean, I was hoping to get as much done today as I can, but I’m guessing you’ve already made plans, huh?”

“You would be correct. We’re leaving at 8, be ready,” is all Jack says, before dragging Luke out of your room.

#nhl oneshot #nhl blurb #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nico hischier #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier fanfic #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier x you #luke hughes #jack hughes #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier one shot #new jersey devils #hockey imagine #hockey

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babyvixen27 · 4 months

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Did you miss me? 18+ Minors DNI

Tommy Shelby/Younger Sister Reader!

Tommy goes away and comes back to find his baby sister has become a woman. Why is it hitting him so damn hard.

Warnings: Incest! DARK CONTENT! Tommy is low-key abusive and kinda crazy, If this is something that triggers, please don't read! Coercion, unsafe sex, name calling, possessiveness, misogyny, slapping, hair-pulling, manipulation.

The patter of your bare feet echoes faintly down the corridor as you make your way to Tommy’s office. He had come home from a 3-month-long business trip, and no one had cared to inform you, letting you nap all evening to the gentle sound of rain. You knew he’d arrived when your eyes opened and not a sound was heard in Arrow House, as though all the life that’d been booming these past weeks had shriveled and died when his car pulled in.

He seemed to be in a worse mood than usual nowadays, you thought, hesitating at the handle. Smoothing your hair down, you push in and find him exactly as you imagined: a cigarette in one hand, whiskey in the other.

“You didn’t wake me,” you murmur, stepping further in, waiting for a sign of approval. You wouldn’t necessarily say you were a docile young woman; usually, it was quite the opposite. But there was something in your older brother's gaze that always made you feel small, and you twiddled your toes into the carpet, squirming under it now.

“Didn’t want to bother ya’,” he grunts, finishing his drink in one swig, motioning you in with his fingers. “You been walking around like that while I’m gone?” He says, running his eyes down your scantily clad body, making your cheeks burn.

“It's my house too,” you giggle, giving him a twirl, silk red slip shining in the firelight. “You busy?” you hum, padding around his desk and standing just before him, looking down into those pretty cold eyes.

Tommy watches your every move closely. It had been a while since he’d seen his baby sister, and oh how much can change in so little time. Your smooth skin shines under the dim lights, womanly figure peeking through the translucent fabric of your dress, and he ignores the sudden pull in his belly.

“Just tired,” he grumbles, letting his eyes fall shut as you step between his legs, soft hands resting on his shoulders, letting out a low groan as you begin to rub circles into the muscles. “I missed you,” you whisper. You really did, despite his ill temper and lack of conversation skills. You always found comfort in him; he had taken on the role of your protector, and despite his tough exterior, you knew he had a soft spot for you.

Tommy leans back in his chair, exhaling a cloud of smoke as he looks up at you. "Missed you too, love," he admits, his voice a bit softer than before. The tension in the room seems to ease a little as you continue to massage his shoulders.

“You barely called,” you pout, plump pink lip glimmering, and the brief image of biting down on it flashes through his head.

“M’here now,” he cuts you off, running his large hands up your hips, settling on your waist as he pulls you towards him. “Off to bed with ya’. I’ve got work to do, and you’re coming in with me tomorrow.” Tommy’s dominance always seemed to take up all the air, leaving no room for arguments. You couldn’t help but feel out of place in his presence. Such a delicate little thing, with your bows and lace, like a flower growing in the dead of winter.

You offer a soft smile, leaning down to peck him on the cheek before straightening up. "Fine, fine. But only because you missed me," you tease, giving him a quick wink.

Tommy smirks, rough fingers tracing patterns on your waist. You pull away, sighing as his hands leave your body, and make your way to the door. “Goodnight, Thomas. It’s good to have you back,” you hum, disappearing down the corridor, leaving him with the familiar dizziness he gets whenever you two interact.

Pouring himself another drink, he thinks back to your sweet scent, the feel of your soft lips on his cheeks, the slope of your perky tits in your dress. Slamming the glass down with a grunt, he clears the images from his head and begins to tackle his work, drowning any more thoughts of his baby sister with another bottle.

The next morning, you stood at the door, bouncing on your heels while you wait for him to come down. All these days wandering around the house have left you with little need for dressing up. So, you pulled out a pretty pink dress you’d been saving, curls held up in a loose tie, and a little more makeup than usual. Heavy footsteps pulled you from your thoughts as your brother made his way past you, grumbling a faint "morning," barely sparing you a glance. Running to catch up to him, you clamber into the passenger seat, crossing your arms with a huff, and stare him down. "Well?"

Tommy looks you over, pulling a long drag from his cigarette as he takes in your kohl eyes and pink lips. His gaze drifts lower to the low-cut neckline and further to the bunched-up fabric on your plush thighs. A million words rush through his brain, and he settles on, "You look nice," keeping it curt as he begins the drive. He smirks as you scoff and turn your body towards the window.

The office was buzzing as usual, men running around like worker ants past you while Tommy stepped out to speak with someone. A light tap on your shoulder makes you whip around, meeting the bright faces of your older brothers: Arthur and John, as they sweep you up into a grapple. Giggling, you try to break free as they tickle and tease you before you’re all interrupted by the sound of Tommy clearing his throat at the door.

“It’s not proper for a lady to be acting this way in front of strangers,” he says slowly, a frown pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Ah, come on, Tommy, we was just teasing our baby sister,” Arthur laughs as John tugs a free strand of your hair. “Get off me, you big idiots!” You laugh, smacking them both as you all come down from the high. Arthur and John release you, straightening up with amused smirks on their faces. Tommy's expression remained serious, a mix of annoyance and something else bubbling beneath the surface. "Teasing or not, this is a place of business," he growls, his voice low. "We have a reputation to uphold.” He finishes, moving between you and your brothers, placing a firm hand on your lower back to guide you towards his office. You roll your eyes playfully but allow him to lead you away.

As you walked, Arthur and John exchanged amused glances behind Tommy's back; they weren’t immune to your womanly traits. Despite you all having a strong bond, Tommy had always placed an unspoken claim over you. You were just happy to be with your loving brothers. The rest of the day went by in the same fashion, them finding ways to tease and touch you, showering you with compliments as Thomas looked on with a scowl.

He was fed up as he packed up for the day, practically dragging you to the car and speeding home in silence. The tension in the car was palpable as Tommy drove back to Arrow House. The sound of the engine roared in the silence, and you couldn't help but fidget in your seat, glancing at your brother from time to time. His jaw was clenched, and his grip on the steering wheel was tight. As the car pulled into the driveway, he parked it with a screech, the sudden halt causing you to stumble forward. The air was heavy, and you hesitated for a moment before breaking the silence.

“Have I done something wrong?” You ask, voice soft and laced with confusion. Tommy took a deep breath before he spoke, trying to keep his emotions under control “Yer a fucking woman now, y/n.” He snaps, “giggling and bouncing around like a whore isn’t a good image for the Shelbys.” Eyes widening, your lips open and close as you try to find the right words, stomach-churning in shame. “I didn’t think-” “Of course you don’t,” he interrupts. He knows he's being harsh, but as he glances back at you and sees the strap of your dress slip down your shoulder, the remainders of his resolve break away, grabbing a handful of your hair he pulls you in for a searing kiss.

You freeze, feeling him groan against your lips as he holds you in place with one hand, the other moving its way up your thigh. With a jolt, you push on his chest and scramble as far away as you can in the tight space. “Why- I don't understand” You whimper, watching his eyes darken as they take in your trembling body. “You’re a woman now y/n” He repeats, “I know that you see the way men look at ya’” He murmurs, moving closer, “like yer a fuckin’ peace of meat. Like they’d pay anything for a chance between those pretty legs,” he says, grabbing your ankle and pulling you down the seat, settling between your thighs. “You’re mine. Always have been. Since you were a little girl playing in the mud” Whispering into your neck, he punctuates each word with a thrust, you can feel his hardness bumping against your panties and the reality of it all kicks, tears finally beginning to pour.

“Please Tommy” your voice barely over a whisper, “You’re scaring me”. He shushes you gently, placing soft kisses down your neck, pulling down the straps to your dress slowly, as he hungrily takes in the exposed flesh, breath catching as the fabric moves past your breasts. They bounce out, nipples hardening in the cool air and he curses under his breath reaching up to cup one on each hand. “But you’re my brother” You squeal, as his thumb brushes over the peaks, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine. “All the more reason” He chuckles darkly, “who better to own you than your flesh and blood”.

Pulling you in for another kiss, you relax slightly as his words ring in your head. You had noticed the looks you’d get, the special treatment, the passing comments. You also knew that you would eventually have to find a man who wasn’t as scary as the rest, trusting him to build a home, a family. Maybe Tommy was right. He had always been there, keeping you safe and comfortable. He was in no way unattractive, strong jaw and plump lips with a strong physique that you knew the women that were bold enough to mess with the Peaky Blinders swoon over. You feel dizzy and confused as the thoughts run through your head.

“Focus on me mouse” He laughs, noticing you drifting away. Deepening the kiss, his tongue slips past your lips and you moan softly as it dances with yours. Pulling away, you’re both flushed, panting harshly into each other's mouths, lips swollen and wet, connected by a string of spit that you coyly lick off his lip.

Raising his brow, his hand wraps around your throat, giving a warning squeeze. “Tell me you’re untouched” He whispers, “Tell me no man has gotten to my baby sister while I was gone”

You feel a cold rush over you, you think of lying but you’ve never been a very good liar and you know it's only going to make it worse. Instead, you look away from him, wanting to curl up in a ball of shame and disappear as you feel his fingers tighten slowly. “Tell. Me.” He spits, and all you can do is whimper, hoping he takes pity on your shaking frame. Suddenly, your airflow is cut off, hands flying up to grip his wrist while he tries to take deep calming breaths. “Who was it?” He whispers, giving you a quick slap when you don’t respond immediately. “who the fuck was it” he seethes, loosening his grip so you could speak. “Please don’t hurt him, Tommy! it was only once and I was the one who asked” You ramble, it was the truth, as ridiculous as it sounded and you prayed your brother would listen to you and spare the poor boy you’d jeopardized so foolishly.

“You…asked?” he repeated slowly and it was like a new wave of anger washed over him as he stormed out of the car, moving around to your door, yanking out by your arm. He led you to his bedroom, past the maids, past Frances who could do nothing but look away to give you some shred of dignity. and threw you onto the floor.

You scramble towards the bed but he stops you with a hand on your ankle tugging you towards him and raising you by your hair to your knees in front of him. “All this time, my sweet baby sister, our littlest Shelby” He laughs mockingly, “all this time… nothing but a whore who begs men for cock.” Your heart burns at his words and your tears cloud your vision as you babble out an apology “I promise Tommy, I was only curious, it was just once, please I'm so sorry” you cry, grabbing onto his leg as he looks down at you. With a firm grip on your chin, he raises your face to look up at him and swipes his thumb over your lips. “what did you do?” He asks softly. “We just kissed and then he-, he put it in and he pulled out so I wouldn’t get pregnant. I’m so sorry” You whimper, hoping your honesty would appease him. You hated to disappoint him, even as a little girl, you’d do everything you could so that he’d be proud of you. Crying for days on end when you’d done something wrong in his eyes and he’d give you the silent treatment.

“Did you cum?” He asks, to which you shake your head and confess you don’t know what that feels like. You’ve never even touched yourself. His anger is boiling below the surface but your confessions have cooled him a bit and seeing you on your knees, gives him an idea.

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.” He commands, unbuttoning his trousers and pulling his cock out, giving it a few tugs. Your eyes widen, watching his fist stroke up and down his huge length. It was probably twice as big as your lover, a thick vein running up the side to his fat pink tip leaking a sticky white fluid. You obey his command and he slaps it on your tongue, groaning as he gives a couple of shallow thrusts.

“This is a real cock y/n '' He chuckles, noticing the fear in your eyes. “Be a good little girl for me and stay still while I fuck yer slutty mouth.” You had heard about this from the maids, thinking back on their gossiping you remember to keep your teeth out of the way, closing your lips over the head and giving it a hard suck. Tommy stumbles slightly, breath hitching as his hands fly to either side of your head, pushing you into the side of the bed, you know you’ve done the right thing.

“Don’t forget to breathe” is all the warning you get before he plunges forward, your nose hitting the dark curls at the base making you gag and your eyes water. He doesn’t let you adjust, setting a brutal pace as he fucks your face, balls slapping your chin with each thrust and all you can do is focus on not throwing up, placing your palms on his thighs to try to hold him back.

“Fuck” He grunts, looking down at his dick disappearing down your throat and he smiles as he watches you struggle. Pulling out, he watches the spit spill down your chin, using his tip to spread it over your pretty face. “Put my balls in your mouth” he hums, continuing to stroke as you look up at him dumbly. “Don’t make me fucking repeat myself.” You quickly try to do as he says, cheeks burning bright red at the dirtiness of it but the sound that he lets out you give them a gentle suck makes a little pride bloom in your chest. You continue like that for a while, alternating between the two, you don’t know how much time has passed but his thrust begins to stutter, and with a loud groan your mouth fills with liquid. “Don’t swallow” He breathes and you try your best to hold it all in your mouth but there is so much that it spills past your lips. He pulls out panting and slaps your cheek, “Let me see”. You open wide, showing the creamy white mess on your tongue and he leans to spit on top of it before ordering you to swallow. “Good fuckin’ girl” He chuckles.

Before you have a chance to catch your breath, he's tugging you up to stand, pulling you into his chest by your waist and smothering you in a wet kiss. You fall back together on the bed, sweaty skin sticking to the sheets and you each shred the rest of your clothing. The feeling of your bodies pressed against one another is electric, fitting into each other perfectly like you were made for the other. Tommy’s hand slips between your bodies, smirking when he feels the pool of slickness between your folds. “So good for me baby, look how wet you are” He breathes in your ear and you whimper as his fingers rub slow agonizing circles on your clit. “Please Tommy” You whine, raising your hips to try to get more friction. “Please what? You beggin’ me the way you did that fuck?” He growled, feeling his anger flare up again but you quickly shake your head with a cry. “No! No, I’m not, I didn’t, please I'm sorry, it was nothing like this” You babble as his fingers pick up speed and you feel an almost painful tightening in your belly. “It-It hurts Tommy” you whine out and he laughs at you, “Just relax baby, take what I give you”

Panting, you nod your head, desperate to please him, and feel your thighs begin to shake from the intensity. “Fuck oh my god, Tommy” You breathe and he gives your clit a slap, murmuring for you to watch your language before continuing his quick pace. Finally, you feel the coil in your belly burst and you scream as your cunt gushes. “My perfect girl, all mine.” he moans into your neck, moving suddenly between your legs, hands behind your knees raising your legs to your shoulders as he settles over you, angling his now-hard cock down into your entrance.

“Wa-wait Tommy '' you mumble, still coming too from the intense orgasm but Tommy has already begun to push in, spearing you slowly. The burn is a lot, you’d only done this once, months ago, and with someone much smaller, and you couldn't help but try to push his hips away as each inch made it harder to breathe. “Fuck, such a tight little cunt, feels like I could cum just from putting it in” He pants, losing himself in the wet warmth of his little sister. He’d dreamed of this moment for years, fantasies that he tried to push to the darkest, furthest part of his mind. On the days that they would roar for attention, he would indulge in a pretty prostitute that reminded him of you. Whether it was your hair or your eyes, he would fuck them like a starved animal.

Now here you were, so small under him, so vulnerable. His hips set a cruel pace from the start, giving you little time to adjust. You could barely breathe, he had you folded up, resting his weight on your chest as you let out little “Ah’s” with each thrust. “Please slow down” You try to say but he swallows it down in an open-mouthed kiss, groaning as you clamp down on him when he goes a little too deep. “Nasty little cockslut” He spits, straightening up, placing your thighs over his hips to reach a new angle. He can watch your tits bounce this way, spitting on them before giving them a firm slap. You can’t stop watching the bulge on your stomach that appears every time he thrusts in. “You’re so deep” you breathe, squealing when he presses down on it.

Without pulling out (or warning), Tommy flips you on top of him. Giving your ass a smack, you take the hint and begin to bounce. Having to do the work while he watches you flusters you, making you lose your pace but another sharp spank puts you back on track. “Do I feel good Tommy?” You purr, feeling a newfound power as you watch his face contort every time you squeeze him. “Like fucking heaven baby” he growls, leaning up to suck on your bouncing tits. You keep up a steady pace, feeling the coil building again, but suddenly Tommy shoves you forward, pulling you into his chest as he pistons his hips up at an animalistic pace, hitting the perfect spot inside you that makes you see stars.

You scream, all shame leaving your body as you barrel over the edge, sticky cunt gushing over his dick, making a mess over his thighs. “Gonna pump you full mouse, make you mine forever. Say it.” He grunts. “I’m yours, Tommy, I’ve always been. I belong to you” You purr, smiling at the choked sound he makes when he digs in as far as he can, warmth filling your walls as you both breathe heavily. He holds you there, stroking gently up and down your spine while you play with curls on his chest. “I will find his name” he murmurs into your hair.

“I love you Tommy” You whisper, eyes falling shut.

“I love you too”

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First fic on here ! Im a little nervous hehe. Also not proof read! I just wanted to pump out my dream last night. Please let me know what you think!! It means a lot :)🤍

#18+ only #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #smut #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders smut #tw noncon

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heartfullofleeches · 4 months

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Yan Husband + G.N Monster Reader

A Slightly Fluffy/Slightly Suggestive Holiday Blurb

What do you get someone who has everything?

"You're asking me what I want for Christmas? Why would I want anything else when I already have everything I need? A nice house, a loving spouse. I'd say I'm set for life- so why don't you tell me what you'd like this year, Sweetheart."

He's so difficult sometimes- Your dear husband had always made sure the holiday season was special for you. Even as a college student with little to his name, he wanted you to experience the same magic he witnessed as a child when his parents were forced to play the part of attentive caretakers. Presents, festive activities, decorating the house. As you've never had the pleasure of these traditions due to your origins your husband made it his duty to give you everything and more- well, except for one thing.

You wanted to be the one to go all out for him for once. To see the joy and happiness in his eyes when he unwraps the perfect present that you picked out yourself. You've tried asking him. You've tried watching him to learn more about the little things he enjoys, but it's all you. All he wants for Christmas is your life. He enjoys cooking and gardening because they're things that keep you happy and cared for.

His entire life revolved around you - and as such, the answer to your blight has been in your lap the entire time.

Your husband arrives home an hour early. You expected him to get off a little early due to the holiday, but what you hadn't guessed was that he'd bring guests. Springing up from your sprawled out position on the couch, you rush to the front door - grabbing and hastily tossing on a coat as the choir of voices and the jostling of keys grows closer. Securing the belt strap around your waist and a scarf around your neck, you wait for the click out of outside lock and a knock on the frame before sliding back the bolt on your side of the door. Your husband lights up like a christmas tree seeing you standing there - the soft flush of his pale cheeks accented by the warm flow of the lights strung around your shared home.

