#that post has way too many notes for something I wrote in a heated moment while waiting for pasta to boil

[c-rowlesdraws]

why would someone do this to me. Why would anyone do this to anyone. Screencapping someone’s text post and putting it on reddit is violence. Posting my art to reddit or something else I’d put positive energy into would be fine! But posting this post is violence. If you’re out there reading this, person who put this on reddit, know that if I could place an ice cube on the floor so that it would melt just in time for you to step on it in socks, I would.

I haven’t noticed a huge note spike today, so maybe this happened a while ago? I did notice a whole bunch of notes semi-recently but I thought that was from the werewolf boyfriend guy (@ were-ralph, a prince among men) reblogging it… fingers crossed that most people who visit a subreddit called “curated tumblr” don’t actually have tumblr accounts.

#catie talks #reddit #I’m not mad I’m just disappointed #that post has way too many notes for something I wrote in a heated moment while waiting for pasta to boil

[notjustjavierpena]

Heat

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: Many many moons ago (this might be an exaggeration), I wrote a direct message to @undercoverpena about one of her text posts that sent me into a horny spiral. I loved it. You can read the text post here. At lot happened since then, and I bet you all that she must have forgotten or thought I would not finish it, but alas I return from the dead.

Summary: Javier looks so delicious doing hard work under the sun. The kids aren’t home. Heat is not just what the sun gives, it can also be a state of your body.

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, clit stim, piv sex, dirty talk, breeding kink, creampie, rough sex, javi p is sweaty and you are horny

Word count: 3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51636391

Heat

It’s a thousand degrees outside.

It’s the beginning of autumn and it’s boiling hot, so warm that one cannot fully enjoy the weather when it makes everything feel crispier. You’ll be damned if you are going to spend the sparse and sacred hours of being childfree inside your house with a pout though, because your father-in-law has the kids after a long period of him being unable to babysit.

One would think that now that your three children are in Abuelo Chucho’s hands, it would mean having a long-awaited, as well as well-deserved, date night with your husband, but Javier has decided to spend the day renovating the back porch in the heat. You haven’t rolled your eyes at him yet, but the urge has been there several times.

You sit on the porch swing, dangling your feet just above the wooden boards that are soon to be removed and replaced. There’s a glass of cold lemonade in your hand, a bee buzzing somewhere nearby. 

Javier is in the shed at the back of the garden. You can hear him move things around, occasionally letting out a swear word moments after something clatters to the floor with a loud bang. 

You sip your lemonade through its straw. The honey bee has found the bush of lavender, and you let your eyes close to listen to the sounds of late summer, the start of fall. The sun dances on your lids, sweat forms at the small of your back just above your shorts and right below your cropped t-shirt.

After a few minutes where you’ve leaned back into the backrest of the porch swing, and nearly fallen asleep, you hear Javier returning. Automatically, your eyes open at hearing him speak. 

“Hey, enjoying yourself?” He has come over to peck your lips. You allow it, holding up the glass of lemonade afterward to watch his lips close around the straw. He takes a long sip whilst his eyes are fixed on yours.

“Gotta stay hydrated if you want to work in this heat,” you note.

“Just gonna be all pretty sitting there and watching me?” He asks after swallowing, and you have to force yourself to look away from the way his Adam's Apple bobs.

“Mh-hm,” you nod without saying much, knowing you’ll break if you try to get an actual sentence out.

“Alright,” he just replies, and you swear you catch some sort of undertone in his voice. He kisses you again, lingering a second too long for you to be indifferent towards it, and then stretches again. A less collected version of you wants to undo his belt right there, but you let him go instead. Not without regret though.

And then he starts working, dragging planks across the soon-naked porch deck, and you start sweating even more at the sight. Even moreso at the grunts he elicits during his labor.

Javier is beautiful underneath the burning sun, sweat-slicked chest hair peeking out from under his grayish shirt that he has unbuttoned at the top. He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows because they cannot go up any further than that, tightening around the beginnings of his biceps and causing your head to swim when you think about those arms around you. 

You allow yourself to ogle him as he is lost in the task. The straw in your lemonade sits in your mouth, your tongue curling around it briefly before you sip to clench your thirst. There’s sweat collecting on Javier’s brow, threatening to drip down, and when it finally does slide down the side of his head, your eyes burn from refraining from blinking as you watch the beads roll down his neck and into the clavicle of it. You press your thighs together.

The gray shirt has darkened in color around his shoulders due to dampness. Whenever Javier turns his back to you, you can see the darker patch has reached his lower back too. Your tongue darts out to lick at nothing around your mouth, and you know that your husband would laugh at you if he saw it.

There’s something dirty about watching the way he brushes slick hair from his forehead. He has knelt down on the deck by now, occasionally on all fours when he reaches for something in front of himself, and when he gets really concentrated, straining his back muscles so much that the shirt starts fighting for its life, he pulls a face that nearly makes you fall off the porch swing. 

You bite your lip, choose your words but none seems to do the job so you settle for something more simple, “Javi.”

“Sí, mi amor?” Javier doesn’t look up. 

You remind yourself that he has talked about redoing the porch since his father agreed to take the kids. You won’t spoil it for him, and you know that a half-finished project with three kids is not an ideal situation for you, so you compose yourself.

“I think I need to get out of the sun for a bit, can I get you some water?” You ask instead of getting on your knees to beg - or more - and then you walk past him. 

“Sure,” he replies as you pass him, and it makes you unable to see the smirk on his face, “Water would be great. Thanks, honey.”

Inside the kitchen, you fill a glass with cold water from the refrigerator. You even get a few ice cubes from the tray in your freezer but instead of dumping them into your husband’s drink, you hold them against your chest with a sigh of relief. Something burns in the pit of your stomach, even more when you return to the porch and hand Javier the glass of water. He hasn’t gotten less enticing; shirt clinging to him, hair sticking to his forehead, a groan as he gets up from the floor.

“Should be done by tomorrow,” he says as he takes the glass from your hand, causing a bolt of electricity to shoot down your spine as your fingers brush. It’s ridiculous since both of you know that he is yours already. 

“Mm-hm,” you watch him gulp down nearly all of his drink. 

And then he does something that you might never recover from; he pours the remaining water over himself in an attempt to cool down. It wets his hair even more, and he runs his thick fingers through it to shake out the excess droplets. 

Time stands still. Your heart hammers in your chest, pulse traveling through your veins until you can feel the throbbing of each heartbeat between your legs. You press your thighs together and let out a whimper of breath. 

“Baby?” You say softly to earn a hm? It feels shameful to meet Javier’s eyes. However when you do, you notice his pupils have dilated in desire, gaze flickering down your body for the shortest time, and you choose to strike. 

You step into Javier’s personal space, hand reaching up to lie on his chest. The soft pads of your fingers rest on his skin where his buttons are undone, and you try to keep a doe-eyed look on your face as you rub his exposed skin gently.

“I was thinking,” you start, trail off.

“Yes?” He drags the word out. You can hear the smirk on his face but it feels too vulnerable to look him in the eye.

“Since we’re alone,” you continue, gaze fixated on the chest hair that is exposed in the heat, “And since there’s air conditioning inside, we could do something together.”

“Do what?” He says like someone who has figured you out. His strong hand comes up to wrap around your wrist, lifting your palm to his mouth. He kisses it. 

Your face burns with embarrassment at the fact that you can barely contain yourself in his presence. That and the fact that it is usually so easy, so why does it feel so difficult to ask for what you want? 

“You know what.”

“I need you to say it, need you to ask for it, mi vida,” he teases and places your hand on the side of his face. He releases a breath at your touch, eyes fluttering closed so you feel brave enough to look up at his face. He leans further into you and looks as ready as you to give in. 

“I need you to touch me,” your voice trembles. Javier just barely shudders at hearing your words, opening his eyes once more to reveal their darkened color. 

“Touch you where?” Javier continues his little game. He mirrors you, touches your face too, “Here?”

“No.”

His hand moves down to brush your neck, “Here then? It must be here.”

“No,” you shake your head, “Please, Javi.”

Javier’s hand slides down your front and settles on the exposed skin of your belly. It causes you to hold your breath. Then it goes down, slips past the elastic band of your shorts and into your damp underwear. You gasp as two of his fingers slide through the wetness between your legs, tips finding your pulsing clit immediately after. Thank God you have hedges around the back garden and thank God that they’re tall enough to keep prying eyes away from the scene that unfolds. 

“What about here? I hope it’s here because I don’t want to stop,” he rubs you off slowly until your legs start to shake underneath you. He works his fingers back and forth, from side to side, one on either side of your clit and something builds and builds and—

You come with a little cry and bury your face in Javier’s chest. Your hand on the side of his face falls down to his shoulder which you grip as you soak your underwear even more, thighs trapping his hand as they clamp together. As your head spins, Javier chuckles out a swear word above you. 

“Never gets old,” he adds and you start giggling. 

After a few seconds of letting you breathe, Javier cups your face and lifts your lips to his own in a kiss that tells you everything you need to know, where you’re heading, which direction. You kiss him back slowly and he licks the inside of your mouth, guides you toward the screen door that leads inside of the house. He has you, you want to say, body and soul. 

“Let me take my beautiful wife to bed,” he begs and you nod repeatedly, mumbling a soft plea. He peppers you with sweet kisses that turn more heated as you get closer to the bedroom door. He toes off his shoes on the way, leaving them forgotten in the hallway along with pieces of clothing that he sheds you and himself of. 

When you’re both naked, sticking together from the sweat that is already shining on your skin, he hoists you up and carries you to the bed effortlessly. You cling to him by wrapping your limbs around his body, and he kneels down on the bed and places you on your back - and then he doesn’t leave but instead melts into you.

“Te deseo mucho, mi amor,” he murmurs and crushes you so heavenly with his weight, connecting his lips to your throat and sucking a purple mark onto your skin. You’ll scold him for it later but right now, you simply whine. His voice vibrates against your neck, “You really thought all I was gonna do was redo the stupid porch? Not do you?”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you bite back with no real hostility, first snorting at his choice of words and then letting out a sigh as he continues tasting your salty skin, “I was ready to go insane, so please fuck me.”

“Dramatic as ever,” he teases and then holds himself up with one arm so he can reach down between your bodies. You bend your legs and let your knees fall out to the sides, breath hitching until it becomes a whimper when the head of Javier’s cock slides through your folds. 

“Please,” you say, and have never been so willing. His cockhead catches on your clit, and your moan comes out a lot louder than intended. You are just about to cover your mouth with your hand when you realize you don’t have to; you can cry and whine and scream all you want to. It makes you yearn for him in a newfound sense and makes you want to scream already. 

“Paciencia, mi amor,” he tuts but still reads your mind. He enters you a moment later, pushing inside easily from the slick that’s already smearing your inner thighs. He groans as you take him, eyes intensely focused on yours whilst stretching your pussy open in a delicious sting. Your hands find his broad shoulders instead of their usual place clamped down on your mouth. You let yourself be noisy as you adjust.

“That’s it,” he slurs, “Be noisy all you want. Good girl.”

When he pulls out and eases back in, the two of you moan in unison. He does it again but follows it up with a breathless laugh when your noises already climb in pitch. 

“I know, baby, I know,” he says soothingly as if you’ve hurt yourself.

But then he shows no mercy and speeds up. His rhythm becomes something else entirely; hard and fast, sending the eyes in your head rolling backward into your skull with a f-fuck dripping from your lips.

Everything is so different. Usually, you breathe so deeply into each other’s bodies, connecting your lips whenever the other is about to give away what the two of you are doing to the rest of the house. Your noses will bump against each other as you are impossibly close to one another, an occasional h-ah escaping your mouth or a low grunt from Javier’s, and if not even a kiss can cover up the noises, Javier’s strong hand or your own will cover your mouth as you cry through the most intense orgasms a man has ever given you.

But now. Oh God. Javier is making you sing until the house is shaking, every noise bouncing off the walls to ricochet right back to your ears. You can hear yourself sound obscene as he makes you come a second time, wanton moans falling from your slack mouth. You tremble, thighs jiggling along his sides as he drives his cock into you to prolong your pleasure. 

“There you are, Christ, you are perfect,” he praises, continues to pound your oversensitive cunt, “Let it all out, baby.”

“More,” you beg, “Don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he grunts. 

You reach down between your legs as best as you can, already thinking of a third orgasm now that your clit is untouched. If not only to shout yourself hoarse.

Javier traps you between his arms, propping himself up on his forearms and sliding his fingers into your hair. He tugs slightly as he rolls his hips, pain erupting from your sensitive follicles and adding to your third high that is building. 

You circle your clit fast, barely able to contain yourself as your cunt goes off into delicious spasm. You think you might actually start crying with how intense it feels, Javier’s cock twitching inside of you whilst he moans too. He buries his face in your shoulder.

“Don’t pull out,” you gasp up at the ceiling, nails creating little crescent marks on the muscles of his broad shoulder, “Javi, oh fuck, come in me. Don’t pull out. Pleasepleaseplease.”

The comment makes Javier pull back a little, raising himself on his elbow to look down at you. His fingers are still in your hair, an occasional moan tumbles out of his mouth as he continues reaching deep inside of you, and his eyes bore into yours. He furrows his brow from being so close, barely able to speak from how ragged his breathing is.

“What—?” He grunts. Any moment now.

“Not ovulating,” you moan back at him, tightening your legs around his waist to punctuate your want, your need. You try meeting his every thrust to encourage his own high, “Please, baby. Need you to come in me.”

“Mierda, estas una chica sucia,” his hips stutter, “You love getting filled to the brim, don’t you?” 

You nod frantically. 

“Just want me to keep knocking your sweet cunt up, huh?” He moans. 

“Yes. Whole fucking football team.”

“C’mere,” he catches your mouth in a heated kiss, nodding slightly, but it turns messy as soon as he gets to orgasm. He whimpers into your mouth when he is just on the brink, and then he gasps as the first rope of come starts to fill you. You let out a big sigh against his mouth for show, taking everything he has to give you whilst he shudders in your arms. 

It takes a moment to calm down. Your arms rest beside your head and your eyes close, trying to calm your heavy breathing. Above you, Javier hisses when he pulls out of you and you can immediately feel his come dripping out of you. 

Javier kisses your exposed chest. He slides his hands up your forearms to eventually hold each of your hands, flopping down onto you again. 

“Ice water,” you say after a while of laying together like this. 

“Hm?” He squeezes your hands.

“Go get some ice water, your wife is boiling.”

“Fine,” he groans. 

When he comes back, he has also brought a towel and you spend the rest of the afternoon trailing ice cubes across your warm skin after cleaning yourself up. It’ll be easier to work in the colder evening sun anyway.

.

.

.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

#pedro pascal characters #javi pena #javier pena one shot #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena imagine #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javi peña #javier peña #javier pena x you #my writing #husband!javi #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction

[charlottesbookclub]

Clean (General Armitage Hux)

Summary: Armitage has a particularly rough day and takes a depression shower about it

Warnings/Tags: Hux-centric (no pairing), angst, stress, memories of child abuse, Hux works too much, did I mention angst?, body image issues, insecurities, maybe just very slight SH implications?, ANGST (let me know if I missed anything!)

Words: 1,162

Author’s Note: apparently I'm on a roll with producing Hux content recently! This is just a short little fic building off a headcanon I wrote about in this post. It's an idea I've had for a while and just finally wrote it down. Hope you all enjoy even tho it's super frickin angsty and kinda sad!

(oh and the lines from Br*ndol are from the Hux comic and I think Empire's End?)

            The faint beep his door emitted as it recognized his credentials and zipped open for him sounded almost heavenly to Armitage. He barely made it into his chambers before he collapsed back against the now-closed door, sliding down until he was seated on the floor. He rested his arms on his bent-up knees, folding himself down as small as was possible given his height. There was a strange tightness in his throat, and not the kind caused by the unseeable grip of the damned Force. The passing thought of that frivolous magic snapped him back to himself, and he pushed up off of the floor in one fluid movement, knowing that if he slowed or hesitated at all, his exhausted body would decide that he would be sleeping unceremoniously slumped against his door.

            It had been a long cycle. Or was it two cycles? How long had it been since he had last rested? He shook his head minutely, trying to clear the fog of weariness that had finally allowed itself to settle in his mind. His chambers were dark except for the pale light of the stars creeping in through the large windows. He didn’t bother turning a light on. Instead, he made his way slowly to the refresher, discarding items of clothing one by one, each seeming to represent a problem that he wished he could cast off as easily as his uniform.

            First, the gloves – Ren destroying another expensive control panel. Greatcoat next – an unfortunate meeting with Snoke that left his project on a much tighter timeline than he had originally planned. One boot kicked to the side, then the other – the knowing glances cast between former Imperial officers on the bridge, sharing some joke he wasn’t privy to. His uniform top – the endless forms needing his approval and signature. The light undershirt next – the constant pinging of his comlink and datapad with requests for his time. Then his trousers – useless meetings with more insufferable Imperial veterans who just wanted to feel as though they were still valuable by giving outdated advice. Finally, his undergarments and socks – the biting headache that has been festering behind his eyes for the past… well… however many cycles it had been.

            Hux reached the refresher and didn’t bother to turn that light on either. Instead, he stepped directly into the dark-tiled shower and turned the hot water to its full capacity. Normally, he limited himself to cold showers. He felt they were more effective at waking him up – or, more often than not, freshening him up since actual sleep was something of a rarity for the general. Either way, despite the fact that his rank gave him unlimited access to hot water, he rarely indulged in the luxury. Right now though, it was what he needed more than anything.

            Steam filled the refresher, indicating that the water had reached a suitable temperature, and Armitage stepped under the current, nearly gasping at the shocking heat. For a moment, he could think of nothing else but the nearly unbearable warmth of the water as it coursed over his skin. When he had gotten somewhat habituated to the temperature on his body, he dipped his head into the stream and hissed as the water cut almost-scalding rivulets through his hair. After a few moments of exposure, his body became desensitized to the intense heat. He was left with a welcome warmth seeping into every fiber of his being. He began releasing tension he wasn’t even conscious of as the hot water unspooled it from his coiled muscles. His pristinely coiffed hair was soaked into damp strands, the gel dissolving and relinquishing its hold on his orange locks. For a few glorious moments, his mind was blissfully blank. He thought of nothing, simply absorbing the sensation of the hot water against his skin in the dark shower.

            They always crept back in though – the voices, the thoughts. What a waste of resources. How frivolous. How useless. Hux gritted his teeth then, hearing his father’s despised voice ring in his ears: “I’ve yet to find anything that Armitage isn’t utterly useless at.” He was glad he couldn’t make out much of his body in the steam-filled darkness of the refresher. He knew his pale skin was turning a humiliating shade of pink – both from the heat and from the unwanted memories. And he was thin. Scrawny. “Thin as a slip of paper and just as useless.” Armitage pressed his fist against the cool wall of the shower, putting enough force behind it that his knuckles began to hurt. Anything to drive his father’s words from his mind. As the insults and memories faded, Hux heaved a sigh. He exchanged his fist against the tile for his forehead, the press of the cold black stone bringing him back to reality. Despite his face no longer being under the current of water, he nevertheless felt warm liquid slipping down his cheeks. He scrubbed at his face with his hand, assuring himself it was nothing but beads of condensation, and situated himself back under the stream.

            He allowed himself just a few more fleeting moments under the warm water, trying to let it sap the last of the stress from his body, even though he wasn’t sure that was even possible at this point. Tension had settled deep into his bones and made itself at home there, untouchable even by the calming hands of heat that spilled over his body. Before he lost his nerve and stayed in the shower for the rest of eternity, he snapped the water off and was left suddenly shivering as the cool air of the refresher began to prick his skin. Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped himself in a robe. He caught a quick glance in the mirror, but any glimpse of his body was mercifully obscured by both the darkness and the steam collected on the reflective surface. He didn’t want to be reminded of his weak constitution now, not when he had only just banished his father’s unwelcome words.

            He stepped back out into the main room of his quarters, letting the pale starlight guide him as he inched his way carefully along the trail of discarded clothing items, collecting them as he went. On his way to his bed, he placed each in their assigned places: uniform and undergarments in the chute that connected directly to the ship’s central laundry facility, greatcoat carefully arranged on a hanger in his sparse closet, boots lined up neatly next to the door. That done, Armitage allowed himself to sink into bed, pulling the covers over his chilled body. He was almost ready to give into his aching head and sore body, to just allow himself to fall into the oblivion of sleep. Then a shrill ping interrupted that futile dream. He rolled over, pulling his datapad into bed with him to check the notification. He could always rest after responding to this message.

