#so tonight was spent drawing and painting | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

omgeto · 8 months

Text

☆ ONE OF HIS GIRLS — TOJI FUSHIGURO

summary: you were used to your on again, off again routine with your ex. content in being just one of his girls. until things begin to shift and he starts to make you reconsider having a relationship... with all strings attached.

w/c: 3.9k

cw: afab!reader, angst to fluff, exes to fwb to lovers, tojis a bit of a meanie but you’re a meanie too and you both love each other for that. plot with a small dash of smut so mdni!

an: listen to the weeknds “one of the girls” to see the vision. hope you enjoy!

the bass thumps through the air, reverberating in sync with the pulse of the dimly lit club. bodies move in a synchronised chaos on the dance floor, lost in the music and the allure of the night. neon lights paint the room in shades of electric blue and vibrant pink, casting an otherworldly glow on the scene.

amid the crowd, you move with an easy grace, your body swaying to the rhythm as you dance. the atmosphere is charged, and you relish the freedom it offers, the way the music seems to wash away all your worries. tonight, the world belongs to you, and you intend to make the most of it.

but not far away, toji's gaze is fixed on you. his normally composed demeanour replaced with a simmering intensity. he watches as you interact with another guy, laughter shared, bodies drawing closer as you shamelessly grind your ass against him. his fingers clench around his drink, the glass nearly cracking under the pressure of his grip.

toji has always been good at controlling his emotions, an expert at keeping his feelings hidden beneath a mask of indifference. but tonight, seeing you with someone else, it's a different kind of test. the anger that bubbles within him is a stark reminder of the feelings he's been trying to suppress.

as the song changes, the stranger's hand slides lower on your waist, and toji sees red. he downs his drink in one gulp and pushes his way through the crowd, his jaw clenched and his heart pounding in his chest. he reaches you just as the guy's fingers brush against your hip, his presence looming over the scene.

“fuck off” he demands at the guy you were dancing with, towering over the both of you. the guy looks to you for guidance, hoping that you’ll tell toji to fuck himself. but you give the stranger an appreciative smile, knowing that there was no way you could get toji to back down.

“what the fuck was that?” you interrogate toji, as the stranger stalks off.

“what the fuck was that?” toji mocks with a sneer, “what the fuck was this,” he gestures to your outfit, and throws his arm in the direction of the stranger you were dancing with.

“it’s called having fun toji,” you argue, confused at his outburst, “what are you even doing here anyways?” you’ve barely seen toji since you broke up, and whenever you did see him it wasn’t in public.

“don’t play dumb princess,” he scoffs,, “don’t act like you didn’t know that this was my spot, that you didn’t come here just so i could see you act like a slut,”

“toji i-” technically he wasn’t wrong, you knew this was where he spent most of his time, but he hadn’t even crossed your mind since you didn’t spend time with him, outside of your bedroom.

“i don't wanna hear it.” suddenly he was tugging on your arm, dragging you somewhere. he was pissed. you could tell by the way his veins popped as he gripped onto you.

“where the fuck are you taking me?” you ask, pulling back defiantly, “i’m not something you can just drag around.”

“tonight you are.” he practically growls at you, “now move your ass.”

your night was taking an unexpected turn, this wasn’t something you did with toji – not in public anyways. your relationship was complicated. you dated for a while but you both knew that it wasn’t working, but you just couldn’t let all of each other go.

so you created a new routine, one where you could ditch your feelings and use one another for what you were good for. if one of you needed each other it was simple. you’d call, fuck, and go straight home. but tonight, he was off, the way he was bodying people through the crowd his hand still firmly placed on your wrist as he drags you along.

the air feels charged with an unspoken challenge, a silent dare to resist him. yet, despite your defiance, there's something thrilling about his possessive hold, about the way he refuses to let you slip away.

he brings you to the bathroom of the club, practically flinging you against the sink, hiking up your dress and landing a fat smack on your ass. his hand was stretched across your neck, using it to force you to see your face in the mirror in front of you.

his fingers run over your folds, you were already soaked “no panties, you really were planning on being a whore tonight huh.”

“no i-”

“i’ve let you get away with a lot of shit, y’know that right?” he mutters, spreading your legs wide so he could fit right behind you, he pulls out his dick and rubs it across your wet slit.

“t-toji, someones… gonna see,” you force out, trying to glance at the bathroom door but toji had your head stuck in place, keeping your eyes trained on the mirror.

“and? do you think i fucking care…” he taunts, continuing to tease you with his dick only entering with just the tip, his precum mixing into your pussy, “don’t know why you’re becoming shy now, you were happy to be a slut out there.”

he rams his dick into you, thrusting hard, making sure that you could really feel him. toji was thick, you both knew that, he’d usually stretch you out with his fingers or his tongue before you fuck, but tonight he was merciless. the pain you felt when he entered brought tears in your eyes, you felt dazed, drunk on the dick that was ploughing straight into your pussy. you couldn’t help but fuck him back, throwing your ass back on his dick as he pushes in and out of you. you were desperate. wanting to feel him even deeper than he already was.

“see look at you,” his mouth is at your ear, your eyes meet directly through the mirror, “all fucked out on my dick, and you say you aren’t a slut.”

“I’m not i-” you try and catch your breath but toji hips slam into yours in quick succession, making it hard to gather your thoughts.

“fuck princess,” he curses, loving the way your cunt clenches around him, “you’re taking me in so well.”

“Its t-too much toji…”

“I don’t care. you can take it,” he was too much, stuffing you full. you couldn’t think straight. his relentless fucking had you clenching your eyes shut, holding down on on the sink for dear life. he was practically punishing you, drilling into you with no remorse as he presses his fingers on your clit. “don’t cum until i say so.”

“but toji, ‘m close, im gonna…” you moan, you could feel yourself about to cum, your body trembling as you grind against his dick.

“this pussy’s mine y’know. i say when you come. i say who gets to fuck you. i-” toji twitches inside of you, cupping your tits as he brings you closer towards him. his cum sprays inside of your walls, with you creaming on his dick. his cum leaks down your thighs, and he thrusts back into you, as if to keep you filled.

“fuck,” he murmurs, he swiftly pulls out of you, shoving his dick back into his pants, leaving you there a dripping mess. there was something unspoken between the two of you, you were used to fucking rough, but this time was different. the way toji stared at you, treated you, was different.

“are you just gonna leave?” you interrogate, all worn out as you see him heading to the exit of the bathroom.

“well, you got what you wanted.” he shrugs, “do you need a ride home or somethin?”

“what is with you tonight?” you question, caught off guard by his nonchalance, “what was that?” you couldn’t deny that you were happily fucked but you and toji have been in the same space on many occasions without their being any form of jealous outburst from him.

“don’t try and act like you didn’t come here tonight wanting this outcome,” he chastises, “what did you really expect?”

“i didn’t expect you to do this whole ‘im gonna fuck you in the bahtroom and claim you as mine,’ jealousy act,” you argue, pulling your dress down as you step closer to him, your face inches from his as you whisper, “oh my god, you were jealous.”

“jealous? of what exactly?” he counters defensively, “if i recall correctly, you weren’t even focused on guy, your eyes were looking around the room for me. you wanted me.”

“believe whatever you want toji,” you chuckle, you could see it now, his reaction to the guy you were dancing with, the way he quickly snatched you up to claim you, how his eyes can't even meet yours. “i think you’re just mad that you’ve finally realised that you’re not the only one with options.”

“well go see how those options of yours like you with my cum stuffed inside of you,” he scoffs, smirking at you with his arms folded as he storms at the bathroom, leaving you speechless.

weeks have passed since you’ve last seen toji, you had no desire to see him after his random act of craziness at the club. yes toji was attractive, and he was the best lay you’ve ever had but you did not have the time for a guy trying to control you.

you step into your apartment, the soft glow of streetlights filtering through the curtains. It's been a long day, and all you want is to sink into the comfort of your own space. but as you close the door behind you, a sense of unease prickles at the back of your mind. something's off.

there wasn’t much surprise when you see him, lounging casually on your couch as if he owns the place. a mixture of irritation and surprise courses through you as he flashes you a smirk.

"what the hell are you doing here?" you demand, your voice sharper than you intended.

toji looks up, his gaze meeting yours with that familiar intensity. "nice to see you too, princess."

you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. "cut the crap, toji. why are you in my apartment?"

he smirks, his lips curling into that infuriatingly arrogant smile. "missed me, did you?"

“missed you? are you kidding me?" you scoff, your irritation boiling over. "you can't just waltz into my place like it's no big deal."

"relax, I'm just here to unwind" toji stretches, his casual demeanour only adding to your irritation, “and you gave me a key remember?”

"for emergencies" you snap, your patience wearing thin, “cut to the chase toji, i've got plans.”

his mood shifts suddenly, his posture straightening as he steps towards you. “that’s exactly what i wanted to come talk to you about,” his tone grows more serious, “y’know in the past few weeks i’ve heard a few things about you and your ‘plans.’”

“what about them toji?” you were beyond fed up at this point, he’s trying to intimidate you, and you meet his gaze head-on, refusing to back down.

“it seems that you forgot what i told you in the bathroom all those weeks ago,” his face came inches closer to yours, his lips just a fraction away from your ear. “your pussy is mine.”

“why do you think you own me all of a sudden?” you snap, slightly shoving him away from you, “what happened to us just being people who occasionally fuck.”

“because you were only fucking me.”

“so what..?” you respond harshly, “in case you forgot you’re fucking half of the city.”

toji's gaze narrows, a hint of annoyance flashing across his eyes. "don't play stupid. you know damn well what I'm talking about."

you cross your arms over your chest, refusing to back down. "and what if I am? what's your problem, toji? we were just having fun, no strings attached."

be takes a step closer, his presence almost overwhelming in the confined space of your apartment. "fun, huh?" he practically sneers, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "is that what you call it? you think I'm just some convenient option for you?"

"convenient?" your voice rises, matching his intensity. "you were the one who suggested this arrangement in the first place."

a bitter smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "yeah, because i knew you couldn't handle anything more than that."

"excuse me?” your eyes narrow, anger coursing through your veins. “just face it, the reason we broke up in the first place is because you have commitment issues. so dont act like some relationship guru.”

“commitment issues, thats rich coming from you,” his jaw clenches, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. "i never said I was a guru. but don't act like you're some innocent victim in all of this."

you scoff, disbelief colouring your tone. "victim? I never claimed to be one. i knew what i was getting into, and I was fine with it. until you decided to play the possessive asshole."

toji's gaze darkens, his voice riddled with venom. "oh, so it's my fault now? i'm the asshole?"

"yes!" you practically shout, the frustration and pent-up anger finally boiling over. "you can't just waltz in and out of my life whenever it suits you, toji. i'm not here to satisfy your ego or your control freak tendencies."

he steps closer, his face dangerously close to yours. "you think you can just brush me off? go ahead, try. but you won't be able to. everybody knows you’re mine."

the audacity of his words sends a surge of rage through you. "i am not yours, toji. I am my own person, and I won't be dictated by your whims."

his eyes bore into yours, a storm of conflicting emotions raging within them. "you're playing a dangerous game princess."

"and you're deluding yourself if you think I'll just bend to your will," you retort, your voice unwavering.

toji's jaw clenches, his anger palpable. "fine. if that's how you want it, princess."

without another word, he turns on his heel and storms out of your apartment, leaving you standing there, your chest heaving with a mix of anger and defiance. as the door slams shut behind him, you realise that this confrontation might have just put an end to whatever twisted dynamic you and toji had going on. a conflicted sense of relief washes over you; you're relieved that toji is relinquishing his hold on you. however, a nagging feeling of hope stirs within you, making you question his sudden possessiveness. why does he want you all to himself? it's a thought you can't shake off, and as you ponder it, a whirlwind of uncertainty clouds your mind.

toji, on the other hand, was pissed. how could you not see that he wanted you – granted, he had an obscure way of showing it, but to him, it was clear as day. he had spent weeks grappling with the complexity of his feelings. the memories of your past together haunted him – the way you used to fit perfectly against his chest, the sound of your laughter echoing in his ears. he had buried those emotions deep, convincing himself that he was better off without the entanglements of a committed relationship.

you held a special place among the women he’d been with. it wasn't just about the physical connection, although he relished those moments when you shared that intimate space. what set you apart was your qualities – your strong mind, the way you weren't so easily fooled by him, how your eyes would glow when you’d get excited about the smallest things. with the others, there was no desire for him to stay with them after sex – they were disposable. but with you, he basked in the moments where he could lay with you after making love, cherishing the quiet intimacy.

however, after you broke up, you were cold and distant. you mirrored his own detachment, and he couldn’t help but feel used. the connection you once shared seemed to have transformed into something different, leaving him with a sense of emptiness. he found himself questioning whether he had been mistaken all along about what he thought was between you two.

deep inside, a storm raged within toji. he knew he was being unreasonable, that he had no right to demand more from you. after all, he had been the one who initiated this friends-with-benefits arrangement, drawing boundaries to keep emotions at bay. yet, watching you slip away from him, even as he tried to keep you at arm’s length, ignited a turmoil of conflicting emotions – anger, longing, and a fear of facing his own vulnerability.

days turned into weeks, and the void left by toji's absence gnawed at your thoughts. you found yourself replaying your heated exchange, questioning if you had made the right decision. toji's intensity had left an indelible mark, and you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more beneath his anger.

you finally had chance to be free of him, to try new options – just like you wanted. but they just didn’t hit the same (literally). the guys you’ve been with after toji were alright, they got the job done, but they were all missing something. something you feel that only he could provide for you.

tonight was no different, you lay there in the aftermath of yet another liaison, the room filled with a haze of lingering desire. the guy beside you basked in his post-coital glow, his arm lazily draped across your stomach. you should've been satisfied, content even. but instead, your mind drifted, thoughts consumed by memories of toji – his touch, his gaze, the way he made you feel alive in a way no one else could.

as you slipped out from under the guy's arm and got dressed, his sleepy voice trailed after you. "leaving so soon?"

you offered a vague smile, avoiding eye contact. "yeah, i've got an early morning."

he shrugged, seemingly unbothered, and settled back onto the bed. "alright, see you around."

the cool night air greeted you as you stepped out onto the city streets, your thoughts still dominated by memories of toji. the glow of streetlights illuminated your path as you walked, lost in your own contemplations. the truth was, despite your attempts to find solace in the arms of others, your heart still yearned for toji. the memories of your time together, the electric chemistry you shared, they all refused to fade. you had tried to suppress those feelings, to silence the longing that echoed within you. but as you walked alone through the city, you admitted to yourself that no one else could replace what you had with him.

lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the figure leaning against a nearby wall until you were practically upon him. your heart stuttered in your chest as you looked up to meet familiar dark eyes – toji. he looked just as surprised to see you as you were to see him, his usual composure momentarily faltering.

"toji?" you blurted out, unable to contain your shock.

"in the flesh," he replied, his voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and something else – something you couldn't quite place.

the awkward silence that followed was heavy with unspoken words, a whirlwind of emotions dancing between you. the memories of your last encounter, the heated confrontation that ended in a bitter clash, still lingered in the air. but beneath the surface, there was something more, a connection that time and distance hadn't completely eroded.

"toji, i..." you began, your voice trailing off as you struggled to find the right words.

he looked at you, his expression unreadable. "i fucked this up."

the honesty in his voice took you by surprise, and for a moment, you were transported back to a time when it was just the two of you, when everything was simpler, and your connection was undeniable.

"it wasn’t all your fault." you admitted, your voice soft.

the tension that had hung in the air seemed to dissipate, replaced by a sense of understanding. in that moment, it was as if the weeks of distance and confusion melted away, leaving only the truth of your feelings.

"toji..." you began again, your voice steadier this time, "can we talk?"

wrapped in the warmth of the soft blankets, you and toji lay intertwined on the bed. his strong arms held you close, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm beneath your cheek. the soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. the world outside seemed to fade away as you basked in the intimacy of the moment.

toji's fingers traced delicate patterns on your back, his touch sending shivers down your spine. your fingers traced lazy circles on his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing soothing in its familiarity. the silence between you was comfortable, a testament to the unspoken understanding that had grown between you.

"you know," toji's voice broke the quiet, "i never thought we'd end up like this."

you looked up at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "like what?"

he met your gaze, his eyes holding a warmth that made your heart flutter. "like this. together."

a soft chuckle escaped your lips as you nuzzled closer to him. "yeah, well, life has a funny way of surprising us."

toji's lips found yours in a gentle kiss, a tender brush of affection that spoke volumes. as the kiss deepened, the worries and uncertainties of the past seemed to melt away, leaving only the present – the two of you, wrapped in each other's arms.

you pulled away slightly, your foreheads resting together as you looked into his eyes. "you know, for a while there, i thought we were too stubborn to admit what we really wanted."

he grinned, that familiar cocky smile that made your heart skip a beat. "well, you know me – always have to do things my own way."

you rolled your eyes playfully, swatting his chest. "yeah, that's for sure."

toji's fingers brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch tender and affectionate. "i'm glad we figured it out, though. i don't think i could've let you go again."

a soft sigh escaped your lips, your heart swelling with emotion. "me neither."

the two of you settled back into a comfortable silence, your bodies moulded together as if they were always meant to be this way. as you lay there, wrapped in each other's embrace, you realised that the journey to this moment – the ups and downs, the twists and turns – had been worth it. because in the end, you had found your way back to each other, stronger and more connected than ever before. you thought you'd be content just being one of his girls, but now that your his girl again you were completely and utterly satisfied.

and just as your contentment settled in, toji's mischievous smirk tugged at his lips. "now come sit on my face, so I can remind you of what you’ve been missing out on," he whispered playfully.your laughter filled the room as he pulled you on top of him, his hands firmly gripping your hips. "toji!" you exclaimed, both surprised and amused. as your hands pressed against his chest, you couldn't help but revel in the familiarity of his touch. ah how you missed this.

#jjk x reader #toji x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #toji smut #toji angst #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen smut

3K notes · View notes

saltburnedme · 4 months

Text

My requests are open! Message/comment to be added to the tag list!

Paring: Oliver Quick x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3520

Summary: You’d only been visiting family at Saltburn for a few weeks, but this time you couldn’t shift the feeling of something or someone watching you.

Warnings: SMUT (ONLY READ IF YOU ARE 18+) unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), choking, stalking? Kind of?, two way mirrors, vague horror ish themes, dubious consent, generally fucked up smut overall

Writers note: Hi friends! This is my first Oliver fic, I’m planning on writing more so let me know if you have any requests. I’ve only seen the film once so I apologise if my writing of him isn’t quite right yet.. just read his parts with his accent and I think it works! Please share, comment, like and all of those good things 💕💕

Part 2

21 days, almost a full month, that’s how long it had taken you to get to grips with the enormity of Saltburn. Most of that time had been spent mistakenly walking into a linen closet which supplied one of the many bedrooms believing it was the entrance to your room. You’d even drawn yourself a map by this point and somehow, you still managed to get lost, the house was almost as much of a maze as the actual maze in the garden was. You had checked off your room, all of the shared spaces and most of the other bedrooms, inhabited or otherwise, all marked down perfectly on your little map. There was only one wing of the house which you were not allowed into, Elsbeth called it the ‘bachelor pad’ something you know Felix would have at the very least groaned at. He’d been sharing this space with his guest, another student named Oliver. He was quiet, a bit of a mystery overall but from that you assessed that he was a man who liked his privacy, making you chalk up their reluctance to have you in that space no more than a matter of comfort. A comfort you wish that you could say you felt also.

You visited Saltburn many times as a child, the family themselves were distant relatives of yours which is why you always summered there when your parents were away on business. You’d never felt uncomfortable there before, but this time something was different even though you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Maybe it was the heat getting to you, maybe it was the ever changing list of house guests that visited or the way that it seemed the eyes on the paintings of long dead aristocracy seemed to follow you around the room. Something had changed, if only you could put your finger on it.. or a toe.. maybe even an out stretched palm if you felt confident enough, anything to make this restlessness end. Every night that you laid in bed, you felt something, someone, watching you. You had checked, you’d opened every door, searched every shelf and wandered into every linen closet in the vicinity of your room and every time, nothing. Your well drawn map granting you no ease of mind, even with all of the labels you’d added to it over the last few weeks. The constant tossing and turning ceased only by one saving grace, you’d remembered to pack your vibrator.

Every night like clockwork your little buzzing friend would find the tingling mound between your legs, slipping in and out seamlessly like always, making you cum within a few minutes. That was until tonight, maybe you should have expected it. 21 days in a row of usage, the batteries were sure to go flat at some point, you just didn’t think it would be so soon. Placing it into the draw of the bedside table you go back to the constant pacing feeling in your mind as you attempted to sleep. The watching feeling was back, the hairs on your arms standing up, the feeling of the familiar prickling at the back of your neck as if something dangerous was approaching from the shadows. But sleep finally took you, once again.

The sound of knuckles tapping against the wood of the door early every morning tore you from your sleep, a much needed sleep. The curtains being torn open and the light hitting your face remind you of where you are almost immediately, at least this time with the maids in your room you knew who was watching you. ‘Breakfast is ready’ she says as she leaves the room as promptly as she arrived, off to wake another of the Saltburn family without a doubt. Crawling out of bed in your white night dress, you throw on a matching robe over the top, fumbling your slippers on, briefly checking your reflection in the full length mirror mounted to the wall across from your bed before wandering down the long halls to the breakfast table. Taking your usual seat you notice no one else has awoken yet, your tired eyes settling on the food in front of you, you almost fall asleep sitting up eating. The exhaustion of the last few days finally catching up with you. ‘You looked frustrated last night’ a low voice utters quietly a few seats across from you, the low muttering making you jump out of your skin with shock.