Evan steps through the door, excitement dripping from his every move as he throws his arms at your waist. "You're already dressed. I meant to call you, but I left my phone back at the office."

Glancing over his shoulder, you hug your coat tighter to your chest - cold winds nawing at the thick layers of your flesh. "Evan...Who are they?"

Evan looks back at his colleagues. He told them to stay in their cars, but what goes in on ear goes right out the other. Are they scaring you? "A few friends from work. There's a party at the office I completely forgot about today and they followed me since I've already had a couple glasses. I thought it might be a good way for you to get to know some of them.

You shift uncomfortably under their gaze. "Evan, can I talk to you privately."

"Of course." Evan shuts the front door behind him without even addressing his coworkers. Your safety was more important. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing... I was just wondering if we should stay home tonight... I have a gift I wanted to give you early."

The worry drains from his face. "Oh, hun- you didn't have to go through all that trouble for me. I've told you before that you're the greatest gift I could ever ask for. We can open it when we get home.

"Are you sure you don't want a peak now?"

His brows scrunch up in confusion. Cupping your hand against his ear, you untie your belt - letting the loose fitting coat fall freely. Even at your height the coat was a little big on you as it had been commissioned by your sweet husband as a present a few years back. The flush of his cheeks reaches all the way to his ears as you whisper.

"You've always say I'm the best gift you have ever received."

Hands tear the coat further from your shoulders. Evan looks from your face, to the ribbons wrapped around your thighs and torso, laced across your body with a finished bow sitting center on your chest. It was fitted tastefully enough to cover your assets, but with tiny imperfections between the layers of ribbon and its transparency if he tilted his head just right-

Evan presses his palm to his mouth to mask the shaky breath he exhales.

"Well?"

"Excuse me for one moment."

Evan covers you back up with a kiss to your shoulder. You press your ear to the front door as he steps back outside.

"I'm really sorry, guys. My spouse came down with something while I was out. They're extremely sick right now. You might not even hear from us till the new years. Enjoy the party!"

As cautious as he is, you've never seen your husband neglect to lock the upper locks on the front door as he did when he returned to your side. Evan sweeps you off your feet with little effort thanks to all the training he'd done for that express reason. Hooking your arms around him as he carries you to bed - you plant wet kisses to the already scarred areas of his neck and cheek.

"Do you like your present?"

Evan kisses your jaw. "None can compare...... but maybe you should ask again once I get this ribbon off.

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere blurb #male yandere #yandere insert #yandere oc #yandere husband #Evan my oc #yandere fluff #monster reader

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reve-writes · 1 year

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—anger; kaz brekker.

ʚ kaz brekker x reader | grishaverse | 0,8k words. ʚ based off of this request. | kaz gets angry and finds comfort with the reader. ʚ established relationship; kaz is ok with being touched by reader. ʚ a/n i am a sucker for kaz being whipped. like this man is 100% the biggest softie for his s/o. we all remember the line from the book where he wanted to bottle inej's laugh and get drunk on it every night. if you have more kaz/grishaverse reqs my asks are open!

Kaz likes to think that he has somewhat of a good grasp of his emotions. He puts on masks like turning the back of his hand. His favourite one, though, is the one he wears the most. Cool and polished, unfeeling. Stoicity that demands respect and fear—that instills intimidation.

It's not so easy to slip on that mask when his entire body practically hums with anger, his fingers twitch underneath the gloves. The desire to fucking hit something burning under the leather.

The reason is clear, being whispered in both fearful hushes and celebratory gasps: Pekka Rollins has been released from Hellgate.

Life has a way on turning a good thing into something bad. Kaz is used to it. He has come to expect it. Hell, he expects the Dregs to eventually fall apart. Expects the Crows to eventually leave him. Expects you to get fed up with him and pack your things.

He doesn't expect Pekka Rollins to be released—after all he's done to make sure the bastard ends up where he deserves to.

“Kaz—” An unfortunate Dregs member speaks, perhaps wanting to relay the message or simply making formalities.

Kaz spins around. The desire to swing his cane in a bone-breaking arc is there. He doesn't.

“Not one word.”

That's all he says. The air in the Crow Club turns suffocating—all tension and no reprieve. Everything is still being conducted as normal: barkeeps are serving drinks, gamblers are opening tables and customers are drinking and carolling. To those who know Kaz well enough, know his tells and his history with the leader of the Dime Lions, it feels like walking across a glass bridge. Every step is followed by the anticipation of falling through.

Jesper turns to look at Wylan, who glances at Nina and Matthias. The couple turns to Inej. The Wraith stares at you. Unspoken words are exchanged from across the room, over rowdy drunkards and laughing gamblers.

The door to Kaz's office on the second floor slams shut. A tremble goes through the frame. It gets lost quickly, swallowed by the hustle bustle of the Barrell, but you notice. Of course, you do.

You stare at the rest of your friends and find them looking back at you expectantly. Jesper tilts his head towards the stairs.

You sigh, putting up a hand towards them—your first two fingers are crossed over each other. Then, you're already on the steps, knocking at the door gently.

“Kaz?”

You hear a loud sigh.

“Can I come in?”

“You'll barge in anyway.”

You let out a soft chuckle and push the door open. He sits on his desk, one leg stretching out to balance his body while the other is bent. He shakes his knee idly. Both of his hands grab the edge of the desk that over hangs, fingers tapping periodically.

He spares you a glance under the brim of his hat and relaxes slightly. Your presence alone melts the tautness in his shoulders. It always does.

“Are you alright?”

“Never been better.” Sarcasm laces each word.

You sigh, approaching him. He doesn't flinch away when you step into his personal space—something that has taken years to work towards and you're grateful for the point you've reached together.

“It's inevitable, you know?”

Your words cut but they're nothing short of the truth. Someone as powerful as Pekka Rollins will eventually get out—it isn't a reach to conclude. Deep down, Kaz knows as well. He just likes to think that he finally is able to lock away that part of his past and throw away the key, but it always comes crawling back. Meaner than ever.

“I know, schatje,” he says, defeated.

You step closer and pull the hat off of his head. Your hand runs through his scalp to smooth out the flattened hair, combing through smooth, dark strands. He leans into the touch. One of his hands go to your arm and brings the inside of your wrist to his lips.

“Everyone was scared of you,” you tease, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. He raises an eyebrow. You add, “Well, more than usual.”

He lets out a huff—the beginning of a chuckle. “As they should be.”

“You are not-so-scary right now.”

He buries his face in the crook of your neck. “Only for you.”

“Ever the charmer.”

His arms come to rest around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he lets you soothe the anger—calm the storm inside him.

“We'll get him again, Kaz,” you say, pulling away slightly to look at him. “Together, okay? We've done it once. What's a second time?”

He hums. “You're right.”

“I often am.”

“Well, except for that time—”

“Kaz!”

It seems that you've successfully staved him off of being consumed by his anger, once again.

[ ]

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #—ki writes 🍯

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hanjisick · 1 year

Text

yandere skz reaction… to a creepy coworker

warning. this is not how i portray the members of stray kids or how you should either. this is purely for entertainment purposes.

trigger for violence, murder, harassment

wc. 1.8k

bang chan.

chan’s phone would ring late at night, as he waited for you to arrive home. normally, he would be overjoyed with a call from you, but instead, his face contorted in worry.

it was unlike you to call him at such a time.

“y/n?” he answered, voice laced with concern.

“hello? chan? remember how you were going to pick me up to go to my parents house tonight? you’re on your way, right? i’ll be in the parking lot.”

chan was very intuitive. he could understand immediately from your shaky tone that you were in danger, and that he needed to get there. and quickly.

“yeah. i’m on my way.” he would respond, already tearing apart his room to find his shoes.

chan was thankful that the police were looking the other way that night, because he was speeding like a maniac, terrifying thoughts plaguing his mind.

“y/n?” he shouted out, slamming the car door behind him.

he saw you bolt towards him, leaving behind a person that he couldn’t quite make out through the dim streetlights.

“oh thank god, chan,” he welcomed your tight hug, “get in the car. we need to go.”

on the way home, you told him about your horrible coworker, about how gave you his number, invited you back to his place, and was insistent about it until you had lied and called chan.

you didn’t notice how his hands gripped the steering wheel so right that his knuckles were white, “do you mind sharing his number with me?”

he would have to do some digging that night.

lee minho

minho didn’t mind that you had a job. in fact, he encouraged it. part of him enjoyed stalking you, seeing exactly what would happen when you thought that you were out of his supervision.

the sadistic side of him wanted so badly to see you interact with others, to give him an excuse to take someone’s life, especially one that would cause tears to fall from your pretty little eyes.

so when he began to see another man hang around you, he thought that this would be his chance. that the other boy would promise a type of love that minho would never give to you— a healthy one.

but it wasn’t exactly like that, upon further investigation. instead, you were uncomfortable with his lingering touches and sly comments.

it didn’t take long for him to find his home and tear his body to shreds with his bare hands. a sinister grin would appear on his face. oddly, he looked more forward to the screams of this man than your own when you would find out.

he would take a souvenir, his favorite thing to do. it would be his arm, the same one that he used to touch your waist. the waist that was meant for him.

minho didn’t understand the side of him that itched so badly to hear the man’s screams. perhaps there was a part of him that wanted to protect you, rather than hurt you.

how strange.

seo changbin

unlike minho, changbin would be the least in favor of you having a job. which is why you would have to be in the beginning stages of your relationship to have one in the first place.

“can you call off work today, darling?” he would whine, holding onto you a little tighter than usual.

“you know that i can’t.”

unable to stand the idea of someone hurting you, touching you, yelling at you… the list goes on, he followed you to make sure that nothing would happen.

only ten minutes into your shift, and his worst nightmare happened.

“i have a boyfriend,” you told your coworker.

“that doesn’t matter, i’m sure that i could be better than him.”

“stop it. i’ll have to tell the manager.”

“you wouldn’t do that to me. you want me just like i want you.”

changbin would see red.

he would have to contain his anger for long enough to not get arrested. he couldn’t kill him in broad daylight. instead, he would allow himself to finally let you know of his presence, pulling you into his chest.

“changbin!”

“you’re quitting. i won’t ever let you leave my sight if this is what the world is going to try and do to you. you’re for my eyes only.”

hwang hyunjin

you trusted hyunjin enough to confide in him when you began to grow concerned about your coworker.

he would listen as you explained how he had been touching you more than usual, saying flirty lines, obviously trying to get together with you.

all of this was spilled out to him the night after he asked for your number, as you laid on top of him with your head on his chest.

“i just don’t know what to do, hyun. i told him no, but he kept insisting until i got off. and we have to work together again tomorrow.”

hyunjin would bite his lip as he listened to your obvious discomfort, contemplating all of the ways that he could end this persons life without you suspecting that it was him.

he did his best to comfort you, saying that he would come pick you up immediately if it escalated. but hyunjin wouldn’t let it go that far.

instead, while you thought he was scrolling through his phone to fall asleep, he was looking for the man’s address, ready to slip out the door once you had fallen asleep, and to make sure that he wouldn’t show up at work tomorrow. or to anything ever again, unless it was his own funeral.

“goodnight, my sweet y/n.”

han jisung

jisung would never miss a single shift of yours. no matter how long they were, he would always need to keep an eye on you. and every break that you had would be spent drowning in PDA with him.

jisung was already on edge, watching you train a new employee, sitting at a booth in the restaurant that you worked at.

“so, to cut the sandwich—“ you stood over the new boy, and jisung was leaning in his seat as if he were watching an intense scene in a movie. your coworker grabbed your hand, placing it on top of his.

“guide me,” he smirked as you hesitated, eyes meeting jisung’s, who’s own eyes were crazed, ready to pounce if you didn’t take your hand away in the next few seconds.

“i can’t do that.” you turned your attention back to him.

“that’s a shame, your hands were so gentle, i wouldn’t mind holding them.”

that was jisung’s last straw.

in an instant, your coworker was on the floor, a sandwich knife lodged into his throat.

“her hands are mine,” he screamed out, “mine! you can’t touch them!”

lee felix.

“felix, i don’t know what to do,” you cried into your boyfriends hoodie as he shushed you, hands rubbing your back soothingly.

“what happened, pretty girl? i promise i can help.”

you fished your phone out of your pocket, nudging it into his side. “go to my texts and read the most recent one.”

felix picked it up, unlocking it. you watched his expression carefully, not missing the way that he grit his teeth, jaw clenched tightly.

“you haven’t responded to any of them, but he’s still going,” he commented.

you nodded against his chest.

he kept scrolling, until he got to the most recent one. the one that caused you to come home bawling your eyes out. and in the blink of an eye, he was calling the number.

you didn’t have the strength or will to stop him, already knowing what your boyfriend was capable of.

“this is y/n’s boyfriend,” he almost growled into the phone, “you have less than ten minutes left to live until i’m at your door.”

just hearing his sickening voice was enough to make felix throw your phone against the wall, using the last bit of the sanity left in him to gently push you off of him.

“i’ll be back soon, my angel.”

kim seungmin

the past few days, seungmin had noticed that something was definitely off.

seungmin thought that he had done something wrong. perhaps the lunch that he had packed you wasn’t good recently. did you change your favorite kind of chips? or it could’ve been that he didn’t buy you a new phone recently.

whatever the case was, seungmin needed to figure it out, and fast, because he couldn’t stand to see you as unhappy as you were.

“did i do something wrong?” he asked, his puppy eyes hitting something deep in your soul as he followed your slumped shoulders around, looking for answers.

“no,” you sighed, allowing yourself to at least give him some explanation, “it’s something about work. i don’t think you can fix it.”

“i can fix anything. just tell me what’s bothering you.”

but you shrugged him off, so he did what any concerned boyfriend would do, and followed you to work.

it became evident that it was a coworker of yours that was harassing you.

instead, he would show up behind you on your break, “is he bothering you?”

“seungmin, why are you here?”

“is he bothering you? do you need me to take care of him?”

“what are you talking about?” you tried to play dumb.

“i’ll ask again. is your coworker bothering you?”

you sighed in defeat. “i don’t want to start anything, i’m hoping that he’ll just leave me alone if i don’t do anything.”

“i want a straight answer. he the reason that you’ve been upset lately?”

“yes.”

“then i’ll take care of it for you.”

yang jeongin

you would be at the mall with jeongin when you saw your horrible coworker across the same shop, mentally cursing to yourself as you tried to convince jeongin to go elsewhere with you.

“this shop is boring, baby, we could go look at that other one.”

“but you were so excited to come here?”

“y/n?” you whipped your head around to see the godforsaken man that you couldn’t stand.

“what’s a pretty little thing like you doing here?”

jeongin squeezed your hand tighter than before.

“and who’s this guy?”

“he’s the boyfriend that i’ve told you about thousands of times,” you grumbled.

“doesn’t seem like much,” he looked jeongin up and down, “i’m sure he wouldn’t stand a chance against me.”

“i didn’t think you’d be this bold in front of him.”

“anything to have a chance with your—“ jeongin’s fingers were wrapped around his throat, shoving him into a clothing rack with an animalistic look in his eyes.

“who the hell do you think you are?” he yelled out, his shoes landing right into the stomach of the guy who was already groaning in pain.

“you’re lucky i’m not going to kill you right here in front of her.”

requested. masterlist. /@hanjisick

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pupcuck · 1 month

Text

ASKING FOR IT !

ft. og4 leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. p in v, smut, cheating (not on reader), ooc leon sorry, he’s mean, negging, misogyny, reference to past rape/non-con, unresolved trauma, suicidal thoughts duhhh, he calls reader ugly a lot, leon subs for his gf but doms reader, non-con to consensual sex, manipulation, some .. uh waterboarding? he dunks your head in water, opioid addiction but it’s minor LMFAOO

note. haii… um feedback whether it’s good or bad appreciated really forced myself to write this so im like ack. hating everything i write but! ignore typos :3 it’s not as fleshed out as i wanted .. soooo it reads pretty jolty but yah 😭 and the smut is like not. IDK I’m ugh not into it just couldn’t bring myself to extend stuff that I really wanted to develop n he’s ooc. BUT!! again ignore typos or I’ll cry n feedback/constructive criticism appreciated <3

Leon has a girlfriend. He can never hold down a girl, his ability to scare women away is preternatural, so it’s a big deal. And she’s fucking hot. Not like model hot, but pornstar hot. She’s got tits so firm they might as well be bulletproof. Bottle blonde with eyes that swallow up her whole face. Her stomach doesn’t crease when she sits. It’s the type of beauty that takes its form in slashes of red lace and nylon. Not many women are out of his league, but she is.

They have hot sex like attractive people tend to do, and it goes something along the lines of this.

He goes:

Is that dick good, baby? You like it? Right there, baby?

And she goes:

Fuck, yes, baby! Harder, deeper— Oh, right there!

And then she doesn’t cum.

So there’s that, but he’s working on it.

Leon doesn’t take well to tips on how to fuck. Reading advice columns in the Men’s Health magazine leaves a funny taste in his mouth. It might be the blood from the castrated image of his masculinity. Who knows.

He struggles with that sort of thing. A nice face does nothing for a man who doesn’t actually like anything about himself. Leon’s still that wimpy self-hating loser he was all those years ago. In all fairness to God, there are a few added tweaks here and there. Some bug fixes. Now he’s drunk and shallow too! Misanthropic when he’s at his very best.

As a kid, mom told Leon to be a nice boy so he was a nice boy. Not because he was ever a particularly nice boy, but for her sake. So instead of acting out he would go and crush ants beneath his thumb in the front yard because there is this mean part of Leon that splinters inside of him like cooked bones.

Life to Leon is being fucked into apologising for being alive so it’s no wonder he’s still harbouring the insecurities of a boy he isn't.

When he was eighteen it was by ugly old men who abhorred him for being the embodiment of whatever it was they were hiding from their wives. His legs looked nice thrown over a pair of big shoulders. They were so thin back then, model-type shit. All of those men mildly resembled his dad, but that’s something he wouldn’t quite like to crack down on yet. Leon’s being open enough as it is.

When he was twenty-one it was his headache of a first girlfriend. It was the bullet wound in his shoulder. When he was twenty-two it was being passed around boot camp like a dirty needle. When he was twenty-seven it was Luis who was nothing and everything in between. It was a picture book princess like Ashley. The scar on his shoulder. Stigmata. Glory Be. Whatever.

(And Jack, it was always Jack. Pale all over like a healed scar.)

What Leon is trying to get across, he’s not quite sure. Maybe that he's nice in theory and the reality is he’s a self-confessed charlatan of niceness. Or that he can’t fuck. He can’t fuck because he is deeply traumatised. Yeah. Maybe that’s what he’s trying to say. It’s an excuse, sure, doesn’t make it the truth though. Leon can’t fuck ‘cause he’s useless at most things that don’t include guns. He can’t fuck ‘cause he was unattractive as a teenager and that solidified the way he feels about himself now.

Leon’s got one thing going for him - he fingers her pussy till his fingers prune. Eats her out till he gets lockjaw.

“Oh, you’re so good at that,” she says, kissing his slicked-up lips.