#charlotte writes #armitage hux #armitage hux fanfiction #armitage hux headcanon #hux #general hux #general hux fanfic #general hux headcanon #hux headcanon #tw mention of child abuse #tw body image #tw slight self harm

[hyuneluvbot]

skz when y/n kisses them in an argument

pairing: stray kids x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: descriptions and mentions of kissing, if that makes you uncomfortable please do not proceed to read.

word count: 2387

author's note: hello my darlings <3 thank you so so so much for being so patient with me yet again, i know i have absolutely no posting schedule :/

-i have intended for the "arguments" here to be just misunderstandings or bad days, because idealistically this isn't how i believe you should be solving serious issues.

-i wrote this over the span of three days during study breaks, i'm still v v caught up in exam prep so please excuse my errors if i've made any :D

-as always, i hope you enjoy reading! take good care of yourself y/n, i'm cheering for you!

chan

-look, he's not usually the type of guy who'd let something as ❛stupid❜ [i hope u read that in his voice] as an argument let him get carried away enough to say some dumb shit he probably doesn't mean.

-but it was a really bad day and his head's in too many places, too many things clouding his head and he cannot focus, so he ends up saying something he regrets, but when he regains focus and pays attention to what he said, you're already walking away from him.

-its not that you don't want to get this argument over with, its just that right now is not the time, you can clearly see he has too much going on and he needs to think properly before he talks to you.

-he's following you though, trying to tell you he didn't mean what he said and "oh wow i should really start paying more attention to what i say" and "oh god this was so dumb of me" and now he's overthinking.

-you don't really see any other way to get him to stop talking for a second, so you cup his face and plant a big fat kiss on his lips.

-he's shocked, eyes wide, but he soon relaxes, and right before you know it he's holding onto you so tight, refusing to let you go.

-"i really hope you know i didn't mean that, really had no clue what i was saying" still a little upset, gives you a sad smile :( [chris and a sad little smile is giving me major heartache i will never type this sentence out again]

-"everyone has bad days, i know to not take it to heart, don't beat yourself up,"

-no more work for him tonight, spends the rest of the day with you doing whatever you want to do, giving you lots and lots of kisses throughout, making sure to prove just how sorry he is for all his harsh words

-chrispy my precious he has every little bit of my whole heart i will say this again & again.

-atp this blog is just me tryna find excuses to mention how much i love chan and everything he does, down bad fr.

minho

-it was a stupid argument, really.

-but it was definitely starting to get heated.

-minho is such an amazing person, but his tendency to get possessive really gets to you sometimes.

-you love him; so much, and when he complains to you about how "you're being affectionate with so & so" it only gets to you because you feel like you haven't done a good enough job with showing him just how much you love him.

-its probably not the best idea to shut him up with so much so a kiss, especially when he's "getting his point across because no you are not listening to him y/n", but you shall do exactly that.

-you're on the kitchen counter and he's standing in front of you, so tug him down to you by the end of his shirt and kiss him.

-it takes a second to register, but the moment he starts to feel himself lose control and kiss you back; he's pulling away and staring down at you trying to catch his breath.

-"you should not cut people off when they're talking, where are your manners y/n?"

-& before you could process his words he's capturing your mouth with his again, kissing you longer and harder this time, biting down on your lip as his anger vanishes. [a man who always wants the last word]

-a good 20 minutes later does he finally pull away, letting you reassure him by telling him you love him, and only him.

changbin

-he's a sucker for your lips.

-even if you give him a peck while he's sleeping, it is enough to wake him up and make him ask for a proper kiss.

-so you get the memo, he's probably going to give you a good reaction.

-this wasn't even an argument, it was just a shitty day for the both of you and trying to talk to the other person to confide in them all the while their emotions are still lingering; only resulted in both your emotions letting out in a wrong way.

-you're both prideful, but not enough to let it cloud your judgement so you're soon to realise this was wrong, and frankly not going anywhere.

-he's starting to talk again, to apologise this time, but you don't get to hear the rest of it when you cup his face and smash your lips against his.

-let's out a shocked little "oh" against your mouth but nonetheless melts into your embrace.

-very touchy and grabby now, hands all over any body part in his reach, your shoulders, arms, waist, thighs, and you can feel his satisfaction with how this turned out with the way his kisses start to intensify.

-you have to really pull away and place a hand between you to stop him from kissing you again, offering to heat up some dinner so you guys can eat properly without screaming at each other this time [how dare y/n deny him a kiss]

-"only if you give me one more kiss here" points to his nose :(

-"and here" forehead this time

-"okay okay last one, on my lips again" makes kissing sounds

hyunjin

-now *stretches and cracks knuckles*

-unlike chan, someone does have an attitude.

-the argument couldn't have been dumber, but homeboy is petty and will roll his eyes so hard every time you tell him he's wrong he's probably seeing his brain back there.

[so dramatic, we love to see]

-you're both just really throwing petty remarks at each other at this point, but you're the first to realise this is going nowhere and you need to apologise in a mature way.

-he's standing in front of you, pacing back and forth and making these extravagant hand gestures to accompany his elaborate speech on how wrong your attitude is right now.

-so you intertwine one hand with this and wrap the other around his waist to pull him to you.

-when you kiss him he gasps so loud and tries to pull away in shock, but you tighten your grip on him and slowly put your hand inside his shirt, rubbing little circles on his back to encourage him to calm down.

-is a little hesitant to kiss you back but you can easily feel his attitude start to lose away the longer he kisses you, his mouth against yours soft and delicate now, contrary to all his actions before.

-once you're sure he's calm you slowly pull away, reaching upto push his hair behind his ears. you bring your hands upto his face and ease the wrinkles formed from the tension resting there.

-"let's talk properly, yeah?"

-"one more kiss and we'll do just that,"

jisung

-he says the first thing that pops in his head and he might unintentionally get really mean sometimes, but you already know he has no filter when he's annoyed, so you make sure to not take his words to heart.

-you're just trying to end the conversation, very well aware this is becoming pointless, but its really starting to tick you off how he's huffing and puffing, mumbling under his breath, doing everything but listening to what you have to say.

-you decide you've had enough of his attitude and this argument, so you lean down to his face and give him a kiss.

-did i mention he is an absolute sucker for kisses? anytime, anywhere, pretty boy just wants a kiss :(

-takes a solid minute to process the moment so he doesn't really respond to the kiss; but hey he's finally not talking, so you back off and leave the room.

-afterwards he's all red ears; pink cheeks; big round eyes & hands by his sides, doesn't know what to do at all.

-mindlessly follows behind you and turns you to face him, argument long forgotten by now.

-"o-one more kiss, please? i mean only if you want ahahha you don't have to, i'm sorry i was being mean i don't want you to be mad at me i love you darling :("

-very hesitant because he knows he was being a little meanie back then, but knows its best to apologise right now than to delay it and possibly piss you off and spew another argument.

-"you silly boy, come here,"

-will not let you go the moment you do kiss him; you can breathe sometime later you're supposed to be kissing him rn

felix

-he is very very calm in an argument; i cannot peg him for the sort who would raise his voice or talk over you, so really, an argument with him is just like having a conversation.

-but of course, everyone has bad days. on bad days, it's not all sunshine and rainbows, sometimes he tends to lose his cool too.

-you're sitting across from one another on the dinner table, and this conversation is absolutely going nowhere because he's not letting you speak and is only jumping to his own conclusions.

-you reach out for his hand that's sitting on top of the table and tug him closer to you, meeting his lips halfway.

-no matter how pissed he is, there's no way he's denying a kiss.

"kisses make everything better" in his own words :(

-besides, this is just an argument. a stupid little argument, no way its going to hamper your relationship.

-he has faith in you guys, he knows this is going to be over before you know it; so really, a kiss sounds very nice right now.

-he's definitely smiling against your lips as you're kissing,,

-he slowly starts rubbing small circles on the back of your hand with his thumb as he starts to forget about the argument more and more.

-"i needed that, i was starting to lose control of my thoughts right there," he is the bestest boy to ever exist i will scream it to the world lix. best. boy. nobody's got anything on my precious :(((

-"do you wanna go on a date? i still feel bad for being mean to you," still a little shy and refuses to look you in the eye properly until he knows for sure you've forgiven him.

-one more kiss for lix so he knows the only emotion you feel is adoration for him :(

seungmin

-he's really always such a sweetheart, but the moment he's pissed, a switch flips; he is not ready to let go of the situation or how he feels about it until he's ready.

-he's sitting on your guys' bed, still grumpy over the argument, and you're trying to make him atleast acknowledge what you're saying because his blank expression is really giving away nothing.

-you jump to your very last resort and straddle him, grabbing his face and kissing him, pecking his lips over and over. you then move over to the rest of his face, placing gentle pecks in hopes for him to atleast crack a smile.

-instead of smiling like you'd hoped, he scolds you even more for kissing him out of nowhere.

-"you weren't even looking my way and i didn't know if you were listening to what i was saying,"

-"so you'll kiss me? you really are something y/n,"

-he felt like it was obvious he wasn't pissed anymore, but to you his 'scolding' made it seem like you pissed him off even more so you just back away to your side of the bed and sit facing away from him, leaving him dumbfounded.

-takes him a few minutes to understand why you did that, but he proceeds to apologise for his actions properly.

-gives you a huge hug and explains to you [in a very very hushed voice] how he only responded like that because he was caught off guard and flustered, not because he was mad at you.

-"wouldn't want you to know i was shy and my ears were red, right?"

-kisses you once again, longer this time to prove he's anything but pissed at you.

-lots of cuddles by the end of the night, might even sing you to sleep :((((

jeongin

-arguments rarely ever happen, he's a very calm and understanding person, always willing to listen to whatever you have to say.

-he just came back home in a shitty mood today and it was very prominent, so you made an attempt to try to ask him what was wrong, and if there was anything you could do to help.

-his head was too clouded and he wasn't thinking straight, so he didn't even realise when he snapped at you, and just when he kept going.

-ended up pouring out all his frustration on you, and the moment he realised what he was doing, he started apologising.

-he thinks he's hurt you and the thought of you being hurt, because of him? waves of guilt washing over him as we're speaking :(

-one second he's profusely apologising, taking back all his harsh words and the next second he's not.

-all his apologies fall against your lips as they reach to meet his, your hands circling around his neck.

-he's stopped talking, but he's in shock and not responding to the kiss. it makes you think he's still feeling guilty and maybe this wasn't the best idea so you slowly try to pull away from him, arms still resting on his shoulders though.

-before he himself processes it he's brainlessly pulling you back to him and kissing you.

-you start to toy with his hair as you ease him into the kiss, knowing he's still hesitant.

-you only pull away once his arms are holding onto your waist and his kisses have a rhythm rather than being sloppy and all over the place, and you offer to run him a bath so he can properly unwind.

-"can we talk too? i want to tell you about my day," :(

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #skz #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz drabbles #skz x y/n #skz x reader #lee know #lee minho x reader #felix #hyunjin #bang chan #changbin #han jisung #skz jisung #jeongin #seungmin #kim seungmim #kim seungmin x reader #stray kids reactions #bangchan

[ohmysparkle]

🎀 Plush Baby 🎀

[Pairing] Minho (Stray Kids) x chubby Reader

[Genre] Smut

[Word Count] 4.4K

[Warnings] NSFW, smut, body insecurities

[NSFW Content] Vanilla sex, raw sex, soft soft soft (male) domination, PIV, oral (fem. receiving), body worship.

[Note] This piece was originally posted on my old account as a request. It has been edited and rewritten.

Also, I like my girls how I like my cats: soft, purring, jiggly. Just sleeping all day, occasionally meowing, being cute.

[Edit - Note 2] I remember the original request asking for a chubby reader, and my reply was that I hoped that all of my writing as inclusive enough that any reader could feel themselves represented in that scenario. I know we all have drastically different physical characteristics - but we are all beautiful. The tiny, fit little waist on one girl is as beautiful and sensual as the soft, plush and pillowy belly of another. We can all be recognized as beautiful and sexy and desired - and we should feel that way. But I wrote (and rewrote) this request with extra care because I wanted to shower some love on all chubby, full figured, plus, fat, curvy readers and I hope I do some justice to your beautiful bodies. 💕

🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀

You’re laying on his bed, in nothing but a set of plain undies. The white panties are so thin he feels he can almost make out the delicate folds that decorate your vulva, and if you only spread them a little further he’d be so proud if he saw a little wet and sticky stain on them, making them stick to your skin. Your hands are gripping each other, as you try to sink yourself onto the bed, somehow shielding yourself in your shyness, but all it does is force your arms to push your breasts together. He sighs in delight as he takes in your body, every curve, every soft fold and pocket of flesh, every supple crest.

A soft and warm, plush goddess before his eyes, on his bed, just at his fingertips…

He’s been dreaming of the day he’d be able to see you like this, and he’s been coaxing you day by day; making sure you’re comfortable with him, letting you know he thinks you’re beautiful, assuring you that any intimacy with him would be about your pleasure and his efforts to lay all his love on you.

His kisses were always more than just kisses, he’d do everything to reassure you, let you know how he felt. Every profession of how beautiful he found you was deep and genuine - and sometimes he felt like he was healing a precious little wounded animal that had been scarred by the cruel words of past lovers.

You’ve been shy, and insecure. He understands, but it breaks his heart a little because he just wants you to bask in confidence and find yourself as beautiful as he does. If only you could see yourself with his eyes, he thinks…

If only you could understand the desire he feels… from the moment he saw you. Your cute rounded cheeks, expressive and squishy. The beautiful way your thighs would move as you walked, his eyes traveling up whatever skirt you wore, thinking about the plush and bouncy bum underneath. How your breasts spilled so beautiful when you moved around, especially when you lay on your back and your cleavage would become so accentuated in any top you wore. The softness at your waist, supple and warm… he couldn’t resist pinching at a little pocket of fat in your back or your hip whenever he hugged you, despite you hating it at first, thinking he was teasing you.

But he wasn’t… he wouldn’t tease you in that way. He’s only tease you in a loving and playful manner. If only you could understand how pretty you were in his eyes.

It has taken time, for him to chip away at your walls. Sometimes he got carried away in you, wanting to use all of his tricks to have you wet and weakened to his whim, because the thought of touching, kissing, fucking you was too much. He’d impatiently shiver at the thought alone.

But it wasn’t just about what he wanted - because he wouldn’t want it if you didn’t, and he wouldn’t enjoy it unless you did twice as much. He could see something, hesitation, or fear perhaps, always lingering behind your eyes. He knows how you sometimes shielded those insecurities with smiles, but your body would freeze and tense…

So many things you needed time to heal. Every glance from a stranger toward him and you would have you second guessing, or when a girl would try to flirt with him you’d be completely dejected. And he’s kiss it all away, drown your thoughts out with soft words. Again and again, no matter how many times. It would tire anyone out.

He’s been so patient, he’s always patient for you. Gladly, happily patient. He knows when to let you take the lead and set the pace, or when you need him to encourage you and guide you. And now, to finally have you here on his bed, body laying beneath his… well, the months long effort has borne fruits.

He sits beside you, looking down at you, lost in admiration. He’s eating you up with his eyes, staring down at every curve and dip along your body. You don’t know if it’s good or bad, and your hands are bunched up, tense against your chest as your chin rests over them. He worries you’re feeling doubtful, but for a moment his eyes are lost in your figure and he doesn’t notice. From some angles, his eyes seem so sharp and intimidating, but the feeling in them is tender and comforting, just like the look of worry he casts you once he notices your tension.

Minho gently takes your hands in his, separating their tight grip and kiss omg the knuckles on each one before guiding each area to rest at your side.

“Just relax, baby girl…” he hushes. His voice… you feel it make you shiver, running deep within you. It’s deep, soothing, almost like a purr - but he’s so much less harmless than those kitties he loves… It’s a mix between being stalked by a predator, making you feel small and fearful, and being comforted and lulled by a strong presence that blankets you.

You try relax, and tense little huffs of breath leave you. He knows you’re having a hard time so he decides to reassure you one last time before asking if you want to continue.

“Baby girl…” he whispers after leaning closer to you, clicking his tongue, the tip of his nose almost brushing your temple, “you’re beautiful, I adore you, and I think everything about you is beautiful. I’m going to treat you like a princess and I promise I’ll make you feel good, but we won’t do that if you’re not comfortable first, ok?”

You gulp and nod, and the next deep breath you take does dissolve tension a bit. Your mind is made up, you’re absolutely sure, but still you feel the slightest bit afraid to say so… Minho is so, so, perfect, and protective and doting. You logically know he won’t do anything wrong, that he’d never hurt you - so why are you so terrified of all of this?

“I want to. Just… slowly, ok?” You finally say, and he smiles at you with pride - pride in you for being comfortable with the prospect of intimacy, and your trust in him. Pride in himself knowing he’s made you comfortable… it makes you smile too.

Minho begins as he had always dreamed of doing with you. His fingers dance with anticipation before he dares dip them against your flesh. He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead before commencing to roam his hands all over your body.

He gently grips the flesh of your thighs and hips, while leaning down to kiss the tops of your breasts as the spill out from the cups of your bra. You begin to sigh and sink in relaxation. He lets his palms lightly glide over the skin, feeling so soft and powdery, your hairs there velvety, peach-like…

“So beautiful baby, so soft, you feel perfect…” he says with a pinching squeeze of the mound of flesh at your waist that pokes out from the waistband of your underwear. It makes you whine a little bit he rubs it with the heat in his palm to soothe the sting. It’s with these little pains, the pinches, the digging of his fingers into your mounds of plumpness, and then the soft massages and tender touches, that he gets you to melt.

Your legs seem to naturally spread for him, and now his free hand roams between the softness of your inner thighs. Now, that by far, was the tenderest thing he had ever touched, and to think he’d soon be burying himself within them… He kneads them, enjoying the jiggly feeling of them in his hands and how perfectly his finger dug into the almost powdery flesh. So, so soft. Handfuls of supple, warm and jiggly fat for him to feel and play with. He looks at how he moves your flesh about, how voluptuous and sensual it all looks…

You deserve a kiss there, he thinks. You can’t deny that he’s relaxed you to such a point that your body melds in accordance to his manipulation. Your legs spread and he grunts a bit at the warmth that radiates off of you and the slight scent of your arousal through your panties. He digs his face into one of your thighs, nudging it, until he latches his lips on to a particularly soft nook of flesh and sucks. The hiss that leaves you makes his cock twitch, and he’s in awe at how well your thigh mends against his mouth as he sucks, and how sweet your skin tastes when he runs his tongue over it.

How is it possible that this plush, voluptuous angel belongs to him? He is drunk on the kisses and sucks and licks that he gives to that one thigh, and when you begin to shake him off one leg, he moves on to the other. He wants to keep kissing, but he also just wants to melt into you, your pillowy figure being too perfect for him.

At some point, his hands begin to travel back upwards, and he hooks his fingers under your high waisted underwear to slip them down to your hips, leaving your cunt clothed but exposing your tummy. Minho begins to grope at the flesh there, massaging and munching it together, pressing his hands into every inch of your skin, and he’s looking down at you.

It’s ticklish, or maybe you feel it tickles because you’re nervous, or because that’s a part of yourself you’ve always thought should be covered or avoided, left completely unacknowledged despite its exposure. Yet Minho… his eyes, the way he touched you; it all showed genuine love and arousal.

You had feared this moment for so long, but you didn’t feel scared now. Not with the way he was looking at you and touching you, not with the way he was making you feel; beautiful, sexy, attractive. It’s what you were, and he felt that way too. He grabs at your waist, digging his hands roughly into the mounds in your abdomen and he presses his entire body against you. Slowly, Minho leans down for a kiss to your pretty lips as he grinds against one of your thighs.

“My sweet girl… please tell me you want us to keep going… please.” He begs.

“Yes.” Is all you can reply after rewarding his mouth with your whimpers.

Minho leans back on his thighs as he tore his shirt off, providing you with the sight of his defined torso. Chiseled, sharp, masculine - not a line of softness in him. The two of you are exact opposites and it makes it all the better for how your two figures complement the touch and feeling of the other. He dives back in, kissing along your soft belly, up towards your bra and between your breast, until finally he’s back at your mouth. His body lays on you, and while you feel firm and detailed flesh, he relishes in the plushness of your body and how it seems to embrace him. He rubs his own pecs over the lace of your bra, stimulating his pretty brown nipples, and he groans into your mouth. Your response is to roll your hips upward, against the erection that’s growing inside of his sweatpants.

“Minho, I want you - anything, I can’t wait anymore…” you plead while pushing him off. You begin to take your bra off, and he removes his pants and briefs in one go, revealing his hardening cock under a tuft of trimmed dark hair. You’re desperate now, and confident too, and you lay back to peel your own underwear off.

Fuck, the way you cunt is nestled between your plump thighs and soft abdomen, your lips peaking from your protruding vulva. His mouth is watering, and despite his reservations about being gentle and not startling you, he’s quick to grab your ankles and press your legs apart so he can burry is face in your pussy. He doesn’t have an ounce of control left because the sight of you has made him but a stupid animal.