‘Excuse me?’ You question, a puzzled look on your face which could have been mistaken for anger, your words coming out harsher than you expected. You see the man across from you almost retreat into himself, he’d barely uttered a word to you in the last 21 days and now this? Your mind immediately flashing back to your frustration at your vibrator unceremoniously dying on you, surely that isn’t what he refers to tho.. right? ‘Oh Oliver, I’m sorry, I’m so tired that came out poorly. what do you mean?’ You question, making Oliver un tense slightly.

‘I saw you looking for something last night’ he begins. ‘Anything I can help with?’ He questions.

‘Oh, That. I was just trying to get a better lay of the land. Every time i visit I swear this place is rearranged, it’s like a new house every time.’ You reply.

‘Sure, that must have been it’ he replies, no follow up, nothing. Although it was more of a conversation than you’d managed with him this whole time, you expected maybe something else would have come from this. He could have offered to help you, anything. Although you hadn’t spoken that much you’d find it hard to argue that you hadn’t developed a little crush on him, his dark hair in contrast with his piercing blue eyes, surely that would make any girl swoon.

Just as you finally thought of something to say, the thought of offering him an invitation to explore the mansion with you to further expand your map, the rest of the family arrived, keen to discuss plans for the day. Your hopes of getting to know Oliver better shattered once again.

You continued your day like normal, a dip in the pool, a little bit of reading, another trip to a random room to expand the map and eventually dinner and straight to bed.

Once again you were kept up, tonight you indulged in wine a little bit more than usual, the knowledge of the lack of batteries to fuel your only release weighing heavy on your mind.

Crawling into bed you listen to the creaking of the wooden floorboards in the hallway, the sound of the old house almost swaying in the breeze as if that were possible. You try to ignore the familiar ache between your thighs as you long for sleep subtly grinding against the palm of your hand as you crave the release you know you can’t have. The feeling growing stronger and your movements becoming more unsubtle as you move the covers off of you, the fabric of your night dress pooling up around your hips as you grind, longing for that familiar feeling. ‘Ugh, fuck sake’ you groan, it’s of no use. You roll over frustratedly, your face buried in pillows as you let out a silent scream. That’s when you hear it, the floorboards creaking, the sound too loud to be from the hallway and it wasn’t just creaking this time, footsteps. But it couldn’t be, you’d locked the door to your room, the only other way in was through the window which you had ensured was locked.

‘Hello?’ You ask tentatively, sitting bolt upright in bed at this point. You weren’t sure if you prayed for an answer or not, at least if there were an answer you’d know for certain that you weren’t alone. But no answer came.

2:41am, you’d checked the clock at least 20 times by now every time you had almost drifted to sleep another creak on the floorboards would tare you from your dreams. It sounded almost as if they were getting closer, they’d began earlier by your mirror and by now they were approaching the head of the bed. Sometimes you even thought you could feel something touching you, lightly re arranging the way your hair fell on the pillow, or something lightly tugging at the blanket that covered your body. But this time you felt it for sure.

The weight on the bed shifted, while you lay in the middle, the bed dipped on the side, the unmistakeable feeling of someone sitting at the side of the bed. Another second and you felt it, a hand on your ankle wrapped tight. Terrified you sit, unable to move. You never imagined this is how you’d be in this position, you’d scream and fight when you’d imagined this scenario previously but you were wrong, so wrong. You lay there silently, only when you felt the grip on your ankle tighten did you even let on that you were awake as you were harshly dragged down the bed, now splayed out in the middle. Before you could scream a hand smacks over your mouth with a slap, silencing any sound that could have come out of you.

‘What were you thinking about?’ A voice in the dark asks, an accent of some sort laced in his words surely belonging to the owner of the strong hands currently pinning you against the bed. ‘Who were you thinking about?’ The voice continues, more demanding this time as the accent becomes clearer, Oliver? Surely not. The sweet, quiet man who sits across from you silenced by his own nervousness every breakfast, it can’t be him. You try to answer, your words muffled by the hand over your mouth, although you’re sure it would be less of an answer and more of a demanding to get out of your room.

‘Was it me? Tell me it was me.’ He demands, his hand dropping from your mouth to your throat, wrapped around tightly grasping at the column of your neck.

‘I-I Uhm’ your reply coming out as nonsense. He was right, you had been thinking of him. You’d seen his physique while sunbathing, sneaking a glance when you believed no one would notice. But now with his hand wrapped around your neck and his body pressing into yours your mind was blank.

‘Answer me’ he demands, hand tightening as his face grows ever closer to yours. At this distance you swear you can almost see the moonlight shining through the window reflecting off of his blue eyes, glimmering at you.

‘You.. it was you’ you stutter out quietly, your words shocking even you as they come out breathy and quiet.

‘What a good girl you’ve been for me’ he says, his grip loosening on your throat as he glides his index finger down your cheek.

‘Bu-but how did you.. where.. what’ you question, a full sentence becoming too much for your brain to handle, but the man on top of you seems to have gotten the gist of your line of questioning.

‘I’ve been watching you’ he replies. ‘You and your little map. Wandering around like you own the place’ his words laced with venom. ‘I’ll admit you did make it harder for me. You thought you were so smart checking everywhere, you never bothered to check within your own room’. He continues as your eyes fight with the dark, darting around every corner of the room. That’s when you spot it, the light reflecting off of the mirror slightly wrong, it was almost as if the glass was rippling, the reflection always seeming a little off, it was a two way mirror. From the spot where it was mounted on the wall, you realised that it was pushed slightly further than usual, the story all making sense in your mind suddenly. You hadn’t been imaging things, you had heard footsteps inside the room, someone was watching you, Oliver.

‘Our rooms share a serving corridor as these old houses do sometimes’ he says as if it was an obvious fact, something everyone would know. He could see a million questions whirling behind your eyes, snapping you out of your thoughts as his soft fingers against your cheek suddenly turn into a slap, grasping your face turning your lips into a pout. ‘Now, I know what you do to sleep and I took the liberty of removing the batteries from your useless little toy there’ he sneers at you, you can almost feel his smirk against your lips as he comes in closer. This was nothing like the man you had vaguely come to know over the last few weeks, he was mean, cruel even and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you admitted that you liked it, you loved this version of Oliver. ‘I thought, just maybe if you’d get impatient enough you’d come to me yourself. But the little miss never came’ he continues, finding himself amusing at his own pun. ‘So I came to you’ putting extra emphasis on his words to make a point as to almost poke at you. ‘Now, I can either leave and go back to my room or I can help you with your predicament. Would you like that?’ He questions, still holding your face in his hands ensuring you look straight into his eyes as your head nods, partially guided by Oliver’s hand moving your face for you. ‘Good girl’ he places a light peck onto your lips. ‘The former was never really an option anyway, did you really think I could leave all this now that I have you here?’ His question sounding more like a statement, he didn’t care about your answer, he decided you belonged to him the moment he stepped into the room. His hand slips from your face, grasping your throat once more before climbing further onto the bed, throwing the covers off of you and pushing your night dress up.

He sighs, the view of you almost making him cum on the spot. Oliver never imagined he’d actually do it, sure he’d thought of the thousand ways he could take you, he wanted to bend you over and fuck your brains out over the breakfast table every morning for the last month and now, in this single sigh he released a months worth of frustration. His desperate hands kneading at the supple flesh of your thighs, roaming up to where he was at his most desperate for you. The moment the pad of his thumb pressed against your clit a jolt of electricity raced through your body, moving you with a shocked flinch against the bed. His eyes bore into yours as if almost warning you to stay still, a warning you would absolutely heed. His eyes transfixed on yours as his thumb swirled around your sensitive nub, gathering slick from your entrance just to return to your clit, your climax building from the moment he touched you. You were almost there, your peak was in sight you could feel it building when he tore his hand from you. A smirk pressed against his lips as he bent down to kiss you, he was proud, he ruined your orgasm and he was proud of it. Just as you settled into the lack of his touch, his lips hovering against yours he plunged his fingers into you, without warning a loud gasp leaving your lips. You knew you’d fucked up the moment the sound left your mouth, his fingers being pulled from you once more.

‘Good girls stay quiet, do you understand me? We wouldn’t want the rest of them finding out how much of a whore you are now would we?’ He sneers, your heart rate increasing as you nod your head again. ‘Such a good girl for me. I’ll make sure to reward you, just stay quiet for me’ he continues, his words softer this time as his fingers return to your warm, wet entrance.

It was harder to stay quiet than you expected. His pace was relentless and now as he kissed down your body, your night dress torn from you and the remaining scrap of fabric now discarded to the floor, the want to moan for him was overwhelming. This was only made worse when his lips wrapped around your sensitive mound. His tongue and fingers moving at the same time, sucking on your most sensitive parts like a man starved. He was desperate for you and now, you were for him. You couldn’t resist it and he could tell, your climax was imminent as you rocked your hips against his mouth. From watching you he knew that you covered your mouth with your hand or bit down onto your fist when you came in an attempt to muffle the sounds. To compensate for this, at the moment your shaking orgasm rippled through your body he shoved his fingers into your mouth, the taste of your own juices heavy on your tongue as he suckled and licked you through your peak, his eyes still fixed on yours.

You thought that was it, he said he wanted to help you and he had, you’d half expected him to leave when he tore his own shirt over his head, pushing his boxers down his thighs as he pushes your legs further open with the weight of his own body. With one hand next to your head and his other white knuckle grasping his cock he glided his length through the slick of your pussy. His lustful gaze had left yours now, favouring watching his tip spread you wide for him. Just as your eyes left his face to watch the sight between your legs you were interrupted. ‘Look at me’ he demands ‘I want to see the look on your face when I split you open’ his words being of continuous shock to you, where had your quiet kind man gone?

Although you’d hate to say he was correct, he was. Even with your drenched hole and your legs spread wide for him the burn as he entered you was real. He was unbelievably thick and long, his length impaling you again and again as he begins thrusting into you relentlessly. He was as desperate for release as you were, maybe you should have known, your sweet man in his full right mind would surely never break into your room and do this to you if he wasn’t desperate you reassured yourself. This can’t be the real him after all, it had to be an act.

These thoughts stayed with you for merely seconds as your eyes rejoined his as they flutter open, your mouth hanging open in a silent moan just like his. As if you could both feel the sound about to release your lips came crashing together, muffling the sound of your joint moans as his tongue slips into your month. It was a dirty, sinful act and you loved every second of it. You’d never felt this desperate for anyone in your life. You wanted him to cum inside you, breed you and make you his.

‘Once I cum inside you, you’re mine. Do you understand? I fucking own you’ he says, making you question if he has a future in a career in mind reading. He doesn’t wait for an answer taking the feeling of your walls tightening around his length as the only reply he would ever need again.

His pace quickens his body pressed against yours as his hand clasps over your mouth silencing you, your head held still as he glares into your eyes. You can feel it, his climax nearing, his thrusts becoming sloppier and more erratic as he breaks his own rule, groaning loudly into your kiss as he cums within you, his liquid filling you to the brim. The sound reverberates against the walls, someone must have heard that you think as he continues to fill you up. Just as you think he’d stopped, almost possessively he begins to move again. The feeling overwhelming both of your senses as he fucks his cum further into you before pulling out and repeating the same process with his fingers, watching a little bit trickle out before pushing it back inside you once more.

‘You’ll keep this inside you, you understand? You don’t get to clean yourself up’ he demands. ‘You’ll be a good girl for me tomorrow, at 10pm sharp you’ll get into the bath across the hall and wait for me. Got it?’ His demands continue as he places one last harsh kiss onto your lips, your eyes flickering closed for only a second, re opening when your kiss has parted. Just like that he was gone. His clothes, every part of him had left you almost without a trace. Your night dress torn on the floor you ponder how you’ll explain that to the maids in the morning as they’ll have to fix it. You cover yourself with the blanket again, your head pressed against the pillow as you finally go to sleep, the best you’ve slept in 21 days.

Part 2

Message to be added to the tag list! - current tag list: @idontevenknow1359

2K notes · View notes

rose-tinted-kalopsia · 2 months

Text

≡;-꒰ 𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝑰'𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒂𝒚, 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔

╰┈➤ ❝ rafayel x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : pwp (without plot), softdom!rafayel, hand fetish, voice kink, semi-public teasing, semi-public fingering, essentially just questionable things in a restaurant, dirty talk, praise, use of pet names "princess" "buttercup" "miss bodyguard", lmk if i missed any tags !!

wc : 2.7k

an : a little thing to make up for my lack of posts last week, and as a thank-you for 240 followers! <3

Wherein you are instantly reminded that his hands were not, in fact, just for painting.

Rafayel was a talker.

You'd known this from the start, of course—how he loved to ramble on, and on, and on...

And you didn't mind, if you were honest.

You thought it was cute. You knew that he wasn't like this with everyone he spent time with, and though you would often tease and bicker with him over the fact, you wouldn't deny that it made you feel special. Rafayel was comfortable around you, enough to be the audacity that he was, and there was a little part of your heart that would always soar at the mere thought of it.

Tonight wouldn't have been that different...

Or, so you thought.

He'd insisted on taking you out the minute you mentioned getting off work early, and who were you to refuse? You could never dare to set foot in such a high-class restaurant otherwise, and the thought of being pampered a little was appealing to you after a hard day. No matter that you'd equally have loved cuddling with him on his bed, you always knew Rafayel would gladly go an extra step to make you feel loved. And good, special food was one way to do that.

...But you couldn't focus.

Typical of such expensive restaurants, the ambiance was quiet—calm, exquisite, luxurious, befitting of its status. It was far more relaxing than the noisier restaurants you were used to visiting on a more daily basis... But it also meant that you had no other choice but to focus on him.

It wasn't a bad thing, per se.

You were used to hearing him talk.

But there was something about the way his voice blended in smoothly with the soft jazz track playing in the background, and it was driving you insane.

"And Thomas had the audacity to demand that I had to be there," he was saying, and you took painful notice off the way he scoffed, leaning back into his seat with his arms crossed. "Can you believe it? After his clear lack of consultation with me?!"

"Mhm, yeah... That's crazy..."

You were listening, but you weren't listening.

It wasn't that this was the first time you'd heard that flippant tone of indignation in his voice, and most certainly not the first time you'd listened to all his rants about his day. But how could you put it? There had always been a certain flow to his voice that had you keening at the way he would speak, always smooth and melodic whether or not he was upset. And really, you thought, the ambiance of the place wasn't helping much—you couldn't stop the way your mind would wander back to those nights, his lips grazing your ear, low, sultry whispers sending shivers down your spine.

And then, most of all—his hands.

Long, slender fingers and pale skin, smooth to the touch despite those veins so visible to you as a mark of his artistry. The way he'd fun his fingers through his hair, maybe tap a finger impatiently along the side of his arm... His sleeves were rolled up, too, just enough to draw your eyes over the exposed skin of his forearm.

"Fuck."

You whispered to yourself without thinking, the mere image of those hands sliding up your thigh making you swallow thickly.

But you weren't being as subtle as you thought.

"Huh? That wasn't the reaction I was expecting."

Immediately, your eyes snapped back up to his face—had he said something else that you didn't catch?!

He raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, placing his arm on the table, resting his chin in his hand. Your breath hitched. His eyes were narrowed. "Soooo... You're distracted," he noted.

Uh-oh.

You knew that look.

He was observing you.

"No, no, of course not!" You shook your head immediately. "It was just... shocking...! I mean, who would have thought, right?!"

What was shocking, you couldn't have known.

But you shifted in your seat, instinctively crossing your legs and feelings hyperaware at the wetness that had already pooled below.

"Right... Which one? The jellyfish I saw flying outside my window? Or the fish that grew legs and walked?"

The heat of his gaze was too intense. If he wanted you to focus, he shouldn't have been looking at you that way! Your mind had filled once more with less-than-appropriate thoughts, and all you could do was nod dumbly as you recognized the sound of his voice as the only indication he was speaking to you.

And oh, you wanted so badly for him to speak. To have his voice so close to your ear, feel his breath on your skin, hear all the naughty whispers of things he'd like to do to you... To have his long, pretty little fingers stuffed deep inside your cunt, curling against your sweet spot, listening to his praises with the telltale sounds of your wetness hitting your ears—

"Hellooo? Hey, are you okay, buttercup?"

Jolted out of your thoughts, you refocused to see that his expression had shifted into one of concern.

"H-huh?"

"Well, you're clearly not listening to me. I'd have assumed you were bored, but I know I'm not that boring. Are you tired? Did you want to go home, after all?"

Slowly, you saw a tiny frown form on his face, and you softened.

"No, Rafa," you gave him a reassuring smile. "I like it here. I'm okay, really."

"Are you just trying to be all tough in front of me again?" He scoffed, before reaching over to take your hand in his. "Look, we can just request for the food to be..."

Ah.

There was no way he missed it.

The way you let out a shaky breath at his touch, your eyes immediately dropping down to his hand... The way your lips parted slightly for you to steady your breaths, the way you subconsciously laced your fingers through with his and reveled in the way he felt so... warm. So soft.

"Princess?" He peered curiously at you, and you couldn't dare to bring yourself to look at him.

But it was almost as if he already knew.

Like testing you, he slowly moved his hand up over your arm, and you hated it—the way you would shudder involuntarily at his touch; the way you would bite down on the inside of your cheek if only to keep an obvious whimper from escaping your lips.

"What were you thinking about, princess?" He chuckled, and you could hear the amusement in his voice as his expression relaxed.

You didn't dare answer.

Your eyes shifted to look away from him, and you pouted, knowing full well that he'd be teasing you about this to no end.

"And here I thought you weren't paying attention to me at all..."

The smug tone in his voice, even as he trailed off to allow the waiter to promptly deliver your food, undeniably sent a chill through your body.

Casually, Rafayel grinned as he stood up, and your gaze followed his figure when he took the seat next to you.

"W- What are you...?"

"What? I can't choose to sit next to my girlfriend?"

Though the booth was spacious and there was clearly room for both of you to sit on the same side of the table, you were immediately made hyperaware of the warmth of his body next to you.

He was doing this on purpose.

You knew he was.

"Here. Say aaahh~"

You nearly jumped in your seat when he reached over to rest his thumb on your chin, placing enough pressure to get your mouth to open slightly.

He could slip it in, you throught, subconsciously dropping your jaw open little more, leaning forward if only to have his fingers press down on your tongue—

Rafayel did not.

Instead, he gently guided his fork into your mouth, the salty taste of the seafood pasta almost making up for your disappointment.

"There we go," he whispered, "good girl."

...Almost.

You could have sworn you whimpered at the praise, a blush steadily creeping across your features that only intensified when he moved his hand underneath the tablecloth to rest on your knee.

"Rafayel—!"

He nodded with satisfaction, not even bothering to hide the smirk on his face even as he looked away from you. "It tastes good, doesn't it? I knew you'd like it here."

This fucker, you thought with a pout. How could you focus on eating?!

He would casually take bites out of his food while yours remained untouched, rubbing his thumb against your skin, seemingly taking no notice over how quickly your breathing became unsteady. It was getting on your nerves.

"R-Rafayel," you whispered, weakly, even as you reached out in an attempt to grab your utensils.

His hand slid further up your thigh.

"Hm?" He tilted his head to look at you, eyes filled with pure mirth. "What's wrong, miss bodyguard? Not eating?"

You grit your teeth.

"No, you dimwit, not when you're—!"

You stopped yourself.

Not when he's... What?

Something in you refused to admit it out loud, and his grin only widened. "Yes, princess?"

His hand snaked over to the inside of your thigh, thumb brushing ever-so-slightly against your underwear in a way that made you gasp.

"Oh," he hummed, "did you prefer my food?"

Rafayel would act without missing a beat, bringing his fork back up to your mouth and chuckling at the way you would easily allow him to feed you.

And the food was good, as it should be for such an expensive restaurant, but it was the last thing on your mind. Especially when he leaned down to whisper in your ear; especially when his hand would squeeze the plush of your thigh without warning—"Ooorr... Am I distracting you?"

He continued to rub casual circles over your skin, dangerously close to your clothed heat, the skirt of your dress riding up slightly.

"R-Rafa," you breathed, closing your eyes when he ghosted his fingers over the fabric of your panties, and feeling yourself subconsciously part your legs to give him more access. "We're in public—"

"And? Do you want me to stop, princess?"

The way he spoke had you shivering, his voice low, and quiet, and pure music to your ears.

You gulped.

"...No."

And you could feel the way he grinned, placing a chaste kiss on the top of your head, bringing a finger to apply sudden pressure on your clit over the damp fabric of your underwear.

It took everything within you not to just moan, and you grit your teeth with a sharp intake of air.

"You're a naughty one, miss bodyguard," he chuckled. "You like the thought of it, don't you? Of having my fingers deep inside of you, having you come undone right here, under the table, in such a luxurious restaurant..."

He moved down to rub his fingers over where your slit would be, smirking at the way the fabric clung to your heat, before deftly pushing it to the side.

"How indecent."

You rest your head against the back of your seat, breathing already ragged, spreading your legs wider. "Rafayel, please..." you peered up at him, food long-forgotten in front of you.