Then her eyes flit to his hard dick and she gives him that strange half-smile. One that seems to say: Not with that. His dick. Obviously.

His shit is big enough, it’s long enough— It’s enough. And it’s pretty. Could put a bow on to make it real cute. Could manufacture a dildo inspired by it. So Leon cannot for the life of him wrap his head around her problem. It’s not his dicks fault her pussy is fucking broken. Her broken pussy doesn’t get to make his dick sad. Doesn’t get to lay devastating blows on his gone-with-the-wind ego.

Another thing is, her sister is an ugly bitch. That upsets Leon and his dick in tow. You’re a student, taking a break for some reason Leon has not bothered to fathom. He couldn’t care less. Go do it someplace else. In this house, you’re nothing more than a cockblock. Leon could forgive you for being a cockblock if you weren’t ugly. Or vice versa.

It would be okay if Leon wasn’t stuck at home with you for hours at a time. Work fucked up his back, so he’s staying here in his girlfriend’s apartment eating her food, running her taps, fucking her badly and shitting on her sister.

You’re sat on the other end of the table with a soggy bowl of cereal while he nurses a juice box like a real man. What do ugly little things like you think about anyway?

When Leon was ugly he thought about forcing his dick into the cute girl next door between his more regular thoughts of what to eat for dinner and whether he stocked up on toilet paper or not.

When he was ugly, his day was made simply by a pretty girl looking in his general direction. So Leon makes sure to look in yours. Y’know, to fuel your perverted wet dreams. Your rape fantasies. What freaks think about when they’re near hot guys. Well, it’s strange actually. You tend to totally ignore him. When the two of you make brief eye contact, you don’t flounder or duck or bow your head like you’re shy— You just move on with your life. That bothers him. Leon’s hot now. He’s not the type of man you just brush over like that. He’s the type you gawk at in broad daylight, he’s the sort of guy you see in soft porn magazines.

“Good morning,” his girlfriend greets, “have a good sleep, sweetie?” She bumps your hip when you stand up to hug her.

She’s wearing stockings today. Oh, he loves stockings. He loves pencil skirts. He loves— He loves office wear. He wants to be put over her lap and spanked raw perhaps.

“Yeah, it’d be nice if your boyfriend stopped moaning like a girl though.” It’s said into her ear, but Leon hears it.

“I’m going now, honey,” his girlfriend tells him.

Like a good boy, Leon stands to bid her goodbye. Her blouse is sheer, shows off her black bra and he eyes it with distaste.

“What’s wrong, Leon?”

He doesn’t speak. Just glares at her perfect set of tits like a baby weaned off milk.

“I can’t take them off,” she snorts.

Leon wishes she could. Hang ‘em up in the closet and pop them back on when it’s time to play. Tits are for the bedroom. Otherwise, they’re too much of a distraction. Instead, he settles on slipping his hand up her skirt to check if she’s wearing panties. (There’s no panty line showing through her pencil skirt and that��s always a bad sign.) She shoos him away.

So Leon leans in for a kiss, and she says, “Nuh-uh, honey, you’ll ruin my makeup.” Then she gives in ‘cause Leon can be kinda cute when he tries hard enough. “Just one, okay?”

“Yeah.” Leon nods. Her kisses are analgesic. Which is unfortunate considering he has an opioid addiction. Almost an addiction.

“One,” she counts, Leon kisses her again, “two, three, four.”

She’s teasing him now.

“Okay, well, keep an eye on her, Leon.”

“I’m not twelve,” you say, exiting the kitchen to spare yourself the sight of him groping your older sister.

Yeah, and Leon’s not a bang nanny.

He wipes the red from his lips, takes his juice box from the table where you’re no longer and decides jerking off in the shower will make him feel better. Leon does. He finishes. Watches his seed wash down the drain and wonders if that was wasteful. A short intermission is taken, then he jerks off in front of her full-body mirror. His biceps flex and his abs tighten, and he looks fucking good.

Why isn’t she cumming? What’s wrong with her? Is she getting too old? Is menopause hitting already? She’s only thirty-something. It can’t be that, and she asked Leon to pick up tampons last week— Unless they were for you.

Nobody in this house tells Leon anything. Another shower is what he needs. No, he needs a smoke. Leon doesn’t smoke. He does the next best thing, rests idly against the railings of her balcony, observing the ballet of D.C. life. Man, he could throw himself over right now. Splat against the asphalt and that would be it. It’d all be over. Hauling his weight over would be no problem. Catastrophizing to pass the time. Men used to do this for a living in Ancient Greece. What happened to philosophising? Leon could be a philosopher, all they did was spout nonsense and he is good at that. Not at fucking, however.

Beer. Yeah. Beer. That’s what he needs. Leon ransacks the fridge to no avail. Health-conscious living is the reason for misery, he believes. See, very insightful, modern-day Socrates right here. Lean proteins, vegan substitutes, low-fat yoghurt— It’s so girly it makes him sick.

“She’s still on a health kick,” you say from behind him, “I thought it was a New Years thing, but she’s still, like, super into it.”

Why are you talking to him? Leon blinks at you owlishly. “Right,” he says.

You give him a funny look, turning back to the counter to use the coffee machine. Don’t you want him? You’re not shy. Why aren’t you shy? Shouldn’t you be shy? Ugly Leon was mute around girls whether they were short, fat, ugly or pretty. Shit, he is clucking for a beer.

“There's Chardonnay under the sink.” Well, that’s unhelpful.

“Yeah, I don’t- I don’t drink that.” He would like to finish his sentence off with ‘girly shit’ but you seem like the type to find that offensive.

“Figured.” The coffee machine whirs. A lobotomised silence ensues. “Good talk.”

You’re so ugly you’re asking for it. Perfect subject for the ‘I can’t make my girlfriend cum, is her pussy broken?’ experiment. Ugly girls don’t count as a fuck, right? Not when they’re sent to the very back of your mind after said fuck. He wonders how many girls counted the uglier him as an official lay.

You’re on your tummy reading a book. The Beautiful and Damned. Leon had no idea they wrote a book about him. The door creaking exposes his creeping against his will.

“Do you need something?” you ask without batting an eye.

The swell of your ass is nice. “Uh, yeah, I do.”

Rolling over and sitting up to face him, you tilt your head to the side. “Go on.”

“I want to have sex with you.” Woah. Okay. That’s a genie he can’t put back in the bottle. Fuck, why does he do this stupid shit? Leon should just kill himself. All roads lead to suicide. Every sign points towards suicide and he is still holding on for dear life.

Think about Sherry. Sherry won’t care, kids hit sixteen and don’t give a fuck about much, he reasons with the voice in his head. How about Claire? Oh, she’ll think good fucking riddance. Redfield? No way. You are truly out of options, Kennedy.

“I’m sorry?”

Oh, god no, Leon’s the one that should be sorry. “You heard me.” The apology comes out incredibly wrong. “I’m helping you out.”

“Helping me out with what? I’m sorry, Leon, I didn’t… I didn’t think I— I don’t know what made you think I wanted this from you, but I don’t like you—“

You don’t like him? Why not? He’d like a list of reasons with a page-long explanation. What’s not to like? The hair. It’s the hair. Blond is too girly. That’s what it is.

“—I mean, you’re with my sister, did you really think I would say yes? I’m sorry, I’m just a little confused, where is this coming from? Gosh, I really… I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m helping you out,” Leon repeats, using his hands to gesture at your face, at your body. “No one else is gonna do it.” This apology has gone way out of bounds. A simple sorry would have sufficed.

“What..?” Something doleful crosses your face, then it twists unpleasantly. “You think I want to have sex with you… ‘cause I’m not cute? Like, you think I’m…”

Ugly, yes. He does. Only a little. Can you turn over? He wants to make you cum. “You’re a virgin, yeah?”

“Oh my god, there’s, like, something wrong with you!” You stand to your full height in a pitiful attempt to appear frightening. That face is enough to scare a man away already. “Get out— And I am so telling her when she gets back home, I told her I didn’t like you, I told her and now you just-“

Leon grabs you by the jaw, squeezes you so tight it clicks. “Okay, sweetheart, here’s how this is going to go,” he starts, taking both your wrists in a single hand, “we’re going to start over, and you’re going to be a good little girl and apologise to me like you really mean it.”

“Apologise for what?” It comes out muffled through your forced pout so he chooses to ignore you.

“I don’t know what you fuckin’ said.” Leon should just end it here, he should let go of you and check into the nearest asylum. He’s hot. Leon is box blond. He’s tall enough to dwarf most girls. His face is nice. His body is nicer. So he doesn’t know what his problem is. Once pinned down, you shrink away from him, expression so sour your skin looks ready to melt off your skull.

And then he fucks you till you stop screaming. He leaves you in a withered heap, heads back to his room to take a well-deserved nap, hides his face in the pillows. They smell like her. He should think about killing himself some more. That gun looks awfully shiny. Nth time could be the charm.

She gets home in the evening, drops her bag on the floor to alert him of her entrance.

“I missed you.” Leon noses at her neck.

“You were sleeping.” She ruffles his hair like he’s a child.

“I still missed you.”

“Even when you’re sleeping?”

In the least creepy way possible, he wants to wear her skin as a suit, and she thinks his body doesn’t yearn for her at every sleeping second?

“The most when I’m sleeping, have bad dreams without you,” Leon mumbles groggily.

“How cute,” she muses, “good day?”

“Great day.” Leon nods. “Real productive.”

“Oh yeah? What’d you get up to?” A singular red nail strokes along his spine.

“Thought about you,” he answers, leaving out the part where he spent half of his time jerking off. Oh, and the part where he fucked her sister into submission. He raped you. He did. Leon doesn’t like that word. Far too harsh.

“Now, don’t push it, mister.” When she smiles there’s a lack of wrinkles— Not even smile lines, it’s artificial almost.

Leon’s good at pushing buttons. He should get paid for it. “It’s true, if you said jump I’d ask how high.”

“You’re so funny, Leon.” She kisses his head and laughs all prim and proper.

“Serious, babe, I’m super partial to jumping,” he says to hear her laugh again. He’s more partial to suicide. It’s great. A one-way ticket off of God’s green inferno. Who would he even be without suicide ideation?

“Alright, but I’d like you all in one piece.” She kisses his cheek. “No jumping, okay, honey?” She kisses his neck and his collarbones and his Adam’s apple and he’s unable to breathe.

“Okay,” Leon says. He gets it now. She’s mommying him. Maybe this is what Leon needs. To play house. A daddy to fuck his throat and a mommy to sit on his dick and tell him that he’s a good boy and he’s needed and he won’t have to think if he has a mommy and daddy to do that for him.

Can he backtrack on the rape thing? Trust Leon to take a good thing and ruin it in the worst way possible. If he kissed you he could’ve wormed his way out of it. Told her it was the medication he’s on, that he had a mental breakdown, a midlife crisis.

At dinner, your silence slips under the radar like cumstains on motel bedsheets. You pick at your food, and when Leon’s knee brushes yours under the table, you excuse yourself. Sometimes he thinks that he is a bad person, this can be backed up by many things. Violating you might outweigh saving the world.

In bed, he thinks about changing, about calling his therapist in the morning, he might take a leap off that balcony, cleaning up his act sounds terribly hard. Leon does this all with his head tucked into the hollow of his girlfriend’s neck. The thinking has killed his boner and now he can’t get it up. So he pretends to fall asleep. It’s an unconvincing performance ‘cause the moment she swipes a hand over his ass he lets out a disgruntled noise. Leon clenches so quickly his stomach caves in.

“You don’t like that, honey?”

He shakes his head, overgrown bangs falling in his eyes. Leon has a nice ass. It’s no wonder she wants to touch it, leg presses have done him wonders, but still, it’s off-limits. She can’t sweet talk her way into this anytime soon.

“Why, Leon?” She’s cupping his ass like he’s a girl. Leon’s not a girl. “You’d look so cute.”

“No,” he whines, and it sounds kind of sexy. He gets it. He can see the appeal.

“I think you just need some encouragement, baby.” She’s taking him apart like a gun. Folding him like laundry. Milks his prostate so well he sleeps like a baby. Not even a shadow of an orgasm to be seen from her side.

She leaves early the next morning and he’s left alone to ruminate. What he finds out today is that you’re pretty diligent at sucking dick when forced.

Leon thinks he would like to break you in a way that only he can fix.

He pushes your head down on his dick till your lips are stretched so far they split at the corners, you gag wetly each time the fat tip knocks the back of your throat, heavy balls slapping against your chin.

“Aww, look at you,” Leon coos, “little girl taking big things.”

Fat tears well in your eyes, a faint tremor betrays your effort to hold them back, a single blink and they roll down your cheeks like dewdrops. It might be the dick lodged in your throat, pulsing under your tongue— Yeah, no, it’s his dick in your mouth. That’s why you're upset. No other reason for it. Leon finds you a little ungrateful. A lot of women would pay for this, to drain his balls. Hell, your sister loves to do it.

“One at a time, sweetheart,” he says as he guides you to his balls, “can’t have you choking, can we?” You look up at him blankly. Leon thought he was funny and that’s all that matters. “Go on, spit on ‘em, get me nice and wet.” The drool pooling beneath your tongue drizzles his balls in clear strings, his drippy tip bumps the bridge of your nose, rests comfy on your brow ridge.

You’re struggling real bad. He’ll take it as a compliment. The thing is, you refuse to just lick them, pulling off each ball with a wet pop! and a dry cough. Leon starts to zone out so he shoves you off and quite pathetically, you fall flat on your back.

“You didn’t shave,” Leon notes in distaste, he was going to do you a favour too.

“No— Not for you.” You squirm like a fish on the docks when he hovers over you.

“Not for me, right.”

“Anyone but you.”

“You're not gonna do it for anyone, sweetheart, know why?” Leon clicks his tongue when you dodge his kiss, twisting your neck to keep a distance.

“Why?”

“No one else wants you,” he states, “you’re lucky that I want you.”

“Well, that’s not true.” You’re stubborn amongst all your other undesirable traits.

Leon scoffs. “What, so you ever had a boyfriend?” He runs his index finger along your slit. Bone dry. Serious? He assumes you’re still sore from yesterday.

“That’s none of your fucking business.”

“Don’t get mad at me, honey, I’m just helping you out.” Leon spits on your pussy, then on his thick cock for good measure, jerks his shaft and presses a thumb to his tip to guide it into you. Your lips fold inwards around him as he breaches your tiny hole. There’s too much resistance for it to be a smooth sailing journey, and you’re new to cock, cunt pushing him out as your body tenses. “I’m being nice to you, so you should say thank you.”

“Oh, god,” you mutter, brows knit in what might be pain or pleasure.

“Yeah, that’s what you’re calling me now?” The look you give him is priceless, small hands settling on his chest as you push at him weakly. “No, baby, you don’t get to do that.” Leon bottoms out, he rolls his hips forward to grind the head of his dick into your cervix, the fleshly opening moulds to his tip and you cry out. He can never tell if you’re enjoying it.

Leon sticks his fingers in your mouth to coat them in spit, you retch and he rubs figure eights on your clit, only then does your cunt loosen up its hold on him. It’s a quick process, the quicker he rubs you raw, the wetter you get, biting down on your tongue to keep quiet, but low groans slip past your cracked lips.

“Oh, there we go, baby, that’s it,” Leon coos, his cock slicked up by your wet pussy, sliding in and out with ease. His hips snap forward, forcing himself deeper into your messy little pussy, so wet you’re dripping down his balls, wetness stuck to your inner thighs.

“Fuck— I can’t, I can’t do it, ‘s too big,” you whimper, a hand slipping between your bodies to lay on your stomach. What you don’t understand is that he is big, yeah, but your pussy just needs to be broken in. Like a new pair of shoes.

“You’re doing it, baby,” Leon says, ‘cause you are doing it. You’re taking it. Body going rigid with each brutal thrust into your sopping wet hole. Whether you can take it or not isn’t for you to decide anyway. “I’m going to stuff your little pussy full,” he tells you.

“No,” you choke out, scratching at his chest, nails too blunt to do any sort of damage. Thank fuck. His girlfriend would go nuts.

It’s a satisfying victory, he covers your mouth to concentrate all his energy into this creampie, fills you to the brim, seed thick enough to stick to your insides. The original aim of his ‘experiment’ is forgotten, Leon doesn’t care if you cum or cry or pass out on his dick.

“I’m tellin’ her when she comes home.” Your threat is weak. He feared the consequences of yesterday, but you said nothing.

“You’re not telling her, you like me too much,” Leon decides, “I know you do, baby.”

“I don’t like you at all.” Your bottom lip trembles, fists balled up by your sides. The contempt only turns him on.

“No, but I think you know I’m right, don’t you?” No one else wants you, and you know that. Leon knows you know that. He’s the only one that is ever going to fuck you.

“Right about what? You’re a fucking psycho— I could get you locked up, I should get you locked up.”

“You should, so what're you waiting for?” If you did report him, Leon would just kill himself, going to prison sounds like a bore. “I think, sweetheart, that secretly, you really like it when I rape you.”

And your silence proves him right.

That report never comes. Duh. You love his dick. You like being roughed up. You know you’re deserving of it. Jesus Christ, Leon needs to call his shrink. Honestly, being around you is hard. It’s like his guilty conscience has developed a human body, shambling around the apartment in the shape of a malformed ghost girl, reminding him of the shit he’s said and done to you. You’re spinning in his necrosed brain like one of those music box ballerinas.

“Leon, be a doll and do me up,” his girlfriend is facing away from him, the smooth skin of her back and shoulders bared to him.

Leon only hears the ‘do me’ part, kissing the nape of her neck, reaching round to grab at her fat tits. “I love you…”

“I love you too, baby, but what do you think you’re doing?”

Leon makes a motion with his fingers, she sees it in the mirror.

“What is that, sign language?”

“No, I want to finger you.”

“Oh, well, that’s lovely, baby, but it’s not the time for that. I asked you to zip me up, Leon.” He zips her up while wondering how she can be so unaffected by him being so stupid.

“Hey, are you ready to go?” You knock on the door, you keep hiding your face from him today. His girlfriend said it’s ‘cause you have makeup on. Apparently that changes things. It’s sort of cute. Like, are you shy? You should be shy.

“Oh, no one likes cliffhangers, honey,” she says, forcing you to swap out some open-toe sandals for a pair of her heels. “Okay, Leon, I’ve left your dinner in the fridge, yes?”

Yes, mommy. “Yeah, babe.”

“And there’s snacks in the cupboard now, oh, and don’t use the tap water, it tastes strange so I stocked up— Leon, will you stop doing that with your jaw?”

Sorry, mommy. “Sorry, babe.”

“He’s totally fucking gurning,” you inform her in a way that screams playground snitch. He’ll choke you out for that.

“Gurning, what’s that?” His girlfriend asks cluelessly. This bitch is in her early thirties, Leon has no idea why she acts fifty. Whatever, it’s hot, he gets a girl with all the traits of an older lady without the sagging.

“Like, y’know, ‘cause he’s on meds.” What a little shit. Is this you getting back at him? Some petty fucking act of revenge? Getting his medication taken away from him by his health freak girlfriend?