He presses a firm kiss to your musky and moistened lips, inhaling sharply at that scent he’s sure would drive any man to the point of insanity. They’re just slightly tacky and they stick to his lips in the most pleasant way until the fluids of your arousal start to spread about and mix with his saliva, making everything glide more easily. He’s moaning and grunting against you and it makes you feel so aroused that you feel yourself pulsating within. He licks your lips, lathering them up with his saliva, he sucks at your clit.

Long strokes of his tongue run over your labia, his hands massage the outer sides of your vulva too, until he uses them to slightly spread your pussy, so his tongue more easily glides between your lips. The workings of his hand, massaging you around your vulva leaves you in awe to how sensitive every part of you was - something you likely wouldn’t have discovered without an expert and generous lover like Minho.

And then it all centers at the little sucks and nibs to your lips that tease you, and the way he stimulates your clitoris with his muscle to make your entire body jolt.

A finger expertly slips its way inside, and he keeps his hand facing downward, so the underside of his finger stimulates a different part of your walls that you wouldn’t even think of touching on your own. He twists them about, letting the little joints in his fingers circle every part of your cunt, exploring and pleasing everything. He begins to finger you with determination and it’s just not enough. You need more. Still, his mouth on your mound feels so good, and he tears away to slobber all over your vulva and leave your lips soaked and glistening. You can feel his drool dripping between your thighs and down your slit toward your ass.. Never had a man done this to you like this, and Minho had no restraint, he was proudly pleasing you with his mouth, devouring you like an animal, shamelessly soiling you with a mix of your fluids and his own spit.

“Minho!” You whine, and he knows what it means. Fuck, he nearly wants to bite into you until your screaming and squirting…

He pulls you by your hips and raises your thighs back, so that the lower part of you cunt is slightly more exposed. With his palms supporting your thighs, his thumbs inch toward your labia to spread you open. You hold your legs up by your ankles to make it easier for him, but you almost kick them away when you feel his tongue prod at your hole.

He presses his face harder and harder against your fleshy cunt, making sure his tongue gets in as deep as possible. He finds you’re full of slick and thick nectar that tastes heavenly and filthy on his tongue, and he juggles the muscle in his mouth as best as he can within your hole. You whine and cry and clench but it’s not far enough inside, not even with his finger rubbing at your clit so fiercely.

If only he could go deeper. This isn’t enough for him either.

“I need to be in you now doll, please.” He was getting ready, expecting your answer to be a yes.

“Damn it - yes!” You whine, feeling desperate all over with a sensation you couldn’t shake that you felt made you churn with uneasiness. You needed him to fill you, and it was causing near hysteria.

Minho doesn’t care about delicacy now. He slips his cock in and slams it. You’re wet enough, horny enough, and damn it but your swollen and wet pussy looks so damn fuckable that he knows its aching for his cock. You cry in agony and ecstasy, it stings and burns at a certain point where his fingers did not reach you before, but it also feels so fucking good because his fat and solid cock hits the right spots inside of you in the first thrust.

“Fuck…” you cry, trying to force your thighs together in discomfort. He hushes you and lowers himself to your face, resting his weight on his elbows and resting his abdomen against your supple tummy, his hips force your legs open still.

“Sorry, my baby girl,” he says kissing your face, panting in his own despair, “I’m so so sorry. I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t thinking…” as he whines your arms wrap around him and your legs begin to hook onto his. You feel like your melting against him and he against you, and it causes you to roll your hips back and forth against his, slowly, and with your bodies firmly pressed together.

You’d make it seem like it hurt even more just to have him dote on you and treat you so preciously. It made something inside of you swoon to think that you’re almost delicate in his embrace, how the very thing that brings you pleasure can also hurt because the entire act is so vulnerating.

You whine at the feeling, and he takes the cue to roll against you. You feel his pelvis rub against your clit, his bush tickling at your bare cunt. The stroke and glide of him inside of your sends shivers throughout you, and you can feel him making contact with every ridge and grove of your wet cavern. Still, a little stretch lingers because that massive cock of his is incomparable to anything that’s been inside of you before.

The pain is good, it makes everything sharper. It’s like the little sting of a blade, and the pleasure like a stream of water to soothe it. You’re drunk in it, completely overwhelmed and mindless. The only thing tethering you to the earth itself is the feeling of his body in your arms, you clinging to him, and him clinging onto you.

He’s kissing all over your face, and when he needs to catch his breath he rests his forehead against yours. Your grasping desperately to scratch his back, shoulders and biceps, and finally you pull at his hair.

You feel the need for more of him, more harshly, you whine more desperately and you tense after each breath, he can tell. He pulls back, tearing your hands from his scalp and he pulls out of you, making you twitch and clench at the emptiness he’s suddenly left behind and you audibly weep at the sensation.

“Minho!” You cry as you raise yourself on your arms to see him glistening with sweat, and his proud cock drenched with globs of your fluids.

“Not yet, baby girl… Let me, just relax.” Trust me, he seems to say.

You’re whining and pressing your legs together but he tears them open by the knees and blows against your clit. It felt awful, driving your desperation further, making you want more and more, which he was cruelly denying you. You want to cry, it seems like the only outlet for such an onslaught of unnamable emotions.

The sight of a tear trailing down your damp and pretty face is enough to make him coo… his sensitive, pretty girl, so precious…

“I want to fuck you another way now, baby, it’ll be so good…” He growls, voice deep, but still desperate, still seeking permission. You know you’ll say yes. “Get on all fours, doll.”

You obey, shyly. His strong arms don’t leave you, guiding you, making sure you are in the right position. It makes you feel exposed, vulnerable, and you can feel him prowling behind you, but his warmth still comforts and envelops you. You arch your back as best as you can to look good and he appreciates it - a lot.

He grabs each cheek of your ass, groping the flesh to expose your sopping cunt. He groans at the sight, like an animal. Your wet and slick with sweat all over, glistening for him, letting his hands slide all over your ass and back. With a quick smack to your ass he alerts you, You yelp. And once more, the sting is soothed by a kiss, a tender hand kneading that spot he just abused.

He travels up your spine, his body brushing against yours, and you can feel his hands at your shoulders, his breath on your neck. With a soft kiss, he presses you down and soon he pushes you onto the mattress, your hips still held up by your legs.

You can feel him groping you all over, leaving searing and wet kisses along your spine. You’re desperate and your hips wiggle in desperation.

“Minho….”

“Not long now, baby doll. I promise.” He says tenderly.

He keeps one hand at your hip as he pumps himself, and guides his head back between your folds, whimpering loudly, so unlike how he has kept his demeanor. How is it possible for such a sensation to exist? That perfect moment where your soft lips suck the head of his cock and guide them into your tightening walls, so wet and comforting, stimulating every inch of him.

He can’t help himself, again, lost in you. He begins to buck his hips, slapping the skin of your ass with his pelvis each time, making you cry into the mattress. You soon feel him still and he reaches down to bunch up your hair and pulls you back, snapping his hips into you once more.

His touches are so forceful, the veins and muscles in his arms tightening as he manhandles you. But it’s the languid kisses that let you know that the baseline of it all is render, and again, they wash away and pain, any sting.

The discomfort makes your desperation grow, the restlessness makes the sensation of his cock ever better within your sensitive cunt. The harshness mixed with the tenderness is perfect, and you feel like you want more of it.

He pulls you back all the way so your back is pressed against his, chest both of you sitting and supporting your bodies on your legs. Your head is angled back so your neck is exposed to him as he thrusts up into you, and his eyes wander to your bouncing breasts. He fucks you harder so the bounce and jiggle of your tits becomes even more erratic, and he doesn’t know where his hands should stay.

He slaps his hand against one of them, pinching your nipple - it makes you scream in pleasure. The other digs into your tummy, scratching at the soft skin there, latching onto any mound he can find.

It doesn’t take long now. You cum, and it’s lasts a while as he keeps going inside of you, he fucks into you until his own orgasm arrives, and draws your pleasure out until the point that your walls spasm around him again, trapping his cock against your leaking orifice. He wraps his arms around you and you lean against him, head thrown back to lean on his shoulder and he buries his face in your neck. You stay there, with only the heaving of your breaths moving your bodies as you both recuperate from the highs.

Slowly, he roams his hands all over your front, soothing you and giving reassuring squeezes, everywhere - your thighs, tummy, breasts, sides, waist. He is all over your body.

Minho slightly moves to guide you both to lay in your sides but the lightest pull of his cock makes you hiss in sensitivity. He tenses at the noise, and is all the more gentle as he lays you both down.

He kisses your shoulder, brushes your hair back with his fingers, while his other arm still circles beneath your soft waist.

“Perfect…” he hums into your ear, and you can’t help but break a smile because you know he’s referring to you.

You’re both filthy, sweaty, dirty, but it’s perfect. He pulls a blanket from his side to cover the two of you, as he pets you, and occasionally lets out a giddy giggle.

“What’s funny?” you question once you feel like you’ve returned to your body.

“Nothing!” He giggles again. “I’m just happy?”

“Hmm…” You hum contently.

“I’m happy you’re happy, I’m happy we made each other happy.” He adds while lightly rocking you, sighing against your body and how perfect it feels to rest against you and your warmth.

“You do make me very happy.” you quietly confess, and it’s such a simple but deep statement.

Minho blushes and buries himself against you, quite proud of himself himself, satisfied by the work he’s done with your body, and kisses you mindlessly… until he falls asleep thinking of all the ways he can keep making you happy.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know #lee know smut #stray kids minho smut #minho smut

[iguessweallcrazyithinktho]

To my future son

Summary: I know your requests are closed, but with Chris’s interviews today this popped into my head about the advice he would give to his unborn son, and when you’re brain gets noisy, write it down. What if when the reader tells Chris, she’s pregnant and all throughout the pregnancy, he writes advice and stuff to his unborn child. You had no clue he was doing this, and after the birth, he showed you what he has been up to.

Warning: fluff, pregnant reader

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Please don't post any of my content anywhere else without my permission! Comment and reblogs welcome!

You've been feeling extremely sick the past two weeks. You couldn't keep your food down no matter how small, you kept threw up every morning and you were craving the most random combos. You knew right away that you were probably pregnant so when Chris was away for work one day you decided to get some test.

You drove straight to the drugstore at around 10am. Lucky for you it was morning and barely anyone was out so you had a good chance of not being seen by one of Chris's crazy fans.

You parked your car and made your way inside. Right off the door was some little shopping baskets which you grabbed before you ventured through the store. You walked straight to the aisle with the pregnancy test. There was so many it blew your mind. You scrunched up your eyebrows as you scanned over them. You wanted to get one that was perfect and that would tell you the truth.

Eventually you decided to get a costy one and one that was cheap. You placed them in the basket before you walked from the aisle. You decided to pick up some jelly beans, a pint of ice cream, a bone for dodger and some random candy bars. After you got everything you went straight to the counter.

At the counter was a older woman who most likely didn't know Chris, she definitely didn't know you. You watched as she picked up the pregnancy test and smile. You couldn't help but smile back.

"I remember this moment when I was younger." She said as she rung them up. "I hope it works out for you." You smiled at the women's kind words. The thought of having a baby made your heart skip a beat. You were praying that you were pregnant.

When everything was rung up you payed, thanked the woman before you walked back out to your car. You got in, placed your bags in the passenger seat before you drove out of the parking lot back home.

It was a short drive to yours and Chris's concord home. When you returned home, you parked your car before you got out and walked inside. As soon as you entered you were met with a happy dodger.

"hi buddy." You scratched his head making his tail wag harder. You smiled at him. "I got you something from the store." You pulled away and reached into the bag. He happy watched you pull out a delicious bone. "Here you go." You unwrapped it and handed it to him. He took it gently before walking away with it.

"your welcome." You laughed. You walked through the house into your bedroom. You placed the bag on the bed before digging through it. You pulled out the pregnancy test and inhaled. Your heart was thumping against your chest as you walked to the bathroom with them.

You sat on the edge of the tub and ripped open the box. You pulled them out and looked at them. You took a huge deep breath. "It's going to be okay y/n." You said to yourself. You started doing the little process to see your results.

After you peed on the little stick you waited a 3 minutes which felt like a million years. When your phone timer ringed, you picked up the test. Your hand was shaking as you turned it around so you can see the results.

Positive!

You gasped. You were pregnant finally. Tears began to form in your eyes as you placed the test on the counter. You couldn't wait to tell Chris.

----

You wanted to make telling Chris you were pregnant special so you took a little trip to target (or baby store) and picked up some gender neutral pair of shoes.

They were so tiny and it made you want to cry. Your future baby will have those little feet. You paid for them and made your way back home. Before Chris could return and see what you were doing, you placed the shoes and positive pregnancy test in a box Along with the jelly beans you brought earlier that day. You wrote him a little card telling him how much you loved him and slipped it in the bag. As you did you heard the door open.

"baby." He called out as he closed the door. You walked into the foyer with a smile on your face. Chris chuckled as he looked at you. "What are you so happy about?" He asked as he placed a kiss on your cheek. "Well um I have to to tell you something."

You took his hands, "you ready?" Chris smiled, "yeah." You smiled back at him before leading him to the bedroom. As soon as you entered, Chris noticed the box sitting on the bed.

"what's this?" He asked as he looked down at it. "It's for you. Just a little gift from me." Chris looked up at you confused but opened it anyways.

He ripped the ribbon off and lifted the top. He picked up the little note you just finished. "Hm, let's see what this." He opened it and began to read it in silence. You watched as his face turn into a smile. It made you smile too.

When he was done he looked over at you. "I love it." He leaned over and kissed you. Before the kiss could get too heated, you pulled away. "Okay, we're not done. Look through the bag." Chris laughed as he placed the letter down. He looked through, eyebrows scrunched. When he saw the baby shoes his heart stopped.

He turned to look at you to see you smiling. "Are you serious?" You smiled, choking back tears. "No, we're going to have a baby."

Chris couldn't contain himself. He let a few tears escape before he hugged you. "I've been waiting for this moment for – forever." He said through his tears. You nodded, agreeing with him. "Me too."

Chris pulled away and cupped your cheek before kissing you. He kissed you with so much passion, almost like it was the last kiss he'll ever give you.

He then pulled away, got down on his knees and kissed your none existing bump. "Hi little guy or girl, I'm going to give you the world. I promise."

----

Ever since that day Chris has been ecstatic. The day after finding out you were pregnant he brought a notebook and a scrapbook.

He wrote down so many things he wanted his little jelly beans. He told him about the current world, the good and the bad. He mentioned you some many times it was insane. And when he found out he was having a boy he was sure to give him advice on how to treat people, how to be a helpful person, and how to do certain things that could come in handy.

You had no idea he wrote any of those things until after birth.

Labor was long and stressful for you. It was almost 12 hours before you were able to give birth to your baby.

Now a few hours later he was cleaned, checked and now laying asleep against your chest. You couldn't stop smiling as you looked at him. He was so adorable and he was your little baby for the rest of your life.

You looked over at Chris who was sitting in the chair beside you. He had a notebook in his hand, writing in it. "Chris, what are you doing?"

Chris looked at you, "oh I'm writing notes and advice for our bubba. I started after you found out you were pregnant."

You had no idea he was doing that. "That's so sweet." You said. Chris smiled while nodding. He placed the notebook on the table and got up. He walked over to you. He leaned down and gave you a kiss before he looked at y/s/n. "I don't know if you heard me when you were just a little peanut but like I said, I'm going to give you the world."

Y/s/n smiled the slightest. He may or may not have heard Chris but he was never going to break his promise.

@chris-butt @princess-evans-addict @patzammit @bval-1 @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @raveviolet @rynabarnesrogers-reading @enn-j @london-dreamer71 @harrysthiccthighss @captainamerica-is-bae @la-cey @weirdowithnobeardo @lovepeacefood @baby-i-am-fireproof @denisemarieangelina @evans713 @smyfmj @thereisa8ella @rororo06 @keiva1000 @ughitsnic @adriannajackson123 @marvelnaturalock @notyourtypicalrose @dummiesshort @onetwo3000 @hhiggs @katiew1973 @andreasworlsboring101 @skepticnovak @funfickgirl22

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagines #chris evans x plus size reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans x black reader #dad!chris evans

[simluvbot]

jake as your boyfriend

a/n: I wrote this while very sleepy so I apologise if there are some grammatical mistakes </3 also this is 95% gender neutral apart from one point (:

open to read <3

honestly the boyfriend that anyone wishes they had

very very caring and sweet with you ):

CONSTANTLY boasts about you to the members, but in reality is pretty shy in front of you when it comes to truly describing how he feels about you, to you

jake is your number one simp and yes very openly admits it

you know how he often posts mirror selcas on twitter? YEAHH well he also takes them with you

saves it as his lockscreen photo (:

and will he stare at said photo at 1am when he cant sleep?? thinking about you?? yes

has a shared spotify playlist with you where you both can add songs to it

likes to just sit and vibe to music with you

you have SO many inside jokes with him, literally

you’ll both be around the members when someone says something and you two will just look at each other and giggle about a reference no one else but you and him understand

jake is the type of boyfriend to randomly show up at your house in the middle of the night after practice just because he misses you

jake is very cuddly!!! 

he also wears hoodies vv often so it makes cuddling with him extra comfy and soft ): not to mention how nice he smells 😳

likes laying with his head either on top of your chest or in the crook of your neck, your hands running through his hair softly ):

he is the biggest koala youve ever seen i stg

will NOT let u go as soon as he holds on,, seriously

once that man has attached to you, you know that its gonna be a while before you’ll finally be allowed to get up lmao

will beg you to come cuddle with him saying it’ll only be for 5 minutes when by the time you realise its surely been longer than 5 minutes its actually been nearly 30 minutes

will even cuddle you in front of the members. will spot you across the room and open his arms wide, beckoning you over to him on the sofa

at first it was very shy skinship in front of the others since jake only really likes sharing such precious moments with you when youre both alone, but soon enhypen adjust to it and instead it becomes a regular occurence to see u and jake sitting next to each other half draped across one another lmao

it’s embarrassing for you but its jake sim. how could you even reject your boy?

if youre in school, our smart boy will like to take interest in whatever youre studying!

sits and watches lectures with you and reads your notes lol

asks you questions to do with what youre learning and helps you revise

honestly just likes learning new things since he misses it, so he likes to pay attention with you to help you study and also for him to learn new things too! 

expect cheesy good morning texts and pickup lines whenever he is not busy lmao

also expect him to not-so-discreetly leave his hoodies at your house ever since he first saw you wear his grey one

always sends snaps(?) to you of selfies and generally updates just for you on his day. 

yes he will make them cheesy by for example saying “we are eating bibimbap for lunch today. but i wish you were here too~” or “today is so long, i hope to see your face as an energiser 😍”

he uses the ‘😍’ emoji all of the time in his tweets so expect him to use it all of the time with you too lmao

😍😍😍😍😍

yep. the emoji pretty much sums up how he feels about you tbh

doesnt mind buying you something if you ask him for it

but you never do

but will your rich boyfriend still unnecessarily splurge money on you? yes

kisses!! with jake :D

at first he will ALWAYS ask for your permission to kiss you

even after youve dated for a while he will still 95% of the time ask for your consent

mainly is because he is very very shy when kissing you

but also because he never wants to make you feel uncomfortable!! at all. NEVER. not on his watch!

very very soft, breathy and giggly kissing 🥺

likes it when you kiss his nose 🥺🥺

many giggles,, many many giggles during soft kissing hours with jakey

also likes it when you hold his neck/jaw

and as for not so soft kisses 😳

loves loves loves it when you run your hand through his hair and tug on it

soft groans from him

will deepen the kiss by holding onto your jaw to angle better

he likes french. no more comments

whenever you kiss jake its literally heaven. butterflies in your stomach,,  always !!

idk but there is just something. about the way that he leans forward and gently drops you to the bed before he’s soon on top of you and quite literally caging you between him and the bed

whenever this happens you swear you nearly pass out every time by just how simply intoxicating jake sim is. his cologne, his kisses, his hands, his words, his heat

and quite quickly is goodbye to shy, flustered jake

...anyways

NEVER lets anyone hurt you

if anyone ever disrespects you he can become pretty scary.. will get in their face and directly confronts them. but that rarely ever happens so dw!

(if youre a girl) jake is the type of boyfriend that makes no issue from you accidentally staining the bed from your period

will pause and ask you instead if youre okay, if youre in pain, if you need to go get you anything or buy you pads

will then help you change the sheets and while he waits for you to finish showering, he’ll in the meantime make the bed extra comfy and will choose a film for the cuddle session you two have after you come out 🥺

literally will do anything you ask him to

is WHIPPED for you. literally a puppy when it comes to you

Talking about puppys,, constantly shows you photos of layla

you very soon become layla’s mother in his eyes despite you not even having met her yet lmao

‘one day,’ he says. one day 😔

he really wants to take you to australia one day and show you his hometown

he even has a section in his notes app where he’s written down all of the different places he would take you to if you both did go ):

Overall such a kind and considerate boyfriend

The type of boyfriend that just makes you feel so so safe and warm. He is your home and he never fails in making you feel comforted

And same thing for him! He simply loves being around you, staring at you and complimenting you

You are his favourite person <3 and he always puts you as one of his main priorities. Always.