You had never been more grateful for a table in the far corner of the restaurant.

"Please what, buttercup?"

You whined, and how could you bear to take any more of his teasing? With an indignant gaze, you grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand back towards your cunt—

"Fuck."

Rafayel traced your hole, somewhat of a look of wonder on his face as he gathered your arousal onto his fingers. "You're dripping, princess." His voice was so husky and woven with pleasant surprise, and you could have melted. "How long have you been fantasizing? God, I wonder what was going on in that pretty little head of yours this entire time..."

"Please..." you whined. "Please, Rafayel, just—"

"Shhhhh."

With his free hand, he placed a finger to his lips with a smile, before finally, finally filling you up. Fingers stretched your walls with ease, fitting snugly in your hole, and a strangled moan escaped your lips—"Quiet, buttercup," he shook his head. "I'll give you what you want, but you have to be good. Act natural, eat your food. Got it?"

You could only nod feebly, mind dizzying as he pumped his digits inside of you, slowly, steadily, even as he casually reached over to grab a glass of water.

He told you to eat.

He told you to act naturally.

But, gods, how could you possibly focus on anything else but how good his fingers felt? He was perfect in your pussy, sliding in and out, brushing against all the right places. In comparison, your food tasted stale on the tip of your tongue, so enraptured in your state of lust. You knew that it probably did taste good, but you were simply too distracted like this.

"Is everything alright?"

You jolted at the voice and looked up.

Of course, it was just your luck to have a waiter waltz over to check in on you. You watched as his eyes slowly drifted over to your mostly untouched plate of food, "Oh... The young miss hasn't eaten much, I hope there aren't any issues?"

Subsequently, Rafayel picked up his pace, and you fisted the cloth of your dress tightly.

"Shit," you whispered under your breath, hanging your head down—you couldn't possibly open your mouth to answer without moaning.

But Rafayel, on the other hand, was calm.

He had a nonchalant smile as he nodded, despite being knuckles deep into your cunt, fingers curling up in exactly the way he knew you loved best. You bit back another groan, clenching tightly around his digits, trying not to let your expression give anything away—

"We're okay," Rafayel spoke coolly, "she was just feeling a little under the weather, but thank you for your concern. The food is wonderful."

He remained courteous while making it very clear that he wanted the two of you to be left alone, and all things aside, it amazed you a little. You thought, for all that he despised interacting with people at all of his events, he was impressively skilled at getting his point across.

But when the waiter did leave, he turned back to you with a raised eyebrow.

"You're making yourself obvious, miss bodyguard," he mumbled. "Did you want him to know how well I'm fucking you under the table?"

As if to make a point, Rafayel pressed his thumb back against your clit, and you doubled over with another gasp. "B-but you're—!" You hissed in pleasure when he repeated the same actions, already feeling a familiar knotting in your stomach. "Fuck, Rafa—more, please—"

He clicked his tongue, but out of the corner of your hazy eyes, you could easily make out that dangerous, dangerous smirk of his.

For a moment, you thought of the growing possibility of him pulling out, leaving you hanging, feeling that agonizing pull of your orgasm fading away—

"Yeah?" he whispered, nipping at the skin of your ear. "Gonna cum for me right here, huh? All over my fingers? You're such a cutie, miss bodyguard."

There would be no edging, not now.

Rafayel promised you he'd give you what you wanted, and he wasn't about to go back on his word.

He kept up the pace.

Rough, fast, all with the intention of chasing your pleasure—you couldn't imagine what anyone else around you could be hearing, not when his wet thrusts were all you could hear, so deafeningly loud in your mind. And you might have been quite far away from the staff, surely farther away from the next occupied table, but the mere thought of it had you clenching tightly around his fingers—

You so desperately wanted to moan. To say his name, tell him how good he always was to you—

But you could get caught.

And the possibility had you simultaneously mortified just as much as you were aroused, that just a few more thrusts of his fingers had you clutching his hand, eyes squeezing shut, mouth falling open in a silent moan.

"That's it." He moved to whisper into your hair, soft, reassuring kisses on the top of your head, slow pumps of his finger to guide you through your high. "That's a good girl. Let it all out, princess."

He gently moved your face back to look at him, and your breath fell out in ragged pants, eyes still unfocused, feeling the slick on your thighs when you shifted in your seat.

Rafayel pulled out his fingers to lick them clean, and smiled.

"Now, finish your food, and I can fuck you in peace when we get home. Okay, princess?"

⁺₊ / an: that "my hands aren't just for painting" line when combat starts???? like mhm no sir they are not !

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

#love and deepspace #love & deepspace #love and deepspace smut #love & deepspace smut #l&ds smut #l&ds #love and deepspace x reader #love & deepspace x reader #rafayel #rafayel smut #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #love and deepspace rafayel #love & deepspace rafayel #ʚɞ*.ﾟ. lnds #✿˖°. roxiefic #divider by mikeykuns #divider by cafekitsune

836 notes · View notes

hyunsvngs · 8 months

Text

𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 - hwang hyunjin x gn!afab reader

wc: 5.3k

rating: 18+. MDNI

cw: casual sex w no strings attached, reader is afab but no gender-specific language/pronouns are used, background reader x minho, smut warnings under the cut.

synopsis: it was well established now that you were fucking your way around the frat. you hadn't intended to make hyunjin your next victim, but when you end up alone together, it seems like the perfect opportunity.

a/n: part four of our fratboy series, hot bitch summer!!! i really hope you all enjoy this bc i'm completely in love with our sweet, sensitive, artsy, pervy fratboy hyunjin <3

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: swearing, nude painting and photography, mutual masturbation, cumswapping, casual sex, a little bit of bickering, mentions of male x male sexual activity, very poetic descriptions of many types of genitals, hyunjin is a pervy little boy but still very lovely.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You didn't know if you'd ever seen the frat house this quiet. Even with the red solo cups littering the coffee table, hoodies and shirts strewn over furniture, clear remnants of a recent rager, the place was almost peaceful. That was probably because it was mostly empty, though. Minho and Felix were helping out at the dance studio they frequented, Chan and Changbin were at the gym. Jisung was napping, which contributed to most of the peace and quiet. Jeongin was away visiting family, and you had no idea where Seungmin was - that man remained a mystery.

Hyunjin, however, was lounging on the couch in the lounge, sketchbook in his arms. It appeared that he would be your target for tonight. You leaned on the back of the sofa, looking over the boy's shoulder. "What are you drawing?"

Hyunjin yelped, clutching his sketchpad to his chest. "Jesus, Y/N! You scared the life out of me. I didn’t even know you were here tonight."

You couldn't help but laugh at the absolute terror that had flashed in his eyes when he looked back at you. You really hadn't meant to ambush him - honestly - but it had been entertaining nonetheless. "Sorry, Hyunjin," you apologised, not sounding very sorry at all. You reached over his shoulder and tapped his book. "Can I see?"

"Um. No." He clutched the notebook closer to his chest. “Not this one.”

You rested your forearms on the back of the couch, leaning next to him. "How come? Are you shy?"

"I'm not shy." He was looking ahead, but you didn't need to see him. You could hear the eye-roll in his voice.

"Show me then!" you insisted, prodding his shoulder gently.

"This one is private, okay?"

"Private?" You fake-gasped. "Hyunjin, are you drawing dirty things? Are you a porn artist?"

"What? No!" He squirmed at the accusation.

"You're drawing nasty things, aren't you Hyunjin! It's not hentai, is it? Tentacle porn?" In all honesty, you wouldn't have cared, or judged him at all. But it was funny to play with him.

“Obviously not! I’m not Jisung.”

You snorted at his quip. “Okay, well… are there any drawings I can see?”

He pondered for a moment. “I guess so. You really wanna see?”

“Of course.” You knew Hyunjin was studying fine art, and you were aware that he spent the majority of his time in the makeshift art studio he called a bedroom, but you hadn’t really seen much of his work.

When he led you up there, you immediately understood why he’d want to spend his hours here. It was a cosy respite from the chaos that so regularly consumed the rest of the house. Strings of fairy lights came alive at the touch of a button, casting a warm glow on the space. An easel sat in the corner of the room, and most surfaces were lightly cluttered with various art supplies; notebooks, paintbrushes, pencils, as well as a few completed works. There was a vase of what looked like lavender; you breathed in and the scent confirmed it, sweet and gentle.

“Take a seat,” Hyunjin murmured, before rifling through a pile of books. He tossed one into your lap as you sat on his bed, although you were a bit more preoccupied with watching him move around the room. He did everything so elegantly, despite his extra-long limbs; it wasn’t hard to tell he was a dancer. He sifted through a box of records, his fingers flipping through them deftly, before setting up a pale blue record player. You turned your attention to the book in your lap.

It seemed to be full of off-handed sketches. They were absolutely gorgeous, but you could tell he’d done them absent-mindedly as he observed the world around him. There was one of Felix and Jisung, cuddling on the couch. A sight you’d seen many times before, you had no doubt it had turned to play-fighting before Hyunjin had even finished his drawing. You flipped the page. A sketch of Changbin curling a weight, his bicep bulging - if Hyunjin had followed the man to the gym just to observe and draw him, you truly understood. You couldn’t help but gasp, as you turned the page once more. You and Minho, standing in the kitchen together, his arms wrapped around you as you beamed. You remembered the moment. He’d been attempting to make lunch, but you’d been rather successful at distracting him.

“Hyunjin, these are so beautiful,” you told him honestly, your heart swelling at the charm with which he captured such everyday moments.

He thanked you, looking a little bashful.

You took a break from flipping through his drawings to survey him for a moment.. He was different when he was sober. Most of the time you'd spent with him, he was near-blackout drunk - utterly white-girl wasted. He was the life of the party, really. Loud, giggly, commanding the attention of everyone in the room. Maybe he was just one of those people who took some time to warm up to someone, you considered. You didn't doubt this, but beyond that…

He just seemed so gentle. So sensitive, so sweet.

"You're… not the typical fratboy, are you?"

Hyunjin looked over at you from the other side of the room. His eyes were so round, so innocent-looking. "What do you mean?"

You paused, choosing your words carefully. "You're just so lovely, Hyunjin." He blushed, looking away from you and resuming what he was doing - lighting a candle? - but he didn't speak. "Some of the other boys… great guys, don't get me wrong. But they have such fuckboy energy. Not you, though, Hyunjin. You're so sweet."

"Hmm," he hummed, appearing to think on your words. "I guess so. But…" he trailed off.

"But?" you asked. "I don't believe there's a but. Not with you, Hwang Hyunjin."

His voice was barely above a whisper, hardly louder than the scratching of his pencil. "I'm still a man, Y/N."

You blinked. "Well, I've noticed that."

Hyunjin shifted uncomfortably. "I'm just saying… men are all the same. Even if some seem nicer."

You placed the book on his bed, your brow furrowed as you tried to figure out what the fuck he was trying to say. "What are you getting at, Hyunjin?"

"Don't judge a book by its cover, okay? Let's leave it at that."

You hummed. "I don't want to leave it at that. I feel like you're hiding something now, and I wanna know what it is." Hyunjin stayed quiet, although you saw his jaw tense, noticed his cheeks redden. "So, if I shouldn't judge a book by its cover… does that mean you're not the sweet, kind, artsy boy I thought you were?"

"Well, no. I am those things. I'm just… other things, too."

“Other things?” you asked. You watched him light another candle. The cogs in your brain turned a mile a minute, trying to read the situation. The fairy lights, the candles, the record turning quietly. It all felt so sensual. He wasn’t trying to set the mood, was he? In all fairness, the boys had been constantly joking about how you were fucking your way around the whole frat. And it wasn’t even really a joke. You decided to test the waters. “Hyunjin, do you mean… you’re a little dirty?”

He paused for a moment. “I suppose so.”

“You’re a horrible pervy man? Who brought me up to his room to have his way with me?”

Hyunjin jumped. “What? No! I brought you up here to hang out. And look at my drawings. I’m not trying to take advantage of you!”

You partly believed him. You chuckled. “What if I like dirty pervy boys, though?”

“Fine,” Hyunjin mumbled. He picked up the book he had been drawing in downstairs, a plain black, very nondescript sketchpad. He brought it to you, dropping it in your lap before going to the chair by his easel, sitting down and looking away from you. You looked at him expectantly, but soon realised you weren’t going to get anything more from him.

You shrugged and opened up the book.

Oh. He really was a dirty boy.

You'd never in your life seen such a varied array of vulvas. Drawings, paintings, doodles. Shaved, trimmed, hairy. Innies, outies. Small, button-like clits, more enlarged ones. He didn't seem to discriminate at all - the man was pussy-obsessed. You flipped through a few pages, admiring the pussies like a field of flowers. Hyunjin's non-vagina art was beautiful, but he'd clearly found his calling here.

“So you are a porn artist?”

Hyunjin glared at you. “It’s not porn,” he said scornfully. “It’s art.”

"But, you must watch a ton of porn? For research?" The air quotes you put around research earned you a scathing gaze.

"I don't watch porn at all," Hyunjin stated with a roll of his eyes. "And ninety-nine percent of the time, when guys say that it's a lie. But I'm the one percent, promise. I mainly use erotic photography, for references. Or paint from memory."

"From memory? You must be some kinda pussy expert."

"Well, you're a dick expert, from what I've heard," Hyunjin murmured, just a little too loud to be under his breath.

You couldn't help but cackle. "God, you're a bitch."

Hyunjin smirked, before reassuring you, "I'm not judging, by the way. By all means, keep going."

"Thank you for giving me your permission, Hyunjin."

"Not what I meant and you know it."

You shrugged, and returned to flipping through the book. "I like this one," you mumbled. The model's legs were parted, dainty fingers spreading their labia. Stretch marks streaked across their inner thighs, pubic hair wild and untamed. These drawings, they were all so real. It made you wonder what you'd look like, through his eyes. How would he draw your lips, what would your clitoris look like sketched out by his hand? How would he look, as he painted your most intimate area? Would he study you closely? Would he lick his lips in concentration, would he peer at you as he tried to envision how you felt, tasted, smelled? Would he touch himself, later, thinking about what's between your legs?

You decided to cut to the chase.

"Have you ever had a live model before?"

Hyunjin looked like he was about to combust. He looked at you, mouth agape, and you could tell he was trying to determine whether he'd heard you correctly. "I've… I've never had the opportunity."

You smiled at him sweetly. You loved the way he made you feel as though you were bestowing a blessed opportunity upon him. You had blown his mind with the mere implication that you might let him see you naked.

"Do you want a live model?"

He nodded, still looking absolutely bewildered that you'd even offer. You didn't know why he was so surprised - you didn't exactly have a representation as a prude. You had openly fucked three of his friends in the last week, and here he was, utterly mystified by the idea of simply looking at your pussy.

You laughed at him, gently. "C'mon then, artist. Get your easel."

"Right - yeah. Let me just - get everything set up."

Hyunjin turned, and you saw how hurried his actions were as he rooted through drawers, gathering his supplies. You supposed you'd better get yourself ready, too.

"You don't have to do this, you know," he told you, raking through a box of pencils.

"I want to." God, you really did. The rumours were true; you were, in fact, looking to conquer the entire fraternity.

Hyunjin picked up his easel from the corner of the room, and finally turned back to you. "Oh. You're… naked."

You looked up at him from the bed, where you perched on the edge with your legs crossed. "Well. You're painting my pussy."

He looked absolutely lost. "I didn't expect to see your… I didn't know you'd take your shirt off."

You chuckled. "What am I, Winnie the fucking Pooh? Anyways, I didn't think you'd be so surprised by nudity, given the fact you draw genitals as a hobby."

Hyunjin merely nodded, before setting the canvas on the easel and spreading numerous pencils and what looked like oil pastels on a small table beside it.

"Hey, Hyunjin. Look at me for a second." He did, hesitantly. "Relax a little, okay? It's all fine."

He nodded again. "I know." He didn't sound sure. He was clearly nervous, which was understandable. But you wondered what it was, exactly, about the situation that was stressing him. Was he overthinking whether this would lead to sex? He wanted it, you could tell. Surely he knew that you wanted it too? Maybe you'd need to make your intentions clearer.

You sat quietly as Hyunjin worked. He brought a small lamp over, positioning it beside the bed. You watched as he tied his hair into a messy bun at the nape of his neck, gathering a few strands that had escaped and tucking them behind his ears. He was so pretty, even when he wasn't all dolled up.

"Okay," Hyunjin breathed. "Ready when you are."

"Where do you want me?" you asked, and yet again, he looked ready to explode.

"Anywhere's fine. As long as I can see it - you." He cleared his throat. "As long as you're comfortable. That's the most important thing."

You leaned back on your elbows, and slowly spread your legs. Hyunjin looked upon you, mesmerised. His eyes were sparkling. This was how a man would look at a work of art, Michelangelo's David perhaps. This was how a man would gaze out across Nepal, having reached Everest's peak. This was how a man would look upon a real, honest-to-god miracle, a biblically accurate angel come to deliver the news that he is the messiah. That was how Hwang Hyunjin looked at a pussy. God, he really was a perv.

After minutes of scrutiny, during which you'd never felt so fucking visible, he turned to the easel and began his sketch.

He spoke up again, after a few minutes of working. “I don’t mean to overstep, but…”

“You just spent at least three straight minutes staring directly into my vagina,” you stated. “Say whatever you wanna say.”

“What’s actually going on between you and Minho?”

You wished you knew how to answer that. “I guess it’s hard to explain. We haven’t really discussed anything properly.” You thought for a few moments. “I’m sleeping around, obviously, but at the end of each day, I go back to him. That’s all there is to it, really.”

He peered over at you, curious. “So, it’s true then?”

You looked back at him. “What?”

“You’re sleeping your way around the frat?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“And you’re having fun?”

“Well, obviously. You’re all hot as fuck,” you admitted outright.

Hyunjin nodded. “I get it. We’re a pretty fun group of guys to fuck. You haven’t fucked Seungmin yet, right?”

You blinked at him. “No. Not yet… to be honest, I don’t know if Seungmin’s even interested.”

Hyunjin waved a hand at you, dismissing your concerns. “Seungmin’s just like that, don’t worry. Anyways, look forward to it - that’ll be a fun one.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. That seemed like a strange thing for a man to say about his friend. Unless… “You sound like you’re speaking from experience, Hyunjin.”

“Duh,” Hyunjin said, as if it was obvious. “You said it yourself, we’re all hot as fuck. Most of us fuck around with each other, from time to time. It’d be a wasted opportunity if we didn’t, really.”

You took a moment to absorb this. You couldn’t believe neither Felix nor Jisung had ever mentioned this to you. Traitorous bastards. They’d been fucking around with their stupid hot friends this whole time, and hadn’t even invited you to watch, or join? They were sick in the head, both of them.

You went quiet, letting Hyunjin sketch.

There were many beautiful things in this world. Sensual, erotic, carnally beautiful things. The curve of an erection, the tightly-wound curls at its base, heavy hanging balls which almost looked like a heart, when caught in the right position. But this? Hyunjin, leaning over his easel, chewing on his lip as he deliberated over the perfect way to capture you on page. This was something else. This was beauty redefined.

It occured to you that it was impossible to hide anything from him. This took wearing your heart on your sleeve to a new level. He was privy to every one of your desires; he'd see liquid arousal drip from your hole, he'd watch as your clit slowly swelled. And if he took a moment to look away from your pussy (although he was so completely entranced that you didn't know if he'd be capable of it) he may even notice your nipples hardening, your pupils blown out with desire. He'd see just how much you wanted, needed him.

Although, by the looks of it, he was starting to get rather needy himself. His sweatpants were tented, though he was clearly trying to hide it, forearm draped over his crotch. You watched intently, trying to gain as much intel as you could from your obscured view. It looked big - that was about all you could gather.

"Maybe you should just take those off," you chanced.

Hyunjin looked at you, surprised.

"Your trousers. They look like they're getting a little uncomfortable. And maybe it'd be less weird if we were both naked anyways?"

Hyunjin put his pencil down, giving you an accusatory look. "You just want to see me naked."

You grinned brazenly. "Obviously."

Hyunjin laughed. "You are so shameless. Fine, have it your way."

Satisfied, you watched as he pulled off his shirt. Vast planes of tanned skin revealed themselves to you, and you fought not to drool. He was far from the muscular beast Changbin was, but he was surprisingly toned. Curved biceps, lightly defined abs, sweet little pecs with the loveliest pink nipples. So many places to kiss, lick, suck. And that was before he'd even taken his trousers off.

He stood, and as he tugged down his trousers, you could've sworn that his dick sprung back up with enough force to knock you out. You kind of wanted it to knock you out. It had a beautiful curve to it, not quite as thick as some that you'd seen recently - your mind flitted back to Changbin and his coke-can cock - but it was still undoubtedly long enough to ruin your pussy. And so fucking pretty. Your eyes scanned him slowly; the tip was the prettiest shade of pink, the long smooth shaft, the perfectly round, clean-shaven balls. He was perfect.

"Enjoying the view?" he asked, snapping you out of your staring. He didn't meet your gaze, but you could tell he wasn't too shy. He knew how beautiful he was, and he was used to people staring.

You simply smirked at him. "Keep drawing, boy."

You felt your clit begin to throb - you couldn’t help it. You burned under his gaze each time he looked back at you studiously. You knew what Hyunjin was like, with his art. Although you were both clearly desperate, he would continue drawing for hours, putting off the inevitable pleasure that you both craved, in pursuit of his next masterpiece before he let you both indulge. If you wanted his touch, you would have to intervene.