“Medication? I didn’t know about this, Leon.” She looks at him like he’s killed her mother. Or raped her sister. If only she knew.

“Yeah, for my back, my back hurts, babe— Th-That’s why I’m on leave. My back hurts.” What a compelling act. Totally not a dude that’s two minutes away from injecting black tar heroin.

“Who prescribed them, a doctor or a vet?” You cock your head to the side. Fine. You fucking got him.

“Same thing.” Leon shrugs.

She makes him empty the bedside desk of pills. “Leon, good boys don’t do this. We don’t take drugs in this household, let me take them off your hands.”

“They’re- Babe, they’re not drugs, they’re for my back— I hurt my back.” Granted, his back stopped aching a few days back, he’s just taking advantage of the break. Also, he’s not a child.

“Your back, honey, I know it hurts.” She waves him off. “We can fix it, huh? I can book you in for acupuncture or cupping— Oh, what about a chiropractor?”

“Fine,” Leon says, voice cracking, watching in devastation as she takes his pills in a black garbage bag.

“Bye, Leon, see you later, honey.” She blows him a kiss and he catches it. He has to catch it.

“Yeah, bye, Leon!” You wave at him, looking happier than you have in days.

The door opens an hour later and Leon takes his hand out of his pants. You stand in front of him with red eyes and messy makeup. Leon, being the gentleman he is, takes you into his arms and rubs your back to soothe you as he tells you, more than a little cruel, I fucking told you so.

At least now you know that some guys aren’t as nice as Leon. Some men will spit in your face without considering how tight your pussy is, they won’t even think about how good your tits look in that push-up bra. See? That’s what the real world is like.

The bath fills as he bends you over the sofa. You’re prettier from behind, dress hiked up, soaked panties around your ankles. His hand smooths down the front of your stomach to cup your puffy cunt, prodding at your swollen clit. You shaved. Funny. Thought you were going to get a dick that wasn’t his.

Leon kneels, he spreads your ass cheeks to lick into your pussy from behind, tongue lapping up the beads of arousal that dribble down the seam of your cunt like sticky honey. He laps at your hole and you arch your back to push into him, his tongue fucking your pussy so well, sloppy sounds fill his ears.

“Been wanting to do this,” Leon says into your cunt, tongue making its way back up the centrefold of your fat pussy, he blows spit bubbles on your clit and then he nips at it until you cry out, startled by the jolt of pain. His dick kicks in his sweats. You taste good to make up for that face of yours.

You cream in his mouth so sweetly, toes curling against the wooden floor. Leon wipes his mouth on his forearm, then he wraps it around your neck, pulling your body flush to his. In his chest, his heart flutters when you press a delicate kiss to his bicep. He feels it and you can’t unfeel that.

“I’m sorry, Leon,” you get out through shaky moans as he sandwiches his shaft between your chubby pussy lips, bumping the tip into your clit as his hips move back and forth. “I’m sorry… Didn’t know-“

“It’s okay, baby.” He kisses behind your ear. “It’s alright ‘cause you know now, huh?”

“Yeah,” you agree tearfully, tilting your head so it rests on his broad chest, he gives your pout some wet kisses.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, hm, baby?” Leon nudges you with his nose.

Your idea of cleaning up might be far from what Leon’s is. He doesn’t think you were expecting something so extreme. But it’s for thinking you’re worth something— For thinking that anyone else would do as little as touch you. It’s to wash off that pitiful attempt at makeup.

He bends you in half over the tub. Your tits hang low enough to be squashed against the edge painfully as Leon dunks your head into lukewarm water. Holy shit. Tomorrow will be the day he overdoses. Why is he doing this?

A strangled noise passes your lips as he lets up, and you re-emerge, Leon wipes a hand over your face to rid you of the streaky mascara and sticky gloss.

“There we go, sweetheart, nice and clean.” He presses the tip into your leaking cunt, it catches on your hole, and you flail, water spilling over the edge, surface tension broken as it ripples.

Honest to god, Leon hasn’t fucked a pussy tighter than yours, and when he holds you beneath the surface? Man, you might deglove his dick. He works his cock into you, and when he’s balls deep in your sloppy cunt, Leon allows you to lift your head to which you pant and gasp and cough. All the shit a drowning person does when they’re tossed a lifesaver.

Your body sags, hanging limp with only Leon to hold you up as he roughly fucks in and out of your poor hole, heavy balls slapping against your skin.

“I love you, Leon,” you tell him, rubbing at your stinging nose with your fist, pussy tightening when he pinches your throbbing clit.

“Aw, do you, baby? You love me?” Leon laughs, the mean smile on his face hidden in your shoulder, “That’s so cute.” He rocks back and forth, shallow thrusts that are more for him than they are for you, rabbiting his dick into your squelching pussy until his balls pulse and his shaft twitches inside of you. “Real— Real fuckin’ cute,” he grits out as he buries himself to the hilt, shooting his load in your willing little pussy.

“I think so,” you whimper, thighs trembling as the knot in your stomach snaps and you coat his cock in your slick. Hey, his dick isn't a problem then.

Leon thinks about calling his shrink. The bad shit he does won’t fix itself like he wants. “Clean up,” he tells you, looking at the wet ground. The soaked rug. Your face.

“What… Leon, where are you going?” You use your palms to mop the excess water from your face. “Seriously, Leon? I just… I told you that…”

He has things to do - Leon’s going to call his shrink and very promptly throw himself over the balcony when she doesn’t answer his call.

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy angst #leon s kennedy smut #resident evil x you #resident evil angst #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

Note

alright hear me out. you’re secretly in love with joel. and joel is ridiculously attracted to you and he’s so protective of you and has this massive crush that he refuses to acknowledge. but Tess can totally tell and either

a. she is super jealous and annoyed about it. she confronts joel in some way and maybe treats you shitty. but joel totally calls her out and basically admits that he does like you.

b. she wants you two to get together. and tries to force you two to spend more time alone with each other and maybe she confronts joel and you walk in on their convo or she just tells you outright that joel is into you but will never admit it.

tesscue part two! i love it

Better Off

Joel Miller x f!reader

joel miller masterlist

Joel's trying to keep his distance from her. But Tess has other plans for him and the girl he's trying so hard to forget about.

warnings | 18+ canon-typical violence, angst, feelings

a/n | this can be read as a standalone or as a part two to Looking, either way it's fun :)

.................................

She would never admit it, but she’s disappointed that things haven’t changed all that much with Joel, not since that night he came looking for her and all but murdered that guard that had been giving her trouble. Not since she kissed him on the cheek and told him how she feels about him.

He still won’t really talk to her, not unless it’s business. But now that she’s working almost entirely with Tess, even those opportunities are few and far in between. When they do speak, he keeps his eyes anywhere but on her. His hands in his lap, the laces of his boots, something just over her shoulder, but he never quite meets her gaze. More than anything, she feels embarrassed that she had been so forward with him that night. She had thought that he felt similarly, with the way he was blushing like a teenager at her flirting, but now it seems pretty clear that Joel Miller wants nothing to do with her outside of their business partnership.

She’s trying to not let it get to her, but her mind can’t help needling at it. Does he think she’s too young for him? Too talkative? Too crass? She flits away these questions easily, but her mind always settles on the fear that Joel just doesn’t take her seriously, not really. So, she’s resigned herself to the reality that her little crush is going to have to stay just that, focusing on her work with Tess as a distraction from him.

While Joel may be getting more distant, she and Tess have become quick friends in their work establishing a new trade partner right on the border of Vermont, often staying up late into the night when the talk shifts from smuggling routes to loose gossip and life. Joel had often passed by them, sitting at the kitchen table in his apartment, grumbling to himself before closing his bedroom door with a definitive thud. Tess would always apologize for her “dumbass associate,” and she would just shrug, trying not to take his clear hostility personally, though it sure seemed to be directed toward her. A few months passed like that, and with each day she convinced herself a bit more that she didn’t care about Joel Miller.

With summer creeping in, it’s just about time for Joel and Tess to make another seasonal trip out to Bill and Frank, and when she gets back to his apartment a few nights before they’re supposed to go, she’s surprised by the conversation he and Tess are having.

“Then we’ll just push it back.” Tess shakes her head in her hand where she’s sitting at the kitchen table.

“We can’t, Joel. Bill and Frank are already skittish as it is, if we go changing dates on them it’s just gonna raise their hackles.” Joel looks at her blankly, slumping back in his chair.

“Then you gotta push that meeting back instead.” Tess scoffs.

“I can’t. It’s time sensitive what I got worked out with Marlene. It’s now or never. You gotta go to Bill and Frank’s without me. She can go with you.” Her mouth goes dry when Tess nods over to where she’s still standing in the doorway, and her stomach twists when Joel is so quick to protest against the idea.

“Tess, I’m not going with her.” Tess looks ready to smack him upside the head, but she interjects, walking further into the room and fixing him with a steely look.

“What? You don’t think I can handle it, Miller? Well I can assure I manage just fine out there. Been running the route to Vermont nearly every week so don’t worry about me. I’ll go with you, and you’ll be lucky to have me along for the trip.” She shocks even herself with that outburst, but obviously not as much as Joel whose mouth is hanging open, eyes wide as he looks at her. Tess claps her hands together, startling him out of his surprised stupor.

“Well, that settles that. Thanks for taking on asshole duty, I owe you one.” Tess grins at her as Joel scoffs at her words. She however, is starting to realize exactly what she just signed up for.

It’s going to be a long hike.

…

Her mind has been swirling ever since they left the QZ. Now, pacing back and forth outside the hollowed-out gas station that Joel is rummaging through for supplies he had stashed, she keeps replaying the conversation she had overheard the night before between him and Tess. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but when she heard Tess say her name, she had stopped in her tracks, leaning back behind the door frame of Joel’s bedroom to listen in.

“Joel, you’re being fucking ridiculous.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tess laughed at that.

“Oh, you know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re gonna scare her away with the way you treat her, is that what you want?”

“No. I just– just don’t care to be around her, that’s all.” Her heart dropped at that, but Tess was quick to reply.

“Well I don’t believe that for one second. It’s kinda hard to scowl at someone while you’re also giving them puppy dog eyes. Joel, it’s pretty fucking clear that you’re sweet on her. And I know for a fact that she’s had a little thing for you too. But if you keep treating her like shit, whatever chance you have left with her is gonna be gone. Or worse, you’re gonna cost me my best business partner.” A heavy silence fell after Tess’ rant, Joel clearing his throat a few times before he answered.

“Look, it’s better off this way. She’s better off not getting– tangled up with me. Fuck– I’ll try to be– polite, I guess. Not gonna lose you a business partner, but it’s better for everyone if I keep my distance. She’ll get over it– tough as nails, that one. It’s better for her, Tess. Alright?” Tess sighed.

“Fine. But I still think it’s a shame that you’re just throwing away a chance at something actually good in this world.”

She had scurried out of his apartment at the sound of their conversation dying out, and ever since, her mind has been replaying it on an infinite loop. It had shocked her, hearing Joel all but openly admit that he had been harboring his own feelings for her. But that shock quickly rolled over to dismay that it was made explicitly clear that he wasn’t going to do anything to act on those feelings.

“You good?” She’s startled out of her thoughts by Joel shouldering his way out of the gas station, wordlessly passing her one of the guns he had stashed before. She nods as they already step back into stride, turning back to continue following the highway toward Bill and Frank’s.

Their hike so far has been quiet, save for monosyllabic communication, and the silence is starting to get to her, just enough that she finally opens her mouth. Anything’s better than staying stuck in her head.

“Joel? Can I ask you a question?” He hums out a reluctant permission, his head tilting slightly to look at her as they keep walking.

“What did you do before– well, before?” She knows he doesn’t like talking about the past, and judging by the way his face screws up at her question, she guesses he might not even answer, but she’s so sick of conversations about FEDRA guards and trade routes. She’d give anything to talk about something normal.

When he doesn’t answer, she sighs.

“Oh c’mon. We’ve got like another four hours of walking, might as well fill the time with something.” Still nothing, his eyes staying fixed forward on the crumbling road ahead of them. She huffs.

“Well I was a nurse– ER, if you can believe it.” That seems to pique his interest, finally glancing at her.

“Were you on shift when everything–?” She nods to his trailing off question.

“Sure was. Booked it out of there when my patients started taking bites out of doctors. Pfft, I remember one of my coworkers refusing to leave because she was worried about getting paid for her overtime.” She lets out a weak laugh, shaking her head at the strange memory. Joel clears his throat.

“I was a contractor. Me and my brother had a little business– building homes, that type of stuff. It was, um, good work.” She offers him a smile, surprised when he offers her one back. The moment is short lived however, when two infected come darting out of the treeline.

It’d be foolish to waste ammo, both of them scrambling to pull out knives. She makes quick work of the one coming up on her, turning to see Joel struggling on the ground with the other. But before she can help him, she gets tackled to the ground by another screeching infected, her knife skittering out of her hand at the impact. She rolls on the ground with the snarling creature, fighting back its snapping jaws as best she can, though it continues to press closer and closer into her. And then its body goes slack over her, and she can’t help the stifled shriek she lets out when it slumps heavy on top of her. Her whole body trembles as she shoves the body off of her, finding Joel standing over her, a wild look in his eyes.

He kneels down between her legs, helping her sit up as his hands dart anxiously over her, checking for bites. There’s a loud rushing in her ears, her hands shaking as she grasps onto the front of his flannel. His palms cup her face, warm and steadying as he coaxes her to look at him.

“Are you ok? Not hurt anywhere?” She’s never gotten so close to death, the shock of it settling icy and slick in her bones. She takes a shuddering breath before answering.

“I’m– I’m fine. I’m ok.” The worry rounding his eyes dissolves, his face setting back in a gruff, empty expression. She hates how she tries to lean into him when he takes his hands away from her face. He gets up with a groan, offering her a hand, but she has enough dignity to refuse to take it, scrambling onto her still unsteady legs.

“We should keep moving. There’s probably more where those came from.” She doesn’t respond to his words, just starts walking again, trying to steady the persistent shake in her hands.

The rest of their hike is silent until Joel suggests they break for the night, setting up camp in a thicket of trees just off the highway. They eat their rations silently in the slow-darkening summer dusk. She’s surprised when he offers her his flask.

“Helps with the nerves.” She swears she could get whiplash with the way he’s swinging from seeming to not give a fuck to acting like he cares. She wordlessly takes the flask from him, ignoring the flicker of his fingers brushing hers as she takes a hard swig.

“You sure you’re alright?” She can’t help but scoff at that.

“Careful, Miller. A girl might start to think you actually give a fuck about her.” He looks stricken by her harsh words, the fading light of day casting shadows over his furrowed expression.

“I– I do give a fuck about you.” She shakes her head, wrapping her arms around her shins where she’s sitting on her spread out sleeping bag.

“Oh I know. But you don’t want to, do you? That’s the problem. You don’t want to care about me. You think I’d be better off if you kept your distance from me.” His jaw goes slack at her words, leaning over his knees where he’s sitting across from her.

“I thought I heard you– you were listening in, weren’t you? To me and Tess? How much did you hear?” She sighs, turning her gaze down.

“Heard all of it.” It’s more of a mumble, but Joel hears it.

“Look, I’ll admit it– I like you– probably more than I should. But I’m right, darlin. It’s better this way. I’m no good for you. You best just forget about this.” Her head whips up at that, finally meeting his surprisingly sorrowful gaze.

“How can you say that, Joel? How could you possibly know what’s best for me? This isn’t about what’s best for me. You know what I think? I think you’re scared to let anyone get close to you. This isn’t better for me, it’s easier for you.” His expression has hardened, and she knows that she just pissed him off.

“That’s bullshit. You think this is easy for me? Pushing you away? Maybe you’ll understand when you’re a little older, darlin, but there ain’t anything easy about any of this.” She scoffs at that, anger coaxing up her spine.

“Oh please. That’s a weak excuse and you know it. Pulling the fucking age card. I’m not the one that needs to fucking grow up.” Somehow, in the heated volley of words, they’ve both ended up kneeling in front of each other, inching up into each other’s snarling faces.

“Oh, I need to grow up? That’s rich coming from the girl who just a few months ago was flirting with fucking feds for a few extra ration cards.” She does it before she can even think, her hand arcing with the goal of smacking him clean across his face, but before she can make contact, he grabs her wrist, holding her hand between them as she struggles in his grasp.

“Let go.” She can feel her anger seething off of herself, but Joel just cocks an eyebrow at her, firming up his grip on her wrist.

“No.” He says it so casually, she can’t help but laugh.

“What are you, a toddler? I said, let fucking go, you–” She’s cut off by his lips smashing into hers. Though she initially tries to fight it, she can’t help but mold her lips to his, seeking out the upper hand when she swipes her tongue over his bottom lip, causing him to groan lowly. He lets go of her wrist, his palms coming to squeeze at the curve of her hips as he topples back onto his ass, taking her with him as she straddles his thighs. It’s an angry, demanding little thing of a kiss, both of them fighting for dominance between swallowed gasps. He finally pulls back with a lewd smack, his eyes blown wide.

“You drive me fucking crazy, woman.” She snickers, tugging lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck.

“So much for not caring, Miller.” Tess was right. Tess was definitely right.

#joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #tlou

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another-lost-mc · 9 months

Note

Hellooooo first time requesting on your blog!

So for a long time I've wondered what it would be like if NB Satan & OG Satan were to meet & converse with each other. How would they react to each other? What questions would they ask? How would they respond? Etc. I was wondering how you would imagine this interaction would work?

Also, is it okay if I claim 🦄 anon?

A/N: Ooh that's such a neat idea. You know those “talk to your past/future self" tropes? I almost see OG Satan leading NB Satan through the present timeline version of House of Lamentation. It gives him a glimpse of what life will be like later, how things will change and what will still be the same. I kept this mostly wholesome because NB has enough angst potential without me adding to it. lol

SATAN x gn!Reader, 0.5k words, SFW.

Content: implied established relationship with gn!Reader.

The house itself is obviously a bit different. It’s older but also newer in some ways—updates and renovations over time, that sort of thing. It’s endured years of the siblings living there and all that entails. Their home is obviously loved and well-cared for, despite the little dents in the wall from their squabbles and the occasional scorched marks from some accidental fires. Those lingering remnants of the past each tell a story, and OG Satan offers to share them all.

I think NB Satan is just confused by everything he sees. There are portraits of himself on the walls, and there's lots of family photos where OG Satan looks so happy. OG Satan talks about his brothers while they walk slowly through the halls together. His voice is laced with fondness, especially even when he talks about Lucifer. He reminisces about pranks he attempted with Belphie that Lucifer managed to thwart somehow, but there’s no real bite in his tone. He can look back fondly on those memories and cherish them all, the good and the bad.

By the time they get to his bedroom, NB Satan has no idea what to think. He explores the familiar space but notices all the subtle differences: there are a lot of human world literature and movies strewn about, and he notices a jar of cat treats near the door so it's easy to grab a handful before going out to feed the strays. This bedroom feels less like a prison of his own making because it's comfortable and uniquely him and surprisingly warm.