#enhypen headcanons #enhypen fluff #enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #enhypen jake #kpop imagines #jake imagines #jake sim #enhypen fic #sim jaeyun

[enhyupn]

⧉ enhypen as your classmate that has a crush on you! ᝢ ∷

pairings: ot7 enhypen members x gn!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of violence in jay’s one

genre: pure fluff + high school!au

a/n this also. Was in my drafts 💭 i was contemplating if i should post this or not but here i am 😫 i Post too much sorry everyone iJust have no life outside of school 🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️

⌗ heeseung

heeseung is definitely the type of person that tries to talk to the person he sits beside all the time

he nudges you all the time and whispers your name whenever he wants your attention

and the fact he had a huge crush on you also added to it

enhypen always have to listen to him since he never ever stops talking about you. like ever.

“oh my god you will never know what y/n told me when i—” and suddenly he’s cut off by the rest of them yelling “we know!”

you never snap at him because you kinda... enjoy the attention

maybe thats how you knew you kinda liked him too, since you could never let sunoo get away with this if he ever called for your name in class

your relationship only stopped there for a while, since the two of you lowkey scared of each other

“no i feel like y/n’s gonna snap at you one day, like completely just punch you in the face” jay once told him and ever since, he’s never looked at you the same

you think heeseung’s just intimidating, the amount of times you’ve jumped in your seat whenever he’s called your name is numerous

although, one day you fell asleep in class due to the fact you left your english essay last minute the night before

heeseung, noticing you drooling on the table, wrote down the notes for you

he handed them to you after class and you were so touched that you couldn’t stop telling sunoo about it

“his hand writing’s so neat and—” “i get it, you can shut up now!”

you even told heeseung his hand writing was the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen for a week straight

he was happy of course, but honestly unsure how he was supposed to reply to the compliment

he figured out by himself that all he needed to do was ask you if you wanted him to write your name

“heeseung, i mean it! i can’t get over how you write ‘the’, it’s just so— so neat!” “oh really? let me write your name out”

being the smooth guy that he was, wrote down his number instead of your name

and you being the oblivious person you were, ended up being utterly confused

“heeseung i think—” “I WROTE MY NUMBER ON PURPOSE”

you never really got over the shock, nonetheless still took his number and texted him that night

you ended that night by kicking your feet in the air with your face feeling like it was on fire

oh, you also ended up planning a date with heeseung on saturday, not a big deal

it was actually the biggest deal ever

the rest of the head canons are under the cut!

⌗ jay

jay was 100% the type to tease someone when he had a crush to get their attention

he wanted all your attention and the way he got that was through telling you your portrait of a dog looked stupid

well yeah, it did but he didn’t need to point it out

everyone in your art class knew jay had a raging crush on you

he just didn’t know how to express it

his friend jake told him the way into your heart was talking about a mutual interest

jake was, sort of, right about his advice. well, until you and jay started bickering about a character you loved but he oh so hated

“mabel in gravity falls was annoying and weird” “jay if you say that one more time i will shove this paint brush down your throat”

jake, who was trying to play cupid, could not understand why he was so bad at this

i mean jay had no problem getting girls to like him but you? did you genuinely hate jay or something?

“no jake i don’t hate jay” well that answered his question

“he’s just weird” “weird? i’m weird?” “yeah do i need to repeat it again? park jay is weird” you two were a match made in heaven

jay didn’t know when but he had a revelation, maybe this wasn’t the approach he should take to get your attention

after that, he started to be extremely nice to you

it definitely scared you

“d-did i do anything?” “what no? i’m just saying your painting looks beautiful y/n” “oh no something’s definitely going to happen”

he was finally tired of trying so hard while ending up with nothing achieved

jake, being the one out of the two who had the most realistic ideas, decided to give him one more tip

“do you think it’ll work?” “it’s fool proof”

the tip was simply him asking you out to the movies, something that was a little too forward for jay

“no i don’t think it’ll work jake” “jay i swear to god you are going to end up single For the Rest of your Life”

it took... many attempts... and many insults towards you for him to even get the first line out

“Y/NPLEASEGOTOTHEMOVIESWITHME” “the movies? sure” “wait, really? i meant it in a romantic way by the way” “oh? sure i’m free on friday”

turns out you were into him too i mean it was kinda obvious from the way you dealt with those insults

even when you started dating after that date, the insults never stopped

it just now targeted jake, who really is just asking for it at this point from the amount of times he’s asked for credit for ‘getting both of you together’

he was never getting that credit

⌗ jake

jake would leave secret love letters in your locker every time he walked past it

i mean the action wasn’t as secret as he thought it was due to the fact you knew he was the one leaving those letters

for god’s sake the boy was literally in almost all your classes, you were walking the same way as him when he slipped those letters in???

you still were very grateful for them

without them, i think you would of not coped with school

they were all incredibly detailed and even had little doodles drawn around them

you once had remembered he mentioned that he wrote these in the morning before school started during first period

he also told you he was really really shy you found it incredibly cute

the only way he could speak to you without melting was through these letters

somehow you decided that the best thing to do was put replies in his lockers too

his first reaction was complete embarrassment, the fact you knew who he was had his face heating up like nothing else

but he soon realised you didn’t think it was weird or creepy, you actually looked forward to his letters every school day

he mustered up so much courage after that to talk to you in person, to personally thank you

“THANK YOU Y/N!” “NO IT’S FINE JAKE YOU DON’T HAVE TO BOW”

he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck before pulling something out from his back pocket

the final letter in his series of love letters showing up in his hands

“open it” his shy smile making your brain Melt in endearment

the letter contained the usual, the hello y/n! and the usual chatter about his day

what you didn’t expect was the fact he had asked you out at the bottom of the letter

“y/n i’ve liked you for a while now, will you go out with me?” you read out loud before realising what you had just read. “OH MY GOD YOU ASKED ME OUT?”

you pull him into a tight hug, something that jake heated up at

“is this a yes?” “are you seriously asking that right now? of course we are”

you two became the most sickly sweet couple ever

plus the fact you still placed letters in each other’s lockers made enhypen gag (in an affectionate way)

they were just jealous nobody was putting letters in their lockers

⌗ sunghoon

sunghoon always seemed to be there whenever you needed help

especially since you two helped out at the library together every wednesday

he looked forward to it every week, you could tell from the fact ever tuesday he’d remind his friends that the next day he was seeing you again

“tomorrow’s wednesday you know what that means” “yes sunghoon we know, you’re seeing y/n tomorrow”

whenever he’s finished his work (which he does at an incredibly fast pace) he always seems to end up trailing you

constantly asking if you need help, desperate to do something

you find it endearing, always ending up chuckling at his whiney words

“y/n! do you need any help i’m finished” “not at the moment but if you wanna chat i can!”

out of all the enhypen members i feel like sunghoon would have the softest feelings for his crush

like even outside of your assigned library work, he’d constantly check up on you during lunch

“here y/n! it’s a packet of those gummies you like” “how sweet that you remembered! thanks for them”

you, even with sunghoon’s constant affection, couldn’t realise he had a crush on you

you thought that he was like that with everyone, you didn’t think that you were particularly special to get any type of unique treatment from park sunghoon

it wasn’t until your classmate asked you if you and sunghoon were dating

“hey are you and sunghoon dating?” “ummmm no why” “oh my friend wanted to know, they like him that’s why”

that didn’t sit well with you.

you thought long and hard about it but there was literally no reason for you to be bothered about it

i mean? you didn’t like him like that right

wrong

you decided to ask his dearest friend heeseung for help

“heeseung what do i do why do i feel like this” “i don’t know ask sunghoon” “...you aren’t helping”

heeseung being the big blabber mouth he is, told sunghoon all of this

“y/n won’t shut up about you” “really? you’re telling me the truth right? please don’t lie to me”

from many many uplifting comments from his friends, sunghoon was able to talk to you without mentioning the library

“so... what did you do in art class today?” “oh? i don’t do art” i mean at least he tried

after a few attempts he finally hit the nail on the head, securing his place as one of your friend... not the position he was aiming for but at least it was something

that’s when he prepared himself for the final boss (that’s what heeseung called the plan)

interrupting the conversation you both had on what disney show was the best, he popped the big question

“no but mulan was pretty good too also do you wanna go on a date with me” “oh sure! that was really random though”

i mean his timing was incredibly terrible but you were over the moon

even with the calm messages the both of you had sent, the two of you were screaming at your screen, unable to contain any composure

i mean it’s sunghoon... even if he handed you a piece of trash to as his way of asking you out you’d still say yes

⌗ sunoo

no but sunoo definitely asks your friend what your favourite song is and puts it on his story so you can slide up and be like “omg!! i love this song”

OH he also texts you randomly at 11:11 and 22:22 so you think it’s a sign

he so so so desperately wants your attention all the time

he goes up to you at lunch even when you’re with all your friends and makes conversation with you making you forget all about your friends

he sits in front of you in maths! so he knows how bad you are at the subject, he can hear your muttering about how you got a question wrong every morning but don’t Worry! he finds it adorable for some reason

at first he started to pretend he wouldn’t understand a question so he could find a way to talk to you

“hey y/n! what’s six times five again” “are you serious?”

he’s actually kinda good at maths so you’re always confused on how he doesn’t understand basic multiplication but can get 90% on the algebra test

he loves, and i mean loves, talking to you during class

even if the teacher scolds him he doesn’t care, it’s simply the highlight of his day

he gets so pouty and jealous when you excuse him in the middle of a conversation to talk to someone else

he gets jealous especially whenever you talk to his friends instead of him

“hey ni-ki! what did you get for number five?” “oh i got—” “I GOT TWELVE FOR THAT ONE Y/N!”

you kinda adore it not gonna lie

at one point your teacher got incredibly fed up with you two talking class

so! sunoo resorted to passing notes to you

‘y/n did you hear? oh my god, jihan from the maths class beside us told me that yeojin from the year above us got suspended because she started fighting the teacher over her phone. can you believe that? i mean i would of done the same thing’

it was quite clear sunoo talked a lot even through notes too

i mean as if you didn’t reply with the same energy

‘I HEARD THAT TOO!! gowon from her class told me, plus! intak said he saw the whole thing too... omg honestly i think yeojin’s so cool for doing that. maybe i should fight our maths teacher if they try and yell at us for talking again?’

they were one of the many things sunoo loves you for <3

one day ni-ki, being the number one shipper of you two, decides to play Cupid on the two of you

he drew out a note that looked too similarly to a middle school confession text and placed it on sunoo’s desk

“do you like me y/n... tick one. yes. no.” “do you like it?” “what the fuck is this”

i mean sunoo Took it anyways, he knew you’d find it funny too

as usual, you prepared yourself for a long class of sliding notes to each other

you looked forward to it, you found it as a source of entertainment and you liked talking to sunoo anyways

“pssst, y/n!” “thanks— wait did you give me the right one?”

after many whisper shouts and glares from your teacher, he finally convinced you that they were the real deal

obviously. You chose yes

that’s how you landed a date with sunoo to a picnic at han river

sunoo and you were. Kinda.... thankful for ni-ki

you two just never wanted to admit his stupid cupid-ry worked

⌗ jungwon

definitely the type to ask you “what homework did we get?” so he can start a conversation with you

replies to your private story with like “omg that’s so funny” or like “PLSSSSS me too”

you do exactly the same with his ps honestly

he always talks to you before class and you have heated discussions about the homework the night before

YOU ALWAYS ALWAYS end up sitting beside him in every class you have together

like it’s not even on purpose anymore (it’s actually fate)

always lends you pens and pencils when you forget them

he also never Asks for them back so you Have like a stash of them at home beside your bed because you always forget to give them back to him

you and jungwon are the kids in pe class that walk around the track gossiping

“jake told me that half of the soccer team aren’t getting along these days because they all like the same person” “no way really? what about their team work, isn’t there some sort of huge match next week?”

the gossip only stays between you two but only ever during pe

you two talk about more, interesting things outside of pe

since you two are in basically every class together, you walk with him everywhere

once when you were about to trip over, jungwon caught you and when you realised you were in his arms, you just blankly stared at him for a good five seconds

once you got off of him your face started to heat up so fast jungwon’s too

every time you have homework due and you didn’t do it he lends you his word

“y/n take this! it’s the french homework from last class” “thanks so much jungwon!”

the real story starts with when you and him were practicing speaking french in the library

you, being terrible at french, needed some sort of help with this

jungwon decided that, even though he completely sucks at french, he should tutor you!

and there you were, ten reasons why i hate you style, in the library struggling on how to pronounce beaucoup

“bow-cewp” “good job y/n!” “jungwon i know for a fact that you don’t know if i’m saying this right”

you stuck up with it because, well because he’s jungwon

“je t'aime you”

i mean you were Terrible. at french but even the stupidest person in the world could figure that out

“i like you too jungwon, now help me with question six” “YOU COULD UNDERSTAND THAT?” “i had a paris phase when i was younger of course i did”

turns out the Parisian style bakery across the street is the perfect date on an afternoon after school

what was even more perfect was that you got 85% on your test with the help of your boyfriend

⌗ ni-ki

he was your partner in cookery class, the both of you had no cooking skills in your bones but you still made it work

you were in the class since your family constantly nagged at you for being terrible in the kitchen

while ni-ki enrolled because he needed the something to show his friends after school

ni-ki thinks he fell for you at first sight

you were baking cookies as your first task and you basically saved him by reminding him to put on oven gloves before getting the cookies out

“that’s the bare minimum” jay tells him. “i don’t care... you wouldn’t know what love feels like”

he looks forward to cooking class because if you every week

he even has it scheduled on his calendar

honestly it’s kind of a miracle the food you two make is some sort of eatable

he always asks you for help even if it’s the simplest thing ever

“y/n? which one is a cup?” “the one that literally says one cup?”

you don’t care though since you think it’s cute

you always end up doing most of the cooking and chopping whil ni-ki just washes the dishes and watches the pot boil which eagerly waits for the food to finish

you’ve met all of enhypen before since ni-ki likes them to gather around your creations and take pictures of them together

when enhypen first collected him from cookery class, they asked him which one of your classmates were you

he literally shyly pointed at you as he hid his face with his hair

“them” “huh? ni-ki who are you pointing at” “them, beside the fridge”

your final exam was to decorate and bake a cake

it’s safe to say from the many burnt cakes you and ni-ki have done, you two were in trouble

you both wanted that passing grade so you practiced almost everyday after classes the week before

he was in charge of the icing, apparently according to him it was his specialty

“look y/n!” “how cute! a little unreadable but very cute”

finally. the Day of the exam came

you both had to prepare and bake the cake together under two hours

you were lucky that you both weighed the ingredients before you arrived

it was definitely. The most stressful two hours you two had ever felt

it also didn’t help that ni-ki shooed you away when he was icing the cake

by the end of it, your face was Dusted with flour while ni-ki’s apron had butter and frosting stains all over it

you were instructed by ni-ki and even your teacher, to stand where the fridge was, out of your sight to see what he was doing to the cake

you were hazily scrolling through your phone when jungwon snapped you back into reality

turns out jungwon was outside the room the whole exam because ni-ki told him he needed support and having him there comforted him

almost instantly after your jungwon interaction, ni-ki called you from your table, excitedly waving his arms in the air

“y/n! y/n! i’m finished!” “perfect! let me—”

your eyes widened realising his cake didn’t say anything like ‘happy birthday’ like you two had planned

instead the icing spelt out a prettily written out ‘y/n, will you go on a date with me?’

your eyes seemed to water at the gesture, unsure why you got so emotional at icing

“n-ni-ki... that’s so c-cute” “why are you crying? oh my god you hate me don’t you?”

it took you ten minutes to stop sobbing (happy tears) and you gladly accepted his proposal

so now you got a Good grade and an amazing boyfriend that can... sort of! Cook

while eating the cake you were reminded with something, remembering some words from earlier

wait did mr lee know about this?

#enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen timestamps #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop x reader

[achillieus]

let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

quick note: i wrote this back in 2018 after meeting sebastian in greece but i redited it now, so if you see any mistakes or typos please tell me :)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, sebastian desperately needs to hug the reader, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning

part: 2/6

(other parts)  (masterlist)

It’s Monday when they come back from their small trip to the south. You’re watering the jasmine in your balcony when you hear the engine of Argyris’ car slowly shut down and see two figures getting out of the back seats.

It’s him and a blonde woman. You remember meeting her that night in the terrace. You’ve learnt that she’s a great actress and will play the other main character in the film.

When she notices you looking at them, she waves.

“Hey, Sebastian it’s your friend there.” She gives his shoulder a soft nudge.

We’re not friends. That’s what you almost yell back at her.

His head shots up, smiling.

He’s always smiling. It’s getting annoying.

You can see him going through his bag as he calls your name.

“Look, I brought you some traditional sweets.” He’s holding a small wrapped up package. He starts wiggling it in the air.

He looks so jolly and proud of himself. It makes your throat dry.

And before you can control it, you laugh. You can’t see it from where you’re standing but he bites his bottom lip at the sound.

/

Two hours later he’s sitting in your kitchen devouring half of the pastries he got you.

“These are actually so good, how can you not like them?” He says and it comes out all garbled. His mouth is full of sugary dough.

You do like them. But he does too. And you can find them anytime you want here. You doubt it’s the same in New York.

“They’re just not my favorite,” he nods “but thank you anyway.”

“Well let’s say you owe me,” you furrow your brows in confusion “and will repay me by sending me some of those once I’m gone.”

He laughs before taking another bite.

And as you stare at him, you notice that he’s different. His gaze is tranquil, his voice is soft and he has some cream at the corner of his lips.

Like that, he looks more like a guy you met at college than a well known actor.

Like that, we could be friends, you think.

You talk a lot. He tells you about his time in Romania and his first audition. It makes you realize you are far more interested in acting than what you thought. You tell him how you think team Iron Man is the superior team. He gasps, as if he is hurt.

He doesn’t mention his girlfriend. You don’t ask about her. It’s easier for both of you this way.

/

A stifling heat rises to your body as you walk under the burning sun. You don’t realize how Argyris gets you to give Sebastian a tour around the city, but you can remember a pair of light eyes pleading you.

You can easily hear him humming to himself. You turn to look at him. He’s wearing a hat and his forehead is sweating. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“You’re in a very good mood today.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Well I’m stuck with you for the day so what choice do I have?” You shrug.

He makes a face at you. You crack and a huge smile forms in your face.

He leans closer, mouth to ear and then he speaks.

“You know, I can’t tell if you hate me or just like me too much.”

His breath hits your cheek.  

You try not to blink at the sudden foreign touch.

His words find your skin and they’re so clear and powerful. Suddenly you’re an open page to him.

He crosses his arms in front of his chest and waits for an answer, a nod, a glance.

You are still standing close, the city sounds doing nothing to ease the heated silence between you two.

He realizes you’re not going to give him any response so he lowers his eyes.

And then, when he looks up again, it almost feels like he gives you mercy and agrees to let you get away with it this time.

He smiles.

“So where is Acropolis?”

/

When he’s lying on your couch after six hours of being a tourist and under the summer sun he looks exhausted. Still he’s his typical talkative self.

“You are always so pumped.”

“And you rarely are.”

“Doesn’t it get tiring?” you ask each other at the same time. It seems like you are two different sides of the exact same coin. One body. One heart.

“Today was nice.” He stretches his arms. “Thank you.”

You open the window. There is barely any wind out there. The air smells of hot cement and flowers.

The man on your couch has closed his eyes, breathing softly.

You try to ignore him over and over for the last days. Until you cannot ignore him anymore; your world has come to an end.

So many people know who Sebastian Stan is.

Only few will ever know him like this; falling asleep on a cheap brown couch with his hair messy, his chest rising and falling and his mind empty of thoughts.

These are photographs of your memories now.

An involuntary smile spreads across your face at the thought.

You see him swift and his hand clenches tightly around a throw pillow.

“Stop looking at me like that you creep,” he says.

“Come closer,” he means.

/

The sun is long gone and he’s still asleep when there’s a knock on your door. It’s Argyris.

“Please tell me he’s here.”

You nod and motion towards Sebastian’s drifted away body.

“When I left you this morning, I didn’t actually think you’d last this long together.” He tells you the moment he sees him.

The words fall out of his mouth too easily for your liking. “But I should have known better.”

You don’t understand much. You take a step out of your door. You don’t want to wake him up.

“Do you know how many times he mentioned you while we were away?’

Everything stops and falls quiet in the hall.

The words choke you. You shake your head.

“I need you to be smarter than him.” He says and touches your shoulder. “His world moves too fast for people like us.”