It took him a surprising amount of time to notice that you were stroking your clit. He was peering at the canvas, eyes narrowed. You could tell he took his craft seriously. It was admirable, but incredibly frustrating when you needed him to just turn his head ever so slightly.

"Oh."

There it was.

"What are you doing?" he asked, looking at you with a blank stare. He looked you in the eyes, rather than in the crotch.

"Enjoying the view," you repeated, inserting a finger and spreading the wetness across your clit.

Hyunjin turned back to the canvas, apparently unperturbed, but you saw his dick twitch. You had him. You continued to circle your clit gently, letting out a soft moan as you did so.

Hyunjin snickered under his breath. "Screw you," he whispered, his hand wrapping around his length gently. Still, though, he didn't stop drawing. You watched as he stroked himself, torturously slow, head slowly disappearing into his fist before reappearing once more, all the while leaning over the easel.

And you'd thought Minho had been a master of restraint. Hyunjin was different, though. He wasn't hiding how much he needed this. He was perfectly happy to show you his rock hard, leaking cock. More than happy to jerk off languidly before you. But he was also making it clear that he wasn't going to rush into anything. He'd sit there and paint all night, if you let him.

Of course you wouldn't let him.

"Oh, put the fucking pencil down."

He met this with less resistance than you expected, and didn't hesitate, even for a moment. "Fine, but I really do want to finish this painting soon." He turned in his seat to face you, fucking into his fist as he watched you.

You shuddered under your own touch, fingers swiping over your bundle of nerves and sending jolts throughout your body. Your pleasure felt so heightened, as you watched the man before you. His hands were gorgeous, veins popping out as he stroked himself, long fingers wrapped around his member. His balls swung gracefully as he did so - how did he do everything with such elegance?

You thought about how he might feel inside you. His dick was so long, you knew he’d hit all the spots you needed him to. You knew he’d be princely and refined, even while fucking you. Even when he reaches his peak, when cum spurts out of that gorgeous pink tip, even if he lost his composure… he’d do it with poise.

You could hardly take it any more. “I need you, Hyunjin.”

“But I’m having so much fun watching,” he said, his voice hoarse - he sounded so fucked out already.

You groaned. “You’ll have more fun fucking me, and you know it.”

Hyunjin grinned as he shook his head, but showed no resistance. “C’mere, baby,” he murmured, his long, slender fingers gripping you by the hips and dragging you towards the edge of the bed. “You ready for it?”

“More than ready, fuck, please.”

Hyunjin pushed the tip of his dick inside you, ever so slowly. You sighed happily; there was that feeling you craved. Centimetre by centimetre, he entered you deeper, gradually filling you up more and more. Eventually, when his hips ground into yours, when he was fully buried inside you, he let out the sweetest whine you’d ever heard.

You couldn’t help but grin at the sound. “That feel good, pretty boy?”

He nodded, eyebrows furrowed as he fixated on the feeling. The slow pace was agonising, the drag of his cock against your g-spot positively electric. He was fucking you as if it was an art form, as if his dick was a paintbrush and you were his canvas. And, fuck, he was a master of his craft.

“Legs up, baby. I need to get deeper.” His voice was low, strained. You did as he instructed, hooking your ankles over his shoulders. “God, that’s good.”

Had anyone ever fucked you this deeply before? You weren’t sure. Although, to be fair, you weren’t certain you knew your own name, at that point. All you could see were stars, and the angel of the man above you. He pulled himself all the way out, until the head of his dick was barely inside you, before plunging back inside, slowly, slowly. Each time, he pressed up against your cervix, and it hurt, but fuck, it felt so good.

The room was hot, the air heavy. Sweat was dripping from Hyunjin’s forehead and landing on your skin. You were consumed with his scent, lavender and fresh cotton, You were covered in him, you felt his touch on every inch of your body, surrounded by soft moans from both yourself and him.

His hands explored your body as he fucked you. They tasted your thighs, squeezing gently. They caressed your hips, your waist, your hips, your chest. He handled you so gently, treating you with the utmost care. You could picture him so clearly, manoeuvring a delicate statue, arranging flowers in a vase, manipulating clay on a pottery wheel. He treated you with the exact same respect and admiration.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece, babe.” He thrusted hard, but still so slow. “So fucking beautiful.”

Hyunjin looked down to the site where your bodies joined. He was enthralled, eyes fixated on the sight of himself disappearing inside you.

“Can I - shit -” His hands were shaking slightly, as he caressed your stomach. “Can I get out my camera? Just - fuck - just to take some reference photos. I need to paint you over and over, please-” His words trailed off into a whine.

You nodded. “Of course.”

He pulled out, and you gasped, feeling a sudden emptiness.

“Hurry,” you whimpered, as he gathered his equipment. He returned to you, kneeling before you and capturing the sight before him. You felt yourself clenching around nothing, desperate to have him inside you once more. He didn’t leave you waiting too long fortunately, sliding his dick back inside you, snapping more photos as he did so, still moving at that lazy, unhurried tempo. It drove you crazy. It felt amazing, of course. He was hitting all the right places, sending shivers down your spine and spreading butterflies throughout your tummy. But with a dick that perfect, you wanted him to thoroughly destroy you.

“Put your fucking camera away and fuck me properly,” you urged him.

Hyunjin smirked down at you. “Minho wasn’t lying. You really do get bratty and impatient.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fucking rail me before I throw you on this bed and take things into my own hands.”

Hyunjin laughed, shaking his head as he put his camera safely on his desk. “Relax, hon, I’ll fuck you.” He returned to the bed, looming over you with a teasing smile. “Are you sure you’re ready? You sure you can take it?”

“So help me god, Hwang Hyunjin, if you don’t-”

Hyunjin swiftly cut you off, thrusting deep inside you. Your words trailed off into a high-pitched squeak. Sassy as he was, he did as he was told; he fucked you hard, pounding into you powerfully. One of his hands gripped your thigh, holding it close to him, the other tweaking your nipple, sending yet more bliss running through your system.

“You’re so fucking tight, hon,” Hyunjin rasped. So you’d heard.

“Keep fucking me, Hyunjin - fuck me harder!” You gazed upon his slender frame, tanned skin glistening with sweat. Maybe it was just because he was fucking you so well, but you could’ve sworn he was a real live angel, an almighty being. No person was this beautiful - no human being fucked this well.

“Fuck, I don’t know how long I can last like this,” Hyunjin grunted. He had a dark look in his eye.

“Cum then,” you encouraged him, “Give me your cum, baby.”

He shook his head. “Not until you cum first.” What a gentleman.

His thumb went to your clit, rubbing gentle circles into it, the perfect amount of pressure. It was pushing you over the edge, embarrassingly quickly. You felt your heart rate rise, your skin begin to tingle. Your climax was approaching - you felt it throughout your whole body.

“Hyunjin - Hyunjin!”

“That’s it, baby, let go,” he coaxed you.

“I’m cumming!” With your announcement, it crashed over you like a wave. It exploded out from your core, white heat shooting through your entire body, coursing through your veins. You distantly heard yourself babbling Hyunjin’s name, although you couldn’t say you were quite lucid enough to be aware of it. All you knew were the fireworks spreading from your pussy, sparks erupting, setting you alight.

“You’re clenching around me so tight,” Hyunjin whined. “Shit - Y/N!”

He pulled out, gripping his dick at its base, crying out as he painted your pussy, shooting his cum across your folds. You watched intently as the hot white spurts landed on your clit, your lips, dripping down towards your asshole.

“There we go, baby,” you sighed, catching your breath.

Hyunjin kneeled before you, also panting with exertion. He leaned in, locking his eyes with yours before licking a gentle stripe across your clit. He hummed. “Tastes good. Wanna taste?” You nodded, wide-eyed. He delved in, licking and sucking, and you moaned at the sensation on your oversensitive parts. He sucked on your clit, swiped his tongue through your folds, spread your cheeks and licked at your asshole. You couldn’t help but squeal.

He stood, leaning over you and gripping your cheeks gently, forcing your mouth open. You stuck out your tongue compliantly, waiting for the salty substance to reach you. He allowed it to dribble from his tongue slowly, landing in your mouth.

Hyunjin pulled away. “Don’t swallow. Stick out your tongue, let me see.” You complied, and he picked up his camera once more, snapping more shots of you. Your face, this time, rather than your genitals. “Fucking gorgeous,” he whispered.

He put the camera down. “You can swallow now - I know you want to.” He sat on the bed beside you, lounging back, and you cuddled into his side. You watched as he clicked through the photos he’d taken; your dripping wet pussy, his dick teasing your entrance, burying itself inside you. Cum dripping down your clit, decorating you. Your face, eyes hazy, looking beyond fucked-out, tongue coated in the tangy mix of Hyunjin’s cum and spit.

“We should blow this one up and hang it in the hall,” Hyunjin remarked.

You snickered weakly, tired as you slumped against the man. “You boys would like that, huh? You’re all obsessed with me.”

“And for good reason. I see what the hype is about.” Hyunjin kissed your forehead softly. It was so tender - this was a no-strings-attached hook-up, nobody was under any illusions here. But it seemed that everything he did, every action he carried out towards anyone, was so filled with love.

“Hype? What do you guys say about me, when I’m not here?”

“That would be telling,” Hyunjin responded slyly. “Let’s just say, you’ve gotten some pretty good reviews.”

You yawned. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Who’s next then, hm?” he asked.

“That would be telling,” you responded with a mocking tone. “I’m tired. You want me to stay here tonight, Hyune?”

“It’s okay, hon. Go crawl into Minho’s bed, he should be home soon.”

You sat up, kissing Hyunjin’s pretty, plump lips. “Thank you for giving me a good time tonight, Hyunjin.”

He smiled. “Thank you for being my muse.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

When Minho returned home to find you curled up in his bed, you were barely awake, but still hanging on to your consciousness.

“Hey there, sleepy.”

“Hey, Minho.”

He paused, looking at you, eyes narrowed. “I know that smile. Who have you been with tonight, then?”

You gave him a smug grin. “Guess.”

“Not Jisung again?” He got into bed beside you, looking amused as he wrapped his arms around your frame. “You haven’t even showered, babe. I can smell Hyunjin on you.”

“You’re so good at this game,” you said, your voice slurred with tiredness.

Minho pulled you closer, kissing your neck from behind and making you sigh contentedly. He pulled you closer, and you felt his length press into you from behind - was he getting hard, thinking about you and his friend together? Was he imagining fucking you, with the scent of Hyunjin’s sweat still marking your skin?

He whispered in your ear, confirming your suspicions. “Are you too tired for another round?”

You turned around in his arms, eyes twinkling. “Never.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

taglist: @moasworld @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @queenofthegardengnomes @boomfrogg @hoeinthehouse @msaddictions @sunnyhonie @hizliyuruyen @jyu037 @jouoy @drhsthl @seungincore @jellylver @veedoesntknaur @meloncremesoda @k-poplv @livieloo914 @fekixfmp @fawnpeaks @minnielvr @imastraykidsfan @hanjisung2023 @hoelynecujoh @kyrviu @sxgeofprohets @everydreams-penumbra @chaneomma @kkissreol @phtogravi @secretjj @princelingperfect @personawthai @dirah-h @straykids5star @luvhyux @chuuswifereal @stg110 @cookiesandmilfx @number1seungminstan @skzswife @starsandrqindrops @poody1608 @cutiespaghetti @hwa-0403 @i8rsie @kpopsstuffs @everyonehatesshani @han8ul @velentine143 @vixensss @cuddlehye @sheeshhhhfelixsworld @angeldhd @comicnerd557 @leeknowfz @imwithurmother @hrtsformin @maknae00 @teaholic @ficrecnctskz @tasteskz-sworld @ilychee08 @thehomotron8000 @romynochill @freckleboilix @yunhorights

1K notes · View notes

milswrites · 2 months

Text

Hobbies Part 6.

~Azriel X Reader ~

Summary: In an attempt to keep Azriel away from Elain, Rhys sends him on a sabbatical to the Day Court. With a lot more free time on his hands Azriel needs to find something to keep him occupied. Unfortunately he meets Y/N who has the annoying habit of not staying away. Can she teach him that there’s more to life than he thought?

Grumpy!Azriel X Sunshine!Reader

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Lil bit of fluff at the start and then nice and angsty

Y/N couldn’t sleep. She had tossed and turned for hours, trying to settle her swirling thoughts so she could rest but her attempt to sleep was fruitless. How could she sleep after having the most incredible night of her life? Azriel had blown away her expectations, doing more for her than anyone had ever done in her life. She didn’t even mind that he had rejected her invitation for him to come into her home. Azriel was a smart male, he most likely didn’t want to rush things and she most definitely did not want to scare him away.

But he had agreed to meeting again tomorrow and the thought of that alone was enough to flood her body with excitement. Hence her lack of ability to fall asleep. As she laid in her bed, she wondered if Azriel was in the same position as her. Wide awake in his bed reliving the perfect evening that the two had shared.

Ever since she had met Azriel it was obvious he was the most handsome male she had ever met. She never blamed him for his anger and pain that he took out on her, it was understandable after being dumped in an unfamiliar Court by those he called family.

Whilst she had no family of her own, having grown up an orphan in her Court, Y/N was sure she would react in the same way if she were in his shoes and so every time Azriel had snapped and shouted at her she reminded herself of this.

She wasn’t even meant to get as involved in this as she was. Yes Helion had asked her to keep an eye on him and make sure he was comfortable in the Court, but he hadn’t made her spend as much time with him as she ended up doing. No one could have predicted what had blossomed between the pair.

Deciding that she just wasn’t going to get any rest tonight, not with the memory of Azriel’s lips on hers still fresh in her mind, Y/N slipped from her bed and made her way to the room she had dedicated to sewing.

Sitting down with a contented sigh she held up the tunic she had been making for Azriel. A matching one to the cobalt blue dress she had made herself. She had begun making it after their talk while riding the horses, the blush at the thought of Azriel wearing something she had made stayed on her face the whole ride back to the city and refused to leave until she had arrived back at her home and decided to start working on something for him.

It wasn’t easy to produce, not with Y/N being unfamiliar with how to sew clothes for people with wings, but she had managed it (but not without many failed attempts). A few more hours tonight and it would be finished, leaving her able to present it to him tomorrow.

It took longer than expected, hands delicately sewing the silver thread into the intricate designs of the Illyrian tattoos she had spent hours studying the drawings of from books about Illyria in Helion’s library. The sun had long risen when Y/N finally finished the piece, a golden glow settled in the room, sparkling against the metallic sheen of the thread like stars twinkling in the night sky.

Now complete, Y/N lovingly wrapped the tunic in a black paper before securing the packing with a dark blue velvet bow, reminiscent of the Night Court colours Azriel always wore.

Not wanting to wait any longer before seeing the male, she bathed hurriedly and dressed once more in the now matching dress to the tunic she had made Azriel. Gathering the gift in one arm and the bag of painting supplies she had put together earlier for the days activity in the other hand.

~~~~~

Y/N rushed to Azriel’s flat, now very familiar with the route between their two residences having walked there plenty of times.

Once she reached the building he resides in, Y/N stopped outside for a moment to compose herself, butterflies dancing in her stomach. She allowed her uneven breathing from practically running here to return to normal, knowing Azriel would likely find away to tease her for her flustered state.

Once Y/N had waited long enough that she was sure there was no way Azriel could call her out on her desperation to see him, Y/N entered the building and made her way to his door, placing the bag of paints down and knocking to alert him of her presence.

Her attention goes to the crack at the bottom of the door where his mischievous shadows usually peak out in curiosity whenever she turns up here. There was no movement this time. However, it wasn’t uncommon for Azriel to take a while answering the door, Y/N could have sworn that one time she had knocked he had been out and crawled through his window upon his return before answering the door. Or at least that’s what she had inferred from the muffled bang that sounded from somewhere in the flat and the heavy panting he had been doing.

Y/N knocked once more in hope that he would hear it but there was no answer. Perhaps he had gone to the market. His cupboards were bare when she had been in the flat with him yesterday, having used some items for their baking. Deciding to wait for him to return Y/N sat down in the corridor, legs stretched out facing his door.

Unsure of how much time had passed since she sat on the ground, Y/N looked to find something to cure her growing boredom as she waited for the Illyrian to turn up and so she pulled out the paints and a canvas from her bag, electing to pass the time through painting until Azriel arrived.

It took a while for her to decide what to paint, having found she now had plenty of inspiration after the past few weeks she had spent with the shadow singer. Finally Y/N decided upon painting the view from the sky last night, a constant reminder of the promise made between the two of them. The promise to travel the world together.

Tongue between her teeth Y/N did her best to accurately represent what she saw last night. Her memory of the view slightly blurred as most of her focus had been on the male whose arms she had been wrapped in. The painting was a swirl of black and blue skies, spattered with glowing stars, the bottom depicting the illuminated city, Y/N trying her best to paint the intricate architecture of the day court buildings.

It wasn’t long before her painting was pretty much complete and yet there was still no sign of Azriel. Perhaps he was at the training ground? Packing up the paints, Y/N rested her artwork against his door to allow for it to dry before leaving the bag of supplies next to it, trusting that no one would take it.

Y/N grabbed the gift she had made from the floor and stood. She would surprise Azriel at the training ground. She would give him the gift there and chide him for being late and forgetting he had planned something with her.

Butterflies growing once more at the anticipation of seeing him, Y/N hurried to the grounds where she hoped Azriel would be. There was no frustration growing in Y/N at his absence from the flat, instead there was just the excitement of seeing him train. There’s something about seeing him in his element that she couldn’t help but be attracted to, and she would never pass on the opportunity to stare at his muscled figure as he worked. Especially not now she could appreciate it openly.

Arriving at the training grounds Y/N was disappointed by the fact that he wasn’t there. The only people training in the arena being some of Helion’s army that she vaguely recognised the faces of.

Disheartened Y/N turned to leave, wondering if she should check the gardens. It’s likely he could have gone there to clear up the mess of the picnic the two of them had forgotten to clear away last night, distracted by the intoxicating presence of each other.

As she began walking away from the grounds Y/N was stopped by the calling of her name. Hope growing in her chest she whipped around, eyes scanning for Azriel, only to be met with one of the soldiers, who had been training, jogging towards her. “Y/N right?” He asked as she attempted to put a smile on her face in greeting as she nodded at him, “Helion’s been looking for you! He wanted to meet.”

“Ah ok. Thank you!” She tried to sound appreciative but it came out more depressed than she had planned. Y/N supposed if she went and met with Helion then it may give Azriel time to return from wherever he was. Gift still in hand and now feeling exhaustion creep in from her lack of sleep and rushed trailing around, she made her way to the palace.

~~~~~

“Y/N you are looking as divine as always” Helion charmed as he kissed her hand upon entering his office. “Been doing some shopping?” He asked curiously, eyes locked on the gift being supported in her other arm.

“What? Oh yeah, just a bit of shopping because I haven’t been able to find Azriel today.” Y/N lied, not quite ready to share what was growing between her and Azriel with Helion yet. She was sure he’d be happy for her, having tried to set her up with numerous people over the years, yet Y/N was still anxious that whatever her and Azriel’s relationship was it didn’t fall under her workplace guidelines.

“And that’s exactly why you’re here!” Helion said as he took Y/N’s free hand and led her over to the sofa in his office where she placed the gift down next to her as she sat, confused as to why he would want to talk about Azriel with her. Maybe they hadn’t been as discrete as she thought.

“What about Azriel?” She asked as casually as she could, trying to hide her growing anxiety.

“Oh well he’s gone now so it’s time to reassign you. Get back to your other jobs now the time has freed up again, I thought you could start by going to the outer village and - …Y/N are you ok?” Helion trailed off noticing how her eyes had suddenly widened and her breath caught in her throat.

“What do you mean he’s gone?” She asked in disbelief, doing her best to dampen the betrayal she was feeling not wanting it to show on her face. She knew that one day he’d eventually have to return to the Night Court but she assumed he would have said goodbye. That they would have planned some form of communication between them and promised to visit each other.

“Rhysand sent a message this morning, said the shadow singer left last night…What’s wrong Y/N?” He tentatively asked, a comforting hand resting on her shoulder.

“I’m fine!” She said a little too quickly. Helion was her friend but the last thing she wanted was for him to be pressing her about this, especially when she felt as though she was about to burst into tears, “Just surprised he was gone that’s all…Now what was the job you needed doing?”

Helion didn’t buy it, Y/N could tell that much. She knew the man cared for her. He had always supported her and been a good friend whenever she needed someone, even helping her by giving her the job she has now. But if she had to look at his concerned face for another minute then she definitely would start sobbing. As if sensing this he continued with describing Y/N’s next task, every once in a while flicking his worried eyes to her watery ones.

Once this was done, Y/N was quick to jump onto her feet, grabbing the gift which now felt much heavier in her arms than it had when she walked into the room.

Helion took her in once more, eyes raking over her dress, realisation crossing his face before asking, “That’s a pretty dress Y/N, did you make that?”

It now hurt for her to even look at the item of clothing she wore, instead she let her eyes drift around the room, looking anywhere else than the clothing that reminded her painfully of the man who was now gone.

“Yes. Thought I’d pick up sewing again.” She replied bluntly, struggling to hold the tears at bay.