OG Satan just kind of watches his other self with something like amusement, and NB Satan gets fed up feeling like the punchline to someone's idea of a joke.

"I don't get it. We're the same, aren't we? So why aren't you—how are you not—?"

"How am I not what?"

"How are you not angry all the time? Why are you so happy? Especially talking about him."

"Oh, I'm angry," OG Satan says, picking up a framed photo from his bedside table. He runs his fingers over the glass as he looks at the picture in his hands. "You know what it feels like, how it festers deep inside us. We're always looking for reasons to let our rage loose on the world so everyone else hurts as much as we do. But we both had to learn that there's more to life than that, didn't we?"

OG Satan hands him the photo, and NB Satan takes the frame carefully. It's a a photo of him and his family at a beach somewhere, and right there in the middle with their arms wrapped around his waist is—

"Our attendant?" he asks, eyes lingering on a familiar smile before reluctantly handing the photo back.

OG Satan nods. "If anything, you're the lucky one," he says, returning the picture to its proper place beside his bed. "I had to wait a lot longer to meet them than you did. I was lost just as you were, but then they came here and—well, I have a feeling you know how the rest of that story goes," he says, clearing his throat as a pink blush dusts his cheeks.

For the first time since they met, it feels like they finally understand each other. "...Yeah, I think I do."

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #satan x reader #obey me x reader #jes: 🦄 anon #x reader #gn!reader

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vampirzina · 3 months

Note

Hii :) I really liked what you wrote about fujin and reptiles with a pierced reader. Can I request something similar? Bi-han and Tomas with a reader who has pierced nipples. You don't have to do it if it makes you uncomfortable!

tw: gn pronouns, nsfw, mdni (!), established relationship, piercings and the like, afab reader

notes: two of my faves actually so yes i will! i heart them. i apologize if this is lackluster in any way

masterlist : lace divider

Bi Han’s so needy in his manhandling of your clothes at the time that he doesn’t even feel them. He’d been watching you like a hawk. Week after week you’ve been working him up to this moment, and bless intuition, you knew to shed your bra as soon as you escaped behind the wall that led to your room. No sooner were he there after you. You shed your shirt for him as he fumbles with your pants—and he’d have to double take. You dare him with playful eyes to touch, yet he has enough depleting restraint left to wait; you squeal when he practically rips your pants off of you now.

Bi Han’s second favorite place to mark you now is your breasts. Whether it be with his teeth to leave a few bite marks and hickeys, or cum—he makes sure that your pierced nipples pert from his cold touch are not neglected by time he’s finished with you. However, if they’re sore, he’ll comply and leave them alone for now but he recommends that you both do something to fix that problem if you can. He’s willing to be patient if you say there’s nothing to do but wait.

It’s unsaid, but Bi Han likes when you don’t wear your bra around him much more often than you think. It drives him a little crazy to feel them harden when he brushes his fingers over the piercing, and your soft mewl when he applies just the right amount of pressure to make you squirm in his lap. It frustrates him when you work him up far enough.

ᝰ

You giggled, moving his hand that snuck around your back from your breast. “Stop it. Just work.”

Bi Han grunted, nearly slapping the pen out of your hand when you picked it up to hand it to him—tauntingly, you both knew. You have to know what you’re doing, don’t you?

“Oh, my god. I just sat down on my spot and now you want me bent over,” you feigned total innocence, bracing a palm flat on his chest while your arm is hooked around his neck. “I think I’m going to leave you to do your work. There’s a lot to do, right?”

You only so much so leaned outward, and Bi Han is holding onto you for dear life. It makes you call his name in sheer tease—what has gotten into him?

You ask that, but when he shifts you further onto his lap, you feel the product of your teasing prodding at your damp cunt.

Bi Han’s grip goes from your hip to your tit to give it a good squeeze, and to stabilize you as he swiftly shoves his clothed and rock-hard dick impossibly closer to your core. You let out a gasp to his strained grunt.

“Stay and fix this,” he huffed. “An order.”

────

Bi Han warms his hands under your shirt these days.

Guide Tomas’ hands to feel them, and he’s completely hard on the spot. He doesn’t really asks questions about something he found incredibly hot, lest you think he doesn’t like them. After letting him touch, don’t expect him to let go—he spends an extraordinary amount of attention on them, whether it be with his fingers drenched from your slick or mouth. Despite that, it’s not that he doesn’t enjoy leaving hickey there, but he prefers leaving them on your thighs. Touch is already a big thing for Tomas, so god forbid if you tease him by not letting him touch you where he so obviously wants to.

You have to remind Tomas where your eyes are. Even in a completely innocent setting, when he’s not in the right state of mind in the moment and trying to make it through the day so that he could run home with/to you. His face flushes when you say the cliche line to him, and he meekly apologizes. Tomas can’t help himself—he loves to look. To him, they’re beautiful.

Tomas loves when you surprise him with different types of piercing jewelry on your breasts. He knows you don’t ask, but he tells you what he thinks of them (you appreciate it anyway). If you ask him his favorite, ideally it’s any, but it’s mostly the ones with jewels and hearts; to him, he says, brings so much attention to them from any angle.

ᝰ

Mouth completely ruined from eating you out, Tomas drags warm tongue kisses from your worn pussy up to your pierced breasts; all while maintaining eye contact. You whimper.

“These,” his hands come up to cup the underside of your tits. Tomas presses them together as far as they could go—and in a moment of great unserious-ness from him—shoves his faces into them and lets out a low moan. His thumbs press gently the piercing into the flesh cushioning them.

“All I think about coming home to,” Tomas is muffled but you hear him clearly. “All day.”

You giggle. “Well, they’re yours to use if you love them so much.”

Tomas looks up at you from your sternum. He seems surprised at your offer; were they really? His face is red and his steel eyes are mulled over in a deep lustful haze, but he’s staring at you to gage your sincerity, and you can tell.

“I mean it, Tommy,” your hands, although the tips of them ache from gripping the sheets too tight just moments ago, find his. “Except for when they’re sore, though. They ache enough then.”

Tomas lets out a sigh, lifting his face to lie a tender kiss on the both of them. He’s coming down from the high from feeling of you to even properly express his thanks to you, but you know he has nothing but gratitude.

────

Tomas’ favorite angle is underneath you, where he can see the piercing frame your beautiful face.

@𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐀೨

info

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x you #bi han x reader #bi han x you #bi han hcs #tomas vrbada x you #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas vrbada hcs #vampirzina #mk1 x reader

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nkogneatho · 2 years

Text

"𝐈 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌" - 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒.

#m.list #taglist #jjk car sex series #kofi

—cw: Gn!reader, certain things here might make you feel lonely ans scratch your hair off, tooth rotting fluff, talks about insecurity, a little angsty? Little smut.

—a/n: It's 5 am and I am not proofreading this. Don't let it flop. I've never written hcs this long. Anywyas I love you all.

#𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

Gojo expresses his love through clinging to you. And not just when you're alone. He'll come up to you, snake his slender fingers around your waist and peck you on the lips. It's the little gestures he does that gets you flustered. Running his hands along your body is his favorite thing. Not mainly sexual. It's just the casual intimacy.

"Have I ever told you that you're beautiful?" he asks, fingers brushing on your thighs.

"Yes. You have. In fact, you say it daily," you smile, still staring down at your book. "I always want to thank you but then you have to be a bitch and say 'Yeah, but I am still prettier.' "

"Haha," his chuckle is the most beautiful thing ever. It's like serotonin boost. It gives you reasons to live. "Well then let me tell you something. I might walk in a room with you looking my best, but every head would still turn for you." That makes you finally look up and make eye contact with him.

"You're the most beautiful person in the world, y/n. And I count myself the luckiest to be in that room beside you." Those words leave his mouth and then that mouth meets yours. Such an affectionate kiss. That kiss followed by those words encourages you. It tells you everything you've ever wanted to hear. His touch speaks louder than those words when he holds you oh so tightly to suffocate any possible space between you two. Until his soul and yours are one.

#𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

Toji's love language is and always has been hidden in those little gestures and things he does for you. His insecurity lies in expressing his emotions through words. He doesn't know how to tell you that you might just be the person he has always been searching for. He feels like his stoic expression and not very adorable voice might make it unbelievable for you.

But you know what? Even if he hasn't ever told you that, you still know it. How? Well, it is so easy from the things he does for you. Prepares you a bento box everyday. The arrangement of your favorite dishes, the hot dogs cut in octopus shape, the apple tanghulu on the side to enjoy. Everything in it reeks of affection.

When he makes a food that he dislikes just because you like it. When he pours his heart into it. When he calls you everyday to ask you if you've reached work safely. When he picks you up when you work late sometimes.

"I am this close to barging into his house and beat the shit out of him. Just say the word." You can see that he is slowly losing his patience.

"Toji. It's 2 am, love."

"Exactly. It's 2am. It was 2am yesterday when I picked you up. In fact it has been 2am all week." The anger is seeping out. "Why the heck do you have to work overtime whole week while he sleeps peacefully at home?" And there it goes. He lost his patience.

You would be worried but it's so funny. You're laughing. He's so dumb. Why is he insecure? Does he not realise that whatever he is saying right now is because he is worried. Worried about you. People don't get angry for someone who's random in their life. Especially Toji. He does not get angry so easily. It takes up a lot because mostly his anger is always laced in a sarcastic tone. But not this time.

"Toji...I want to tell you that you're very romantic," your giggle confuses him to know if you're joking or serious.

"I am literally talking to you about killing your boss right now, baby." You can see the faint smile because he is about to blush. And you want to see it. Even though you've seen it before. You want see it again. Now.

"Yeah. I love you. And everything you do f'me. Eveything you say to me. Even if it involves killing my boss in his sleep," you don't laugh, your eyes soften. And there it was. Yes. Smile, Toji. Blush, Toji. I love it. I love you.

"We go home. We eat dinner. I go suffocate that old fuck with his pillow. Then we cuddle to sleep peacefully." He loves to see you laugh at his words. His words. The one he is insecure about.

"No more scratching my head off on a document at 2 am I guess."

He knows he doesn't have to change himself. Because all those unsaid words are in the end heard.

#𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

Geto is pretty good with words. Too good to be honest. His random compliments always catch you off guard and he can't wait til' you're blushing and giggling. But sometimes he thinks he is all words and no actions. Even though that is not true because you know he does a lot of things for you without even realizing that everytime he showers you with his affection, he's got your heart pumping fast.

You have to be careful. Sometimes you look too good for him to not give you kisses all over your body while saying the cutest praises. Which is all the time. Because for him, you're always perfect.

"Mhm. I am not lying, baby. Trust me when I tell you that you're so freaking goegeous," his kisses trails from your knuckles to your shoulders.

"Suguru, I would believe you if I wasn't in a hoodie I've worn for three days and took a shower. I probably stink. How is this gorgeous?" You are not being sarcastic. It is actually the truth. Because how do you call that gorgeous? More like a human repellent. "I have no idea how are you still kissing me."

He looks up at you in what you think might be an angry-confused expression. "Y/N FUCKING L/N." Uh oh. That's when you know you fucked up. "How dare you say that? You know I'll always kiss you. I'll always love you." And he's not finished. He picks you up from the sofa, takes you the shared bedroom. He walks until you've the reached the big mirror near your night-stand.

"Look at that. So pretty. A fucking masterpiece. Da Vinci could never paint such a beauty," he utters hugging you from behind. You should laugh. I mean it's a joke right? But somehow you find yourself tearing up. Because you know he's not joking. The way he looks at you ever so affectionately, it makes your heart warm up.

"Ugh fine you win. You've successfully convinced that I am beautiful regardless." You smile feeling confident in yourself.

"Good. Now go take a bath."

"YOU SAID YOU FIND ME BEAUTIFUL REGARDLESS!" you yell.

"I do. But your boss probably doesn't. You have work in thirty minutes," he points at the clock. You look at the time and rush into the bathroom. He is laughing at your misery right now. The way you're rushing and everything. But he also finds it cute when you're clumsy.

#𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

It might take time for you to understand the love language of Nanami but you eventually do. He is straightforward with his words. And he never promises something he can't fulfil. Which always brought you back to the thought that why is he not different around you. You've read it in books, witnessed it in person that one tends to acts differently around people they love. But Nanami was still the same around you as he was around others. He did vent to you about Gojo and his shenanigans but that's all.

It made you wonder if he's the type to bottle up his feelings. Oh my god. What if he feels that he can't share it with you? So one day, you just ask.

"Kento?" You call.

"Yes, darling," he pours the cake batter into the mold. You are seated on the counter beside the bowl of cream he whipped earlier.

"Do you love me?" He waits for a laugh but it is followed by a silence. He thought that might be a rhetorical question but after that silence, it might not be the case

"You know the answer to that. Why are you asking?"

"Because I feel you do not feel comfortable around me. You never tell me if you're feeling angry or when your day was bad," you look down at the marble white floor. "I feel like I am just another person for you." That's where he sets the cake aside and takes three quick steps towards you.

"Okay now that is a lie. You're not just another person for me, love. You're my everything. I feel absolutely comfortable around you."

"Then why do you not tell me if you've had a bad day?" You finally look up at him. His never seen you this sad.

"Because...you make everything better. I might come home in a bad mood but when I see your pretty face and hear your pretty voice greeting me, my day automatically gets better." Okay now your eyes are widened. How dumb of you? You want to punch the insecure y/n in you.

"You're not just anybody for me. I do not cuddle just anybody. I do not share my personal space with anybody. I do not bake cakes for just anybody," he says pointing at the batter he has set aside earlier. You feel like crying. You were crying for pebbles when you had a gemstone all this time.

"So who am I?"

"You..." he scoops out a little cream on his pointer and swatches it on the tip of your nose, "You are my everything, beloved."

Your brain suddenly starts recollecting all the memories but highlighting the part where Kento treated you special. Not just when you were alone but also when he was in front of anyone. And finally your little mind realizes, You're his everything.

#𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

Sukuna's love language is easy. That is because this man has no filter. He grabs you, touches you, kisses you in front of anybody. It is his way of telling everyone that you're his. Its possessive but it's perfect.

Once you both were watching a romantic movie and you suddenly started sobbing. He asked you what's wrong and you stated how cute it was of the lead character to say all those things to the other. Sukuna chuckled and snuggled you. It might just be another meaningless interaction for you but it made him think does he really say romantic things. And he thought about it for days. He tried to come up with a love letter to express his emotions but all he had now was scribbled and scraped pages in the dustbin.

You never really mind that he wasn't domestic as others. As I stated in start, you liked the cocky possessiveness. But it always made you wonder what he'd be like saying all those things that you lowkey want to hear. Yet, you never thought your wish would come true.

Hands intertwined, your toes curl, Sukuna pushes into you slowly. "Fuck!" He moans against your bare skin of your neck. It sends tingles down your spine. You give him time to move when he bottoms out but he does not. Instead, his head moves from your neck until it's against yours. He's looking at you with an expression you have never seen. Did you do something? Did he come too soon? What happened?

"I think you might be the one I have spent all my life looking for. You drive me crazy, y/n." He pulls out, "You're my weakness and my strength. My existence matters only if you exist beside me. I don't want anyone else to have you." He shoves it back with a hard force and makes you yelp. Tears gather the corner of your eyes but you're not sure if they're from the stimulation or his words.

"W-why are saying this all of a sudden?" you ask, still confused.

"Because I want you to know. I want you know that no amount of romantic poetries can describe my love for you," his fingers are now stroking your bottom lip. "And neither does these words I'm speaking. I want you to feel my love. Feel it right here," he thrusts deep in you until he's hit the spot. God it feels like your body might infuse with his. It's followed by a kiss. And all you both do is moan for the next two hours. He's right. His words could never express what his actions do.

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xylomane · 11 months

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𝙎𝙤... 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚...

Ft. Diluc Ragnvindr Context: You're bored after he left for work and he called you somewhere at night to ask if you want anything from the malls since he just so happened to stop by one. Teasingly and craving for naught, you ask him to buy you a lingerie. You wonder just what kind he'll pick. Does he even know those...?

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Ｄｉｌｕｃ

"Huh? what's wrong? It's just a lingerie, you're the one with a problem not me." You say nonchalantly through the phone. "B-but listen, okay? I'm not good at this and even if I am-" You dropped the call, not even motivated to listen to anymore of his stammers. He's cute but still. It's been fifteen minutes since you requested him for a lingerie and he's still not convinced to agree? How will you know his favorites now?You can't wait another day. You needed to know his preferences.

Diluc knew to himself that he really didn't mean to disappoint. He just... never saw himself suitable for these kinds of things. He is a gentleman of course, with a name and a status to protect. He can't just show up in a lingerie store and attract some attention, his sex life would be questioned if somebody were to recognize him. (Diluc is famously known as the son of the founder of the most successful wine company in the entire world)

Diluc, knowing himself as a pleaser, didn't want to disappoint you any further so he sends you a text to assure you that he'll make it happen: "I'm sorry darling, I promise I'll get you one. I hope it is to your liking." The moment he hits the 'send' button, he rubs his face and sighs.

Diluc goes straight back inside his black car to drive to one of his most trusted tailors. He has given them many commisions regarding clothing before, and they always come out stunning. He let himself relax over the cushioned seat of his car, picturing whatever kind of reaction you'll have on your face until he arrived at the pavement before the tailor's building.

Diluc tried. He really did. He declined the offer for a designer because he wanted the lingerie designed only by him. If he were to still get a designer for it, it might take a day or two before it gets finished. Plus... it's a little... embarrassing. Diluc gets uneasy just by thinking about it.

Diluc needed it done by midnight and it's currently 10:00pm. He knew he needed to hurry but now that he himself, being known to always have a phrase ready on any occasion, had been explaining for about half an hour to a tailor that felt like he was suddenly speaking gibberish, there's no doubt that the chances of making the lingerie might be delayed.

Finally, the tailor sighed at him, exasperated with all the mind work to understand his stammers. She simply told him, "Paper and pencil. Show me when ready." And she hands him two objects that made Diluc's confidence stutter.

Diluc stares at the paper and he feels his cheeks burn with shame. It felt like his confidence just depleted. He knows full well she's just as stressed as he is because, hearing himself, the conversation did not make any sense. But was it really that bad...? Where the tailor even needed visual aid FROM HIM because he sucked at explaining what he wanted? Diluc isn't one to drown himself in shame anymore, so to save face for himself, he actually got to work.

The tailor had been observing the young man behind the rims of her eyeglasses and goodness- she can tell this man is holding back. At some point, as she stuck different pins on a gown of her own design, she contemplated whether she'd rather ask him what he would like to see on a woman in bed or why he wants to see that on a woman in bed. In the end, she waves the thoughts way. None of her business.

Diluc started drawing, straps and laces here and there... rose patterns? Not bad. Is the crotch area too thin? He asks himself then resorts to erasing the entire sketch of the bottom garment away. Is the fabric transparent? Diluc's eyebrows point down. But... that's a little too... he felt his hands reach to cuddle his length, goodness how is he supposed to-

Diluc really wanted something, but he didn't want to make you uncomfortable so he kept holding himself back and doubting each design. Even when Diluc's head spiraled with ideas, he didn't know which one of these ideas intrigue you the most.