It’s effortless not to look at the man in front of you. It’s hard not to shallow his saying.

/

He wakes up an hour later. He looks at you and it feels sacred. His eyes are still red and the pillow has left a mark on his left cheek.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep here.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it was rude, you should have yelled at me to wake up or something.”

“But you looked tired.”

You carry on with doing the dishes and you hear the couch squeak as he stands up and steps towards you.

The water is refreshingly cold on your skin and the soap smells like lemon.

His hands find your waist and his touch is burning. You wish he disappears. You wish he stays for the night. You don’t even know what you’re wishing for anymore. He comes closer and rests his head on top of yours.

And then he wraps his arms around you and you get flashes of days and nights where there was not enough air for you to breath and your ribs ached.

His action is not so noble. It feels like his body steals all the rationality you have. But it gives you this feeling that there will be no more starless skies at night. And that’s enough for now, so you don’t complain.

His skin feels soft and he smells of sweat and vanilla. Somehow you find that alluring.

He looks at you for a second, like he’s trying to memorize your face. And then he pulls away completely silent.

You try to understand what he’s thinking but he gives nothing away. You were never good at reading people.

You blink and he’s almost out of your apartment.

“Goodnight” he shouts.

“Goodnight” you whisper.

/

You close the window. You wonder how he will spend the night. He probably won’t sleep soon. He just woke up.

But you can’t sleep either.  You just move around in your bed. You sink into the sheets and try to close your eyes.

Your phone buzzes.

He follows you on Instagram.

I need you to be smarter than him.

You go through his profile. You want to think he’s doing the same. You want him to do the same.

His world moves too fast for people like us.

You sigh. Perhaps there could have been a time when you would have stayed away from him, but you can’t pretend to ignore it for much longer. And you’re scared of it. And you’re scared of him.

But you’re more scared of how hard it’s for loneliness to fade. And you wish this doesn’t end like a greek tragedy.

/

One day of the following week you go out for coffee. The curly haired woman comes with you. You don’t understand why. And while you’re adding more sugar to your espresso, she tells him she loves his acting. She uses all kinds of adjectives to describe it; hopeful and poignant, celestial.

You like the way she talks. She sounds beautiful. You almost envy her abundance of words.

But Sebastian stops listening.

He watches the way your fingers wrap around the sugar box. He can see your nerves and your synapses move underneath your skin and he thinks he’s watching a dance show.

He will never tell you, but it’s then; under the morning sun and with sugar in your hands, that he feels his heart beat with the power of cymbals for the first time.

He thinks you don’t have to know.

He’s wrong.

You learn the girl is an actress herself. They’ll be in the movie together. They look stellar together.

Looking at them, gives you a violent feeling that wrenches your stomach around.

You can’t hate her for that. You feel like it’s more your fault than hers. That feeling however, grabs you by the shoulders and doesn’t let go. You try not to let it show.

But for some reason when Sebastian almost touches your palm, you look at her and you’re certain this is entirely mutual.

You make a silent agreement to not include him in any of this.

/

“You were extremely quiet earlier.” He says as you reach the building you call home.

He wants to spend time together until his scheduled shooting. You don’t complain.

“You always say that.” You try to joke. He looks right at you.

And then you notice that his eyes aren’t the color of the sea. They’re more grayish blue. They’re like a frozen lake in December.

“I know,” he starts messing with his hair “But you can’t deny you barely talked back there.”

When you enter your apartment, he immediately throws himself on your couch. These last few days it feels like he owns that right spot there in front of your big window.

“I’ve told you, I talk when I have something to say.”

He smiles at your words.

“Then I must be lucky you talk to me.” He whispers softly.

You sit next to him. If you move a little closer you could touch him, feel his warmth. You don’t.

You never thought of how easy it has become to talk to him. You don’t keep your thoughts locked and your teeth clenched around him. And that’s a novice feeling for you.

You let your eyelids fall close and lay back.

There’s a language between you two. It starts with secret glances and whispers and now it contains words that build and ruin bodies and souls.

Sometimes you want to say them all together. Sometimes you just want to open your mouth and let everything flow out but then you’re scared you’ll make him mad. Or you’ll make him love you.

You can’t decide which is worse and that’s enough to stop you.

“What is this thing between us?” He sounds all tender-like, but his blood feels heavy at the moment. He’s not sure if he can keep breathing. He regrets the words that leave his lips, when it’s already too late.

You have the answer figured out long time before he asks. But you’re not ready to give it to him.

“I don’t know” you open your eyes “I don’t know.” You repeat.

/

He doesn’t tell anyone but sometimes he feels nauseous before a shooting. You can clearly see that now. His pacing up and down the room and his roaming eyes give him away.

You are surprised. You never thought he could be nervous. He looks so confident and radiant all the time; you sometimes forget he is still a regular human being.

“You have no reason to worry.” His lips twitch.

“I know.”

“But you still worry.”  You grin and catch his arm to stop him from moving.

The look he gives you is acute.

“You have no reason to be sad,” he starts, without breaking eye contact “but you still are.”

You feel naked and hug yourself close.

It’s very strange to have someone scratch everything from you and see your raw truth. You’re not certain it’s something you enjoy. You wish it didn’t make you quiver.

Sebastian wishes he could scratch deeper under your dermis and your fingernails and slither there between your muscles and your heart where blood runs thick and melancholy hasn’t conquered yet.

“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head.

“You didn’t say anything hurtful.”

You worry your words may come out bitter. You don’t want that.

“It won’t last forever.” he says and then your name appears in his tongue. You like the way he says it. It almost sounds like poetry. “You won’t be sad forever.”

You smile and, in that moment, you aren’t a worldwide known celebrity and a girl in her early twenties. You are just two people seeking comfort.

/

The same night there’s a party for the first day of shooting. You don’t feel like going, but he doesn’t let you stay home.

What did you do last night?

Went to a party with Sebastian Stan, typical Thursday night.

You can picture the look on everyone’s face. It makes your lips turn upward just a little.

“I told you to be careful.” The voice sounds almost far away but your neighbor is standing right next to you as he mutters.

“I am.” You say with a laugh. He crosses his arms.

“No, you are here, watching him starry-eyed.”

Your fingers start playing with the rough fabric of your dress.

“I don’t know how to stop it.” You whisper.

He tells you to not entail yourself in something you don’t know the way out of. But what does he know about solitude and rushed breaths?

What does he know about a pair of eyes that look like a frozen lake?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

/

He’s watching you from afar while you talk with Argyris. He notices how your chest moves along with your breathing in a way it looks like it’s made of pure glass.

For a while he thinks of staying there and keep observing you but then Argyris leaves and you’re all alone. And he starts walking closer to you.

All eyes are on him as he goes through the main dance floor. The curly haired actress stops moving to the beat and follows him with her gaze.

They both reach you.

And you know he’s moving towards you before you can see him. It’s like your body is aware of his presence madly fast.

His eyes seem darker under the hazy light.

He grabs your hand.

You almost heave.

“Let’s get out of here.” He breaths.

/

You walk for some time. It’s late and Athens is quiet around that time. There is only a soft broken sound of cars and you think about that time you saw a car crash happen in front of your eyes.

You sit close in an old dirty staircase in a forgotten back alley. The city has a lot of those, but people don’t notice. They just walk past them, always in a hurry.

Sebastian sighs heavily. He looks at you in a way it makes you think he’s trying to memorize everything. The way midnight air caresses your body, the way red lighting falls in your hair from that street lamp. He looks at you for an indefinite and long period of time and it feels exquisite.

You place your fingers on his palm and the world flickers. He’s still wearing the rings they gave him for the movie and they feel cold against your skin.

“Do you ever miss Romania?”

The question startles him.

“Every day.”

You nod. Maybe he knows more about sorrow than you give him credit for.

“I remember the dog fence and our neighbors’ daughter and the orange sky through my window, minutes before sun set.”

Your hand locks around his and you stay silent for a while.

“This is the Lyra constellation.”  His eyes light up as he looks up.

You remember reading about how much he’s into space. It’s intriguing.

“Where?”

He doesn’t let go of your hand. Instead he picks it up and guides it with his own. His body moves closer. There’s no cold in the air.

As your eyes search for the stars that your hands point at, he watches you and he’s certain that one day he’d love to lay on his back, with you on his side and show you all the little dead planets in the sky. Show you the secrets of the universe.

And he feels like this is the type of beauty that musicians try to write songs about.

“Ah!” Your grip becomes tighter and you smile. “I can see it!”

He laughs at your childish enthusiasm.

You laugh too.

And then you let your head fall on his shoulder, your hair touching his bare skin. You don’t blame them for making him wear sleeveless shirts for the film.

You can him feel shudder at your sudden motion, but then he exhales and his muscles relax.

He observes the features of your face from this angle. He almost traces them with his fingers.

“They’re probably going to kill me for stealing you away from the party.” You whisper.

“I think I was the one who grabbed your hand and left.” He laughs again and you can feel his chest pounding.

His phone buzzes. He doesn’t look at it. He closes his eyes.

“Δείξε μου όλα τα αστέρια. ”

He doesn’t understand a word but your voice sounds too close. You feel too close. And that’s almost tearing him apart.

“What does that mean?”

You turn to look at him. The neon sign on the old building behind him keeps trembling.

“It means, show me the stars.”

And he does. And he feels like he could burn alive.

And you will never tell him; but you still think of him when you catch a glimpse of burning stars.

i really appreciate feedback, it motivates me tons and also tell me if you’d like to be tagged :)

tagging: @lharrietg  @awkward117 @dannaloureen @broccoligf @cutestfangirlvevo @caitdaniels @arymb @buckybarnesishot310 @roguesthetic  @itsaliceheree

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan imagine #monday the movie #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #letyoudown

[probably-haven]

Hello!! After seeing what you wrote about xiaoven fics I went to see what things you usually write and omg, your archon Venti headcanons????? I am absolutely in love. So if it isn't annoying, could you talk about xiaoven or Venti or Xiao or whatever ship or character you like? I don't care what you are going to say, I just want to know more about your thoughts ^^

I- is this... bestie, this is essentially a free ramble pass- kerujsgheskdfug. Trust me when I say that in no way is this, and in no way will it ever be annoying in the slightest- i literally- lets just say rambling off thoughts is kind of my specialty, especially when provided a topic to branch off of because otherwise I'm just- really indecisive about it so- iujskdh yeah- 100% definitely down to talk about Venti, Xiao, and/or Xiaoven XD. Also, yes- it may have been awhile since i last posted one(cuz again, indecisive about which direction to take part 5), but the Archon War Era Venti headcanons are still without a doubt my favorite posts I've made. It's just such an interesting topic with such endless potential that so few people actually think about or consider or even realize is there, so i always just get really psyched whenever i see someone interact with them lol.

.... this ended up being a bit of a mess: warning in advance

Anyway! onto the actual content!

- You see the thing about Xiaoven is that there's a lot of different ways that it could end up working out, and just personally my favorite way of portraying Xiaoven in my mind is as an unlabeled relationship because if anyone in genshin would give off that vibe its these two. And a number of other reasons.

- Firstly, I heavily headcanon Venti as being an aroace polyplatonic or perhaps heavily demiromantic. However, regardless of this I just don't think that Venti is really the kind of person to worry about how he should label his feelings, thinking it's silly to try to put them in one box or the other, especially with feelings and emotions being as fluid as they are in general. Plus it fits his whole God of Freedom vibe. I just- dont think he's the biggest fan of labels or social categorization in general.

- And secondly on the hand of Xiao... his defense mechanisms are very much ingrained in his personality. It's probably hard enough for him to not go into fight or flight(the answer is fight) at the slightest affection at first, at the slightest feeling of vulnerability. Even further down the line, with his fierce dedication to Liyue, I cant help but get the vibe that the moment he recognized that he was falling for Venti he would begin avoiding him, not only to avoid distraction from his duty, but to avoid corrupting him or losing him in general like he has with like basically every other person he gets close with(even believing that the cycle had repeated once more when he first heard of Morax's death)... now imagine Venti tryna slap a label on their relationship and tell me Xiao would have a positive reaction.

- The thing with Xiaoven.... honestly, i feel like theres more ways that it can go wrong than it can go right, but if they do manage to make their relationship work out, it's just simply beautiful in all terms of the word.

- Lets talk about killing. - During the Archon War, both were forced to kill a large number of people and gods alike- Venti out of a need to remain alive to protect Mondstadt, it's freedom, and the nameless bard's legacy by extent- and Xiao out of servitude to the god that was once his master

..... actually- break here- ive talked a lot about Venti on this blog but I havent actually spoken about Xiao all that much- so i should probably do that a bit first... do note though that my characterization of Xiao is pretty flexible actually- this is just- the possible characterization of him that i tend to favor as being the most- uh- "realistically complex"

-

Theres a line I saw this one time in a certain story: "He is a trained weapon. That's what he is, was, and always will be. You cannot change that so stop trying." And i just- think its a really interesting concept- that applies pretty well to Xiao now that i actually think about it. - the concept behind it is this: After spending more than a vast majority of his life killing or otherwise in battle, it's become a part of who he is, a normalcy that after centuries and centuries would be near impossible to get rid of or reverse, and even if it was possible, with his karmic debt constantly eating away at him its unlikely he has enough time left for that to happen. - it sounds like a cruel thing to say about him- but in context it's actually pretty layered and i think about it a lot. It's not as much a "he's a killer lol, that his whole personality" its more of a "The centuries of trauma he experienced have conditioned him into a constantly alert and battle ready mindset while also shaping his dehumanizing inferior-in-worth-but-superior-in-capability view of himself that would have likely been necessary to get through those time, and at this point he's been under that conditioning for long enough that it's essentially ingrained itself in his personality."

- the main idea is- it's a part of who he is, that needs to be accepted as who he is because its not something that he can just up and change. It's not all he is of course but his constant battle mode, as though always waiting to be ambushed or to be granted a new target to eradicate.

a couple character story quotes:

-"His past of service under the evil god had rid Xiao of his innocence and gentleness. All that remained within him was the means to kill and the weight of his sins. The only way he could be of service to mortals was in combat." -"Xiao does not feel any hatred. Having lived for over two thousand years, no single karmic debt constitutes anything more than a fleeting memory. No grudge can last a thousand years; nor is any debt so great that it cannot be paid off in this time. Xiao has spent many long years alone. But his battles have never been in vain." -"where did Xiao have to return to? He was merely leaving the battlefield." -"since Xiao wages a constant war against dark forces powerful enough to devour Liyue in its entirety, any bystanders who witness him in the heat of battle are likely to end up as collateral damage." -"The war he fights can never be won, and will never come to an end." -"Because ultimately, the one with whom Xiao wrestles is himself."

i feel like at some point this very nearly did consume his whole personality, almost turning him into nothing more than a being of slaughter under Morax's control, devoid of any "humanity" at all, consumed and corrupted by his karmic debt like his fellow yakshas before him. - until he experienced a moment of clarity- a song in the wind, the peaceful melody of a dihua flute. - and pulled back from the border of something he wouldnt have been able to return from, there a was a shift in his mind- a concept grown unfamiliar enough with time that it took him a great time to identify what it was; a curiosity. Something that there was no place for on the battlefield, something that by all means should have been completely useless to Xiao, and yet he held onto that curiosity, slowly regaining over time, a sense of who he was and who he could choose to be with each song that the wind chose to carry towards him every once in a blue moon.

and eventually that curiousity turned to longing. Longing "for a day to come when he will wear the mask and dance — not to conquer demons, but to the tune of that flute amid a sea of flowers"

...... uh- heh- if you couldn’t tell already i have a tendency to make my characterizations/analyses of characters more serious that i probably should. 

to summarize: Xiao is constantly toeing the line between his ingrained nature and his humanity- almost as though still trying to decide how much of that humanity he deserves to have, how much he is allowed to have, and how much is safe to have.

^looking back after writing this, i think the best way to explain it is that this is the view that i keep in mind/the lense that i tend to most enjoy looking through and refering back to while examining and/or analyzing his character, actions, story, lines, and overall personality.

idk- i kinda got off track but i just think its a really interesting interpretation to think about because it has some really interesting implications ig- it’s not the full extent of how i view him of course, but i kinda got ahead of myself and its long enough as is so ill just elaborate as i go- Lol i actually have in progress playlists for both him and venti and just- vibes- i could ramble about the playlists alone for hours explaining everything... It’s probably a problem- uh- ill keep going now lol.

anyways! stepping off the angst path for a brief break! Brought to you by their lines in the snow: both waiting for it to get thick enough, Venti for the purpose of a snowball fight and Xiao for the purpose of a tasty and nutritious breakfast.

but its actually something of note that Xiao doesnt actually need to eat so anything he does eat is usually out of obligation or enjoyment- so like.... snow.... like i dont blame him, but of all things- an adeptus who refuses to eat basically anything but almond tofu looks at the freezing-cold-floor-water that yeeted itself from above and decided at some point- damn- that seems more edible than basically ever single actually edible thing ever.... im gonna eat it- like- im glad if eating snow makes him happy but- at the same time...

He probably convinces Venti to eat snow too though and Venti wouldnt even resist I mean he’s wind and has probably consumed worse things in his time so- 2 anemo cryptids with glowing tattoos sitting in Dragonspine monching snow in the dead of night is an amusing thought to me.

- kay, now back to more serious-toned thoughts

One of the things about the ship that i really like is the different contradicting parallels between them:

A lot of how i view Xiao’s character is someone formed largely by the things he cant control and who was forced to accept that accepted that and learned to thrive in it as much as he can.  Venti on the other hand is surrounded by things he cant control and is ever adapting to control as much as he can while embracing whatever he cant as being part of the unpredictability of the world, seeing beauty in it. 

both of them have lost people and do what they do to honor their memory: Xiao continues to do what the Yakshas once did And Venti chooses to do what his friend couldn’t

Xiao’s power coming from himself  and Venti’s from others And both seem to appear to use their power for their own gain while truly helping others behind the scenes

both have killed a lot of people during the archon war Xiao views it as another necessary event out of his control and Venti would likely view it as a tragedy he chose to enact himself

and this is where we meet out balance

Xiao- contrary to how i think a lot of people view him as thinking of himself as a monster- seems canonically to have accepted this as part of his duty, as long as those he killed are not mortals. I dont think he enjoys it no- but someone has to do it and he’s just accepted that its a part of his duty Venti on the other hand-

See the beauty of the ship- as someone with an angst-centric mind- is this- these are two of the most traumatized mfers in the game 

Xiao is by far the one who needs the most help and who can serve to benefit most from the ship- but he is nowhere near self aware enough to recognize that there’s anything wrong or unhealthy about his mindset in the slightest-

whereas you have the contrast with Venti who sorted through most of his trauma with the nameless bard alone during the archon war and while the result appears more healthy- is still really not- but he’s not self aware of that either because i mean- who’s going to tell him? nobody even knows. 

however- venti is aware enough to notice flaws in Xiao’s mindset and “Venti” enough to want to help them through it-

Xiao- while not aware enough to recognize the flaws in Venti’s mindset, can recognize where it contrasts with his own, and is blunt enough to point it out- and then it’s out there to be mulled over- 

they’re so similar and yet so different and a feel just conversing between the two of them, being in each others precense, just being exposed to two mindsets that are so very different could do both of them a whole lot of good.

GEEE THAT BIT OF RAMBLING HAD LITTLE TO NO DIRECTION AT ALL- LET ME-- LET ME MAKE THIS START MAKING SENSE- WITH... DYNAMICS OR SOMETHING

I don’t think Xiao needs to sleep really- and i dont think that sleeping would do anything except make him uneasy at first- he’d probably just get nightmares after all he’s been through- but with Venti he would soon learn that it doesn’t have to be that way, lulled into the first peaceful sleep he’s had in... as long as he can remember.

anywho back to not making sense cuz im fickle and i think most questions about ships are best displayed through character interactions so like- a possible exchange thats cliche but cliches exist for a reason

Xiao: Why do you try so hard to help me, it isn’t easy. I know that much Venti, with the most adoring expression: Because you’re worth it, obviously Xiao: But surely there are others more deserving of- Venti: No Xiao, everyone is just as deserving as the next person, you included Xiao: Then why me above others? Venti: ehe, cuz ur my warrior of course [O//////O oh shit, hes right] Xiao: My contract is with Morax alone [gay panic but in broody yaksha]

it’s kinda difficult cuz neither of them really address their feelings.  I mean Venti does but he does it very indirectly and its rare that he ever does it with like- genuine directness- even spilling his backstory was in the form of a song- and told in the third person- so a lot of their interactions would often have some deeper meaning, especially with Venti being the bard he is. 