“It’s an unusual colour,” Helion pressed, “not like what you normally wear.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t suit me.” With that Y/N left his office finishing the conversation, afraid of what he was going to say next.

As she raced through the corridors, frantically searching for the nearest exit, Y/N couldn’t stop the tears that were now streaming down her face and fogging her vision. He was gone. Azriel had left without even saying goodbye.

He had returned to his home, the place he had so badly wanted to return to. Y/N couldn’t stop the horrible thoughts that flooded her brain and pierced her heart. Perhaps all she had ever been to Azriel was a distraction. Something to keep him busy until he could get back to his normal life. Maybe the kiss was born from his pity for the lonely Day Court girl who had forced her way into his life against his will.

She sobbed loudly, gripping the led-weight box in both her arms and drawing it tightly to her chest. Azriel was gone.

Part 7

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: A little bit from Y/N’s perspective to rip your hearts out :(

Taglist:

@minnieoo @thelov3lybookworm @going-through-shit @iluvyewman-blog @laughterafter @amysangel @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @justvibbinghere @honeybeeboobaa @willowpains @tele86 @mysticalfuncollectorus @mybestfriendmademe @starryhiraeth @gorlillaglue25 @moonlwghts @darling006 @anuttellaa @serendipityx150 @xxxalicerogersxx @that-one-little-soybean @scatteredstardustt @naturakaashi @nyx-the-alien @lostinpages13 @namelesssav @dreamlandreader @fightmedraco @maxmouse001 @amara-moonlight @aunicornmademedoit @spideytingley @iamjimintrash @one-big-fangirl @tsunami-of-tears

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #sarah j maas #azriel imagine #a court of thorns and roses

449 notes · View notes

talesofesther · 1 year

Text

yours only

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: You make Wednesday feel something she never felt before; jealousy. And maybe a bit of something else too.

Requested by anon

A/N: First time writing for her, who stole my heart pretty quickly. I hope this is okay, hope I could somehow capture her personality that's definitely not an easy one. Let me know what you think. Requests for her are open. <3

Masterlist

You felt a little petty, just a little, as you walked amongst the woods to meet Xavier in his secret spot, the one where he stored most of his paintings.

But he's been a good friend of yours ever since before Wednesday came to Nevermore, and if she can spend however long she wants in that coffee shop, why can't you do the same?

You weren't expecting to fall for her, in reality, you couldn't stand her in the beginning. But one doesn't choose one's feelings, and when underneath all that secrecy and nonchalant attitude she does things like; take an extra tray of breakfast for you when you wake up a little late, or help you in class when you forget the particularities of a flower, or even send Thing to your room in the dead of night with a written note for you to meet her the next day for an outing, which was code for sneaking out to investigate, but the gesture is there.

It was safe to say you were a goner. As much as it might be — her words, not yours — a terrible decision.

But lately, Wednesday has been distant. And you were jealous, even if you didn't have the right to be. So over the past week, you've been spending a good amount of time with Xavier. He's been helping you with your drawing skills, the piece you're working on now is almost done, and you're quite proud of it.

The entirety of your day is spent in Xavier's shed, laughing and painting and getting your head off of things. You think you see a dark silhouette spying on you from outside, but when you go looking, it's gone.

It's already late at night when you do go back to your dorm, your roommate is sneaking into her boyfriend's room tonight, so it's just you. You're looking forward to the quiet night.

You open the door to your room with a yawn escaping your lips. Your backpack is thrown somewhere to the side and you don't care much for where it lands, you stretch your muscles, a little sore for being in the same position most of the day. Only then do you take a glance over your room, and in the right corner, sitting by the end of your bed on the floor and mostly covered by the darkness, is Wednesday.

You almost jump out of your skin. With the way your heart is beating under your hand, you swear your soul did leave your body for a second; "holy shit Wednesday, a little warning next time."

Wednesday gets up, taking a single step towards you before deciding against it, her eyes never leave you. "You're distracted today, why?"

"Hello to you too," you grumble, taking off your jacket, "and, how did you even get in here, the door was locked."

There's a ghost of a smirk on her burgundy-painted lips, and it gets you wondering if they'd leave a print on you if you stole a kiss. "You can't expect a simple lock to stop me," Wednesday tells you.

You chuckle, knowing damn well there were few things out there that held any power over her. You just don't know that you happen to be one of them. "no, of course not."

A beat passes where you just look at each other, both waiting on something, wondering whether the other person’s feeling the same way. The air feels heavy around you, almost electrical.

You clear your throat and walk past Wednesday and to your wardrobe to pick up your pajamas, figuring a shower would do you good.

Wednesday has a staring contest with the back of your head as you rummage for clothes, her jaw is set tightly in place and she hates the feeling that's in her stomach right now. "You didn't answer my question," she says, with more bite than usual.

You huff, running a hand through your hair as you turn to her again. You walk up closer, your personal space mingling with hers.

She sucks in a sharp breath when you stop before her, her gaze darting to your lips before settling back on your eyes. It's so fast that you don't notice it.

"What question?" You ask.

Wednesday gulps, twisting her words into what she really wanted to know; "why are you spending so much time with Xavier?" She deadpans, as if she couldn't care less.

Your lips tilt up on the sides, because you know better, but you won't indulge her just yet. "Why are you spending so much time with Tyler?"

"This is childish."

"Indeed."

"His father is the sheriff, and I need information on the attacks," Wednesday raises her brow, "my relationship with him is merely convenient."

You bite the inside of your cheek, nodding softly, "well, Xavier has been my friend for years already, so…" You shrug and walk around her, heading to the bathroom.

"It doesn't look like it."

"Like what?" You turn and ask impatiently, waiting for her to do the same and look at you again.

Wednesday does so slowly, staring at you through her lashes. "Like you two don't want to be more than friends."

There's something complicated about her tone that you can't quite put your finger in. Her eyebrows are a little crooked, her eyes glinting just a little brighter under the moonlight and her hands painfully closed into fists. You realize she's upset.

You soften. For her, this might just be the equivalent of a crying plea. You walk over to where your backpack lays forgotten on the floor and carefully pull out your sketchbook. The cover is black and a little worn as you run your fingers over it, taking a steadying breath.

You sit down on your bed with it and pat the space beside you.

Wednesday regards you with caution, she's lost and not in control, two things she absolutely hates; however, she doesn't feel as uncomfortable when it's with you. She takes calculated steps to your bed and gently sits down beside you, closer than she thinks she should have, but it's too late to back down now.

"Xavier has been giving me a hand with a few of my drawings," you explain, opening your sketchbook on the last page you used, "and uh- this is the one I'm working on."

Wednesday takes the sketchbook from you, holding it tenderly between her fingers as if it could fall apart. Her heart beats erratically against her ribs, for a moment she thinks she can hear it. The feeling is foreign to her.

The drawing is a perfect picture of her, undoubtedly by your eyes, as she sits beside you in class, focused on her notes. It's a sight you're all too familiar with, one that you love. The lines are a little rough still, all black charcoal and dark ink; tracing the lines of her jaw and hair to perfection. It's pretty, probably not a word Wednesday usually would use to describe herself, but it's true now.

"I couldn't see Xavier as more than a friend," you tell her quietly, so as to not break the bubble of intimacy around you, "I'm afraid that spot is already taken."

Wednesday's gaze snaps up to you, and you think that's the most emotion you've ever seen her let on. You wish you could bottle this moment up like fireflies in a glass jar.

You reach out a hand, and Wednesday holds her breath before you even touch her, you do too. Her hair, deep black and so incredibly soft, meets the pad of your fingertips as you push it behind her ear. The motion is all delicacy and shyness, just a breath over the fragile line between you and her.

Wednesday's lashes kiss her cheeks when her eyes almost drop closed for a millisecond before she takes back control. She's stiff, hands now with a bruising grip on the sketchbook, "what are you doing?"

You inch closer, and when she doesn't pull away, you gently cup her cheek; her skin is a little cold under your touch. "What do you think I'm doing?"

For the first time in her life, her words get caught up in her throat before she forces them out; "Something you'll regret."

Smiling against your own volition, you whisper; "do you really believe that?"

Wednesday wonders if you're aware that you're killing her slowly; agonizingly, because you're so kind with her demise. She's the one who closes the gap between you, when you're just a hairs width away from her, one hand letting go of your sketchbook in order to bunch up your shirt in her fist and pull you to her.

It's everything you're not expecting, her eagerness, urgency even. She's kissing you like she's trying to memorize you, not sure if you're real or not. It's still soft though, still uncertain, still her.

When she parts, it's slowly, her lips almost refusing to let yours go. The outlines of your mouth are faintly smudged with her lipstick, testimonies of her affection, of how lucky you are to have it.

The sight pulls a smile from Wednesday, and consequently from you as well once you see it. Because albeit small, her smile is real, and you think you already have your next project for the sketchbook.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x fem!reader #wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday addams x you #wednesdayedit #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #wednesday addams fanfic #jenna ortega #wednesday x reader #my story

5K notes · View notes

panxramic · 4 days

Text

Missa cubito ohmygod today’s stream was SOOO.

Firstly, I haven’t talked about this but the fact that q!Missa has finally accepted the family home as his home too makes me want to snob. The fact that he calls it HIS home too, after spending so long distancing himself and saying that he doesn’t deserve to live with them? It makes my heart spin. And yes he still has his movements of self doubt but he knows now that this is his home and this is where he will always return to no matter what.

And I adore the little things that Missa notices. Last stream he got so giddy over the barrel in the house with his name on it and got so happy that he was included with the rest of the family even if he didn’t have anything in it. And then once again today gasping and getting happy at seeing the barrel again as if it was the first time all over. Missa loves being loved and he adores the little things the family does to show it. And how does he return the favor? With drawings he can leave behind dedicated to each one of them. Because he loves his family and he will find a way to physically show it even if he can’t be awake when they are.

And ohhh today with the cakes. He struggled so much and he lost so much energy trying to make the birthday cake for Tallulah but he would not give up until he got it done for both of them because his kids deserve it. And can I also point out I don’t think he realized it was also Chayanne’s birthday but he still made him a cake because he wanted to give something to his son and not make him feel left out. And when he was making the drawing for Tallulah he would not stop and he would not let ANYTHING distract him because his daughter deserves the world and she deserves the perfect painting.

Then come the raccoons. He goes and helps them clean because maybe he can earn money for the family and help out more around the house -> something Missa has always struggled with. He always wants to provide for the family the way they have him so he goes along with these raccoons. Then it all goes to shit when Bad logs on and he finds out it was his home they were cleaning. He finds the dead bodies and he gets scared because… who is this man he’s been calling his friend? Why does he have a grave of bodies underneath his home?

Missa runs. He tries to run away from q!Bad but he always finds him. And then it gets revealed that Missa was working with the raccoons and Bad backs away from Missa because how could he betray him. And Missa does try to explain it, he doesn’t know what is going on. He’s lost and confused and no one is answering his questions. q!Bad threatens and leaves q!Missa with the racoons just for the racoons to stab Missa in the back and rob him too.

This is when he asks himself, who can he trust? q!Bad isn’t who he thought he was, and the racoons betrayed him. He has considered q!Bad a friend for a long time because he’s always on when Missa is on and is always there to help (though if you ask me I would argue the opposite). He tried finding a way to justify Bad’s behavior, even the stuff chat brings up until he can’t. So, he goes back home and prepares a letter to Phil.

Because he realizes after everything in his life, after continuously trusting and relying on the wrong people, he concludes he can only trust q!Phil.

Missa never really leaves letters. His thing has always been paintings and small gifts. But for the first time (in what might be a long time) he leaves Phil a letter. Now that he’s accepted this is his home, he sees it’s also a place people can use to hurt him, in this case q!Bad.

Notice how when q!Bad came back and said he was gonna prank q!Phil and left, q!Missa immediately ran in to check on the kids? His priority and his fear will always be losing his family. He has spent so much of his life pushing himself a way from them, he doesn’t want to lose them when they’re so so close.

But as always… Missa runs. He runs away and sleeps somewhere else for tonight.

In his defense, I will say that this time it’s different. He’s running to protect his family. Is it the best option? I don’t think so. Missa always has struggled with feeling like he isn’t enough. And in this case, his families lives could be in danger so he runs away, because it’s his fault and he isn’t enough to protect them.

I will say. Things have changed. Because this time around he warned Phil. These two have had SOOO many instances of miscommunication and not talking to one another and we finally have a moment in which Phil is hearing directly from Missa. Not some other character, not his kids, Missa.

And the last thing Missa said when he went to bed. He wasn’t sleeping on a bed, because the only bed he will ever sleep on is the one in his home. LIKE FUCK. Yes he ran, yes he left to protect his family. But that’s his home. That’s where he will ALWAYS return to for comfort and safety. It isn’t a forever. It’s just for now.

For the first time, Missa is certain he will always have a home to return to.

#sorry if this makes no sense #I love Missa cubito so much #I just had to spit this out #qsmp #marv rants #death family #qsmp missa #qsmp philza #deathduo

340 notes · View notes

talaok · 7 months

Note

Hello, I have an idea.

how about something cute, about pedro and the reader at the Beyoncé concert, and Pedro being a little jealous and possessive, because of all the attention the reader is drawing to herself.

aries men are extremely possessive and jealous. LOL

Thank you. ♥️

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader

The amount of attention the people around you were paying to Beyonce, the woman they had paid good money to see perform, had decreased exponentially since they'd realized " the Y/n fucking Y/l/n" (as Pedro had overheard one of them saying) was standing between them.

And when you had started dancing... well let's say the situation had only worsened.

Sarah, yes as in Sarah Paulson, Pedro's good friend, had hooked you up with tickets, and when you'd heard about it, you almost fainted by how happy you were.

I mean who wouldn't be, it's fucking Beyonce we're talking about.

You had dressed up, of course, a tight, silver, sparkly dress hugged every curve of your body, and as much as you had tried to persuade Pedro to do the same, all you managed to achieve was to paint one of his fingernails silver to match your outfit.

You both spent the first twenty minutes of the concert looking up at the stage in awe, and wondering how the fuck you got so lucky.

But now as you were dancing and screaming the words to every song at the top of your lungs, he was starting to come to the realization that a lot of people in the crowd were enjoying that same pretty outfit you'd put on, and not just him.

Like the two dudes in the row behind you, whose eyes were wandering a little too much for his liking.

But he didn't want to disturb your experience, so at first, he just started standing closer, reminding everyone how he was your boyfriend, and only he could touch you.

And when that wasn't enough, one of his hands found the small of your back, and god but the moment you turned to him and flashed that stupidly happy smile at him he felt like the luckiest man in the world, and forgot all about his worries for a while, loosing himself in the music.

Until a chuckled "dude!" made its way to his ears, and he turned around to see one of the guys he'd already spotted pointing at you as he elbowed his friend.

Yeah that's definitely a fucking no

All it took was for him to shoot them both a look, and suddenly their eyes were only able to point to the ground.

But of course, he knew that wouldn't be enough, so for good measure, he stepped behind you and brought his arms around your torso, hugging you from behind.

"hey there" you talked over the music, slightly out of breath

"hey," he kissed your sweaty cheek.

You were really going all in tonight.

Even under that lighting, he could see tints of crimson painting your cheeks

"what are you doing?"

"I'm just making sure people don't get to see more than they paid to"

"What?" you frowned

"don't worry about it baby" he shook his head

"no, I wanna know"

God, but he could never say no to you, no matter how much fun you'd make of him after.

"It's just people are staring at you, that's all"

"so?" you asked "I'm sure they're staring at you too"

An amused smile pulled at his lips "No see, they're... well they're staring at you a little too much"

"ahh" You smirked at that, finally getting it "So you're jealous"

"I don't know what you're talking about"

"Is that so?" you tilted your head, a mischievous glint to your eyes

"Yup" he nodded, "And for no reason at all I'm just gonna stay here for the rest of the night if you don't mind"

"Oh I don't mind" You smiled "just as long as you can keep up"

Image: @thesweetestdecline

879 notes · View notes

hisui-dreamer · 22 days

Note

Okay I spent a while thinking of flowers and decided that I'd rather be simple, and give Jamil a bouquet of Gladiolus and Morning Glory based on our birth months ^^ (also, a thought- there's no reason for these same flowers from our world to exist in TW, maybe similar looking ones, but not the same. So imagine prefect cultivating flowers to look like flowers they know, specifically for their beloved 😭💕)

clandestine meetings and longing stares

Pairing: Jamil Viper x gn!reader

Synopsis: your love for each other was never allowed, but that never stopped your feelings for each other

Tags: secrets relationship, pining, fluff, reader is not yuu

Word count: 1k+

Notes: so sorry this took so long kirexa!! my assignments put me in an a really bad slump,,, i hope you'll like the direction i took for the flowers hehe <3

Masterlist

flowers of choice:

gladiolus: secret meeting

morning glory: reunion of lovers

The gardens of the Asim estate hold secrets woven into their very essence, secrets that only unveiled themselves beneath the soft shroud of night.

Tonight, like many nights before, you tread the familiar path, the same path you’ve always walked with your heart pounding with anticipation. With bare feet, you move briskly, aware of each step, careful not to disrupt the delicate silence of the night.

Anticipation and adrenaline run through your veins like wildfire, fuelling your steps as you ventured deeper into the heart of the gardens. The moon casts its ethereal glow upon the landscape, painting everything in shades of silver and shadow. Each rustle of leaves, each whisper of the wind, seems to beckon you forward, urging you to hasten your pace.

Arriving at the secluded alcove, your heart soars with elation as you behold Jamil standing amidst the ethereal glow of the moon. His silhouette seems sculpted by the soft radiance, a vision of serenity amidst the night's embrace.

"Jamil," you breathe his name like a prayer, relief flooding through you at the sight of him.

"Ya amar," his voice, soft as a breeze, wraps around you like a comforting embrace.

In mere moments, you find yourselves entwined once again. You melt into his embrace, his touch enveloping you in a comforting warmth, a sensation that instantly makes you feel at home.

Your lips meet in a tender kiss, a silent symphony of emotions cascading between you, conveying depths of love that words could never adequately express. In the stolen moment, you allow yourself to forget the rigid boundaries imposed by your stations in life, the weight of your familial expectations, and simply exist in the blissful sanctuary of Jamil's arms.

All the weariness of weeks spent apart dissipates like mist under the morning sun, replaced by a sense of wholeness that only his presence can provide. As you reluctantly pull back, your breaths mingling in the cool night air, your foreheads pressed together in a silent affirmation of your connection.

"I've missed you," Jamil confesses, his words a balm to the ache in your own heart.

"And I, you," you reply, reaching out to cup his face, your fingertips tracing the contours of his features as if committing them to memory. With a soft smile, you pull back slightly from his embrace, gazing into his charcoal-grey eyes with tender curiosity. "Tell me," you urge gently, your voice barely more than a whisper in the tranquil night air. "How has school been? Are you adjusting well to the second year?"

Jamil's expression softens as he meets your gaze, a flicker of warmth dancing in his eyes. "It's been... challenging," he admits, his voice tinged with a hint of wistfulness.

Each word he utters is painted with the hues of his experiences, drawing you into the vivid tapestry of his school life. He begins to weave intricate tales of his persistent classmate, the one who incessantly seeks his assistance in his business ventures, caring for your older brother, ensuring his well-being and academic progress, and many other intriguing classmates.

You listen intently, a soft chuckle escaping your lips from time to time as you find yourself captivated by his tales. His voice, smooth as silk, washes over you like a gentle caress, wrapping you in a cocoon of comfort and familiarity. It's a voice you've always cherished, one that resonates deep within your soul, and in this moment, no recording could ever compare to the warmth of having him speak softly into your ears.

“I feel a lot better now, being back home, with you..." He trails off, a fond smile gracing his lips as he squeezes your hand gently.

In response, you tighten your grip on his hand, leaning in to nuzzle your face into the curve of his neck. "I'm so glad you're back," you murmur softly, your words a whispered prayer of gratitude.

Oh, how you ache for the freedom to love him openly, to cast aside the heavy cloak of secrecy and fear that weighs upon your shoulders. To intertwine your fingers with his in broad daylight, to lose yourself in the depths of his gaze without the lurking shadows of doubt. To bask in the radiant glow of his affection beneath the sun's golden rays, unencumbered by judgment or retribution.

But how could you? Your families, entrenched in generations of tradition, would recoil at the mere suggestion of your union. To reveal your love openly would be to invite catastrophe, risking the fragile harmony of their world. You know all too well they would send Jamil away, far, far away to somewhere you could never reach, before marrying you off to someone else they deem suitable to fully extinguish the flame of your love.

And yet, you still find yourself yearning for more – for the liberation to proclaim your love from the highest rooftops, to unveil the depth of your devotion to the world without hesitation or constraint. It’s not lost on you how attractive your lover is, his captivating dark features that could ensnare anyone’s heart, and his perfect competence in all facets of life. He would make a brilliant husband.

Just the thought of him marrying another, belonging to someone else, ignites a fierce flame within your soul. The thought of him caring for another sets your heart ablaze with an intensity you cannot ignore. You find yourself holding him tighter, as if by sheer force of will, you could keep him tethered to you.

“Jamil?”

"Hm?" he paused, placing tender kisses into your hair.

"How much longer?" you murmured into his neck, the words carrying the weight of your shared longing, your shared struggle.