At this point, Diluc doesn't really know where to begin with anymore, his tried everything and it's almost been an hour. He didn't want to delay the lingerie any longer so he just followed his heart in the process. Ok... ribbons. Ribbons? Is that too weird on a lingerie? Surely not. Red lace ribbons? There? Yes, his mind liked those. Attached on what color though? Maybe something baby pink or peach. He needed them in two pieces of course.

Finally, he folded the paper unequally to four, stuffed it in his pocket, and then reached for the tailor to whom he finally said the design to. He didn't hold himself back this time and openly told her of how he wanted the lingerie to look. He wasn't planning to show it, but ended up showing it anyway.

"Good thing you got it done..." The tailor told him, letting out a sigh of relief as she placed measurements on a mannequin. "You sure have grown Master Diluc."

Diluc froze at that phrase. She's not lying nor is she wrong. All Diluc really wanted to feel was the lust in the look of you... breedable and inexperienced before him but of course he can't say that so he realized that after all these thoughts, he cannot talk back. He can't. Like, really. It made him feel so awkward that he had to think of an excuse to get out of the establishment. "I'll wait by the car." He excuses, "Just call me when it's ready. Make sure it's done before midnight." And they assure him that it is to be done quickly for the fabrics have already been chosen for the lingerie.

The tailor throws him one last curious stare behind her eyeglasses and then brings her hand to sew and get back to work while musing the unexpected request. (Last Christmas, Diluc asked the tailor to make a dress for you so she already knows your size)

When Diluc got into his car, he brought both his gloved hands to his face. What. A. Night. He didn't know it was THAT hard to think of a lingerie for you. All those thinking of how you would look on those or how it might terrify you really took a toll on him. He can't disappoint you. He mustn't.

Five minutes of breathing exercises and he would soon realize how less embarassing it actually is. Now that he thinks about it, you probably asked him to buy you a lingerie to see what he wants... if that's the case... then he didn't regret his final design. So long as the lingerie compliments your body and keeps you confident in bed he can just-

Diluc felt himself slightly aroused on his seat. He needed to get home. He opened his phone screen and it greets him with the current time: 11:17pm. Suddenly, there was a knock on his car window. Fortunately, it was the tailor's assistant, telling him to go see the finished product inside. He follows the man towards the establishment and when he does see it, he calmly accepts it.

Diluc got home at around 11:40pm and you were already laying asleep on the bed. Laughingly though, your fingers are way too close to your undergarments and Diluc can't help but muster a chuckle upon seeing you so innocently sleeping after maybe, pleasuring yourself. When he wakes you up, you realize you had accidentally fallen asleep after-

You tried to explain to him, throwing lies upon another lie, until Diluc shows you the custom-made lingerie he prepared for you. Your face burned red as he threw them on your hands. "Wear it." He tells you, "See for yourself." His voice is slightly gruff and yet it is calm and soft. You put it on inside the bathroom and... it had you speechless. The theme is cute but so... revealing. Is Diluc really... into this? The good boy, easily flustered, reserved Diluc you know? Shyly and awkwardly, you walk out of the bathroom.

"Everything is see through..." You mumble and Diluc trails his lips just on your neck to whisper, "You asked for my preferences, didn't you?" His voice was rough with warm heavy breaths tickling your skin. His hands reach to touch the back of your waist and pull you closer.

That night, Diluc was rough but aftercare was still done on both of you. (am legit blushing like a slut here lmfaooo)

Kazuha ver. here

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin #genshin diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc imagines #genshin impact diluc #diluc x fem!reader #diluc headcanons #diluc au #diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc x y/n

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ardafanonarch · 3 months

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Hello, in fic I've come across mentions of

- the elves stopping frequently on their journey to Aman to have sex (and Orome urging them forward by creating storms?)

- elf sex being too intense for most mortals to survive

I think these come from HoME or NoME (or similar sources), but I've never seen the actual quotes. There might be other things related to elf-sex in there as well.

So I guess my question is: What else did Tolkien mention about elf sex, apart from (the already relatively well-known) LaCE?

Elf Sex Lore

There comes a time in every Tolkien fan’s journey when they come upon the Professor’s writings on Elf sex — and, since 2021, there are even more! Elf Sex Lore remains a hot topic as the fandom continues to experience the aftershocks of the spurt of new lore that came with the publication of The Nature of Middle-earth (NoMe) in 2021.

As you say Anon, before NoMe was published, the fandom’s primary resource on Elf sex was the (in)famous essay Laws and Customs Among the Eldar (LaCE), published in 1993 in Morgoth’s Ring, the tenth volume of the History of Middle-earth series. LaCE is full of juicy (or not-so-juicy) lore about Elven aging, marriage, gender roles, naming, death, and rebirth.

It is in relation to the first two that we get some details on Elf sex, such as the knowledge that “it was the act of bodily union that achieved marriage, and after which the indissoluble bond was complete.” (Laws B). We also learn that:

“…the Eldar say* that in the begetting, and still more in the bearing of children, greater share and strength of their being, in mind and in body, goes forth than in the making of mortal children. For these reasons it came to pass that the Eldar brought forth few children; and also that their generation was in their youth or earlier life, unless strange and hard fates befell them. But at whatever age they married, their children were born within a short space of years after their wedding. For with regard to generation the power and the will are not among the Eldar distinguishable. Doubtless they would retain for many ages the power of generation, if the will and desire were not satisfied; but with the exercise of the power the desire soon ceases, and the mind turns to other things. The union of love is indeed to them great delight and joy, and the ‘days of children’, as they call them, remain in their memory as the most merry in life; but they have many other powers of body and of mind which their nature urges them to fulfil.” The History of Middle-earth Vol. 10: Morgoth’s Ring, ‘The Later Quenta Silmarillion (II)’, Laws B

*Note how this paragraph is introduced: “the Eldar say”. Phrases like this signal to us that LaCE is not written from a Elvish point of view. There are indications elsewhere clearly pointing to a human author with a human audience in mind.

Translation: Elves use up a lot of energy in baby-making, including in the sex part (“begetting”) but even more in the pregnancy and birthing part (“bearing”), so they don’t have a lot of children and they do so early in life, shortly after marriage. But even if they marry later in life, Elves are still able to have babies because being able to and wanting to reproduce are the same thing for Elves. But once they’ve fulfilled the desire to make babies they’re good and turn to other things. Still, they look back on the time of baby-making as “the most merry in life”.

In most (if not all) cases, when Tolkien writes about sex he is writing about reproduction. Did Elves have sex solely for pleasure? Maybe; I cannot find anything that says they didn’t. I also can find little conceptual separation of sex and reproduction in Tolkien’s writings. Make of that what you will.

(At this point I want to reiterate a principle central to this blog: it’s about presenting what canon says; it is not about casting judgement on creations that subvert, reinterpret, or ignore canon, none of which makes a work lesser than one which adheres strictly to canon.)

So what did NoMe add to our knowledge about Elf sex? First of all, let’s make sure we all know what NoMe is.

What is The Nature of Middle-earth?

NoMe is a volume of texts by J.R.R. Tolkien collected and edited by Carl Hostetter. It is basically a supplement to the last three volumes of The History of Middle-earth (Morgoth’s Ring, The War of the Jewels, and The Peoples of Middle-earth), which cover a period from the late 1950s to his death during which Tolkien was undertaking a rather massive project of worldbuilding, working out the structures underlying his Silmarillion mythology in preparation for revising and publishing what he had written of it before ‘a sequel to The Hobbit’ (LotR) took him away from it for the better part of two decades.

Christopher Tolkien in Morgoth’s Ring called this undertaking “analytic speculation concerning [the] underlying postulates” of his world (Foreword to Morgoth’s Ring). That’s how we end up with essays like LaCE and the philosophical debate about the fates of Men and Elves in Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth.

The texts in NoMe all date to around the same time and deal with the same sorts of questions about the physics and metaphysics of the world: it contains the essay on ósanwë, for example.

The Context of the NoMe Sex Lore

The first section of NoMe, ‘Time and Ageing’, is where we get the new lore on Elf sex. As it happens, the sex lore is rather incidental to extensive ruminations two core questions:

How did Elves experience the passage of time and how did they age?

How did the population of Elves go from 144 at Awaking to a sufficiently high number (around 30 000) when they reached the shores of Beleriand on the Great Journey?

(It is not relevant to get into why 144 and why 30 000 here; suffice to say those are the numbers Tolkien wanted and he expended great imaginative and mathematical energy trying to make them work.)

A note on the textual context: Anyone who has ever engaged in worldbuilding knows how it can go. You think (for example), “Okay, I need to develop a backstory for this character’s spouse,” and before you know it you are knee-deep in invented genealogies and geographies and Eru-knows-what-else.

It’s important to bear in mind that this is what Tolkien was doing. The quotes we are about to look at (yes, very soon!) are from a collection of evolving (and unresolved) notes in various states of refinement from barely legible scribbles to carefully penned essays. I will let you decide what that means to you based on your personal definition of canon, but I wanted the textual context to be clear.

Elf Sex Is Intense

In relation to Question 1, Tolkien considers the time-scales of Elven growth, including pregnancy. In the essay under discussion, Tolkien decides that Elven pregnancy should, like human pregnancy, take about 3/4 of a year. Oh no - not that kind of year. A yên, a ‘long year’, the unit used by the Elves and to which the matter of their bodies (their hröar) is bound. Elves gestate for 108 Sun years.

I know what you’re asking: If the pregnancy lasts 108 years, then how long does the sex last?

No? No! You’re probably asking yourself why Tolkien hated Elf-women so much (don’t worry, he says there’s no pain…)! But Tolkien was interested in the first question, which he answered thus:

“On the other hand the act of procreation, being of a will and desire shared and indeed controlled by the fëa, was achieved at the speed of other conscious and wilful acts of delight or of making. It was one of the acts of chief delight, in process and in memory, in an Elvish life, but its intensity alone provided its importance, not its time or length: it could not have been endured for a great length of time, without disastrous “expense.”” (NoMe, p. 24)

An earlier version of this passage, which you may also come across in fandom, comes to a similar conclusion:

“But the act of procreation not being one of growth until the union of the seed and being under full control of the will does not take long - though it is longer and of more intense delight in Elves than in Men: too intense to be long endured.” (NoMe, pg. 27)

Translation: Pregnancy, like other aspects of physical growth, is a process of the hröa over which the fëa has no control; thus it is bound to unfold on “Elvish time”, i.e. 1 year = 144 years. But the sex leading up to it is an act of the fëa and under its control and therefore occurs at a “normal” speed. The Elves love it, too! But not because of how long it lasts, which is a regular amount of time, but because of how intense it is. In fact, it is so intense that if it were any longer they would suffer “disastrous “expense”.”

What is this “expense”? Basically, it’s referring to the usage of an Elf’s natural “vitality” — far greater than that of Men but not infinite. As far as I can tell, this passage means that having intense Elf sex for too long would have spiritual results similar to Míriel’s bearing of Fëanor, or Fëanor’s creation of the Silmarils. Too much of their spirit would be expended (used up) in the act, with possibly disastrous consequences.

These are the quotes from which, I think, originate the rumour that Elf sex was too intense for mortals to survive. As you can see, the discussion is about Elf/Elf relations. Elf sex is too intense for Elves to endure for too long. Anything about what this means for Elf/Mortal sexual relations is fan conjecture.

That’s the Elf Sex nugget from Tolkien’s considerations of Elven growth rates: Elf sex (between Elves) is intense but of a normal duration.

Elven enthusiasm for baby-making delays March

As you can imagine, more nuggets are unearthed in relation to Question 2, which boils down to Tolkien crying: “I need the Cuiviénen Elves to breed a lot and quickly!”

Initially, Tolkien developed some Elven life cycle schemes that had them taking a leisurely approach to reproduction, with each generation taking many hundreds, even thousands, of Sun years to materialise.

This scheme did not work for getting him from 144 to ~30k in the timeframe he wanted. So, he made some adjustments to the scheme with respect to the timing of Elven maturity and consequent desire to begin reproducing — and then set about getting those Elves procreating!

One of the solutions he entertained was giving the Elves opportunities to reproduce on the Great Journey. He laid all of this out in a timeline (NoME, p. 49-53) detailing where and for how long the host of Elves would pause because of the “desire to beget children” (p. 49).

Reading this timeline, it can become increasingly comical each time this desire to reproduce (i.e., have sex) halts the host. It can start to read like, “The Elves took forever to cross Middle-earth because they couldn’t stop banging!” And, in a way, that is what happened. But bear in mind the context is an attempt at solving the problem of increasing the Elven population to a number Tolkien considered satisfactory for his worldbuilding endeavours. An Elven enthusiasm for sex is there, but it’s not the whole picture.

There are several points on the timeline when Oromë hangs out with the Elves or checks in on them, and he does become increasingly concerned with their begetting-related delays. For example:

“About 2000 pairs (of available Telerin 8th gen. of 4,950) beget children in the spring 1130/80. The Chiefs and Oromë are disturbed.” (NoMe, p. 51)

(“The Chiefs” are Ingwë, Finwë, and Elwë.)

And:

“Either by chance, machinations of Sauron, and/or because Oromë withdraws protection (hoping to make the Eldar less content with their new Home (Atyamar), winters are hard and the weather worsens.” (NoMe, p. 51)

The second quote is the origin of that rumour about Oromë creating storms to urge the Elves on because they were having too much sex. Is it canon? Not quite: Oromë didn’t create the storm, for one, and the emphasis is on sex for the pleasure of children more than the pleasure of sex on its own (though, as we know from the previous discussion, sexual pleasure was certainly had!). But the rumour you've heard is not without basis in Tolkien’s notes.

The First Elves Really Loved Sex

There’s one more Elf sex nugget in NoMe that I’d like to end with. While scrambling to get his Cuiviénen Elves reproducing at an adequate rate to reach his population-at-finding target, Tolkien came up with what he calls the “Quick prolific” scheme (p. 99).

“The Quendi in their first few generations before the March (or reaching Valinor) must — as is quite reasonable — be made far more eager for love and the begetting and bearing of children. *They must have larger families, at shorter intervals between births.” (p. 107)

To explain this attitude of reproductive eagerness in the first few generations of Elves, Tolkien coins the term “philoprogenitive” — they love to procreate! Procreating — not artistic and intellectual pursuits or exploration or leadership as with later generations — is their number one priority in life. So much so that “they mated almost at once with their predestined mates” (p. 54).

Not only that, but they have so many babies! In one version of the scheme, 12 children per couple in the first generation (p. 108). (This soon changes to 6 per couple. Philoprogenitive they may be, but no one gets to outdo Fëanor).

As with the highly intense Elf sex and the Great Journey delayed by procreating, this is another bit of NoMe lore with great imaginative potential. As we learn from LaCE, Elves enjoyed sex, quite a bit actually, but they enjoyed a lot of other things also, and after a period of baby-making they would usually move on from sex (though they would always remember it fondly). But the First Elves, those early generations by the shores of Cuiviénen? No such balance between sex and other pursuits. It was all about sex and procreation for them.

Of course, what we’ve been looking at are drafts and notes. While all written around the same time (late 1950s to early 1960s), none of the texts here examined were ever finalised and many of them don’t even agree with each other. Tolkien was experimenting; he was worldbuilding. And with the publication of these notes in NoMe, we in turn get some intriguing ingredients for worldbuilding of our own.

So, do as you like with the Elf sex lore. But if you’re looking for a great setting for some canon-compliant smut, may I suggest Cuiviénen?

Resources

PDF of LaCE

Mythgard Academy’s seminars on The Nature of Middle-earth. You don’t actually have to have read or own NoMe to follow these discussions. Great for getting a handle on the material, and ideal for listening as you work your way through reading.

#nature of middle-earth #history of middle-earth #laws and customs among the eldar #anon #happy valentine's day

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auteurdelabre · 4 months

Text

A Secret Kind of Pain (one-shot) FrankieMorales x f!Reader

Pairings: Frankie Morales x f!reader (no use of y/n) (No descriptions other than hair he can move behind your ear. She’s you, babe!)

Rating: 18+

Words: 7.0k

Summary: A poker night over at Benny’s tests the amazing burgeoning relationship you have been hiding with Frankie Morales.

Warnings: secret relationship, friends to lovers, angst (BUT A HAPPY ENDING), oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, sweet Spanish nicknames, Frankie is a jealous lil’ thing, miscommunication trope.

a/n: I love Frankie Morales and realized I needed to write him up a honey. Y’all can blame my muses for this. I keep tryin’ to update my other stories and the damn muses keep starting new ones! At leas this is a one-shot!

Also if you like my stuff I'd really love a follow, a reblog, a comment (those especially make me smile!) would be real appreciated!

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"We're gonna be late," you whine, even as your back arches against the springy mattress. Your breathing is shallow, your forehead dotted with perspiration.

"I don't care," he replies breathlessly from between your thighs, dark eyes fixed on yours as his pouty mouth goes back to work.

You've been like this all afternoon, touching, kissing, fucking. You're both covered in a thin sheen of sweat, the fan in the corner of the room no match for the balmy weather.

"Frankie," you whine, feeling his hands on the globes of your ass, pulling your dripping sex more fully against his mouth and tongue. He won't let up. He's eating you out like his life depends on it and has been for the last forty minutes.

Your legs are spread wide over his broad shoulders and his hands move over the crease of your thighs to hold you in place as he devours you. He feels so impossibly good, you can't help but succumb, your hands fisting in his curls, your body quaking with every swipe of his deft tongue.

His mouth begins giving your pussy sloppy kisses, groaning as he does. You don't know who loves this more - you or him. You whimper out his name again, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

"C'mon cariño," he purrs, smiling up at you. "You can give me one more."

And you do. You come crying his name as he gently laves your clit. As you come down you reach blindly for him, sighing contentedly as he crawls up the length of your body, pressing glossy kisses up your naked flesh before he positions his cock at your entrance.

"Don't make me wait," you beg, urging your hips towards him. He smiles down at you before his mouth is on yours, his cock sliding into your slick cunt. It's not long before he's emptying himself into you and moaning into your neck.

You lay tangled in the sheets afterwards, your head on his arm, looking at his hawkish profile. He looks almost angelic with his hat off and his curls on display.

"We're gonna be late," you repeat giving his bristled cheek a swift kiss. You go to move off the mattress and to the shower but he holds tightly to you, his leg lacings between yours.

"Let's not go," he says, nuzzling against your neck. "Let's just stay in."

"How is that going to look?" you counter, not oblivious to his hand which ventures to brush over your chest. "We both don't show up to poker night? The week after we both mysteriously don't make it to the pub for drinks?"

Frankie sighs, knowing that you're right. You're always right. The second that the guys find out you're together it's going to be a nightmare.

They'll have opinions, so many fucking opinions on Frankie dating Tom's cousin. The one that Will had a crush on for years. The one Pope flirted with every time she came back for family visits. The one they all promised Tom they'd never fuck; a pact they reminded themselves of when she moved back to town a year ago for her job.