I come up with a lot of- errant thoughts about Xiaoven- but this is making me realize that a true analysis of their ship is rather difficult because it just encompasses so many dynamics so its hard to settle on just one and not go rambling about who knows what bouncing from one end of the ship to the other-  Because you truly can and thats the beauty of it

within one moment you can be having a heartfelt conversation about the archon war the impact of lost friends and times past, and the next moment Venti is trying to forcefeed Xiao an apple while Xiao screams about disrespecting the adepti and its just- so lovely

so while they have picnics with nothing but apples, dandelion wine, and almond tofu they can sit down and talk about the dreams Xiao once devoured, and the dandelion wine and apple cider that the first Ragnvindir invented from the plants that never could have grown in Old Mond. The foods that tasted of familiarity, or of the grilled ticker fish Pervases always used to eat, foods that tasted of friends and frankly family that had since passed, glaze lilies and cecilias and qingxin flowers scattered in the surroundings and woven into Xiao’s neat braids and Venti’s now messy ones, rebraided by the steady and inexperienced hands of one unused to gentle action. 

and then of course Venti steals Xiao’s tofu once the mood becomes too grim and replaces it with a bottle of wine that Xiao refers to as “vile poison,” a remark that fatally wounds Venti as he collapses on the floor, proclaiming how he can only be healed by a Yaksha’s kiss. Xiao ignores this of course and simply takes back his tofu with a slight smile on his face, but as Venti persists he soundlessly places a kiss on his own palm before intertwining their fingers and pulling him back up from where he was dramatically sprawled on the floor, grumbling about how such action was “unbecoming of an archon.” A sign of affection only Xiao would ever know about. But Venti is literally wind and I hc his senses work differently anyways so he definitely knows- plus Xiao’s face is red as the blood of his enemies and the way he is pointedly not looking at Venti at all really speaks volumes anyways. 

 -Venti playing epic battle music whenever Xiao goes into fights in what looks like a ridiculously extra performance to anyone else but is actually doing wonders to keep Xiao’s karma at bay

-Venti preaches the practice of “kissing wounds better” and Xiao is unfamiliar with this medical treatment but views it as unnecessary regardless because adepti have accelerated healing, doesn’t mean he’s going to stop him though. 

-Messages whispered on the wind

-Venti’s 1000 year sleep- an accident, not a fun time for the yaksha, and not a fun time for Venti once he woke up. Venti is actually more afraid of restful sleep than Xiao is, hence the sleeping in trees thing, but when Xiao is there, he can sleep restfully with faith that Xiao wont let another millennia slip through his fingertips. 

- Xiao tends to make excuses when doing things that aren’t necessary to his duty, like in his birthday voice line “Have this, it’s a butterfly i made from leaves... Okay. Take it. It’s an adepti amulet -- it staves off evil” because at the current point in his progress it helps him to feel like he’s allowed to do these things. Not wanting to put him off from progress, Venti never comments on his excuse but never fails to whisper a quick reminder of how proud he is of how far Xiao had come.

- Xiao’s karma saddens Venti greatly- not only because of how it effects Xiao but also because its a reminder that as much as Venti tries to honor the memory of those he’s killed, there will always be those who resent him for it, and when he took the option of living away from them, he truly can’t blame them. - And when he gets too wrapped up in thoughts, whether around this topic or similar ones or otherwise, eventually, he’ll hear the sound of a flute on the wind. It’s not divine by any means, but as his own wind connects him to the source, he gets the sentiment all the same. “What impact does one individual’s remaining wrath have on the present. You have done much to help the living in the present” the unspoken idea that Xiao has included himself in that statement, because now, with Venti’s help he’s beginning to learn just how to experience living for himself. 

- Venti’s form and Xiao’s mask are off limit topics though because if either mentions it the other will counter with the opposite and the mood will turn immediately bitter at the idea that both know that what they’re doing is destructive but neither are willing to change

- Venti who has different tells for negative feelings than most people because as much as he likes to pretend it is- this form isnt his, and Xiao who is able to identify those

- many fanfics and headcanons have Venti recognizing when Xiao is uncomfortable and getting him out of those situations. I see that and I love it but i raise you: - Venti taking Xiao to Mondstadt, careful that he doesn’t get to the point that he’s uncomfortable. And nothing goes wrong exactly, but Xiao notices the the way Venti’s cape is blowing in the wind, the way he’s holding his weight, barely on his feet so much as floating on the wind, connected with the ground only for the sake of appearance, all the while he looks just as happy go lucky as ever. And without a word, he grabs his hand and teleports them both out of Mondstadt.  - turns out it was just a slight thing that reminded him of the archon war (cuz i will die on the hill of him having more tragic backstory than just Decarabian), and he of course gives a sincere if not flustered thanks to Xiao, because he’s really not used to people noticing. 

- Venti trying to vent sneakily through fictional stories and Xiao is just like “Didn’t that basically happen to you” and Venti is just like “<_< shit”

- Venti once said affectionally that he wished he had met Xiao sooner and Xiao immediately and seriously shot it down by saying “If you had, I would have been forced to kill you” and both of them now stay up at night wondering who would have won that fight, not sure which result would have hurt more. (because honestly I have no idea who would win in that fight and that terrifies me- I like to think it would have been one of those legends that end with “and the fight persists to this day” or something along those lines)

- “How long have you been together?” “Adepti have no need for-” “1000+ years T^T how dare you deny our love” “O///O our...? ...useless”

- its disney- let me explain- i have this- i have this headcanon inspired by watching too many animatics- - so venti has a human form that isnt his- which he would have had to get used to moving in- and he’s a bard- - uh- anyway- as a third degree black belt in mixed martial arts, i can speak as an authority on this(not really an authority since i havent gone since quarantine but lets pretend). We have a thing referred to as the big three(most things do), and those things are martial arts, gymnastics, and dance. The idea is that they reflect really well off of each other and the best in any one category are good in all three. Timing, balance, form, discipline, technique, hand-eye coordination, grace, ease of motion, they all play a part- anyway-

- Venti taking Xiao’s prowess in martial arts and acrobatics and teaching him how to dance, and as someone who’s extremely skilled in the first two, the third comes easy to him, almost naturally. And it’s delicate and beautiful and lovely and it isn’t hurting anyone. And Venti points all these things out and more and despite how much Xiao insists that he feels ridiculous he truly does enjoy it and it goes a long way towards helping him form more healthy views of himself and his worth.  - Verr Goldett walked in on him once and made a joke about performing at the inn. unfortunately Venti was there and agreed on Xiao’s behalf before he could protest and- and it wasn’t as bad as Xiao thought it would be... he still wouldn’t do it again though without reason, but with good enough reasoning he could probably be convinced. 

- anyways point is he likes dancing to Venti’s songs and i just think that’s really cute - just picture the idea that all the animatics you see actually have the potential to be canon- ugh

- venti tries holding something out of Xiao’s reach since he’s taller and Xiao just fucking teleports 

- both need their space but when they dont, all they have to do is speak the other’s name and they’ll be there.

- and because i just had to.... love languages

- lets start with Xiao- i don’t think he’d view acts of service or quailty time as a love language tbh, and he blunt but really bad with words so affirmation is out, leaving gift giving and physical touch. However, he seems to view most material things as meaningless so- - Xiao who’s love language is in his fleeting touches, something he’s only recently grown comfortable with because of Venti, and now is giving back, which he knows he doesn’t have to do, but that he want’s to, though he’ll still continue to make excuses for each one. “you were shivering” “The inn is high up, you could have fallen..... I said what I said, you’d question an adeptus?”

- and as easy as it is to say words of affirmation for Venti- he does that for everyone- i want to say his is actually acts of service - its the acts of service that let him see just how much Xiao has progressed afterall, from teaching him to dance, to playing another song on the flute, to supplying him with the almond tofu he seems to enjoy so much. Every little thing he does helps Xiao to grow and he couldn’t be happier about that. 

-

- of course most of my headcanons for the ship do take place latter into the relationship because- y’know the less serious unhealthy vibes allow for greater range of thought, but i do still love to think about the serious implications so i kinda hopped back and forth. So sorry about how messy it is btw, i kinda- got carried away- it kinda got some kind of structure near the end tho so- maybe it’s okay. anyway- back to... lol something, we’ll see where thought forests lead. 

#genshin impact #genshin xiao #genshin venti #xiao #venti #xiaoven #genshin analysis #genshin headcanons #xiaoven headcanons #xiaoven analysis #this is a mess i really shouldnt be putting all these tags but oh well #oh wow the grammar and spelling here is truly repulsive #sorry to all my english teachers i have failed you all

[joonie-beanie]

Missing Ingredient

Pairing: Solomon x Reader

Word Count: 5,467

Preview: Solomon needs help obtaining some "nectar" for a spell he wants to try, and asks you for your assistance.

Unbeknownst to you, the so-called nectar he needs isn't from a flower at all.

This chapter is also being posted as a part of my “Devil Doms” series on AO3.

I wrote this after getting inspired by one of @/shokujin-art’s pieces with Solomon and their MC Ethan!

WARNING: This chapter can be considered dub-con. If dubious consent makes you uncomfortable, please do not read.

“I need your help.”

The smile on Solomon’s face is a little disconcerting. After all, usually it’s not he who is asking you for help, but…you decide to hear him out.

“With what?”

Your gaze is openly skeptical as you regard him, but his smile doesn’t waver.

“I need nectar for a spell I’ve been wanting to test out for a while. I was wondering if you could help me in that regard.”

You blink at him, confused. Nectar? How the hell are you supposed help with that? It’s not like you’re an expert with flowers, and you certainly have no idea about flowers that reside in the Devildom.

“You…want me to help you find…nectar?”

He nods, bringing a hand up to his chin—his eyes turning towards the ceiling.

“Well…basically, yes.”

You narrow your gaze at his phrasing, concern growing by the moment. Exactly what the hell is Solomon playing at? You know he’s a bit of a sketchy bastard, and sometimes you feel like he can’t be trusted, but…so far, he hasn’t wronged you.

…that counts for something, right?

“Listen,” you say, poking a finger into his chest. His eyes widen at the action, and he pauses—staring at you as you continue to jab him. “I’ll help you, okay? But I better not be harmed on this journey to achieve whatever “nectar” you need. Got it, wizard boy?”

Solomon rolls his eyes at your nickname—catching your finger when you move to press your nail into his chest once more.

“You won’t experience any pain,” he says, laughing quietly. His eyes crease, a handsome smile lighting up his face, and for a second, you forget about your worries.

“I promise.”

The next weekend, you get a text from Solomon demanding that you come over to Purgatory Hall.

Today is the day—he needs your help with his nectar issue—and so, you pack up your bag and head over.

You’d attempted to ask him what retrieving this nectar would entail. After all, did you need to dress in hiking boots?? Would he be taking you out into the Devildom wilderness to try and find some rare, valuable flower?? But Solomon had refused to reveal any details.

He’d simply explained that it may take a few hours, and that you should just bring yourself, and any basic necessities.

So now, here you are—standing on the step to Purgatory Hall—waiting for Solomon to come and let you in. It takes a few minutes, but eventually the grand wooden door is pulled open.

“Took you long enough,” you mumble as he ushers you inside. The sorcerer can only laugh, keeping pace beside you as the two of you traverse the halls—heading towards his room.

“Sorry,” he says. His hand moves to wipe at his brow. You notice the tiny beads of sweat sticking to his skin, and curiosity fills you. “I was preparing.”

“Preparing for what?”

Again, Solomon reveals nothing. He easily laughs off the seriousness of your question, waving a hand in front of him as if to try and dissipate any of your worries.

“Preparing to retrieve the nectar,” he responds after a moment, flashing you a small smile. “I’ve been trying to gather the ingredients for this spell for many, many years, and this is the last, and hardest one to collect.”

“And…you need my help in particular with this…why?”

Your eyebrows are knit together on your forehead, and you’re sure that Solomon notices your trepidation, yet he chooses not to address it. Instead, he continues a few more strides up the hall before stopping.

You’ve already arrived at his room.

He reaches out to grab the doorknob, his silver eyes darkening playfully as he regards you. The subtle shift in his demeanor has butterflies tickling the inside of your stomach, and you swallow nervously.

While you’re not as magically inclined as Solomon, you can still feel the magic leaking from inside of his room. He obviously has something planned for you once you step inside, but you’re not sure what.

“…you promised you wouldn’t hurt me,” you remind him, pouting angrily—attempting to hide your apprehension. Your words have Solomon rolling his eyes, and he releases the door knob.

Standing straight, he jerks two of his fingers towards you, and suddenly a golden magic circle encases one of your wrists.

Your eyes widen in surprise, but before you can think to say anything, he’s making another motion with his hand. Quickly, the magic circle tugs you forward, and within seconds, you find yourself directly in front of Solomon.

His previously kind smile is now replaced with something more akin to an amused grin.

“I gave you my word, didn’t I?” he asks, free hand moving to gently brush a few stray hairs from your face. The gesture contradicts his current attitude, making you feel torn. Anxiety and excitement mingle in your gut—both turned on and concerned by your predicament.

“You did, but you’re kind of a bastard, so I want you to reassure me…,” you mumble, cheeks heating up as you stare at him.

This isn’t exactly the first time Solomon has used his magic to fluster you. No, many times now he has casually used spells to fuck with you—making you more sensitive to the touch, or creating a brief gust of wind to flip your skirt up while at RAD. It has kind of become your thing—picking on each other, with Solomon bridging into sexual territory every so often.

Actually...you’d made out with him a few weeks prior—both of you slightly intoxicated, and drawn in by the club music at The Fall—but it had never gone beyond kissing, and groping. Despite that, the sexual energy between the two of you had been palpable.

Yet, nothing had come of it. You’d mutually parted—preserved your friendship—and gone your separate ways that night. You’d assumed that Solomon simply wasn’t interested in doing those kinds of things with you—that any playfully sexual advances towards you were done in the spirit of friendship. Which you were okay with.

But…now that you’re standing here—hair risen all across your body at the magic leaking from his room—you know that he has big plans. And judging by the glint in his eyes, and the way his thumb is carefully caressing your cheek—you’ll certainly be in for a treat.

“When you step beyond the threshold of this door, no harm will come to you,” he speaks calmly, dipping down to press a soft kiss to your lips. Almost instantly, you’re melting into him—heart hammering against your ribs as your defenses are so easily torn away.

“Do you trust me?”

You nod, and his fingers leave your face. You hear the doorknob turn.

“I shouldn’t, but I do.”

He laughs at that, and in the next beat, he’s pulling you inside.

His room is just like you remember it—spacious, and dark. His desk is littered with an army of ingredients, and spell books. His bed is nicely made, and there’s a single, leather armchair tucked into the corner of the room, near the fireplace.

The only thing out of the ordinary is the golden blob of magic sitting in the center of the room. There’s an intricately drawn circle of chalk surrounding it—many runes, and foreign words tied into the dormant spell.

“I’m beginning to think that this “nectar” you need isn’t exactly from a flower…,” you mumble, sending him a little look when he once again uses the magic circle around your wrist to force you farther into his room. Solomon only smiles, guiding you forward until you’re standing inside the chalk ring—the blob of magic at your feet.

“To be honest, for the longest time I thought I was searching for a rare flower,” he says, sighing as he recalls his strife. His footsteps echo throughout the silent room as he scoots arounds the circle, shaking his head in disappointment. “This is a spell I found in an ancient text, and the words were quite hard to decipher. At some point, I picked out the word “nectar”, but figuring out what kind of nectar took far too long.”

As he speaks, you feel the spell at your feet start to buzz to life. And when your gaze flickers to the floor, you note that the blob of magic is starting to…move?

With each passing second, as the spell activates, the ball of golden magic expands and contracts—bulging here or there. You’re forced to divide your attention between Solomon—who is now standing in front of the leather chair—and the magic at your feet (which looks ready to explode).

“Solomon…,” you speak nervously, gasping when a second magic circle suddenly encases your free wrist. You turn to look at the sorcerer just as he jerks his fingers towards the ceiling—forcing your arms high above your head, where the spinning circles then merge into a single, larger one.

“H-Hey! You still haven’t told me what the hell is going on!” you stutter, feeling warmth on your cheeks as you realize your current state of vulnerability. With your hands bound like this, there’s no way you can escape whatever Solomon has planned.

“And yet, you still look like you’re enjoying this,” he teases you. You attempt to glare at him, but there’s no real power behind it, considering he’s right.

“Bastard…”

Solomon laughs at that, and he steps into the chalk circle without warning. His hands find your waist, and he kisses you without an ounce of hesitation. His lips are firm, and warm—moving against your own languidly, like he’s got all the time in the world.

The show of intimacy successfully distracts you from the ball of magic at your feet. Well…at least until the energy takes a new form—multiple, long limbs of magic shooting out, and wrapping around you.

“Mmph!” you squeal around his tongue, rearing back in shock. You look down, wriggling as the warm tendrils of magic climb your body. One is already hugging your waist—replacing the feel of Solomon’s hands as the wizard takes a step back—watching everything unfold with a self-satisfied grin spreading across his lips.

“Basically,” he speaks, calm as ever—as if you aren’t being molested by magic. His magic. “I finally figured out that the “nectar” I’ve been searching for is the arousal of a human. The product of their pleasure.”

His words have you feeling even hotter—an embarrassing gasp leaving you as one of the tendrils wraps around your thigh, and wiggles against your clothed sex.

“Really, of course I finally figured it out once I’m here in the Devildom.” He shakes his head, crossing his arms disappointedly. You bite your lip, trying to stifle another lewd sound as the tendril around your waist curls up between your breasts.

From what you can tell, there are 2…well, tentacles of magic in total—with one occupying your legs, and the other busying itself with your torso.

“I-If you need human arousal, why not use your own?” you ask him, already quite breathless. The sound makes Solomon’s eyes sparkle.

“What? You think I want to sit around and jerk into a cup for god knows how long?” he laughs, eyes raking down your body. His gaze stops near your hips, and he makes a motion with his hand. In response, the tentacle currently rubbing softly against your pussy pulls away—hooking under the waistband of your pants.

In one swift motion, it tugs the garment down your legs, and discards it onto the floor. You flush hottly, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to preserve a sliver of modesty—but the tendril of magic easily slips its way between your legs, once again rubbing against your pelvis.

“And besides, this route seemed much more fun.” He smiles cheekily, a dark sort of amusement lingering in his silver gaze. “I always pegged you as the type to enjoy a situation like this anyway. You know, a damsel in distress with a bit of kink and sex thrown in.”

You send him another look, but can’t say anything. Because…he’s not necessarily wrong. You can’t deny his words, nor can your body deny its reaction to your current predicament. Each pass of the magic between your legs or against your breasts has arousal pooling in your gut.

“Of course, if I’m wrong, just tell me, and I’ll stop.”

Despite the teasing look on his face, his words are genuine. He won’t do anything you’re not okay with. Even if he needs the ingredient for his spell, it seems he’s not entirely an asshole. At least, not to you.

“N…no…I’m okay with this,” you admit meekly, causing him to smile. “But…how are you retrieving the… um…”

You’re too shy to say it, now, realizing what the nectar actually is.

“Well, I did mention that all of this took time to prepare,” he responds, allowing the tendrils of his magic to continue roaming your body freely. It seems like he’s able to control them when he wants, but otherwise, they’ll continue working towards their goal on their own.

“Since I was able to get you to agree to help me out—”

“Without telling me what would actually be involved.”

He sends you a look—a little annoyed at being interrupted despite so kindly answering all of your questions.

“Oh I’m sorry—,” he makes a motion with his hand, and suddenly the tentacle around your chest is tearing your shirt away with a definitive rip. In the same beat, the tentacle between your legs slips beneath the crotch of your panties—tugging them off your body.

Somehow, it manages to discard the garment near Solomon’s feet, so he bends down and picks up the cotton fabric with a smile—the large spot of arousal hard to miss, even in the dim light of his room.

“—but do you really have the right to be sassing me about my ethics, when you’re already wet enough to stain your panties? Clearly, you’re turned on despite me not telling you, love.”

You open your mouth to attempt to defend your pride, but the only sound that comes out is a lewd gasp. The smooth magic between your thighs resumes its motions—now rubbing up against your wet pussy with no barrier. The contact makes you ache—your clit already so sensitive to the touch—and a satisfied grin settles on Solomon’s face.

“As I was saying,” he continues with his explanation calmly, but his gaze doesn’t leave the sight of you. With your panties gone, and your shirt in tatters on the floor, the sorcerer would be a fool to not watch the show unraveling in front of him.

“It took time to prepare. I had to figure out what would be the best way to retrieve the nectar without letting it go to waste. After all, sex can be so messy.”

Solomon pauses for a moment, soaking in the sound of your voice as you whine—your body flushed from head to toe as the thick tentacles of his magic keep their pace, rubbing against you in all the right places.

His slacks are beginning to feel a little tight.

He coughs.

“Basically, the raw magic will absorb your “nectar”, and will keep it trapped until I can draw it out.”

“S-So what?” you whimper, fingers helplessly curling and uncurling above you. His magic circle allows your wrists no wiggle room. “Y-You’re just going to sit here and watch your magic molest me until you’ve collected enough of my arousal for your spell?”