He didn't need you to elaborate. Jamil understood the depth of your question, the ache that echoed through every syllable. How much longer must your love remain hidden, relegated to stolen moments beneath the cloak of night, until he could proudly declare to the world that you belonged to him?

"... I don't know, ya amar," he replied, his arms tightening around you.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#✧2k! blossoming bouquets✦#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland jamil #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #jamil viper x mc #twst jamil viper #twst jamil viper x reader #twst jamil #twst jamil x reader

259 notes · View notes

daughterofcain-67 · 1 month

Text

𝒞𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒟𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃: 𝓅𝓉 1

(Dean Winchester x Artist/Bartender!Female Reader)

(𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 2) (𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 3)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You’re an artist that fell in love with a mysterious boy right before college. Then he left without any way to contact him. Decades later you’re an artist/bartender and you’re surprised to see who comes walking through the door.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none that I can think of.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: I have no idea who actually did the cover art for The Prince of Thorns, King of Thorns and Emperor of Thorns by Mark Lawrence, the comic illustrations of the Maximum Ride series by James Patterson, or Cinder by Marissa Meyer. But I loved the artwork for the cover art and illustrations, so they deserve all the credit for their creativity. ((The artwork and references to the books is just to use to build Y/N’s portfolio, I do not own any of the artworks.))

It wasn’t easy being an artist. And it didn’t help that you seemed to be a starving artist at that. Everything seemed to have been done already. You supposed that your creative mind wasn’t as unique as you originally thought it would be.

You had countless sketchbooks in your home, just on one of your many bookshelves, purely dedicated to the sketchbooks you’ve had over the years. You’ve been sketching and drawing for as long as you can remember. You picked up on using water color and oil pastels sometime in high school when you were being experimental with your styles. But over the years you found that your luck expanding on your career was sort of a fifty fifty shot.

When someone hadn’t commissioned you to paint a wall of theirs, or if you weren’t working on a cover for some author - which was also another rare opportunity - You spent your time working at a bar in Wisconsin. It was some way to make some money after all, plus you did get to meet some pretty interesting people.

As for tonight, it was just another Thursday night for you and you were on your break. With that being said, you had your sketchbook out and you were sketching yet again.

Lately, in your personal sketchbook, you would draw the familiar face of a man you used to know. One that probably didn’t even remember your name, but you’d always remember his. You’d always remember his beautiful eyes that reminded you of the green forest, or the way his smile would light up any room he’d step into. You could remember the smell of his leather jacket, or the way that unusual pendant looked a little too good around his neck. You could still remember the sound of his laugh, or the flirtatious little tone and his mischievous smirk. He was a man you knew you could never forget, even after all these years.

“Drawing that mystery man of yours again, Y/N?” A work friend of yours named Danielle asked.

You glanced up at her while she adjusted her glasses and sat in front of you, “He’s no mystery.. just a memory.”

“You know, if you really can’t forget about him then maybe you should look for him.” She suggested and you shook your head.

“That’s not possible. Even when we first met during the summer before my freshman year of college, he was always traveling around with his father. It was a part of his career. And if anything, the guy’s still going it. They always traveled around the country.” You explained and Danielle pouted a little.

“You mean you can’t even track down what business it was? Not even by phone number or anything? Some company they ran.” She said and you rubbed the back of your neck.

“Did he even tell you what kind of business he was a part of?” You shook your head.

“No… he was really secretive and he always told me he didn’t want to freak me out. A part of me wonders if he didn’t trust me. Then after like two weeks together he ghosted me.” You admitted.

“And you’re still obsessing over him? Come on, you’ve really got to let it go. If he was that much of a douche to ghost you and if he didn’t even leave you a way to contact him, then you have got to move on.” Danielle told you and you knew deep down she was right.

You looked down at the picture again of your ‘mystery man’ as Danielle liked to call him. Just as you were about to put the pencil to your paper once more, Danielle’s hand got in the way and she dragged the book across the table and rotated it so she could take a look at your work.

“Okay, this guy can’t actually be real. No one is that attractive.” She said with a chuckle before she looked up at you once more.

“So what did you say his name was again?” She asked as she handed you the sketchbook again.

“Dean… Dean Winchester.”

“Dean… Not a bad name I guess. Better than like Brad or something.” She laughed.

“Any chance that he’s a reader? Maybe he’s seen your cover art on some books.” You shook your head.

“No, he’s not much of a reader. His brother is a reader though so.. maybe? Although who knows if Sam would read any of the books I’ve done the artwork for.” You shrugged, unsure if Sam read any fantasy novels or science fiction.

“His brother’s name is Sam? That’s a little anticlimactic isn’t it? Is it short for something?”

“I don’t think it’s anticlimactic. Simplistic. And no, I don’t think it’s short for anything, but I never really asked Dean about it. Never met Sam.”

“Hey! Y/N! Danielle! Y’all can’t leave me by myself, I just got here!” A second voice said and that was your other friend, Callie. She had a bit of a southern twang in her voice that was definitely different compared to your other coworkers.

You and Danielle both laughed and you got up from your seat. You closed your sketchbook and went back to the back of the bar to put your sketchbook in your backpack. Then you began to resume your shift. The sooner the night was over with, the sooner you could go home and maybe check your emails and see if anyone has reached out to you for any projects.

The next several hours went by and it was closing time at the bar. You walked out of the bar with the two coworkers.

“Have you two heard the news yet about the Nelson’s wife?” Callie asked and you glanced over at her, brow arched upward.

“No. I didn’t even know something happened.” You said.

“Well apparently when Mr. Nelson came home last night, his door was opened up and there were some kind of freaky claw marks on the door. When the boss went inside he saw that his wife’s guts were literally outside of her body. But you wanna know the weird thing of it all?”

“There’s a weird part? Just when I thought things couldn’t get any better!” You asked.

“Ha ha, very funny.” Callie replied, not finding your sarcasm amusing at the moment.

“The weirdest part was that her heart was missing. No weapon was found, no evidence of some kind of fur if it really was an animal attack. The police have searched the place top to bottom to find any clues or evidence of an animal attack. But honestly I’m surprised the bar was even opened tonight.” Callie continued.

“That explains why I hadn’t seen the boss tonight. He must be going through a lot. I couldn’t imagine losing my boyfriend in such a horrific way… and to actually see his wife like that? I can’t imagine.” Danielle said and you frowned a little.

As difficult as it was to learn about the loss of your boss’ wife, you didn’t think that your boss would be missing that much. The Mrs. didn’t exactly have a great reputation after all. She was a bit of the town harlot to put it lightly. It was common knowledge that she had been cheating on her husband for the past three years with several men.

“How is Mr. Nelson taking it?” You asked.

“Well as far as I know he’s been at the sheriff’s office all day for an interrogation. You know how it is, always suspecting the spouse first. I don’t know if he’s actually had the time to really mourn.” Callie replied.

“Well… surely it’s just some freakish accident. It couldn’t possibly happen again. The same animal wouldn’t strike the same town twice, right?” You said.

“I wouldn’t think so.” Callie said.

“Well just incase that animal is still around… make sure you get home safe! Why don’t we create a group text now just to make sure we all get home okay.” Danielle suggested.

“Honestly… that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” You said and pulled out your phone.

Once the three of you were on the group chat, you split off into your different vehicles to go home. You made it to your apartment and shut the door behind you. You tossed your bag on the couch before you plopped on the furniture, then you reached for the remote and turned on the television.

There wasn’t anything good on TV so you changed the channel to Boomerang and watched some cartoons. They were playing the old episodes of Scooby-Doo and you smiled to yourself. You hadn’t watched this show in years and you felt nostalgic watching it. Then your mind wandered off to the old days. You started to think about the summer with Dean.

You shook your head, deciding that Danielle was right and you really should forget about Dean. It’s been years and you never saw Dean again after the best two weeks of your life. It wasn’t worth thinking about. So you grabbed your computer and checked some emails to see if anyone’s reached out.

Evidently there was an email for some author named Marissa Meyer. She was emailing you to compliment your illustrations for James Patterson’s Maximum Ride comics and for the cover art of some other books. Honestly you were surprised. She was writing to see if you’d be willing to do some cover art for one of her books. She emailed you the plot of whatever story this would be and she said the title she planned was Cinder. It seemed to be an interesting plot so you started typing out the response, letting the author know you’d be willing to make the cover art and that you just needed a deadline for it.

Shortly after you sent the email, you started looking at some inspiration photos on Google and Pinterest and that was when your phone started ringing. When you glanced down, you saw that it was a group call with Danielle and Callie. You smiled and you answered the phone before you lifted the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You answered.

“Oh good, you answered!” Danielle exclaimed on the other line and you chuckled.

“Don’t worry, no animals have broken in to attack me yet.” You clarified and Callie laughed.

“See, I told you there was nothing for you to worry about. She’s probably getting ready to draw something and you broke her concentration.” Callie said and you hummed a little.

“Haven’t started just yet. Though about water coloring though.” You admitted since it had been a while since you’d used that medium.

“Well next time send a text! That was the whole reason why we made the group chat, remember?” Danielle continued and you grinned.

“Sorry for worrying you. I’m alright, and I’m glad both of you are alright too.” You insisted.

“Are both of you working tomorrow night?” You asked.

“I know I am.” Danielle replied with a little bit of an exasperated sigh.

“I’m not. I’ve got the rest of the week off.” Callie spoke up.

“The whole week? So we’ll see you when, Monday?” You asked.

“Yep. Needed a little me time and what perfect time would that be than having the weekend all to yourself?” She said.

“What about Dylan?” Danielle asked, referring to Callie’s boyfriend.

“He said he was… busy with something.” Callie said.

“You know, Danielle, you and Chris may like this one restaurant on South drive.” Callie said, talking about Danielle’s boyfriend and you felt like the odd one out, not having gone on a date in about three years.

“I’ll let the two of you talk about your boyfriends and your little date ideas.” You said and you were about to hang up before the both of them started talking to you to not hang up.

“Woah woah woah! Why don’t we get you hooked up with someone?” Callie asked.

“Yeah, that would be fun! I mean it’s been a while so what’s the harm in it? We can take you to the bar after work this Saturday night.”

You arched a brow before you looked at your bag that still had the sketchbook with the pictures of Dean in it. You supposed maybe going out this weekend maybe help you get over the memory. Dean was more of a phantom of that summer anyway.

“I suppose that could work. I get off at six. I can get home and get ready by seven or something.” You replied.

“Oh good! Maybe on break tomorrow you and I can go looking for some cute dresses for you to wear!” You cringed at Danielle’s words and you used your free hand to rub the back of your neck.

“Great.” You muttered with nervous laughter.

“Hang on, guys. I have to go. Dylan is calling me.” Callie groaned with some sort of annoyance in her tone and you wondered if everything was alright. However before you asked, she hung up.

“Wonder if she’s alright.” You said since Danielle was on the other line.

“Honestly I think she and Dylan have been in a bit of a rough patch recently. I wouldn’t be surprised if they break up by the end of the month.” She sighed.

“Rough patch? What’s been going on?”

“Well from what Callie’s ranted about, Dylan is developing some trust issues ever since she told him she didn’t want to live together.”

“What? They’ve only been dating for like a month and he wanted to move in?”

“Something like that…”

“Well you’re being awfully gracious for giving them the end of the month to end things. I’ll give them a week and a half if that.” You chuckled.

“You never know. Anyway, it’s getting late. See you tomorrow?” Danielle said.

“I’ll be there.”

Dean rubbed the back of his head as he walked down the stairs. Then he tied the strap of his robe around his waist as he made his way into the library just to see Sam reading a book. Not much of a surprise there. But this time it didn’t seem like it was a research book in his hands.

“Whatcha got there?” Dean asked, hearing his brother hum in response.

“It’s a fantasy series by Mark Lawrence. I’m reading the second one called King of Thorns.” Sam spoke.

“I didn’t exactly take you to be a fantasy ready. Always thought of you as more of a realist.” Dean admitted as he sat down across from his brother before he moved the laptop across the table. Then Dean opened it up so he could see if there was any new cases that sounded like his and Sam’s thing.

“Charlie recommended the book to me. Said that it was pretty good. Like it’s not Lord of the Rings good or Harry Potter good, but she thought it was worth the read nonetheless.” Sam said.

Dean hummed as he looked over at the book again and he caught a glimpse of the front cover, “Cover art’s pretty good.”

“Yeah… Charlie said the artist has done quite a little bit. She’d done the cover art of this trilogy and the illustrations for some sort of comic series based off some YA science fiction books. I think her name is.. oh hang on I think her name might be in the book.” Sam said as he flipped to the back.

“Oh here it is. Cover artist, Y/N L/N.”

Dean’s gaze shot from the book in Sam’s hand to Sam right after he read the name. That was a name he hadn’t heard in years. Felt like centuries really.

“Let me see that. I want to get a better look at the cover.” Dean said and Sam put his bookmark between the pages and handed the book to him.

As Dean looked at the cover, he admired the work. He suddenly began to recall that summer when he was a couple decades younger. Still fresh and when John was still around. He remembered meeting this beautiful girl in Wisconsin. You, in fact.

That was the best two weeks of his entire life. He remembered how great of an artist you were, how much he loved looking through the sketchbooks you showed him. He remembered you telling him way back when that you wanted to be an artist. Seems like you’ve come quite a ways if you’ve done some illustrations and some book covers.

“Has this artist done anything else?” Dean asked curiously.

“Since when were you interested in art?” Sam asked with a smirk as he leaned in, his arms folded in front of him on the table. Then the look of realization went across his face.

“Wait… Y/N. Isn’t that the girl from-“

“Wisconsin? Yeah.” Dean said and he chuckled.

“Honestly the best summer I’ve ever had.” Dean admitted.

“Why didn’t you ever go back to visit her? Is she a hunter? Maybe she could help us on some hunt sometime.” Sam said, trying to be encouraging but Dean shook his head a little.

“No, she wasn’t a hunter. In fact she was far from it. When I met her, she hadn’t even started college yet. Just graduated high school. She had no idea of the darkness in the world that we deal with and well… I wanted to spare her from it.” He said.

“Sounds like you had it bad. Dad wondered why it took you two weeks to end the case. He said it was awful long for you.” Sam smirked.

“Honestly, yeah. I did. if I wasn’t a hunter, I might have stayed. Maybe even go to summer school or work as a mechanic there to make a living just to stick around while she was on her campus. She was a sweet girl but I knew if I stayed, monsters would come and I didn’t want her exposed to that kind of shit just because I stayed around. I finished the case in a week but I stayed the extra week before I had to decide to move on.” Dean continued.

“Do you ever regret it?” Sam asked.

“Honestly, I don’t think she would even remember me.” Dean replied and handed the book to Sam yet again. Sam took it and set it down on the table beside him.

“I think she’d remember… anyway, as far as I know she’s just illustrated for that series and the covers for this series.” Sam said but he pulled out his phone to search your name.

“Here’s something… She’s painted some walls in the local elementary school building as well as a pediatrician’s office. But honestly I think that’s the only commissions she’s had. Other than that, based off her social media she’s just working in a bar.”

“A bartender? A girl of her talent should be working for some comic company. Maybe even character designing for some animation studio.” Dean said with a bit of surprise.

“Well, sometimes people aren’t always that lucky in life. But I agree with you, she is good.” Sam sighed as he closed out his phone before putting it back in his pocket. Then he turned his attention back to Dean who was looking back at the computer screen in front of him.

“Find anything worth while?” He asked his older brother.

“Well speaking of Wisconsin…. Turns out some bar owner’s wife was found dead. Police are calling it an animal attack but there wasn’t any evidence of an animal left behind. Then again there wasn’t exactly any evidence of humans either because apparently, intestines were outside the poor woman’s body and her heart was missing.” He said.

“So… werewolf maybe?” Sam suggested.

“That’s my first thought. We might as well head that way and check it out for ourselves.” Dean said and Sam nodded before Dean decided to get up so he could take a shower and get dressed before going on the hunt.

When Dean made it into his room, he decided that’s before he’d get dressed he’d look for something.

Honestly he wasn’t even sure if he still had this amongst his memorabilia. He didn’t exactly carry ugh outside of his pictures of his parents, Bobby and Sam and himself when they were younger. But when Dean opened up the auto man at the end of his bed and started looking through old pictures and papers, he moved his father’s journal to the side and then he found a black folder.

Dean let out a breath of relief as he pulled the black folder out and he sat down on the bed. The field was made of paper and it was a bit worn with the years of being moved around since they went from motel to motel a lot. Then Dean opened up the folder and he was pleasantly surprised to find that what he was looking for was still inside.

Inside of the folder there was a sheet of sketch paper with a drawing of both you and him on it. It was an old picture, Dean’s hair was longer and he didn’t quite have bags under his yees from the years of losing sleep because of a hunt. Then there was you, and you were even more gorgeous in person. Your talented hand didn’t give you justice on paper.

In the picture, you were wrapped up in his arms while the two of you sat down on a blanket in the grass. Both of you had a peaceful expression as you looked out at the lake. Dean could still remember the way you felt in his arms, remembering the moment you had drawn in the picture. It was the second to the last night that he spent in Wisconsin.

Dean smiled at the memory, knowing that even after so many years you still had a piece of his heart. But then reality started to get to him and he wondered if you had been married after college graduation. Did you have a family of your own? Dean calculated and by this time you had to be in your mid thirties like he was, right? Most people were arrived by then if they were lucky, and any man would be lucky to have someone so special like you.

Honestly Dean couldn’t help but wonder if maybe you still thought about him once in a while. Maybe late at night when you were watching a movie drinking some wine and drawing one of those covers Sam showed him, he wondered if you thought about him.

Dean put the picture back into the folder and placed it on the night table beside his bed before he grabbed his bag and some clothes to pack up. Then he got his other pair of jeans and a shirt to wear before he headed off to the shower.

Two days had gone by and that was the night you were supposed to go out with Danielle and Callie to some sort of club or whatever. Honestly you weren’t sure if dancing was your thing. You weren’t in your twenties anymore after all but when you were texting Danielle about it all she told you was that it was something to put you out there, give you something fun to look forward to this weekend.

At the moment you weren’t really focused on your little outing that night. You were a little more concerned about the fact that you hadn’t heard from Callie in the last couple of days.

It wasn’t like Callie. She typically texted you and Danielle at least once daily whether she texted some sort of joke or sent a picture of some silly picture first thing in the morning before going about her day and living her life on her days off. But it had been two days and you found it odd that she hadn’t sent any memes, jokes, or even talked about going out that night.

When the door opened you happened to glance up and you saw Danielle running in with a frantic expression across her features. When Danielle made eye contact with you, you realized she was rushing over to the bar to meet you.

“Y/N, have you heard from Callie lately? I saw her boyfriend this morning and he was out at some diner and he acted like he was just fine while he was sitting beside some girl.” She rambled, catching you off guard with how fast she was talking.

“What? No I haven’t, wait he was with another girl?” You asked.

“Yeah and you wanna know what else? I heard Nelson was visited by two guys in suits. I think the FBI is looking into it. Maybe they caught a glimpse of something with Nelson’s wife and they’re looking into it.”

“But the cops already talked to Nelson. That was the whole point of him not stopping by the bar at all like two days ago. Why would the FBI need to talk to him again? Poor guy’s already been through enough.” You said.

“Well, honestly I don’t think Nelson minds. I bet he’s a little glad he doesn’t have to deal with the constant heartbreak of his wife bumping ugliest with different men every other night.”

“Oh come on, that’s a little bit of an exaggeration.” You tried to give the former Mrs. Nelson the benefit of the doubt.

“Would you really be surprised if it was that often though?” Danielle smirked, you rolled your eyes a little before you started putting some of the clean glasses away to prepare for customers.

“Do you think the FBI will come here to see if we know anything? You know the manager’s out of town this week. What do we tell them if they happen to come in?” Danielle asked, starting to get a little worried, not much to your surprise.

“Danielle, breathe. If they come in and you spot them, just send them to me. I’ve got it covered. Not that they’ll ask anything we have any knowledge about anyway.” You said and Danielle took a deep breath before exhaling and nodding.

“I’m still worried about Callie.” She said.

“Well think about it… if you and your boyfriend broke up, are you going to want to spend a lot of time on your phone for the first couple of days? Or are you going to want to sleep and isolate for a while before you start making public appearances again.” You reasoned.

“I don’t know…”

“I’ll tell you what. After we clock out tonight, we can go over to Callie’s house and check up on her and make sure she’s alright.” You insisted.

“Okay… yeah that sounds like a plan.”

“Now… why don’t you go ahead and clock in and we can get the show on the road. They may not even come at all, and Callie will more than definitely be alright.” You insisted and Danielle nodded.

With that being said the two of you got to work. You were busily serving different customers at the bar with different drinks. Some you were used to making but apparently there were some visitors and they wanted something fancy. Two preppy looking guys had just walked through the door and made themselves comfortable at the bar. They looked like they were the country club type of guys.

“Hey, Miss! Can I get a Boulevardier cocktail over here?” One of them said. He had waved ginger hair and he was wearing a blue golf shirt.

“Yeah and I’ll have Vieux Carre cocktail, Darlin.” The other said. He was blond, hair parted to the side and he wore an orange golf shirt with white stripes.

These people must’ve had the worst taste in clothing, and an even worse taste in drinks. You couldn’t even try and pronounce these things and you weren’t even sure if you had the right ingredients for these stupid sounding drinks.