The one Frankie had fallen for the second he'd met her at one of Benny's shows. The one he'd sat next to, thighs touching as they laughed and talked between rounds as he stole bits of her popcorn. The one he'd told himself he couldn't want, but then found he couldn't stay away from.

So when he'd thrown a memorial party for Tom's birthday months ago and you'd stayed behind to help him clean and you confessed your burgeoning feelings for him it seemed it was inevitable he would take you in his arms telling you he felt the same. It felt fated that he would be kiss you before carrying you to his bedroom and making love to you until the sun came up.

You'd both known it had to remain a secret. Couldn't come out. Not when things were still so new, still so fresh. Not when Tom was gone, the promise his friends had made still very real.

Didn't matter that Frankie hadn't met you before he made that vow because he was always away flying or with his ex when you were visiting Tom. Didn't matter that he didn't just want to fuck you.

Pope hadn't been stupid. He'd known Frankie was seeing someone in the following months. In a panic Frankie had confessed over drinks one day that he was seeing some girl from the coffee shop near his place. This had placated Pope enough to drop it.

But he and the rest of the gang still teased Frankie about it for weeks, insisting he bring his "imaginary girlfriend" to poker night while you sat back in the booth, hiding your grin behind your beer bottle.

And so you snuck around, slipping into Frankie's bed and into his life without hesitation. Nights and weekends were spent making meals together, watching TV, going to try new coffee shops, kissing and fucking everywhere in his house.

He craved you when you weren't around, more than coke, more than flying, more than anything. He loved that his pillows smelled of you, that your variety of shampoos and conditioners lined his shower floor.

"I gotta shower and then we gotta go, Morales."

Frankie finally releases you, but not before pressing a soft kiss to your mouth. You smile before rolling off his bed and towards the shower. Frankie watches your naked body sauntering away and he holds in a grateful sigh.

///

"I'll go in first," you tell him, grabbing the bag of pretzels from the back seat of the truck.

Frankie has parked around the corner from Benny's, knowing you both couldn't show up together at Benny's infamous poker night.

You'd made yourself part of the group soon after moving back. Part of you wonders if it's because you're filling a void left by Tom or if they really like your company. You decide you don't mind when it means more time with Frankie.

"See you in there."

You go to leave, hand on the door before you shoot him a sweet smile. You lean over to give him a peck on the lips. You glance over the t-shirt that strains over his biceps, the jeans that mold over his long thighs and you give a crooked smile.

"Did I tell you how sexy you look tonight, Morales?"

Frankie blushes up his neck, his face growing red as he gives a bashful grin at you from under his baseball hat. The kind of smile that makes his dimple pop out. You give him a wink and then you're gone, heading into Benny's place, carrying a comically large bag of pretzels.

Frankie watches the clock, waiting a whole five minutes before grabbing the shopping bag from the back seat.

He ambles towards Benny's front door, noting the SUV with the space invaders bumper sticker. Will is here already, probably the first to arrive at his brother's event.

By the time Frankie arrives the group is loudly chatting, the kitchen full of food and noise. Benny and Pope are opening beers for their dates and you're nowhere to be seen.

"You didn't bring your girl?" Benny observes with a frown when Frankie enters the kitchen holding the shopping bag of chips and salsa.

"Uh we broke up," Frankie says with a shrug, accepting the coke can his friend passes him. Pope pulls out the chips and salsa, dark eyes trailing inside the bag before he's pouring the chips into a bowl.

"You don't seem too upset about it," Pope says with a quirked brow, his arm going to sling around the shoulders of his date. Frankie is about to reply when you both hear your laugh from the next room.

The two of you glance over to see you and Will on the couch, knees almost touching as Will says something else to make you laugh. You have a great laugh, the kind where you tilt your head back and you just let go. The kind that makes Frankie smile when he hears it.

But he doesn't smile now. In fact it's quite the opposite. He watches as Will's light eyes trace over your face warmly.

"Seems like Will is foregoing the pact," Pope says amused, his eyes on Frankie's face.

Frankie feels his hand curl into a fist. Who the fuck does Will think he is? Will could have any girl he wants; he's handsome and successful. He's not a recovering addict who can't legally fly anymore like Frankie.

Doubt, the ugly insidious snake creeps into his mind. Why are you with him? What could be possibly offer you?

"Hey Fish," Will calls out with a wave to Frankie when he notices the man in the kitchen. "No girl tonight?"

"They broke up," Pope says, coming to rest on the edge of the couch.

"Sorry to hear that," you say airily. Frankie can't look at you. He knows he'll see the amused glint there and he can't risk it.

"He doesn't seem too upset about it," Pope smiles.

Frankie focuses his attention on Benny who claps him on the back before announcing that it's time to start the poker game. Everyone moves to the table that Benny has set up with chips and cards.

Frankie's chest warms when you slide into the chair next to his at the table but he holds in a grimace when Will takes the seat next to yours, smiling at you.

You nudge his thigh under the table and he slips a hand under the table to give your knee a squeeze, watching your lips curl into a subtle smile at the contact.

Frankie feels idiotic for being jealous when you're obviously his girl. But the thing is he hasn't said you're his girl. It's just silently implied. He wonders if he needs to tell you, in words.

"Alright," Benny announces, breaking into Frankie's thoughts. "The game is Omaha and-"

You tune Benny out as he explains the rules for the large group around the table. You throw in your two ten dollar bills along with the rest of the group to the center of the table.

All you can focus on is Frankie's hand still resting on your knee, so wide and warm.

You're so into him it's ridiculous. You love the way he curls around you in bed, the way he makes you coffee to take to work, the way he looks at you when you talk because he's really** listening to what you have to say.

He removes his hand as the game starts and you immediately miss the contact. You look across the table at Pope and Benny and their girlfriends, jealous that they get to flaunt their relationships while you have to keep yours hidden.

But at the same time you don't want anything to spoil this beautiful thing you have with Frankie. It's too precious to you, too beloved. So you'll keep it a secret for as long as you need to.

The game is a long one and considering the entire group is ridiculously competitive the air is tense. Pope and Benny's dates are the first to be knocked out, both shrugging and leaning against their boyfriends, watching them play.

You stand after you fold your latest hand, stretching and announcing that you need a drink.

"Can you grab me a Coke, baby?" Frankie asks without thinking, his focus on his cards. It's an innocuous comment, one he's made to you at home dozens of times before.

Immediately he realizes the fuck up. Your eyes are blown wide, your features contorted into horror as you look down at him. He snaps his attention to the group abruptly, his face blanching and his shoulders rising. The men nearby give puzzled looks in your direction.

"The fuck did you just call her?" Pope laughs, amusement clear in his handsome features.

"He called her baby," Benny says with a grins, taking a swig of his beer.

"He didn't!"

"Asked her to get him a drink!"

"The fuck?" you say forcing a laugh and giving Frankie a look of disdain. "I know your girlfriend dumped you but I'm not throwing you a pity lay, Morales. I'm not really into guys who wear baseball caps past the age of twenty."

The group erupts into drunken laughter that you both join in on. But you don't see the hurt in Frankie's soulful eyes.

"I'm gonna grab that drink," you tell the group, needing some air and a chance to stop the pounding of your heart.

"Can you get me one, baby?" Will teases.

"Of course honey," you tease right back with a wink.

You don't even cast a look in Frankie's direction. His stomach twists when you return to the table with a bottle of beer for yourself and Will and no drink for him.

"When are you gonna bring a guy around for poker night?" Benny slurs from the other end of the table. "You been single too long."

"Maybe that's how I like it."

You swallow nervously, your cards growing slippery in your damp hands. They've never asked you things like this. Why now?

"C'mon," Pope urges, pressing a kiss to his girlfriends' shoulder. "I bet Yovanna can set you up with one of her friends, couldn't you, bonita?."

"Oh yes!" Yovanna nods, smiling.

"I dunno about that," you say, your face heating. You force your attention back to your cards. "I'm pretty busy with work."

"Too busy to date anyone?" Will says, trying to say it lightly but failing miserably. You can feel irritation radiating off of Frankie beside you. A quick glance out the corner of your eyes tells you he's clenching his jaw as he looks at his cards.

You want to squeeze against Frankie, bury your face in his neck and assure him that he's the only man for you. That you think about Frankie more than you think about yourself some days. That you've imagined an entire life with him, a future. That Will is perfectly nice but you're utterly besotted with Frankie.

"Not really into dating right now," you chirp, grin widening. "I'm more into winning all your money. That’s a full house, bitches!"

The group groans as you pull the money towards you, slipping the winnings from this round into your jeans pocket. The game continues on for several more rounds, until it's late and you feel yourself drifting.

"I should head out," Frankie says with a sigh, tossing his cards into the center of the table. "Don't have any more money left to lose tonight."

He stands, moving out the door without a backwards glance at you. You know the drill, you can’t leave at the same time. You stretch after the folding your cards.

"I should head out too," you say forcing a yawn. "Gotta be into work early tomorrow. Night guys."

The group bids you both drunken goodbyes, their focus on the remaining pot of cash in between them. You wave, heading out the door in search of Frankie around the corner. You see him leaning against his truck looking delicious. His broad arms are crossed in front of him, but his customary smile is replaced by a look of sullen displeasure.

When you're safely away from the house inside his truck your hand reaches for his across the bench seat. You're confused when he pulls out of reach, his hand going to the wheel. This confuses you because you’ve never taken a drive with Frankie where his hand wasn’t on your knee.

You pull on your seatbelt, convinced you must have mistaken him pulling away earlier as he starts the car. Maybe he just needs both hands to drive tonight. The weather has taken a turn, raining lightly in the darkness.

"Benny's new girl seems nice," you offer in the quiet of the drive. You glance over at Frankie when he doesn't reply. "You okay?"

"Hated how you looked at me tonight," Frankie finally gets out, his voice rasping. "Like I disgusted you."

Immediately you feel your heart sink.

"You know I didn't mean it," you say, reaching for him and again Frankie shrugs out of your grip, his dark eyes somber as he drives.

"Seemed real easy for you to say that shit," Frankie says tightly. "Pity lay?"

"Frankie we agreed we didn't want anyone to know," you reply, irritation rising in you that he seems to be blaming you. "That we didn't want our relationship under a microscope. I'm only doing what we both agreed was right."

"Yep," Frankie nods sharply, his dark eyes on the road. "Guess I didn't realize that meant flirting with Will all night."

Jealousy coils in him, twisting between his ribs and pulling angrily, causing his temper to flare, his body to tense up.

"I wasn't flirting, Frankie."

"Could've fooled me."

He's at your house now, pulled up to the curb with the engine still running. You swallow the frustration in your chest, turning to Frankie. You really like him and you don't want to fight. You can work this out; you just need to discuss it.

But Frankie still isn't looking at you. His hand is just curled around the steering wheel and his face is partially hidden in shadow. All you can make out is the sharp of his jaw under his scruff.

"You wanna come in so we can talk about this?"

"I'm tired," Frankie replies with a soft shake of his head. "Gonna head home."

"Tomorrow then?"

Frankie shrugs.

This was a fun dream. A sweet illusion. But there's no way it can continue. No way that you're gonna wanna stick with Frankie for the long haul. Not when men like Will want you.

"Right." You give a disgusted scoff, pulling the seatbelt off of you. "I think I'm gonna be tired for the next week or so, so I wouldn't bother calling."

"I won't."

"Good."

You jump out of the still running truck, slamming the door behind you and making your way to your house. You're thankful he can't see the tears that slip down your cheek as he drives off into the darkness.

///

Frankie has a brutal stubborn streak and a temper to match. The problem is so do you. No one is willing to be the first to wave the white flag. Instead you both give each other the silent treatment. It goes on for over a week, neither of you bending. No texts, no calls, no nothing.

But it's Frankie who breaks first when one evening he finds his pillow no longer smells of your shampoo. The panic of knowing that like the faded scent, you're disappearing from his life.

He throws himself into his truck and begun driving over to your place. He doesn't even want to waste time texting or calling. He just wants to see your face, to take it between his hands and kiss it. To apologize to you because he's been a fucking idiot.

How could he have been so pissed off at you for something you both agreed on? Something that he'd fucking suggested? So insecure when you've never given him reason to be?

He drives to your place and when he sees Will's car parked out front he feels like he's going to be sick. He thinks maybe he's made a mistake but then he sees that fucking space invaders bumper sticker.

Will is inside your house, in there with you.

Images of the two of you fucking immediately flood his mind. Will fucking you in the bed Frankie helped you to set up the bed frame for. You making the same noises for Will that you do for Frankie.

It takes all his willpower to keep driving, to swallow the lump that's formed in his throat at the thought you could move on so quickly.

But that dark part in the back of his head insists that this is for the best. That he was never worthy of you anyway. That he needs to let you move on with Will.

Frankie is friends with the group so he doesn't miss a poker night or drinks out or going to the batting cages. When your absence is commented on by the group he pretends to be equally perplexed until Will comments that he thinks you're busy with work. The same kind of shit Frankie used to say to cover up that you were together.

He doesn't let Will see his irritation. He doesn't ask Will about you. He wants you to be happy.

He doesn't let anyone see his heartbreak.

///

When the third week of silence from Frankie ends you feel your resolve dissolving. Yes, he'd been an asshole, but Frankie was also delicate at times. More delicate than you gave him credit for.

He'd been through a lot and perhaps this reaction was out of fear not anger. This is what you told yourself as you sent off the text to him.

Hey. Busy tonight?

Yep. Got a date.

You feel as if you've been punched in the gut. You're breathing sharply when his second text comes through seconds later.

Tell Will I say hi.

You frown at the message, confused. But you don't parse it. You're too upset. Too hurt. He just ... Moved on? One fight and he's fucking met someone else?

You were so fucking stupid to do this. To fall in with one of Tom's friends. He'd warned you off all of them and given you good reasons for why none of them were dating material.

But then you'd met Frankie Morales. The man with the shy smile and dark curls peeking out under a faded ball cap and all warnings had been forgotten.

You allowed yourself to fall head over heels, quickly and without protecting yourself. Like a skydiver jumping eagerly out of the plane without a parachute.

But now you wish you'd listened. Because the pain of losing Frankie is worse than anything you could have anticipated.

Your phone chirrups with a text from Pope.

Where the fuck have u been?

Work is busy.

Not too busy to come have drinks with us tomorrow night.

Sorry can't.

Either you come out or I'll send Will and Frankie in to drag you out of your office in front of everyone.

...

What pub?

///

Frankie watches you walk into the pub from under the brim of his hat. You've obviously just come from work; you have that serious look about you. It dissolves slightly when you see the group calling your name.

It's been weeks since he last saw you and it's like you've only gotten more beautiful. Your smile brighter, your eyes luminous. You give a wave to the group, eyes sweeping over Frankie as if he's just another one of the guys.

He's confused when Will greets you casually, no standing up and kissing when you waltz over.

"We've missed you," Benny says sliding you over a drink as you take the free spot next to Will in the booth.

You feel warmed by the realization that these men are your friends. That you're not just a placeholder for Tom.

"Works been so busy," you explain with a shy shrug. "Tell me what I missed."

"Hmmm well Benny and Carmella have started a couple's pottery class," Will tells you smiling as Benny rolls his eyes, his eyes on his phone as he texts his girlfriend. "Catfish here officially got his license back and Pope here is still annoyingly good looking."

"Obnoxiously so," Pope agrees, tapping his beer bottle against Will's in cheers.

You force a smile to your face as the group laughs but all you can hear is Catfish got his license back.

You'd talked about what you'd both do when that happened. That you'd bake him a cake and you'd go celebrate with the biggest steak at the nicest restaurant. That you'd ride him before he took you for a ride in his friend’s helicopter.

You'd made these plans giggling in bed, warmed by each other's bodies and smiles.

Now it seems like a lifetime ago.

"Congrats," you say to Frankie, looking at his ear and not his eyes. "I'm really happy for you."

He probably doesn't even remember what you'd planned. Or worse he's gonna do it with his new girl.

"Thanks," Frankie replies in a soft voice, no malice left in it. His eyes are on your face, the longing clear in them, not that you're looking at his eyes.

He misses you something terrible. All he wants is to pull you into his arms and cover your face with kisses. He's so fucking furious with himself for letting you get away.

Will leans back in the booth, arms sliding against the back of your seat as he stretches. Frankie's face immediately darkens and he's sullen as the rest of the group laughs and jokes.

A short while later someone suggests darts and you all agree, going to stand around the only free one left at the side of the pub.

You go first, you're usually very good. But you can feel Frankie's eyes on you, burning through your clothes. You falter, your darts barely making it into the circular cork.

"She's lost her edge," Will jokes, slinging an arm around your neck companionably. "Spending too much time at work, not enough time at the pub."

You laugh up at him, eyes disappearing into half moons. Frankie watches this and feels his stomach churn. Its one thing to move on with Will, but it’s quite another to rub it in Frankie’s fucking face.

"Move," he says gruffly to the two of you. You look at him shocked, hurt at how he's spoken to you both.

"Someone's got their panties in a twist," Will says smirking at the rest of the group. "I'm gonna get another round."

Frankie ignores him, tossing his own darts. They don't even hit the outer circle; they just careen off into the nearby wood. He grimaces and turns to see you watching, your face unreadable.

"What?" Frankie challenges, his neck going red. His dark eyes narrow on your face. "Like you did so much better?"

His voice is so dark and spiteful Pope and Benny turn from their conversation at the sound of it.

"Dude, calm down," Benny says looking from you to Frankie.

Pope says something as well but all Frankie can focus on is the way your eyes are filling up with tears. He feels all his frustration and anger leave him, replaced with icy shame as you murmur about going to the bathroom, shouldering past Will as he returns with the drinks.

He barely waits ten seconds before he's following you, not caring how it looks, not caring that you're with Will. He needs to talk to you, to touch you.

He gets to you just before you're heading into the women's bathroom. He grips your wrist.

"We need to talk."

You allow him to tug your limp arm as he pulls you outside the pub along with him. It's drizzling and cars are driving by but neither of you care. You pull back from his grip, eyes on the wet cement. Frankie gazes at you, wishing you would look at him.

"Why are you being so mean?" You suddenly ask in a quiet, hollow voice. "You're a lot of things, Frankie. But mean isn't one of them."

Frankie feels his heart sink at the accusation, mostly because it's true, and also because he never wanted you to think of him as anything less than.

Irritation and hurt flash on his features now, his arms crossing in front of his chest.

"Hard not to be upset when the girl you were seeing moves on with your friend."

Your head raises, eyes narrowing. "What?"

"You and Will," Frankie says, trying to act like it doesn't hurt him just to say the words. "I'm happy for you both but doesn't mean I wanna see it every time we all hang out.”

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

You're really going to act dumb? He sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck, smoothing the curls there.

"I drove by your house a couple weeks ago," Frankie finally says, mouth in a frown. "After the poker night. I was coming to apologize."