“Molest is a strong word,” Solomon says, seating himself in the leather chair. He leans back, letting his legs spread wide, and your eyes fall to the tent in his pants. “I prefer fondle. Or, pleasure. After all, you’re feeling a fair amount of pleasure right now, aren’t you?”

With a small inclination of his fingers, the tentacle between your legs pulls back—the thick, rounded tip pressing directly against your clit. It moves in miniscule side to side motions, and Solomon sees the way your entire body flexes—thighs shaking with each pass over your bundle of nerves.

“Fuck,” you pant, arms straining against their bindings. The wizard chuckles.

“Shall I make you cum like this? Or would you prefer to wait? Personally, I have no qualms making you orgasm until you’re begging me to stop, but I also don’t want to break you. You’d be a pain to put back together.”

“Asshole,” you remark.

With the tentacle still swiping across your clit, you know it won’t be long until you reach your climax. And while you know cumming will only serve to make everything more sensitive afterwards, you can’t bring yourself to pass up the offer of an orgasm. You’re already too close, and your body is begging for a release.

“I…I want to cum. Please.”

“Look at you, saying “please” even though you’re calling me an asshole.”

You so desperately wish he was within kicking range, because if he was, you would absolutely lift your leg and wipe that cocky grin straight off his face.

Luckily, the magic between your legs quickly distracts you from your anger towards the sorcerer. 

As if hearing your plea to cum, it begins to work even faster—searching for the pattern that will undoubtedly drag you into the depths of your pleasure. And once it finds it—lewd gasps and moans falling from your lips—the tentacle keeps at it until you’re tumbling into your release.

Sensing your orgasm, the magic limb presses up against your pelvis. It slots between your folds, rubbing languidly as you experience your high.

You can only guess that it’s currently collecting all of the precious “nectar” that has leaked from your throbbing pussy following your climax.

“Shit…”

Apparently willing to give you a moment to breath, the magic tendril occupying your sex continues its slow motions. In its place, the tentacle that had been lazily fondling your chest until now gets to work. It fully wraps around both of your breasts—squeezing, and tugging—almost as if it’s attempting to milk you.

Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation—quiet, hot breaths filling the space in front of you as the tailend of your orgasm finally passes. Yet, you can still feel the embers burning in your gut, threatening to reignite with any simple touch.

“Feel good?” Solomon questions, drawing you out of your haze. Your eyes fall to him, heart thundering in your chest when you notice that one of his hands has strayed beneath his trousers—fingers enclosed around his length through the fabric of his underwear.

“Perverted wizard,” you speak instead, completely ignoring his question. The smallest of grins grace your lips, a breathy laugh leaving you. “Getting so hard from watching me. Shouldn’t you be ashamed?”

He chuckles at your words, looking amused by your wit.

Truly, you’re a fool to be speaking to him like that, as if he isn’t the one in charge right now. While he’s been kind to you thus far, he has no issue in changing that.

“Be a good cock slut and shut the hell up.”

He flicks his fingers, a fake smile plastered on his face, and in the next moment your pussy is filled to the brim with his magic. The tentacle reaches deep—snaking between your walls until the soft head is pressed flush against your cervix.

The abrupt intrusion has you crying out, wrists once again straining against their bindings as you struggle to adjust to the new sensation. And yet, Solomon grants you no grace period.

The magic begins to move—sliding in and out of your wet walls at a swift pace that has your mouth opening, but no sound coming out. At the same time, the tentacle at your chest squeezes harder, the tip of the appendage moving to swirl around one of your hardened nipples.

“S-Solomon,” you choke out, knees buckling under the intensity of his magic. The way his name sounds falling from your lips—desperate and overwhelmed—has his cock jumping against its confines.

His jaw clenches, fingers squeezing a bit tighter as he strokes himself.

“I’d slow their pace down, but I can hear how wet you are from here,” he remarks, silver gaze falling to the space between your thighs. As the tentacle grinds inside of you, small amounts of your arousal are soaked up by his magic. As they’re absorbed, the liquid pools in the main body of the magic—the blob still resting at the center of the chalk circle which is keeping his spell active.

“I called you a cock slut teasingly, but it seems you actually are one. How precious.”

“Fuck off,” you pant, body writhing as the embers in your gut quickly reignite into flames—hot, intense, and growing with each second that passes.

He laughs at your exclamation, pressing to his feet. With deft fingers, Solomon quickly rids himself of his pants, and underwear—the pieces of clothing lying abandoned on the floor beside your own. And when he moves forward—once again entering the magic circle, and stepping into your personal space—you feel your heart skip a beat.

Your pussy clenches around the tentacle still working inside of you, nervous butterflies blooming in your tummy when you see the dark look in Solomon’s eyes. Like he’s finally giving you a glimpse of the real him—not the kind façade he always shows in front of the others.

“If you’re going to use your mouth in such a vulgar fashion, I know a better way.”

Suddenly, without warning, the magic circle encasing your wrists presses downward—forcing you to your knees. The tentacles adjust accordingly, but continue their ministrations as normal. The new position, however, has you eye-level with Solomon’s weeping cock.

“Say ah,” he says, canting his hips forward. The tip of his length smears against your hot cheek, and you flit your gaze up to him—aroused, and a little scared.

He’d be lying if he said the fear didn’t turn him on.

“No?” Solomon tangles a hand in your hair—firm, but not enough to hurt. He holds your stare, his eyes expectant. Yet, he doesn’t force himself upon you. After all, he gave you his word that he wouldn’t hurt you, and while right now he would love nothing more than to stuff your mouth with his cock, he won’t if it’s pushing you too far.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves (although it’s not easy to do, considering the two tentacles that are still very bent on pleasuring you for the sake of your “nectar”). Then—

You part your lips, hot breath fanning against his length.

“Aaah—”

Solomon looks genuinely surprised for a moment. However, he definitely won’t be wasting such a perfect opportunity.

“Truly a cock slut,” he says by way of praise—sliding his cock into your mouth before you can even think of responding.

The moment he hits the back of your throat—making you gag—you realize what you’re in for. There’s no way you’re making it out of this situation sane. Not with Solomon fucking your mouth, while his magic devastates your pussy, and fondles your chest.

In contrast to the quick, brutal pace the tentacle currently occupied with your sex has taken, Solomon starts off slowly. He rocks himself into your mouth, his silver eyes focused on you as your lips suction around him. Each time, he ventures deep—his cock sliding into you until you can take no more.

Tears blot your eyes, body tensing as you resist the urge to gag around him once again. Solomon notices your struggle—watching the way your fingers curl into fists. A part of him debates being nicer. You’re already struggling thanks to the ministrations of his magic, after all, and yet—

“You like it rough, don’t you?”

He reaffirms his grip on your hair—holding your head steady as he begins rolling his hips. He’s still not as fast as the tentacle devastating your pussy, but his slow pace is no more. No, he fucks you quick enough that you don’t have time to steel yourself for the sensation of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

So now, along with the wet, slapping sounds already filling the room, your frequent, helpless gagging can be heard as well.

To Solomon, it’s music to his ears.

“I don’t need you to tell me “yes”. I can already see the answer with how much of your arousal my magic is collecting,” he says, breathing a laugh. “Seriously, you’re the one that should be ashamed, Y/N. You stand there and tease me for getting hard, but you’re the one positively leaking right now. Do you want to be even more stuffed? I could create a third tentacle if you like.”

“Nn—,” you attempt to shake your head, tears finally rolling down your cheeks. You already feel like you’re going insane. There’s no way you’d be able to handle anything more than this.

Solomon grins at your response, purposely grinding into your mouth, and holding himself there. He watches as you flounder—body writhing against the bindings at your wrists. 

Even as you struggle to breathe, you can feel the orgasm building inside of you.

You choke down a sob.

Solomon’s magic is relentless. You have no idea how long it’s been—how long the tentacles have been teasing you—have been trying to milk you for all that you’re worth—but it’s been long enough to bring you to the edge once more. And each time Solomon forces you to gag around him, you only inch closer.

“Mmph,” you whine pathetically around him, your body shaking as your pleasure continues to build to a peak. It won’t be long until you’re sent tumbling over the edge a second time, and once that happens, you’re not sure how much more you’ll be able to take. Your brain already feels like it’s on the verge of short-circuiting.

“This is a good look on you—,” he comments. Sweat has beaded on his brow—stray strands of his hair sticking to his forehead, and you’re mad that he still manages to appear so handsome despite his disheveled state.

“—ruined, and on the brink of orgasm. You’re going to cum again, right?”

Your noise of admission is lost around his cock as he continues fucking into your mouth. However, he doesn’t need to hear your agreement. He can already tell—what, with the way your eyes are practically ready to roll back into your head.

“You should wait for me,” he says, amusement tugging at his lips when he feels you whimper. “Can you manage that?”

Without waiting for your muffled attempt at a response, Solomon thrusts become rougher. He fucks into your throat, groaning at the way you instinctively gag and swallow around him. Saliva pools at the corners of your lips—slipping down to your chin and mingling with the tears that have fallen from your eyes.

You’re so overwhelmed. You’ve never experienced so many sensations at once, and while you try your best to hold out for Solomon—to be good, and wait for him like he’s requested—you can’t. It’s impossible.

With a strangled cry, you come undone. Your body thrashes, your head naturally attempting to pull away from Solomon for much needed air, but he doesn’t let you go anywhere.

“Ah, if only you had waited a little longer,” he remarks, disappointment in his tone. He lowers his other hand to grab your head, and more tears pour down your cheeks as he face fucks you to his heart’s content—even as your orgasm continues to roll through you.

Luckily, the sorcerer isn’t very far behind. He finds his release just as your orgasm is beginning to subside, the tentacles that are assaulting you finally beginning to slow their ruthless pace. 

Gripping your hair, he forces himself deep into your throat—a dark satisfaction settling in his gut as he watches you choke on his seed.

“Swallow like a good girl,” he chides, one of his hands moving to wipe away your tears. As best you can, you swallow around him—puffy eyes turning up to him. The pleading look on your face successfully softens his heart, and with a sigh, he releases your head.

Immediately, you’re pulling back—coughing and gasping for air.

“P-Please, I can’t…anymore…,” you beg, voice raw. The tentacles have started picking up their pace once again--ready to resume their duty after having given you a few minutes to rest.

Solomon clicks his tongue, his silver gaze dropping to the mass of magic on the floor. There’s a fair amount of your “nectar” that has settled at the bottom of the orb. Enough that Solomon will be able to attempt his spell more than a few times.

So, with that in mind, he releases you.

The tentacle around your torso unwinds—your breasts feeling used, and sore from its touches. At the same time, the magic stuffing your pussy slowly pulls out—the limb soaking up whatever excess arousal you have to offer as it retreats.

Before long, the two tentacles have remerged with the ball of golden magic—the light from the spell circle fading as everything settles back into place. Once he’s sure that your precious juices are properly kept, Solomon waves his hand, and the magic binding your wrists disappears.

Almost instantly, you’re falling forward—catching yourself on your hands and knees, fingers smearing through intricately drawn chalk lines. Solomon kneels in front of you, brushing your hair from your eyes.

“You did well,” he says.

“You’re the worst,” you respond. 

Your entire body feels like jello. You’re not even sure there’s any blood left in your arms.

He chuckles.

“Fine, I’m the worst.”

Grabbing you beneath your arms, Solomon helps you to your feet, and leads you over to his bed. He throws the sheets over you, and then moves to retrieve the blob on the center of his floor. He gingerly places it on his desk—resting it atop a plush cushion, like a prized pet.

His eyes linger on it for a few seconds, satisfied. Then, his silver stare turns back to you—his sheets rustling as you settle yourself in.

There’s absolutely no way he’ll be kicking you out anytime soon. If you can barely walk to his bed with his help, there’s no chance that you’ll be able to walk all the way back to the House of Lamentation.

Luckily, he doesn’t seem to mind your company. He’s got a heart inside of him, even if parts are stained black.

“I’ll go get some water,” he says. However, just as he’s brushing past the bed, there’s a knock at his door.

He pauses at the sound, and you hold his sheets tighter around your naked body.

Eyebrow raised curiously, Solomon strides to the door and pulls it open. Standing on the other side is a red-faced Simeon. He looks both angry, and embarrassed.

Solomon’s heart drops.

Despite all his preparation, he’d forgotten to enact a noise blocking spell…

“Oh shit.”

“Oh shit is right,” Simeon responds, crossing his arms. “You’re lucky Barbatos agreed without question to teach Luke a new recipe despite me calling him last minute. Once I heard you and your partner…going at it. You live with a child up the hall, Solomon.”

Solomon sighs. “I’m sorry. I meant to cast a spell to block the noise, but I forgot.”

“Next time, don’t forget, or I’ll have harsher words to say to you.”

“Very much noted.”

“Good.” Nodding, Simeon turns to stalk away from the wizard, but pauses.

“Oh, by the way, you mentioned inviting Y/N over this weekend. Are you still planning to do that? I’d love to see her.”

“Uhhh…,” Solomon resists the urge to glance back into his room, towards the bed where you’re currently hiding yourself. “Yeah. She should be over later. I’ll let you know when she gets here.”

“Good!”

Smiling, Simeon disappears up the hall. Solomon shuts his door, and from beneath his covers, you quietly scream.

“Simeon heard us fucking!! What’s wrong with you!!”

Again, Solomon sighs.

“Yes, yes, we already agreed—I’m the worst. Now pipe down, or I’ll have to shut you up again.”

When you actually cease your scolding words—glaring at him over the edge of his sheets—Solomon cocks an arrogant eyebrow.

Well then, he certainly knows the best way to get you to shut up from now on.

#om! #obey me #solomon x reader #solomon x mc #solomon fic #solomon smut #obey me fic #obey me smut #obey me reader insert #obey me solomon #solomon

[kreidewaltz]

more than enough | k.t.

pairing. kageyama tobio x f!reader

about. he's beating himself up because he didn't have the time to prepare. but his worries disappeared when you offered him a smile and said it's alright.

word count. 1.4k

genre & warnings. fluff. slight comfort. established relationship. timeskip. soft kageyama.

author's note. this is for @marviesss! happy birthday again bub ( ꈍᴗꈍ) ik we don’t always talk but i love it when we do :( sorry for the three day delay sobs i wanted it to make it perfect </3 also thanks to eva for beta-ing this kisses you !! pats myself on the back for posting another fic <3 

"god, finally." kageyama sighs after as he cocks his head to the side. he opens his suffocating collar button. he fixes his dark blue long sleeve and rolls the sleeves while he admires his work on the dining table. he leans back on the counter and anxiously rub shapes on his legs, checking if the presentation is up to his standards. (you argue he sets himself up for failure and it was definitely a wrong move).

guilt forms in his chest, failing to cook your favorite food. before he could explode with frustration and throw things around the kitchen, which he knew you wouldn't appreciate, he called and ordered your favorite food. snapping out of his thoughts, he notices the baby pink envelope on the table so he slips it under your plate.

the heat he feels on his cheeks makes him curse under his breath. you messaged him twenty minutes ago that you're off work and can't wait to celebrate with him, your king as you quote so many damn times that the nickname is growing on him, for a different reason.

how are you so understanding? he thinks earlier when you just woke up, he brought you into his embrace and whispered happy birthday, love. both of you had indulged in the early mornings full of sweet murmurs in your ear, his hands gently running across your waist and giving you kisses on the forehead.

deep inside him, he wanted to skip practice, take the day off and face the consequences later. he wants to spend your birthday together and make it so memorable but reality said otherwise.

we're adults. kageyama sighs in distress after realizing that the teenage years, where you can have fun with your friends and be carefree, are over. he didn't realize he was drowning in his own thoughts, the loud knocks on his door making him tense, almost hitting his head on the top cabinet.

"tobio! the door is locked!" your sweet voice shouts from the other side and he hastily unlocks the door. he pulls you in his arms when he sees the lopsided smile on your face and whispers another happy birthday while burying his nose in your hair. he grabs your bag and puts it away, fidgeting with his fingers when you see the simple presentation. too simple, he comments in his head but he stops before his negative thoughts go for a drive.

"ah, happy birthday again- sorry i didn't prepare much, i hope you understand-" he rambles quickly while playing with his fingers behind his back. he fails to notice the genuine smile growing on your face. and if he were to cup your cheeks, he'd see the tears forming in your eyes, and you wipe them quickly before they fall. you walked in front of him before hugging him, locking your fingers and tightening your arms, feeling warm and lighthearted.

"babe, calm down. the fact you tried and did this… thank you." you say against his chest and you hope he hears you clearly. he runs his hand on your lower back while the other plays with your hair, partially relieved that you didn't demand for an extravagant celebration. he heard the sniffle you didn't mean to let out, and a chuckle leaves his lips. he didn't comment further and continued to draw shapes on your back, which melted you like a puddle.

"i ordered your favorite." he whispers after a few minutes of silence, you loudly peck both of his cheeks and giggle once you hear him murmuring idiot under his breath. you made yourself comfortable on the chair and started eating the food. you let out soft moans often because you haven't tasted this for a few months now, living off instant noodles even though the refrigerator is packed with all sorts of food.

"you're so sweet, writing me a letter." his eyes widened and he scrambled in his seat before standing up abruptly. he knocked his leg on the table leg in the process and you sent him a sympathetic look, but you waved the letter he wrote while squealing, your happiness leveling up if it was even possible.

"open it when i'm not around." he looks to the side and scratches the back of his neck. you nod too quickly before putting it on your bag, excited to spend time with your boyfriend. 

-

"kags! tap it gently on your face." you scolded him while he still looks at you, brows furrowed cutely. after washing the pans and utensils stacked up in the sink for an hour (he got distracted by your dancing to your favorite song).

you're in the bathroom in your comfortable pajamas and you actually convinced your boyfriend to do your skincare routine together. although he has a different one with only a few steps, he'd like to try your products or spend time with you and always be near you but he can't say it out loud for now.

"alright." he leans to see his face in the mirror and attempts to copy you, tapping the cream on his face. after rubbing your face for a few minutes, you watch him in the reflection and see his lips slightly puckered while he taps his face. warmth blooms in your chest while watching him, your mind envisioning doing simple things together and making it memorable.

you squish his cheeks tightly to get his attention before you even out the cream on his face, and don't notice him smiling to himself because of your concentrated face—a pout on your soft lips, the deep furrow of your brows, and the occasional tsk when you do something wrong.

"all done baby!" you quickly clap your hands together in front of him, and both of you chuckle loud hearing the wet sound. he clings to your side and wraps his arms around you, nuzzling his head to your neck, the fluffy headband and his hair making you squirm in his embrace. you swipe your balm quickly before running your fingers through your hair, checking if there are knots before patting kageyama's head.

"babe… the bed." you whisper and tug his wrist and he groggily walks to the bed, the exhaustion after his practice settling on his body you noticed. you plop onto the bed and immediately grab the sheets, hovering it over your body, about to roll over to cuddle your boyfriend. yet he turns you around, covers you with the blanket and rests his hand on your stomach, tangles his leg over yours, clearly not wanting you to go anywhere. 

"happy birthday… i don’t know where to start,“ he mutters softly as if he’s talking to the air, afraid to break the intimacy and warmth of this moment. you don’t say anything and bury your head on the pillow, your heart pounding loudly in your chest because of your boyfriend’s touch and his low and groggy voice in your ear.

even after being together for a while, some things remained the same.

kageyama is devoted to drinking a glass of milk every night, even if he’s exasperated after his practice. his cheeks always turn red whenever you drop him a casual compliment while you’re talking. the way you always peck his lips many times before both of you go out, and a wide grin comes to your face and you touch your lips, as if you haven’t kissed him before. 

“i know we started off bad, we had this love-hate relationship in high school... but when we became third years, things changed. my feelings changed,” he stops for a moment, while you suddenly turn around and hide in his chest. his body is frozen when you move, but he cuddles you nonetheless.

“‘m really glad you also had a change of heart and decided to love me. even after seeing my other sides that i don’t like, you continued to love me.” he ends his little speech with a kiss on the top of your head and he moves you closer. he hears your sniffles and the way you fist his shirt tight.

he hears you say, “thank you… i love you so much.” and a smile appears on his face, content with your response and everything that happened. 

kageyama narrowed his eyes to check the time and he realized one thing. the clock hits midnight which ends your birthday.

but, he thinks to himself, he wouldn’t stop showing how grateful he is for you, and he’ll keep loving you until the end of time. 

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #hq x reader #hq x y/n #kageyama x reader #kageyama x y/n #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama tobio imagine #kageyama tobio oneshot #kageyama oneshot #tobio scenarios #tobio kageyama x reader #[✰] kei7ime works

[hotchley]

by any other name

So I wrote the fic inspired by this post. It's too long for a drabble. I kinda hate it. It's not been proofread and there's little plot. It's a bit anticlimactic, but it was fun in the moment and I need to go to sleep so... yeah. We're going with it. There's a happy ending!