“Sure. I’ll get right on that for you fellas.” You replied and went to the back to get the glasses. Then you pulled out the phone to see what the heck those drinks were. Luckily for you, you had some similar ingredients, but you weren’t working in a fancy bar so you had some pretty basic drinks, they’ll just have to deal with generic.

You grabbed what you needed and started to make the drinks and you thought you heard Danielle’s voice followed by two gruff sounding voices. Yay, more customers.

You were too focused on making the drinks but that was when Danielle started walking towards the bar with the two men she was talking to.

“Y/N? I’ve got a couple of agents that would like to speak with you.” Danielle called.

When you glanced over you saw a familiar green pair of eyes, the ones that you’ve drawn numerous times. They’ve changed though, like they’ve seen so much more. But seeing Dean there… it was like everything in your world stopped and you accidentally dropped the glasses you needed.

The sound of the glass shattering on the floor snapped you out of it.

You immediately started looking for a broom but Danielle started rushing over to help you, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it for you. What did these guys order?”

“Thank you… Some cocktails with fancy names. I’ll send you the recipes.” You said as you wiped your hands on the apron.

“You okay? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” She said and you nodded a little.

“Yeah, I’m okay… I’ll tell you later.” You told her, not wanting to be wrong if your suspicions are correct.

You nibbled on your bottom lip softly before letting it go and you walked over to the two federal agents.

Dean was straightening up his tie uncomfortably. All these years later and he still hated these damned monkey suits but then he felt Sam nudge his arm and when Dean looked up, he could feel his breath taken away.

No, it couldn’t be you could it?

You looked so beautiful, time seemed to have done wonders for you and Dean almost found it hard to breathe at the sight of you.

Of all the towns this case had to take place in, it just had to be the one you lived in. Have you heard anything about the case? You didn’t know about all the ugliness out there yet, did you?

“My friend said you wanted to speak with me? How can I help you?”

God your voice brought back so many memories, but Dean couldn’t dwell on them. Besides, you probably forgot about him so what was the point? Still… it was eating at his mind.

“Um… yeah… Agent Peart, could you get us a couple of drinks and maybe talk to one of the other bartenders?” Dean said.

Sam looked over and raised a brow skeptically. Dean was lucky Sam didn’t really question it and the younger Winchester walked off, giving Dean the time to be alone with you.

“So Ms… L/N, right?” Dean asked, almost hesitant.

But he watched the corner of your lips turn upward into a smile, “Yes, Agent Winchester.”

Dean couldn’t help but smile at the fact that you did remember him after all.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d recall…”

“Dean, it may have been a few years since that summer but I’m not old enough for dementia.” You joked.

Dean couldn’t help but laugh a little and the two of you found a place to sit at the bar table. It’s been so long since he’s been this close to you and it felt just like it did before.

“So how’ve you been? How’s your father and the business?” You asked, Dean remembered that he never told you the exact truth. You had a lot to catch up on he supposed.

“Dad um… well he passed several years ago. About five years after that summer, actually.” Dean said and he watched the way you began to frown.

“I’m sorry to hear that… I remember how you used to talk about him and how close you were.” You told him and he gave a bittersweet smile.

“Things well.. they changed in the five years after. A lot did actually. But my brother and I actually take care of the family business.” He told you and you lifted a brow.

“If you’re an agent now, how do you have the time for a traveling business?” You asked and he felt his palms get clammy, knowing that might be a difficult thing to answer.

“Um… well… Agents like me and Peart aren’t always in one place, so I still travel a lot anyway and when I’m off duty I handle the business as much as I can.” He tried to explain in the most believable way possible.

“You never did tell me what kind of business your dad started. I was always so curious.” You said and Dean wished he could tell you the truth.

“Actually… I need to ask you a few questions. I’m sort of on a case and I don’t really have a whole lot of time to catch up this time around.” He admitted softly.

Dean felt his heart sank at the way your shoulders seemed to slump a little before you looked down at your glass of brandy. He wished he could spend as much time with you as possible, but he couldn’t afford to lose anymore people. People have already lost their lives because of him and he couldn’t afford to do that to you too. He couldn’t handle it.

“What is it you want to know, Agent?”

The switch to the professionalism in your tone pierced Dean through the heart. Maybe he should have asked Sam to keep him some company after all, but from the looks of it he was busy interviewing someone else and writing notes down like the nerd he was.

“The owner… did you have many interactions with his wife?” He asked and he watched you shake your head.

“No. Too busy working. Plus she seldom came here anyway. She was more of a promiscuous woman than anything else. Nelson knew that better than anyone else.” You sighed.

“Nelson.. do you think he’d ever want to take revenge on his wife or pay someone to do it?” Dean asked, making this seem like routine questions - in a way they were still important for a hunter’s case. Who knows, maybe Nelson could he the werewolf he was looking for.

“And risk losing the bar because he’s in jail? No. He was hurt by his wife’s actions, yeah. But for a while they tried to work on it, but then they separated for a month. After that they started living together again before the affairs started up again. And from the looks of it he didn’t have the time to deal with his adulterous wife if she wasn’t willing to change. But there were rumors of a divorce.”

“Do you think Nelson had any enemies? Someone that wanted to get to him through the Mrs?” Dean asked.

“Look, Dean. I don’t keep tabs on my boss and his wife. I don’t care about that kind of thing. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have customers to serve and you have a murder to solve. Don’t let me keep you.” You said and abruptly stood up and walked away to get back to work.

Dean rubbed his face before pinching the bridge of his nose, “Well that looks like it was a disaster.”

Dean heard the sound of his brother’s voice and he rolled his eyes a little before he got up.

“Let’s get out of here and compare notes…”

“You okay, Man?”

“I’m fine, Sam. Let’s just go.” Dean stated and he pushed his chair in before they walked out of the door after putting some cash on the table top for the drinks.

Once the two of them got into the car, Dean started the Impala and when he was pulling out he started to drive to the hotel, then Sam started to talk again.

“So why were you so in a rush to leave? What the hell happened back there?” Sam asked, causing Dean to grimace a little but he knew his brother wouldn’t let it go until he knew what was going on.

“You remember the girl we were talking about? The cover artist?” He said and Sam nodded.

“Wait, that was Y/N? Why don’t we go back? You two can catch up! It’s just a werewolf case, a milk run. I can handle this and give you time with her.” Sam said; and as much as Dean appreciated the willingness, he knew his chances were probably gone.

“Oh no… what did you do?” Sam asked when Dean went quiet.

“Why is it always something that I did?” Dean asked and Sam scoffed.

“Because, Dean. As smooth as you are with women you’ll never see again, you always screw up with the ones that matter and you let them go. Why are you trying to let this one go?”

“Because I can’t have what happened to Jo and Lisa happen to her. Even though Jo was a hunter, she still got killed! Lisa didn’t have experience with hunting, never wanted anything to do with it, and she just got in trouble just by knowing me.” Dean said sternly, beginning to speed because he wasn’t exactly focused on the road.

“Dean! Slow down! We aren’t on a roller coaster!”

Dean heard his brother’s panicky voice and he eased on the gas and tried to focus on what he was doing and eventually they made it to the hotel. Luckily there weren’t any cops on the road so he didn’t get pulled over or anything on the way. But he turned off the car and Sam cleared his throat a little.

“Sam, I don’t want advice on this one. It’s better to just let this one go.”

“Dean, come on. I know for a fact you still have that picture she drew for you. And you said it yourself, that was the best summer of your life! You deserve to experience that kind of happiness again. Especially since things seem to be so calm right now. No angelic wars, no apocalypses, things are quiet and you deserve a break.”

Dean was still quiet.

“And you still aren’t going to tell me what down at the bar, are you?”

With a grunt, Dean stepped out of the car and started making his way up the stairs to get to their designated room.

Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373 @nancymcl @jackles010378 @hobby27 @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @blackcherrywhiskey @prettyinplaid94 @globetrotter28 @suckitands33

#jensen ackles #supernatural #spnfandom #dean winchester #supernatural imagine #dean imagine #supernatural x reader #jensen ackles imagine #dean x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x you #dean winchester supernatural #Dean Winchester mini series #spn fanfic #spnfamily #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader

123 notes · View notes

flaneurpastel · 1 year

Text

give him a blank paper and a pen, say nothing and let him surprise you

simon 'ghost' riley x gn!reader

a/n : fluff, i don't think there is anything else to warn y'all about, enjoy :)

words count : 850

after putting it all on his lap, you finally sat down beside him on the sofa, where his arm instinctively came to rest around your shoulders.

simon said nothing, his weary but curious gaze doing the work instead of his words.

"what?"

his voice doesn’t let you indifferent at its low, gravelly tone. you restrain yourself from jumping to his mouth and covering his face with kisses, on his cheeks, his nose, his lips, everywhere. finally, with a neutral face, you turned to face the tv where a rugby match was on.

simon arched his eyebrows. what was that again? he picked up the paper you had put on him, checking to see if there was a clue to the whole enigma you had decided to impose on him tonight.

a piece of white paper and a pencil.

he gave you a confused look before starting to think. he needed to recap it all. he had you by his side on the couch, even though you particularly hate rugby games, they take too long and you never understand the rules despite simon's many attempts to explain them to you. so… you expected something from him before you left. good. had he done something wrong ? the dishwasher had been emptied, though, and he also thought of throwing out the trash before coming to sit on the couch

you dared to glance at simon to see if he had decided to do something. his decomposed and lost face almost made you give up this prank, when you realized that the big ghost was caught off guard by this little joke. you bit your lip, no, you wanted to see how it would go.

finally, it's after 10 minutes that you got up, a pressing need to go to the bathroom. your passage seems to have been long, because when you came back, simon had resumed his usual posture, legs resting on the coffee table, and his right arm resting on the top of the sofa, where your place beside him was waiting for you. and more importantly, what you had handed him half an hour ago was lying on the table, the paper folded in half so that you could not see directly what he had done with it inside.

"I wonder where you get all these ideas from, y/n, I doubt if I'll ever be able to understand you." he said, letting out a small laugh at the end.

"hmm, considering the long wait I expect to see a poem declaring all your love for me in Shakespearean language," you say as you come to snuggle up to him. you take the paper at the same time

"I think I can compete with Picasso more".

a confused smile appeared on your pretty face, and it was simon's turn to restrain himself from covering it with kisses that would leave marks.

picasso?? you thought.

while simon let himself be refocused on his game, you finally opened the paper.

a huge laugh echoed through your living room.

"i hope this one means i'm good at drawing." he says unconsciously caressing your hair, staring at the TV.

your smile was so big you could feel your cheeks hurting.

on the paper were drawn two stick figures holding hands, easily recognizable. one much taller than the other with a simple t-shirt and quickly made pants, and another stick figure in a much more detailed outfit than the other person, you noticed. one has a line as a mouth, while the other has a nice 'C' on the side as a beaming smile.

he had clearly spent all his energy, time, and stick figure drawing skills on you.

little hearts that looked more like circles were flying all around you two.

the very caricatures of you and simon.

you clearly weren't expecting this,

"simon, that's... beautiful"

it was now simon's turn to laugh.

"you dirty liar"

it clearly wasn't one of those realistic paintings you find in the most prestigious museums, and simon may have overdone it a bit on the length of your hair, but it was the first thing simon thought of drawing, the two of you, when you just gave him a piece of paper.

and the thought gave you butterflies in your stomach.

"I was expecting a lot of sweet words telling how happy and lucky you are to have me in your life, though, because it would have been more romantic to show soap," you say anyway to tease him.

briefly turning his attention away from the game, he gives you a look that you know all too well.

"hmm, i can draw something on you this time that you can show to soap," he says in a suave voice.

"oh yeah? i don't know what you're talking about... can you elaborate a little more? you answer, moving closer to him, your lips brushing against his as you speak.

and it is on this note that he took you, a little too easily, on his shoulders, towards the room.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #ghost headcanons #simon riley x gn reader

1K notes · View notes

fredwkong · 8 months

Note

I have the biggest crush on my best friend. We're a great fit together. Unfortunately, he's a straight video gaming skater dude who's only into petite blonds, so no real chance of getting to explore what might be between us. I just wish he'd be into men and that I could be his type. It would be great, I bet.

The genie skates up to you. He’s skinny, covered in tattoos, and totally smooth-faced. “Okay, bro, here’s how this is gonna go.” He pulls out a bottle of hair bleach and some markers.

As he paints the bleach onto your hair, you feel yourself getting shorter, smaller. Your mind starts to empty out, and you stick your tongue out dumbly as your brain goes hazy. You wish the genie had thought to bring some weed, sitting still like this is so boring.

He starts drawing tattoos all over you using his markers, tongue between his teeth. With each stroke, you remember more and more days spent skating with your bro. When you aren’t at the skate part, the two of you are trolling each other on Fortnite.

As the genie finishes with your tatts and starts washing the bleach out of your hair, the door opens and your friend walks in. In a flash, the genie’s by his side, charming him, getting him to sit down in a chair while the genie draws a tattoo on the side of his scalp.

As ink spreads under your friend’s hair, you can see his gaze on you gaining an intent, sexual quality. You know that he wants to feel up your lean belly and stroke your bleached hair while fingering you. You can’t wait to share a bong with him tonight before logging into TF2 for hours of skater bro fun.

Another wish fulfilled.

Got a wish you need twisted? Send an ask! Remember to say “I wish” so the genie hears exactly what you’re wishing for.

#male transformation #mental change #answered ask #dumber tf #male tf #skater tf #stoner tf #tattoos tf #wish granted #genie #all fwkong

243 notes · View notes

dilf-din · 7 months

Text

Feel it in My Body (Know it in My Mind)

Helmetless!Din x riduur!reader

WC: 950

Warnings: established relationship, so much fluff, good dad din

A/N: this is all the domestic sap and bliss you could ever want. I’m having feelings about this man and had to wring them out like a wet rag and this is what came out. Mando’a translations are at the end 🫶🏼 oh and title is from Love You for a Long Time by Maggie Rogers okay bye!!

Golden light flooded in through the open curtains, painting every surface with that late afternoon, hazy glow. Din’s eyes fluttered open to find the sun much lower in the sky than it was when he had laid down on the couch to read a book with Grogu. The boy was softly snoring in the crook of his arm. Din leaned his head back to take one more deep breath of this feeling, he scribbled it into the open page of his heart before drawing the book off his chest and placing it on the low table that sat next to him. He pulled the dusty blue pillow out from behind him and squeezed it into place between his body and Grogu. It was warm from Din’s own heat and smelled like him from the many evenings they had spent cuddled up in that same spot.

Grogu let out a deep sigh as his body relaxed even further into the cushion causing a smile to creep up Din’s cheeks. He ran a hand through the back of his hair and tugged at the ends. Maybe it was time for a trim, he thought to himself as he ran the same hand over his jaw where his stubble was starting to come in much thicker than normal.

His feet hit the tile floor covered in thick socks that softened the pads of his steps as he followed the sound of humming into the kitchen to find you, hair drawn away from your shoulders as you stood in front of the sink, elbows deep in bubbles scrubbing the dishes from tonight’s dinner prep. Your voice carried a quiet melody as you washed, rinsed, and dried everything methodically. Behind you, there was a large pot on the stove simmering with an aroma of spices that made Din’s mouth water.

He slipped his arms around your waist and pressed a long kiss to your neck before nuzzling into it.

“I didn’t hear you get up. Did I wake you?” you asked, turning your head slightly to nuzzle his forehead with your nose.

“No, riduur,” he smiled into your skin, “I woke on my own.”

“You’re awfully affectionate tonight,” you teased, while your hands stayed busy cleaning the rest of the mess in front of you.

He slipped his wide hands down around your forearms and drew them out of the water, spinning you to face him.

“Din,” you chided, though you weren’t upset in the slightest.

“I’ll finish them later,” he smiled, happy to be looking you in your eyes, “Why’d you stop singing?” he asked as he pulled you into a slow sway.

“I was just singing some old song my mother used to sing.”

“I liked it,” he said softly, pressing a kiss your nose.

“Are you okay?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I just love you, mesh’la. Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum.”

You rested your head on his shoulder while he whispered in his native tongue, words of worship and devotion. The life you lived together is one he fought for, labored over, and thought he had lost multiple times along the way. Between the creed and Gideon and just the regular perils that came with hunting, to be standing in a kitchen with the one he loved while his boy slept on the couch, Din was overcome with emotion.

You straightened your posture and pulled his head into your hands, still wet from the sink, admiring the feel of his beard beneath your finger tips. His eyes were so warm in the final light of the sun, the deep brown you always knew they were, long before you ever saw them.

“It feels like a dream sometimes, doesn’t it?”

He nodded, leaning further into your touch as one of your hands left his jaw to toy with the curls at the base of his neck.

“I’m not going anywhere. We’re not going anywhere. This is your family, our family, our home, and I’m going to love you for the rest of my life,” you whispered fiercely.

Din pressed his forehead to yours, even though you saw him now without a helmet more often than not, his heart was still closely tied to the ways of his people. That was something you had never asked him to change about himself, and one of the reasons he was drawn to you.

His lips found yours in a steady kiss. The kind that only came from years of knowing one another inside and out. His hands stayed on your waist as yours clung to his neck and tugged at his hair.

Your moment was interrupted by the sound of tiny feet padding down the hall.

“Buir?”

“In here,” Din smiled against your lips, pecking them one last time before pulling away.

The boy padded into the kitchen, dragging his stuffed frog beside him while one hand tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Din knelt down to scoop him up onto his hip.

“Sha’kajir?” his small voice asked, still gravelly from his nap.

Din chuckled, “Yes, ad’ika. Dinner is almost ready.”

“Kaysh guur' skraan,” you smiled, lifting the lid off the pot to stir everything together one last time.

“Yum,” Grogu smiled, his nose perking up at the smell filling the kitchen.

You both laughed while you reached up to the cabinet to pull down plates.

Din fished a pack of matches out of a drawer to light the candles on the small, round kitchen table while Grogu hopped up to get situated on his booster seat. A life of violence and loss led to having nightly dinners with his family. Din knew without a doubt he would endure it again a hundred times over if it meant he ended up here.

Mando’a translations

Riduur: spouse, partner

Mesh’la: beautiful

Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum: “I love you”, or, more accurately, “I will know you forever”

Buir: father

Sha’kajir: dinner

Ad’ika: son, little one

Kaysh guur' skraan: he loves his food

#din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #din djarin x you

216 notes · View notes

little-diable · 1 year

Text

Whatever you say - Tommy Shelby (smut)

A big thank you to @zablife for inspiring this, and to @runnning-outof-time for the title! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader finds a book without a title in Tommy's office, and the more pages she flips, the more she starts to realize that it's a book filled with drawings of naked bodies.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), body worship, and some fluff

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (1.5k words)

It was late in the afternoon, with the sun threatening to disappear behind the horizon any moment now, as (y/n) found herself standing in Tommy’s office, located in the far back of their shared home. In the early stages of their marriage she had found herself being jealous of this very room, jealous of the time Tommy spent in here – rather than being with her; jealous of the endless nights this room was allowed to hold him hostage, keeping her from him.

Her fingertips danced across the backs of his books, reading a few titles with chuckles bubbling out of her. She could still remember how he had read some of them to her, murmuring soft words into her ear as they laid in bed, bodies searching one another’s warmth. Times she found herself longing for, wanting to go back to the days where Tommy’s piercing eyes had carried some life in them, not dampened by the blood sticking to his hands like a second layer of skin, not dampened by the rising number of lives he had taken from this world.

(Y/n) was about to pull her hand from the books as her eyes fell upon a black book, without any title or words on it. She found herself reaching for it, too curious for her own good. Slowly she pulled the book from the shelf, sitting down on the comfortable reading chair standing close by. She opened the book with wide eyes, freezing when she took in the drawing of a naked female body, titled “Not Tonight, Josephine”.

Trembling hands kept flipping the pages, eyes not able to move away from the paintings of naked bodies, some on their own, some caught up in acts only the devil would guide one through. Each and every one had a title, clearly painted by different people, and with a small gasp rumbling through her, (y/n) took in the last drawing that could be found in the book, with a small “My dearest (y/n)” scribbled beneath it.

“Tell me,” Tommy’s deep voice echoed through the room, making (y/n) jump in surprise. “What are you doing, you nosy woman?” A cigarette was hanging between Tommy’s lips, arms crossed in front of his chest as he was leaning against the doorframe. His eyes wandered from her surprised features to the book she was holding, clearly tensing.

“What in God’s name is this, Thomas?” (Y/n) didn’t dare raise her voice – as if she was scared that God himself would listen in on their conversation, picking up on the things no married husband should keep around. Tommy took a step closer, reaching for the book to gently take it from her grasp.

“Nothing special.” His lips were pulled into a small smirk, an almost boyish grin she hadn’t seen him wearing in weeks.

“Whatever you say, Tommy.” A chuckle rumbled through him, he tugged on her arm, gently asking her to stand up, so that he could sit down. She found herself placed in his lap moments later, eyes searching his, but Tommy was clearly distracted by the pages he took in. “I took this home from France, we’d take turns drawing in here, so that we could think of our women. I almost forgot I had this.”

“I don’t know what to say.” A part of her found itself consumed by a wave of heat, flushing through her, making her shift in his lap. The mere thought of Tommy longing for her, even in the darkest chapter of his life, left her heart racing, glad to know that he missed her just as much, and yet she wasn’t sure how she felt about the fact that other men have looked at his drawings.