Hope blooms behind your rib cage, a bouquet of desire and genuine need for Frankie overtaking the weeds of your previous devastation. He came to see you? To apologize?

"You did?"

"Yeah." Frankie's normally sweet, soft eyes are hard. "Saw Will's car out front."

Your face is confused, your eyes scanning the air as if you're trying to recall. And then suddenly you do. Your hope crumbles to dust. You realize now what all of this was. Possessive male bullshit. The kind of thing you thought Frankie was above.

"He came to borrow my portable BBQ," you tell him flatly. "He mentioned that he needed it for camping and I offered mine since I never use it."

Frankie feels his face slackening in disbelief. He blinks rapidly a few times, his posture going from rigid to loose.

"He wasn't there to-"

"To fuck me?" You shake your head with a sneer. "No, Frankie. You see, I was really into this other guy at the time so fucking someone else never even crossed my mind. But thanks for assuming that I’ll just fall into bed with someone every time we have a fight."

Frankie's heart hammers and shame suffuses him. He feels like a fucking moron. How could he ever have thought you’d do it? How could he have thought so little of both you and Will? He takes a step towards you as you hold out a hand between your bodies, your gaze turned icy.

"Don't even think about it."

You slip past him, heading inside and grabbing your purse. You're flustered and give the group a sharp goodbye, ignoring their questions as you dash from the pub, your second beer untouched.

Frankie returns to the group moments later, his eyes red-rimmed. He's confused when the group just stares at him in disbelief.

Benny is twisting the dart in his fingers, Pope has his arms crossed and Will just looks abashed. They all shoot each other confused looks when Frankie reaches for his dart.

"Aren't you going after your girl, Fish?"

Frankie feels his stomach twisting at Pope's words. "Huh?"

"She just left here looking really upset," Will adds. "I think she was almost crying."

Frankie looks at the concerned faces of all his friends and he leans against the wall in disbelief. There’s a heavy silence there, pitying looks from all of them. No menace, no anger. Just overwhelming sadness for their friend.

"You ... You all knew?"

The men nod, smirks on all their faces.

"And you aren't pissed?"

"Jealous? Yes," Will laughs. "Not angry though. Why would we be?"

"The promise to Tom -"

"Tom isn't here and you're both adults. And I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time," Pope says, looking thoughtful. “Maybe ever.”

Frankie can barely believe what's happening. All the sneaking around, the stress of being caught, all for nothing. He could have been holding you, calling you his girl in public this whole time.

"How long did you know?"

"After the poker night," Pope says. Frankie feels his body deflating.

"How?"

"Saw the receipt for chips, salsa and pretzels. Saw how you were when Will was flirting with her." Pope shrugs. "Put two and two together."

"I never knew until later that night," Will says looking apologetic. "I never would have chatted her up if I knew you were with her, Fish."

"We felt like assholes after talking about setting her up on dates and all that shit," Benny adds.

"Yeah, well, we're not together anymore," Frankie mumbles, hating that he has to tell them this. Hating that he's fumbled the best thing that ever happened to him.

"But you were, right?"

"Yeah."

"How long was it going on?" Pope asks.

"Four months."

"But you and that coffee shop girl-"

"Wasn't real," Frankie sighs, putting his forehead in his hand. "Just didn't want you guys to catch onto us."

The men share an amused look.

"Well your girl sold it," Benny confirms. "You not so much."

His girl. His girl. Frankie is almost elated at the sound of it. Then devastated when he realizes that he’s fucked it all up.

"Every time she came into the damn room you'd stop talking," Pope points out. "You'd get all squirrelly."

"We thought you just didn't like her or something," Will shrugs. "Didn't realize you were in love with her."

"In love?" Frankie says, dark eyes fixed on Will's. He's never said those words aloud in regards to you. Thought them, whispered them at home alone as he thought of you, but never spoken them to you.

"Yeah," Will nods, brows furrowed. "You're in love with her, aren't you?"

///

You decide to make pancakes that night, a comfort food because you are desperately in need of comfort. You've been trying not to cry since you drove home, trying to forget Frankie's face as you left him in the pub.

He thought you were with Will? He thought that your feelings could so easily be swayed?

All you can see is the Frankie’s beautiful eyes of his that you'd fallen in love with first, followed quickly by his laugh, his smile, the way he runs his fingers through his hair when he adjusts his cap. The way he loves fiercely and his first instinct is to protect.

You pull into your driveway with your grocery bag, confused when you see Frankie's truck already there. He's standing on your porch, face eager as he watches you park. Frowning you take your shopping bag from the car and stalk towards your front door, ignoring Frankie entirely.

"Go home Frankie."

He watches you approach, his heart hammering in his chest. You look so fierce, so strong, so fucking beautiful. He hates that he's wasted time not being with you.

"Can we talk?"

"Had three weeks to talk," you bite back as you look for your house key. He watches you search through your purse until you find it.

"I know," Frankie insists, voice low. "I'm so sorry."

The emotion in his voice catches you off guard. You don't glance at him when you unlock the door but you do wait for him when you push it open.

"You've got five minutes."

He walks in after you, watching you head to the kitchen. He closes the door, watching as you take down bowls and bring out the whisk. He can see that you're making pancakes, your comfort meal and this tugs at his heartstrings.

He normally makes you pancakes for dinner on the days you text you're having a tough day. When your boss is on your ass and you want to cry in the ladies room. On those nights Frankie would be there at your place with flowers on your kitchen table and pancakes flipping in the pan.

He watches you measure the dry mix into the bowl, followed by the egg and milk. He knows it's going to taste like shit because Frankie always makes his from scratch with vanilla and a pinch of cinnamon.

"Down to four minutes," you snap at him, breaking him from his trance of watching you mix everything in the bowl. He stands on the outside of the kitchen, framed by the arch leading into it.

He feels awkward, his broad shoulders too-wide for your small space, his body out of place here in the warmth of your home. A place he normally felt so at ease in, suddenly gloomy and foreign.

"The guys know about us."

You stop your mixing to look over at him, your face pinched. "Why would you tell them?"

"They already knew," Frankie says, stepping further into the kitchen, feet soundless against the tiles. "Turns out I'm not so great at being subtle."

You turn back to your batter, mixing with a soft hum.

"Can't say it's one of your strong points," you say with a small curl of your lip. A smirk. That small motion gives Frankie enough encouragement to keep walking towards you.

"Were they upset?"

"No."

"Really?" You've stopped mixing long enough to see Frankie is beside you now, leaning against the counter, his eyes tilted to your face. You don’t dare look at him when you shrug. "Well, guess that doesn't matter now anyway."

Your mixing resumes again as you glance to see that the butter is melted in the pan on the stove. You try to ignore the way Frankie is staring at you.

"They asked me if I was in love with you."

He sees your body tense at this proclamation. He sees the way your eyes dart to his face only to leave once more. Your breathing is increasing, your hands completely stilled over the bowl. From here he can see some of the mix that has dribbled onto your wrist.

"What did you tell them?"

"That I was," Frankie admits almost breathless. "That I'd been a fucking insecure idiot because I was so terrified at how much I loved you."

Your body starts to thrum. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you.

"Terrified?" you ask gently. You turn off the stove, pancakes forgotten for the moment. Frankie’s eyes, those beautiful eyes capture yours and you can’t look away this time. You can only stare up at him as he speaks in that shy, rasping way of his.

"Last woman I cared about got pregnant by another guy and tried to convince me it was mine," Frankie tells you. "Only then I had coke to keep me from falling apart."

You nod, knowing this story of Frankie's past. He knows that you know this, but he has to remind you. It explains the next part, even though he hates bringing it up in front of you. He doesn’t like you to see his weaknesses. But he needs you to and he knows that you’ll accept them.

"But now I'm sober, I don't have any way to escape when I feel... I've never...." Frankie looks concerted, taking off his cap to nervously run his fingers through his hair before replacing it. "I've never felt about someone the way I do about you. Never. It scares the fuck outta me."

You want to leap into his arms. You want to kiss him until you're both breathless. But the text, the girl, all of it flashes into your mind. The relieved smile that had started in your cheeks quickly dies, the light in your eyes dimming. Frankie sees all of this, confused at your sudden withdrawal.

"You liked me so much you decided to start dating someone new a week after we'd had a fight?"

Frankie's cheeks flame and he gives a nervous smirk. "That uh... was kinda because I thought you were with Will."

Your jaw clenches at how amused he seems. "Didn't stop you from going on a date."

"Cariño," Frankie says, his voice low. "She was as real as the coffee shop girl."

"What?"

"I thought you were with Will," Frankie shrugs, neck reddening. "I wanted to look like I'd moved on too."

You blink up at him and then you can't help it, you laugh. A loud, melodic thing that Frankie can't help but join in on.

"You fucking liar," you grin, both amused at the situation and so fucking relieved.

Frankie's eyes are damp, unsure if from laughter or what he's about to tell you. You let him cup your face in his wide hands, nuzzling against the warmth of them.

"I wasn't lying about what I said before," Frankie says, his thumb grazing your cheek. "I love you, querida."

You don't hesitate. You can't. Not when it's been bubbling up within you for weeks.

"I love you too, Morales."

Frankie hears those words and feels his entire body lightening. As if just your voice could soothe every ailment, your mere presence purge every bad feeling from his body. It also scares the shit out of him. To know that what you both have is real. To know that it isn't casual. That both of your hearts are on the line.

He knows he will have to be better for you. To learn to communicate, to bring you close when he's scared instead of trying to push you away. It starts tonight.

He lowers his mouth to yours, kissing softly. You melt into him, warmed by the strong arms that encircle you. By the only man you want warming your arms and your bed. The only man you want for the rest of your life even if its dizzying in its proportion.

"I'm scared."

"Me too."

Frankie is comforted by this. That is not just him that feels the enormity of the shift. He pushes your hair behind one ear, taken entirely by how beautiful you look in the low kitchen light.

"My pillow doesn't smell like you anymore," you tell him and his eyes blow wide.

"Mine doesn't smell like you either," he admits, a small crooked smirk on his face. "That's why I drove over that night."

You make a humming noise, stroking his face, fingernails rasping over his stubbled cheek. He watches your eyes crinkle in amusement.

"I can't believe you thought I'd go for Will."

"He's handsome, smart, has his life together," Frankie shrugs. "What can I offer you compared to him?"

Your face goes serious, your eyes searching his.

"You're everything I want, Frankie."

His mouth finds yours once more, his hands skating down your back until you're arched against him and it isn't long before the kisses turn heated, his hands coming to stroke you through your shirt.

When Frankie begins licking into your mouth you decide that the pancakes can be saved for later. You move your mouth to graze his earlobe.

"Do you remember what we said we'd do when you got your license back, Morales?"

Frankie smiles against your mouth, his voice dropping to a soft purr as his arms bring you tighter against him. "I do."

"Should we go to the bedroom then?" You arch a playful brow. "You get your ride and then I get mine?"

"Anything you want, cariño," Frankie says, kissing you deeply. "Anything you want."

#frankie morales #fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x ofc #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #francisco morales #romance #angsty #angst #miscommunication trope #happy ending #happily ever after

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neobomb · 6 months

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give into things i (dont) want to [lee haechan] - the sequel

bully! (yandere) stalker! Haechan x innocent! virgin! church girl!reader Part of the give into things i (dont) want to series. please read part 1 before reading this Word Count: 1.6k [Pt.1] [Pt.2] Warnings: dark and triggering content, mature themes, toxic/inappropriate behaviour, manipulation, forcing??, choking & breathplay?, hair pulling, unprotected sex, corruption kink, noncon, fingering, creampie, loss of virginity, MDNI, smut smut smut Summery: bully!Haechan is secretly in love with you and loves pulling your hair bc it feeds into his perverted fantasies. btw, donghyuk is haechan's real name. donghyuk, hyuk and haechan are all haechan. for the one person who wished to be tagged: @got-sum-badhabits © 2023 @neobomb. Unauthorized copying, translation, manipulation, or alteration of this work is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved.

“Please, Donghyuk, stop...” Haechan gently breaks the kiss, his eyes locking with yours in a tender gaze. His fingers delicately weave through your hair, brushing the strands that softly kiss your shoulders. Tears wells in your eyes as he tightens his fist in your hair, tugging harshly until you hiss through gritted teeth, your eyes looking up at him with the same innocence he is awfully familiar with.

“I stole your first kiss, didn’t I?” he says as his lips form a deranged smile. You find yourself in a state of paralysis, words eluding your grasp, unable to sculpt the sentence you so desperately seek. You muster all your willpower, attempting to dodge his lustful gaze by avertedly turning your head down.

“Too bad you can’t take it back now.” he says, yanking your head up, letting a loud intake of air grace through your lips. His hands make its way down your shoulders and up to your delicate throat, his thumb brushing the wounded areas marked by his fingerprints.

“It’s too easy.” he inspects his work on your throat, feeling how the skin gently rises as you gulp in nervousness. He is accustomed to your episodes of panic, especially when he would hold you up against your locker, but never had he seen it manifest quite like this.

“that I can just take your life away in a heartbeat if I wanted to.” His fingers intertwined tightly, securing a firm grip around your throat once again. He grins with delight as your eyes widen, your body shaking erratically from fear.

“God, you’re so pretty like this” he says, tightening his grip around your neck. “Even with your short hair you look so fucking pretty.” Despite his dislike for your decision to change your haircut to suit Jaehyun's tastes, your beauty remains undeniable. After all, it was your radiant beauty that drove him crazy, making him go to immeasurable extents to gain your attention. Even with your life in his hands at play, deep down, Haechan knows that you’re the one in control.

“Strip for me, baby” he whispers into your ears, making shivers travel down your spine. “If you want me to spare your life, you do as I say” he reminds you. You have no choice but to slowly bring your hands up to the collar of your shirt, undoing the buttons one by one. As your fingers graze the final button, a brief pause of hesitation halts your movements, but his tightening grip around your neck tells you to continue.

You let your white button-up shirt drop to the floor, leaving you in your slightly see-through lace bra that compliments your skin tone perfectly. His favorite, he thinks to himself. Haechan pauses, taking the opportunity to truly observe you up close—a contrast to the distant glimpses through your bedroom window he's been accustomed to until now. His dick becomes painfully hard at the sight.

You slowly bring your hands to your back, struggling to find the hook of your bra clasp. Without hesitation, Haechan moves swiftly, his free hand goes behind your back to undo your bra before you let it slip off of your shoulders and down to the floor. You feel awfully exposed in front of him. Instinctively, you bring your hands up in an attempt to shield your body from his gaze.

“Don’t hide from me, baby” Immediately, he brings your arms behind your back, locking them in place by your wrists. “Now, take off that skirt of yours without hiding from me.” he demands, releasing his grip around your wrists, letting you slowly push down your skirt and panties onto the floor in one swift move.

He pauses, allowing himself to fully appreciate the breathtaking view of your completely naked body. He makes sure to scan every inch of your body with his eyes, making sure to commit every detail to memory with deliberate care. The feeling of your body so close to his will remain etched in his mind.

“Perfect baby, you look so fucking perfect.” he whispers before stealing another lustful kiss from your lips, hand still around your neck until this very moment. With his free hand, softly cupping your clit, brushing one finger up and down until your pussy starts to glisten from the wetness that forms. You desperately try to muffle your moans into the kiss while pressing your thighs together from the discomfort.

“So pure, so untouched. All for me to destroy.” he whispers as his lips make their way down your body, ensuring that visible love bites mark every place his lips have visited. He releases his hands from your neck, restoring the rhythm of your breath to its natural, steady pace. To your relief, you’re no longer suffocating.

Just as his lips were almost brushing against your clit, you gather every shred of valor and prepare to voice your thoughts. “You’re a pervert” Your speech stumbles and gets trapped in your throat while your chest begins to heave with quick, irregular breaths at the realization of his actions.

“What a big mouth you got, baby girl?” he says, his eyes lift to meet yours, wide with astonishment. “I was about to go easy on you, baby. I wanted to make you cum with my lips.” Immediately, you regret ever saying those words, pressing yourself more firmly against the wall, wishing to simply vanish into nothingness.

“I won’t be gentle now” your eyes widen before he grabs you and pins you to your desk, leaving your ass up in the air for him to smack. For a moment, he stares at your naked ass, brushing his fingers over the red handprint he just made. He spits into your hole to lubricate it before leaning over you and lining his length up with your hole. Without any warning, he pushes his dick into you in one swift move. You sob, eyes tightly shut from the discomfort.

You feel tight, wet and warm around his cock. He can’t help but push until he settles balls deep inside of you, wanting nothing more than for you to feel every inch of him before he starts moving at an uncomfortable fast pace. He tips his head back to the ceiling, and moans your name.

“Fuck… Pussy so tight…” His voice was strained with arousal as your nails dig into your desk. Moans progressively loader as the speed of his thrusts increased. The contents of your desk cascade onto the floor as a result.

“Hyuk, it hurts…” you say in desperation. The sweetness in your voice gets him to rub circles on your clit, to which you force yourself to focus on rather than the constant painful stretch. His hips are still slapping into your ass loudly at a brutal pace, making you squirm below him. He is making it clear that he intends to show you no mercy. He wouldn’t be able to hold back even if he wanted to.

“Stay still.” he growls as he brings his hand from your clit to further press your upper body to the wooden surface of your desk. He feels your juices mixed with a hint of blood in a diluted reddish color, oozing out of you, coating his cock with every thrusts. Just from feeling your pussy pulse around him, he is certain of your growing ease.

“You want to be Jaehyun’s so bad, huh?” he hiss, knowing that his thrusts get sloppier. The pleasure has now turned you into a crying mess and you could do nothing but let him ram his dick into you. “What would Jaehyun think when he sees you beneath me like this?” he leans forward to tell you. Even though he is extremely close to reaching his own climax, he forces himself to keep the rhythm steady, determined to make you reach yours first.

“You’re mine. I’m gonna keep you like this forever.” he says. From the gratifying hum that just escaped your lips, he is convinced that you have surrendered to the thought. And with a few more thrusts, your eyes roll back as you grasp for something to ground you. He grabs a tight hold on your hips, nails digging into your skin to keep you from escaping your orgasm.

He watches you come undone, feeling your walls clam down on his cock. He can’t help but completely stand still, observing your trembling body. He leans down and whispers “Don’t move”.

You twist your head to catch a glimpse of him, your gaze awkwardly angled to the side. With each passing moment, his sense of relief grew, sensing your surrender. He could feel the weight of your defeat and the shame of realizing you were powerless against it. How pathetic, he thinks to himself.

“Look at you.” he growls as his hips start to move again, pounding his length in and out of you.

“I can break you so easily” He released a deep, guttural groan. Soon enough, you feel his cock twitch against your walls as he starts to fill you, making certain that his cum is securely pushed in the depths of your womb. Slowly, he pulls his softening dick out with such precision that not a droplet dares to spill out of you.

"You belong to me now" Haechan remarks, his smile carrying an unsettling edge, recognizing the helplessness in your eyes. The gleam of amusement in his expression was unmistakably genuine.

At this very moment, you have given into his deep desires. Haechan finally gets his way after all... like he always does....

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