“I can throw it out if you want, don’t want to keep it around, if it makes you uncomfortable.” Their eyes met, and even though it took her a few moments to reply, (y/n) only shook her head, taking the book from him to place it down on the small table. She cupped his cheek with her hand, thumb tracing his soft lips, gasping as his hand found the back of her head to pull her in for a bruising kiss.

It had been days since Tommy had touched her, pulled away by the family business, she was desperate for anything he could give her. Tommy helped her shift around, knees placed on either side of his thighs, dress shuffled up to her waist, allowing her to grind her core against his crotch.

“Haven’t been able to touch you in too long, huh? I should have paid more attention to my wife. Come, I want to get a proper look at you.” She rose with quivering limbs, squealing as Tommy picked her up, pulling her in for another kiss before they moved towards their bedroom, door falling shut with a heavy thud.

Tommy placed her down in front of their bed, not letting her move away as his lips found her throat, kissing his way down to her neck. Skilled fingers fumbled with her dress, undoing the lacing as if he had been the one to lace her up this very morning. (Y/n) was covered in goosebumps, having to stop her moans from rumbling through her, bottled in by her teeth buried in her lip.

“I want to hear you, love, don’t hold back for me.” The dress fell from her frame, underwear following moments later. Tommy gave her a push back, forcing her down on the mattress with him towering over her. His piercing eyes wandered up and down her frame, and even though she had to fight against the need to cover herself up – not used to being exposed to him while he was still fully dressed – she felt her blood growing warmer, cooking in her veins. “God’s finest creation, I still don’t know how I got so fortunate to call you mine.”

Tommy had always been well aware that he wasn’t God’s favourite, forced to adapt to the Devil’s calling. Ever since he had met (y/n), when both had been mere teenagers, he had wondered why God had sent her his way, allowing the only good thing Tommy had ever known to stick around.

His soft hands danced up her thighs, lust blown pupils not daring to part from hers as he sank down on the mattress, lips finding her inner thighs. Her soft gasps echoed through the bedroom, hand finding his head, tugging on his greyish roots, praying to heaven above that Tommy wouldn’t be called away any time soon.

“Oh fuck, missed you so much, Tommy.” Her sobs guided him, tongue lapping at her folds, thumb circling her pulsing bundle of nerves, a beautiful torture (y/n) had found herself longing for those past days. She had a hard time staying in the moment, ripped away by the feeling that caught up with her body like a high wave, threatening to drown her, robbing (y/n) of the last drops of air lingering in her lungs.

Tommy’s tongue dipped into her tightness, smirking against her folds as a high-pitched moan left her, eyes rolling back into her head. Her hips began to shift, subconsciously trying to push herself even closer towards his warm mouth, begging the man to never let her go again.

(Y/n) was too far gone to pay attention to his wandering hand, to the way he slowly pushed two fingers into her tightness. Her sobs grew louder, struggling to stop herself from giving in right there and then, ripped away by the feeling of his soft fingertips pushing against her swollen spot. She swore that she could see stars in this very moment, no longer one with her body.

“It’s alright, let go, love.” It didn’t take her more than that, allowing her orgasm to consume her body, making her choke on her groans and moans. Tommy’s fingers kept moving, pushing her further and further towards the dark abyss she had been stuck in ever since marrying the reaper of Small Heath.

With a small chuckle Tommy pulled his fingers from her, bringing them up to his lips to lick them clean before he moved up her body, kissing her softly. “Are you alright?”

“I am, but don’t you dare think I’ll let you leave after this.” And with a smile shot his way, (y/n) wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, forcing Tommy to flip them around.

#Tommy Shelby smut #Tommy Shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine

555 notes · View notes

daizymax · 7 months

Text

the other him | hhj (m)

summary: deep down, hyunjin would love nothing more than to show your husband to whom you really belong.

pairing: hyunjin x fem reader

genre: angst, smut

word count: 3.8k

rating: mature (18+)

warnings & features: profanity; infidelity; graphic sexual content; dirty talk; possessiveness; a little bit of manhandling; oral (m & f receiving); unprotected penetrative sex; pullout method; facial cumshot; a little bit of cumplay; basically porn with an unexplored plot

author’s note: just a quick and dirty fic that i've been meaning to finish for a while. hope you enjoy!

( click here to read on AO3 instead )

---

The beautiful man glances your direction frequently, but he refuses to meet your eyes, too focused on the task of rendering you two-dimensional on the canvas before him. You figure he is working on sketching the details of your outfit right about now, which draws to mind the naughty way his fingers so deftly removed your underwear the other night. His eyes were most certainly on yours at the time; he wanted to witness the look on your face when he sunk those beautiful fingers between your legs. You remember it vividly — and fondly, in a perverse sort of way.

Presently, you readjust your grip on your husband’s stiff, clammy hand and press your lips together to keep from smiling inappropriately. You have to remember where you are: here, sitting beside the other him, having yet another lovely portrait painted to display on the walls of your shared home, as if there was not already far too many.

The portraits really are lovely, though. Beautiful artwork of a beautiful couple, there can be no doubt about that. An outsider might be fooled into thinking the two of you are happy. But you, with your insider eyes, have never seen two people more obviously out of love with each other, and you resent every painted reminder. You resent the lies in your staged smiles, the arrogance, the disgusting vanity.

Most of all, you resent the time spent posing with the man you married while the one who loves you stands across the room and immortalizes the lies and arrogance and vanity so expertly.

It’s either an accident, or Hyunjin purposely allows his professionalism to falter by finally meeting your eyes. Either way, the resentment in your chest melts into adoration, and you risk acknowledging his attention with the smallest smile. He even starts to smile back. It blooms in his eyes first, then moves southward to take root in his lips.

The tenderness on his soft, pretty face wilts to dust the moment your husband opens his mouth.

“I think that’s enough for tonight, Mr. Hwang,” he states matter-of-factly, though not exactly unkindly. He looks at you and gives your shoulder a stiff squeeze. The gesture could be considered threatening if you weren’t positive he is still totally oblivious to your affair. No, this is just how he always is. The most basic forms of affection are awkward and perfunctory; a trait you were willing to overlook in the beginning but has now sown bitterness in your stomach the longer you’ve tried to ignore it. “We’ll continue again tomorrow,” he goes on. “I still have some work I’d like to finish tonight before it gets too late.”

“You know I hate when you bring work home, darling.” The term of endearment slips from your lips easily but without warmth.

“I know, dearest,” he replies equally as easily and coolly, “but it’s my money that puts food on the table and the expensive clothes on your back, so.” He plants a tight-lipped, rather patronizing kiss on the top of your head to settle the matter, nods to Hyunjin, then whisks himself out of the room.

You slump against the plush sofa with a sigh, and even though the two of you are finally alone, you do not even look at Hyunjin as he begins to pack up his brushes and tools. You think he even leaves the room at some point, but you’re too caught up in bitter thoughts of how you let yourself get swept up in this sham of a marriage. The beautiful things you’ve surrounded yourself with… they have only served to crush your heart rather than fill it.

Eventually, Hyunjin clears his throat. “Shall I show myself out, ma'am?"

You flick your eyes up from where they had been trained blankly on the floor. Hyunjin is wiping his hands on a towel. His dark hair is a little messy from where some of it has slipped out of its ponytail, but he is no less beautiful for it — especially when he finally offers you the full warmth of the smile he started earlier.

Smiling back, you sit up and gesture for him to come closer. He obliges but still maintains a respectable distance.

“Closer,” you beckon quietly.

By the way his eyes dart to the open door, you can tell he does not mistake your tone. He swallows and says, “Your husband is still in the house, Y/N.”

Your answer to that is to reach for his hand. Despite his own warning, he gives it to you with no resistance, hand towel falling carelessly to the floor.

Gaze fixed on his, you splay his fingers apart and press slow, sensual kisses to the pads of them one by one, saving his thumb for last. You take it into your mouth at an even slower pace, sliding your lips down the knuckle with your tongue pressed firmly along the underside. Hyunjin lets you do as you please, audibly inhaling through his nose as his eyelids flutter, but his posture remains frozen in hesitation.

You’re slow to take the hint, but you do respect his sensibility, so you remove his thumb from your mouth and start to apologize for your behavior. However, he takes you by the arms and hauls you up to kiss you with a level of assertiveness he has never shown before. You hum in pleasure from the back of your throat, and when you readjust the angle of your neck to better contribute to the kiss, he sighs in response.

“You really want to fool around while your husband is home,” Hyunjin asks between rough presses of his lips and tongue against yours. At least, you think it’s supposed to be a question, but there is no inflection in his tone. “You think I won’t?” he continues, voice dropping lower in both tone and volume. “You think I don’t want to take every chance I get to show that clueless prick you’re mine and not his?”

He yanks you tight against him by your waist, and the shape of the semi-hard cock in his pants is a thrilling surprise. Your body is rapidly heating up.

“I am yours,” you whisper into his mouth. “Only yours.”

Hyunjin snorts because you’ve said the words too many times now for him to take you seriously anymore. You suppose you’ll just have to show him how much you mean it. One day, you’ll gain the strength to leave your husband, but for now, this stolen moment is the best you can do.

Hyunjin takes a step back in confusion when you squirm out of his hold to get to your knees in front of him, but the sparkle in his eyes when you reach for his belt buckle lets you know he is already in agreement with your intentions. He helps you undo his pants and push them down just enough for his cock to pop forth.

Despite your bold stunt just a moment ago with his thumb, you’ve never pleasured his cock the same way before, and thanks to your disinterested and frequently absent husband, it has been a while since you’ve pleasured a man this way in general. The moment is suddenly daunting. Surely Hyunjin will recognize your unrefined technique straight away. Should you make up for your lack of practice and experience with enthusiasm? Or would that be even more pitiful?

While your thoughts are spiraling, Hyunjin senses the shift in your head space. He covers his crotch with one hand while the other reaches beneath your chin to tip your face upward.

“Y/N, you don’t have to do this. Do you want to stand back up?”

It's the simple yet humane offer of getting you back onto your feet that strengthens your resolve to proceed — only because it’s him.

“No, I’m fine. I want to do this,” you say.

Hyunjin nods, dark eyes still sparkling. He lets go of your face and moves his hand away from his cock in the same moment you carefully grasp the base of his shaft. His semi-hard cock instantly twitches in anticipation, which gives your shaky pride more of a boost to continue.

Shuffling closer on your knees and straightening your back, you lean in and place the tip of his cock onto your outstretched tongue just before wrapping your lips around it. It is already growing heavier, thicker and longer the more you take it in. You sweep your lips back and forth over him slowly, testing your form and getting reacquainted with the action. His velvety skin is smooth, and you familiarize yourself with the vein filling out on the underside. He tastes good — clean and a little salty. Whiffs of his soap and his natural skin tickle your nostrils.

By the time you pull back again, his cock is blushing prettily, well-lubricated and fully erect.

“You’re already making me feel so good, love,” Hyunjin breathes. “See how hard I just got?” He wraps his hand over yours to help hold his cock even straighter in front of your face. He brushes his firm tip up and down over your wet lips a few times, then guides it back inside your delicious mouth. When he’s resting securely on your tongue again, he lets his hand fall away to give the reins back to you.

With a steadying breath, you angle your face slightly to the side and concentrate on working your tongue against a spot just below the head of his cock; he seems sensitive there. He proves your suspicions, breath hitching in his throat and then groaning lowly the more you lap at the spot. His responsiveness is enticing. Maybe it could grow into a full-blown addiction.

There is something else you want to try, but by the time his cock reaches the start of your throat, your jaw is already starting to stiffen from the unfamiliar act. Rather than continuing to try and deep-throat him, you drag your mouth backward, then plunge forward to stuff it full again. The sensation of his hot, swollen cock on your tastebuds is starting to work you into a frenzy. You want to do this with him all the time, and from the way he lets slip a quiet but notably high-pitched whimper, you dare to believe he might be enjoying himself, too.

You take it easy and repeat the simple motion over and over and over, losing count of how many times his tip goes from almost escaping the tight seal of your lips to poking against your throat. Hyunjin stands still and attentive as you work him over at your comfort level. You notice his hands clenched tightly at his sides, and it has been a while since he let out that sweet squeak of enjoyment, so you take a moment to release him and check in.

“I’m sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve done this,” you admit, slowly fisting his full length and blinking up at him. “Is it okay?”

His eyebrows crease in obvious endearment. “Don’t be sorry. You’re so fucking sexy, Y/N. If I seem tense, it’s only because I’m doing my best not to interrupt you and fuck you right here on the floor.”

“What about against the wall?” you suggest.

Hyunjin groans quietly and drops his head backward, overwhelmed by the tempting thought. “Fucking temptress. Ask me again and see what happens.”

You’re taking that as a promise rather than a threat, but before you do as he says, you wrap your lips around his fat cockhead for one last suck, just to see him shiver.

“Hyunjin? Will you please fuck me against the wall?”

“God fucking-”

He helps you up and steers you toward the nearest wall by the hips. It also happens to be the wall right beside the door, which he slams shut with a little too much force. Even if your husband heard the noise, it’s unlikely he’ll come investigating. Not while he’s working.

“Needy little thing,” Hyunjin growls, focusing your attention back on him by diving his hands beneath your dress to wrestle with your underwear. You hastily kick away your heels just in time to get them out of his way, too. “You make me insane, you know that?” Watching him casually pocket your favorite pair of panties makes your pussy clench around nothing.

“Hyunjin—”

“Quiet, love. Is this not what you asked for?” he says, already maneuvering your leg around his waist so he can line his erection up to your entrance without further preamble.

With a snap of his hips, he shoves half his length into your pussy; it’s as far as he can get in one go with the lack of prep. Taking the time to prepare you for his cock is a luxury neither of you can afford right now, though, and you both know it. Your pussy will be ready for him soon enough, anyway.

He retracts himself to the tip, then tries to push further than before, repeating the careful process until he’s eventually able to bottom out in one smooth push.

“There we go,” he says, grip tight on the leg you have around his hip.

“So deep,” you whisper, though he’s already well aware.

He kisses your cheek, then your lips. “You always take it so well, love. Just tell me when.”

You nod quickly, and your eagerness makes him grin.

Wordlessly, he starts a slow but firm pace, fucking you against the wall exactly as you requested. You can’t even remember the last time your husband did something you requested of him — you’re not even sure he would anymore. It doesn’t really matter to you, though. Not when you have Hyunjin, and especially not when Hyunjin’s cock is so hot and hard and heavy inside you.

While you’re losing yourself in your thoughts and feelings over Hyunjin and his wonderful cock, he begins telling you his own thoughts, voicing them aloud to work you up even more.

“I think about this all the time, you know,” he whispers. “Fucking you. Touching you. Holding you.”

“Yeah?” Your back skids a little harder into the wall from a particularly rough thrust, but the sensation in your pussy is well worth it. “Tell me, Hyunjin. T-Tell me more.”

His pace falters for a moment as he re-balances his stance and readjusts the grip he has on your thigh and hip, but he goes right back to driving hard into your ever-tightening walls.

“I think about you all the time, my love,” he rephrases, “you have no idea. I get hard just from smelling your perfume when I walk into this fucking house.”

His dirty talk is flattering and so much sweeter than you expected. He’s so fucking perfect.

“Fuck, Hyunjin, yes…”

He increases the pace a little more, staring at the way your face scrunches in pleasure the entire time. His thrusts are getting shallow, but the friction his cockhead offers against your walls is still so good.

“You think about me, too, right?” he grunts. He risks letting go of your hip to cup your chin and grip your cheeks in one hand, trying to settle your rattling head to focus on him. “You think about how good I make you feel? How much I love you?”

With great effort, you meet his eyes to better convey your sincerity. “Yes. Yes, I think about you so much. Every day, every hour. Always, my love.”

Hyunjin brings his lips to yours with a sigh. Your tongue is there to meet his, eagerly and sloppily kissing him back as he pounds away between your thighs. He may be unsatisfied with your arrangement at times, but he knows you love him.

Just as he regains depth with his thrusts, he pulls away with a tormented look, eyebrows furrowed against the extreme pleasure you’ve caused him just by taking his cock so well.

“Fuck, I can’t last today, Y/N,” he whines. He pulls out and away from you, but before you can protest too much, he drops to his knees. “Let me taste you for a bit? Please?”

He brushes his nose side-to-side against your slit, then up and down, totally undeterred by the sticky mess it smears on him. You try to close your thighs against his face, but your knees are blocked by his broad shoulders. He smirks when he feels you caging him in and takes your knees in each hand to push them back apart. “Mine,” he says, then hums in satisfaction at the sight of your legs spread, slick center on display just for him. He dives in tongue first to ravish your pussy.

“Hyunjin, fuck!” you squeal at the first lick up your entire slit, quickly covering your mouth with your hand.

Even Hyunjin has to pause after that first taste just to curse under his breath before he narrows in on your clit and licks nimble circles into it, mostly around the hood, but occasionally dipping under it just to make you insane.

You’re still reeling over his sudden desire to go down on you, but you’re not complaining. He gives fantastic head, as he is so clearly demonstrating. You miss his cock already, but the feeling of his wide tongue now wriggling into your hole is an acceptable substitute for now. It cannot reach as far as his cock does, but his licks are firm and calculated. This definitely is not a chore for him, it’s a pleasure. A privilege, he might say, and that knowledge turns you on more than words can convey.

Hyunjin pulls back and licks his lips deliciously. “This pussy only gets this wet for me, right?”

“Only for you,” you agree, nodding quickly, telling him what you desperately need him to believe, “only you. It’s all yours, all f-fucking yours…”

He hums again and resumes licking up your dripping arousal. It is already all over his nose, lips and chin, but he can’t seem to get enough. In fact, it seems more like he is simply enjoying the taste of you and the feeling of his face pressed against your center more than focusing on getting you off.

You wind your fingers in his hair and urge, “Hyunjin, please, I’m desperate to come.”

“I don’t know, love,” he teases, “you’re pretty loud when you come. Are you sure I should let you?”

You whimper pitifully because you’re too far gone to find the magic words to make him have mercy on you. Luckily, Hyunjin has never denied you a thing, and just the sight of your beautiful self, legs spread for him, cunt glistening with a messy mixture of your arousal and his spit, is enough to do the trick.

“Come here,” he says, much more tenderly. He takes your hips again and walks you over to the couch this time to bend you over it.

His cockhead finds its way back home, slamming deep inside you from behind in one smooth, wet plunge, and both of you moan over the reconnection. Hyunjin grips your shoulder and starts fucking into you hard. With the firm snapping of his hips comes the loud echoes of skin on skin bouncing off the walls, however, and neither of you can allow that.

“Fuck, too hard,” he says, mostly under his breath to himself. He slows his pace but loses none of the depth, keeping the tip of his cock pressed as deeply as possible at all times, allowing you both to feel each other as much as possible.

Your cunt is pulsing, his cock is throbbing, both of you eager for an end to the torment.

You dig your nails into the sofa and try to keep your moans to a minimum. Neither of you want to be quiet right now, you know that, but you’ve also never done this with your husband still in the house. The risk is contributing more to your dripping arousal than you care to admit right now — but later, in the afterglow, or before the next time, you’ll tell Hyunjin all about it. God, he’s still inside you, and you already cannot wait until next time.

Hyunjin leans his face closer to yours, breath warm and ragged against your cheek. “You’re coming first, love,” he promises, as if he would ever have it any other way.

Before you can even ask it of him, his fingers slip between your legs to play with your clit. He flicks the tip of his finger back and forth against the swollen bud in all the ways you’ve taught him.

“Hyunjin—fuck, yes—coming!” you whisper-shout.

He gasps then whimpers at the first tight clench of your pussy but manages to fuck and finger you through your bliss. “Oh my god, that’s it, Y/N,” he says, kissing your neck and cheek, admiring the close-up of your face while you’re orgasming. Your lips are parted, your body is shivering, your pussy is doing its best to milk the cum right out of him.

Once he is certain you’ve ridden your high, he pulls himself from your sensitive cunt. “Fuck, turn around. Hurry, please,” he says, borderline frantic because his orgasm is right there.

You quickly get back on your knees to take him back in your mouth, but he is already coming before you can even get your mouth around him. The first shot of cum lands on your dress, but the second one makes it to your chin, and you giggle quietly as you stretch your tongue out to catch the third. Hyunjin groans the entire time, not really bothering to try and aim his cum anywhere in particular, so long as it gets somewhere on you.

He wipes the last drops against your bottom lip, gently dragging his softening tip directly against it, then gets to his knees to kiss you. “My love,” he pants between kisses, “that was so good.”

You can only nod and giggle, equally breathless and in love.

Hyunjin groans as he gets to his shaky legs and helps you up as well. He is still looking at you like he could devour you, so you kiss him again. He is giggling himself by the time you pull away again.

“I’m sorry about the mess. I didn’t mean to get cum on your pretty dress,” he says, not sounding particularly apologetic, but that is fine with you. You would toss away a thousand of the outfits your husband buys you, so long as it was Hyunjin who ruined them.

You gather some of the sticky mess that transferred from your face to his, then wipe it against the bosom of your dress. “Don’t worry about it, love,” you say.

Tomorrow, Hyunjin will continue that stupid lie of a portrait. You wish you could sit beside your husband — across the room from the man you love — wearing this same cum-stained dress.

---

if you enjoyed, please consider re-blogging and/or leaving me some feedback. take care! ♡

#hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #the other him #daizymax

205 notes · View notes