Trigger Warnings: intrusive thoughts, past child abuse, trauma, trauma responses, implied panic attacks, food mention, blood mention, death mention, slight implication of past dissociative episodes, religion, religious trauma, religious themes

read on ao3!

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Aaron remembers being told that as a young boy, shifting in his seat because the clothes his mother made him wear to church were uncomfortable. It had confused him. He'd spent so long being told hell was for bad things- sometimes he was included in that list- that good seemed to be the exact opposite of that.

He'd tried to ask his mother, but she had silenced him with a look. He didn't even bother looking at his father.

Later he realised what it meant, and found himself agreeing. After all, his father was a terrible man who hurt everyone he touched, but he always said it was with good reason. Aaron hasn't set foot in a church since Haley was buried, yet he still finds himself wishing one of the men who made his life a misery is burning in hell.

He tries to not think about the implications of that too much.

The proverb comes to mind again as he argues with Jack. Not over anything serious- not in the grand scheme of things. But to a seven-year-old boy, navigating life without his mother, it is the most important thing in the world.

They're arguing over shoes.

Jack wants to wear sandals. His father wants him to wear trainers. Hotch had checked the weather forecast that morning- it was going to rain. And he didn't want Jack catching a cold because of it.

But then Jack's bottom lip starts to quiver, and he looks to his father like he's being told his mother is in heaven and Aaron thinks of the meaning behind the words. If he doesn't let this go, then what's to say he'll need to have the next thing go his way. And the thing after that. And the thing after that.

What's to say that when Jack looks back, wondering where everything went wrong and he stopped being his father's son, he will realise it was this moment?

"Okay. Okay, wear the sandals, and then let's get going," Aaron says.

Jack, completely and blissfully unaware- as he should be- of what his father has been thinking, grins, his earlier sadness forgotten. He puts his other shoe on and then runs out the door. Aaron picks up his bag and coat, smiling slightly at the trust Jack has in his ability.

Jack's teacher smiles at them when they get to his classroom. Knowing Aaron is running late, she just takes Jack's things and bids him goodbye. The relief visibly crosses his face as he realises he won't have to make small talk. He goes to tell her about Jack's bag, but she waves him away.

She's seen enough interactions between children to know what's going on. It's why she's so unsurprised when she opens his bag to see his trainers and favourite socks are neatly tucked away for when it does inevitably rain and soak him.

Aaron makes it to work on time. Of course he does.

"Morning Hotch," Anderson says when they get into the elevator together.

He's one of the few people to follow the "no inter-team profiling" rule, so he doesn't notice how some of the tension seems to bleed out of his boss' shoulders once the nickname is used. Doesn't even realise how Hotch gives him a slight smile when his back is turned.

He steps out, and everything is as it should be.

The ghost of his father may be haunting him more than usual, but Aaron spent most of his life being ignored. He knows how to hide. He knows how easy it is to forget about someone when you bury yourself in something else.

So that's exactly what he does. He logs into his computer, and he starts making his way through emails. By the time Emily- always the last to arrive, yet always on time- sits down, taking a few minutes to speak to the others, he's gotten through all the ones that came in last night.

His ear is hurting, but he chooses to ignore it as much as he can. Halfway through his second file, he opens his door. Spencer taps Derek, and a few minutes later, the rest of the team is assembled to collaborate on a profile. It means lots of talking, and the occasional shuffling of papers. It means noise, but not so much that it's unbearable.

Aaron smiles, and it feels like the ghost of his father fades. He is loved. He is cared for. He is worth time and effort.

Despite the nature of their work, he's in a good mood as the day continues.

By lunchtime, the memory of his father is breathing down his neck, criticising everything he does. His posture is crooked. His notes are too messy. His profile isn't good enough, and the killer is going to get away with their crimes.

Just like Michael Hotchner.

He has no idea where the sudden bad day is coming from, but he can't shake it now. He will not waste the day and he will not give in, but it is just one of those days where the pain is so much more than he thinks he can tolerate. He wishes he knew how to cope properly, but he doesn't.

His pen suddenly snaps. He'd been holding it too tightly, and now his hands are covered in red ink. He was annotating. He always annotates in red, but now, as it stains his hands, all he sees is Haley's blood. Foyet's. Elle's. Kate's.

There are no tissues in his room. So he goes to the bathroom, hoping the team doesn't see what's happened. They don't, but they do hatch a plan.

Again: the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

The short walk does nothing to clear his head, and every second he spends looking at the file is a second in which he thinks about the pen just suddenly breaking. How did he not realise? How did he not know? This time it was the pen. A thing.

What happens when it's a person? Then what?

He thinks he hears someone call his name. But that's ridiculous. It's too late for lunch, and too early for anything else. If someone needed something, they would've knocked on his door, especially with his ears acting up the way they were.

"Aaron Michael Hotchner," Derek shouts.

He doesn't like using Aaron's full name, but they got him a doughnut from his favourite bakery, and he can't be bothered to walk all the way up to his office. Also, Aaron didn't respond the first three times they called for him, so if anything, the shock will force him away from his desk for a few moments. God only knows how much he needs it.

Aaron doesn't hear Derek's voice.

He hears the echo of his father.

His throat starts to close. His vision starts to blur.

There is nowhere to hide. Not in his office. He used to have spots, just in case, but Jack hates it. Jack cannot stand it, so Aaron got rid of all the things that made it possible. He would never make his son hurt the way his father made him hurt, and maybe to him that is nothing, but when Jack grows up- because he will, in time- he will realise how brave his father has always been.

But that is the future.

In the present, Aaron has nowhere to turn.

The walls are closing in.

The voice is getting louder. It is getting closer. The danger is coming towards him, and he has nowhere to hide. He has nowhere to turn.

"Aaron?" Someone says.

He lets out a sound. He presses his hand to his mouth. He cannot take it back, but he won't make another one. It will only make things worse for him. He learnt that lesson long ago.

"Hotch." A different voice. A safe voice.

He turns in that direction.

He doesn't see it, but Derek Morgan's face is filled with relief and anger and sadness all at once. Because it suddenly makes sense.

"Aaron" has been tainted by the mouth of the man who gave his friend his middle name. That man and his actions are the reason Jack's middle name is Derek, not Aaron. "Hotch" has never passed Michael's lips, and it never will. "Hotch" is the man, who didn't even flinch when a bullet wedged itself in the wall next to his head.

Aaron is the boy that cried himself to sleep, wondering why his father couldn't love him the way he was meant to.

"Hotch. You're safe. Breathe with me," he says.

Hotch does.

When the panic passes, the heat rises to his cheeks, and he silently pleads with Derek to not say a word. He realises now that the other voice was Dave. Dave, who has left the room. He feels like he's failed another father.

The door and blinds are closed. He's lost all sense of time, but he feels grounded, so it isn't too concerning.

"Thank you," he whispers. For everything, goes unsaid.

"You don't need to do that," Derek replies. Because it's not difficult. Not when it's you, are the words unspoken but still communicated.

Aaron manages a weak smile. It will be a silent understanding between them, just like so many other things.

"Would you like a moment?" Derek asks him.

Hotch doesn't trust his voice, so he just nods. Derek leaves him.

Only once he stops hearing the footsteps does he break.

He doesn't scream, even though he wants to. It has been thirty years. His body stopped knowing the touch of that man long ago, and yet every waking moment feels like it is ruled by him. He hates it, but Michael- for better or for worse- made him the man he is today, and there is no way to shake that.

Realistically, he knows that he is responsible for his actions, and that he was only influenced by his father up to a certain point, but when the tears are falling and dampening his trousers- not his shirt, they'll be too obvious- rationale is hard to cling to.

He walks down ten minutes later.

The team has been guarding his doughnut. Of course they have.

Hotch's eyes are red. Nobody comments. But everyone knows. Everyone understands now.

It is an uncomfortable silence, and it is uncomfortable to watch him try and pretend he is perfectly fine, but at least he got his treat, even though it tastes like dust in his mouth.

They get it now. Why he is always so adamant about being called Hotch. Why he hates the use of his first name. Why he so violently objected to the tradition of giving Jack his name as a middle name. Because he doesn't want his son to never be free of him.

Jack will one day give his children their grandfather's name, citing him as the greatest man he's ever known.

Again, that is the future.

In the present moment, Spencer calls him Hotch without a second thought. Dave stops calling him Aaron when he wants to get a point across, realising it only works due to fear. Emily continues to make slight alterations to the nickname that either get her an eye roll or look of horror. JJ and Penelope make sure any notes written to him use Hotch.

Derek doesn't change a thing, because their bond has always been different.

Jack comes home in trainers, understanding how much his father loves him.

It makes Hotch understand that his wishes are valid. His needs matter. His comfort is important to people.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the personalities attached to Hotchner, Hotch and Aaron merge into one.

And then Hotch introduces himself as Aaron.

The road to hell may be paved with good intentions, but intentions and actions are very different things that can completely alter the destination someone finds themselves at. And a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, so whether he is Hotch or Aaron, he is a good man, who found a way to defeat their father.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #sad aaron hotchner #tw intrusive thoughts #tw past child abuse #tw trauma #tw trauma response #tw food mention #tw blood mention #tw death mention #tw religion #tw religious trauma #tw religious themes

[otp-holic]

I read and thought and wrote about you (1.3K)

(AO3) Bucky is sure Steve, his mission, is telling the truth the moment he throws himself into the water after him and from that moment on he remembers everything. Everything.

For @stuckybingo Round three: SB045 N2- Soldier Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluffy Ending, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), there are no more movies after those so I ignore them,Bucky Barnes Feels, Nothing New Under The Sun Notes: An anon sent me an ask that just said "angst" and three hours later, this is here. I don't even know! it is rushed and nothing new under the sun, just some headcanons stitched into some kind of a ficlet… it’s been therapeutic to take the step to write and post it even if it’s nothing new, even if it’s rushed, just because I enjoyed sitting there smashing the keyboard. So thank you anon for that, too!. Sorry for the mistakes and for the angst, remember i posted utter flufinness yesterday?

Bucky is sure Steve, his mission, is telling the truth the moment he throws himself into the water after him, and from that moment on he remembers everything. Everything. Good, bad, and all the scale of greys in between.

(He remembers the feverish cold in the mountains when he fell. He remembers Steve kissing him for the first time in a dark alley on their way back from seeing “It happened one night”. He remembers knives and blood and dying bodies under his hands. He remembers his mother’s loving fingers over his scraped knees.)

He doesn’t sleep for two nights after the river.

On the third day, he ventures into the Smithsonian to make sure his mind is not playing tricks on him and hoping against hope it’s all some weird mirage. That he is not Bucky Barnes, that he is not the Winter Soldier. That he is just a random man with a concussion who has somebody desperately looking for him (“Steve is looking for you, he will be looking for you until the end of the line. You know because you’ll do the same”, a voice he tries to silence insists on screaming inside his head.)

And he is sure he’s not that random man as soon as he lays an eye on the first picture of the exhibition, the same way he knows most of the printed texts have mistakes (“He,… I , was born in 1917,” he thinks. “Steve was the one from ‘18. And I would have never enlisted to go to that fucking war. They made me.”)

He glares at himself in pictures and the confirmation hurts. But it hurts even more to see Steve as he remembers him from before (from the schoolyard, the hood fights, the movie nights, the hidden kisses, the slow dancing inside their home, the cold winters they fought by sharing their body heat), and from after (from a cold cell in Austria, a desperate fuck in the forest, a laughing fit in the middle of a mission, a disappearing face as he fell backwards). It hurts more because he feels the pull of his muscle memory aching to go find him.

Every part of Bucky wants to go to Steve and tell him that he is back and that he remembers; to ask for his help to figure out what to do with the memories.

He doesn’t.

The nightmares, the fear of losing his will, of hurting more people (haven’t you done that enough?), the guilt,.. It all weighs too much. He waits until he is sure Steve is out of the hospital (he watches from the other side of the street), and he disappears with the only company of an empty backpack where he carefully places the Smithsonian’s brochure that has Captain America’s (Steve’s) face on it.

He hops countries for a year and he doesn’t exchange a single word with anybody for six months. His backpack gets heavier and heavier with little notebooks where he vomits all the words that he won’t say out loud, unconsciously leaving random little spaces where he feels like a drawing or sketch would complete the page. They are good memories, those little flashes between nightmares where he can see the man he was and not the ruthless asset they forced him to be.

Fourteen months after he left DC, he finds himself in Bucharest. Fourteen months and too many cargo planes and trains and cars. He is tired (never sleeps too much, because that’s where the horrible dreams find him) and the backpack keeps getting heavier and heavier.

He doesn’t plan to stay, but somehow he does: He gets a job as a night guard where he only sees the other outcasts who work previous and next shift from him, and he rents an apartment that he pays through three other guys.

The few people who talk to him call him Stefan. He was Esteban in Mexico, Istefanos in Turkey and Stefano for two days in Italy. It wasn't deliberate the first time, but he found comfort in being called by his name, in hearing it out loud, and in being allowed to play with the name on his lips from time to time.

He uses his extensive training (as a soldier and as someone he won’t think about) to always keep an eye on the news, on any clues (for Hydra, of course, but also for Steve. He knows Steve has to be looking for him, he’s not fooling himself) but there are none, radio silence. That steady silence is the reason why his notebooks move from the backpack to the apartment, why he starts exchanging a few words with the shopkeepers when he buys his food, why he goes to a shop where they sell books by the weight and why he starts reading again.

He loses himself in fiction, and the flashing moments of peace he gets from it take him by surprise and become another link to the Bucky he once was.

It’s been two years and fifty eight days since he took Steve out of the water and himself out of Hydra’s hands when he sees Steve again: his back to him and one of his notebooks between his hands. He takes a few seconds that he probably doesn’t have just to look at Steve standing there.

He’s dressed like a soldier (a Captain), but when he turns around at the feeling of Bucky’s presence, he looks just like Steve. Neither of them are breathing as much as they need, too overwhelmed with feelings, but working hard on keeping their minds fresh for drawing a strategy.

It’s been more than seventy one years since Bucky last said “Steve” to the right person and with the right intent when he lets it out into the world again, and when he does it feels so raw that he has to remind himself of why he is hiding (not safe for Steve, he is not worth risking it all, guilt) in order to back out a little, trying to gain some emotional distance hoping he can fool Steve.

(“I read about you in a museum.”)

Of course he doesn’t fool him, how could he?

The men start coming in through the windows, and he lets his instincts guide his movements until he’s jumping off the building and trying to run free.

He doesn’t stop to think how he synced his moments with Steve’s in half a second and without talking. He doesn’t stop to think how electric everything felt when he touched Steve’s shoulder.

And he doesn’t stop to think about how his ears keep buzzing minutes after Steve called him “Buck”, how he had made it sound so intimate that a lazy October afternoon in Brooklyn from a lifetime ago appeared before his eyes (entangled legs, young hearts, careless laughs, moaned “Buck ”.)

He tries to run from it all (protect, protect, protect ) but they catch them.

——

It’s seventy three years since he fell, four years since he took Steve out of the Potomac, a year since he went out of cryo and six hours since his mind was fully his again when Steve (bearded, sweaty, sex-haired, naked, and plastered to his side inside their warm hut in Wakanda) breaks their momentary silence.

“I have a present for you, Buck,” he says, extending his arm over Bucky while trying to reach something.

“I don’t think I have energy for another present right now.”

Bucky’s joke is way too evident but it makes them chuckle. Steve kisses him on the lips as an answer and leaves a heavy tote bag over Bucky’s naked stomach.

“Nat collected some favours and we located most of your notebooks in a vault a few months ago; she recently retrieved them and sent them here. I figured that since you finally own your mind now, it was time for you to own your memories, too.”

He’s told Steve about the notebooks a thousand times since he woke up, about how writing down the happy moments that popped into his brain helped him find himself beyond the horrors. About how he stayed awake writing them to keep the nightmares at bay.

Bucky takes Steve’s hand with his right one and places them (joined) over his heart, then he opens one of the little books with his new vibranium one and smiles.

“They are yours, too,” he says before he starts reading out loud.

#stucky #fanfic #fanfiction forever #fanfiction #angst with a happy ending #bucky barnes #steve rogers #post the winter soldier #post civil war #painfully created by me #fic by yours truly #captain america #stuckybingo2021 #long post

[pseudofaux]

Hi Pseu! Your goodbye-sling post makes me sad, but onto bigger things for you! I'd love to read some smut with Ieyasu (Ikesen) please, but please no negative scenario! E.g. being anxious is fine, but no hate fucking or using each other etc.. Other than that, whatever you want to write! Sorry for being anon, but smut kinda makes me shy...

I wrote this in my notes document, but I’ll say it again here: thank you for being so clear about the mood you were looking for! IkeSen Ieyasu makes me feel so COZY, this will be fun. Thank you for your kind words, and no worry about using anon— that’s why I always have it on when requests are open! It can be hard for me to feel like I’m getting Ieyasu right, but I tried here to keep some of his shy prickliness while showing how much he cares for and values her. And definitely tried to keep the mood gentle and loving between them. I hope you see and enjoy this! 💛🧡

(Requests are closed, readers, but there are a lot to be filled in May and likely June, too! Feel free to follow along or just check in and enjoy as many as you like. A masterlist will go up when they are all completed.)

“It wasn’t a bad idea,” she insists.

Ieyasu gives her a look. They are both soaked, and even though he gave her his coat, she looks like she jumped in every lake in the province on the way back to his manor, instead of only kicking up splashes as they ran.

“It w-wasn’t,” she says again, giving him a look right back. Her teeth chatter more than she does, for once.

“Just put on something dry,” he tells her, nodding his head toward the chest where his sleeping robes are kept. “Before you get sick and blame me for it.”

“I wouldn’t,” she pouts, but she goes. “It was my idea,” she mutters as she unties and untucks her obi.

“You can hang your things to dry,” he says, turning his back on her changing. “Use the stand.” He takes his own kimono down to free the polished kiri wood for her, and focuses on folding it, then on poking at the coals in the brazier some thoughtful servant started for them. All this, and he keeps his back to her while she peels off her layers and the dull thud of drips falling onto the tatami of his room slow and then cease.

Quietly, she says “Thank you,” and tugs on the back of his own wet clothes. “Aren’t you going to put on something dry, too?”

He had honestly forgotten and the realization makes his face hot. “Obviously,” he says shortly. “Sit. Stay here, out of my way.”

She thanks him again. Ieyasu can hear her sigh when she puts her hands by the warmth, and he tucks the sound into his heart while he redresses. His skin is clammy from the rain and he knows it will make a mess of his hair. He’s still chilly, too, so she’s probably freezing, no wonder her teeth were chattering.

He feels the way her being in his room pulls him toward her, but he goes to another chest first and pulls out a haori. It’s light, but it will do. She warms up quickly enough.

He settles it over her shoulders and the smile she gives him is so sweet he looks away because he can’t stand it. Then he feels a physical pull toward her— her hand this time, gently tugging him down. He goes with a huff, but he goes.

“Share it with me,” she says, holding the haori off her shoulder. “You look cold, too.”

“And how did that happen,” he mutters, but he scoots closer, takes the haori and drapes it over himself, and says nothing about how much he enjoys the give of her thigh next to his. “Next time we wait.”

“Next time we wait,” she agrees. And then they are quiet for while, warming up in the safety of a (mostly) dry room and the nearness of each other.

Her hand slips into his. She’s warmer now but he’s not convinced she’s better yet. The coals have worked their magic on him, though. He’s fine.

Perhaps it’s exhaustion (from that senseless run through the rain) talking, but he thinks the best thing to do right now is bring her closer.

“Come here,” he whispers.

She goes still the way she does when she’s trying to be subtle about deciphering his meaning. Sometimes he appreciates it and sometimes it even makes him smile, but now he just wants her to hurry up, he’s worried about her.

“Did your ears freeze?!” he asks, his own feeling very hot. “In my lap!”

She turns and puts a leg over him to snuggle close, and he is pretty sure she is grinning. His hands drift to her bottom—strictly to hold her in place— and find it makes a nice pillow for his hands to rest near the heat. Her arms go loosely around his neck, one hand up in his damp hair, the other scratching his shoulder.

“Comfortable?” He asks. She better be.

“Very,” she murmurs. “Thanks again for warming me up.”

Her position is warming him up, and she probably has no idea. She’s always warm between her legs and now the inside of each of her thighs are sleepy-comfortable against him. And he knows she’s right there. This could just be snuggling, he’ll indulge her (and, possibly, himself), but she is right there.

Kindly, because apparently she knows no other way to be, she asks “Are you cold? You’re shivering?”

Her breath on his neck makes him jerk his shoulder up like it will protect him. Like it will do anything about the fact that she is right there.

“Why would I be cold?” he asks pointedly. “You’re right here.”

She makes a thoughtful little hum and sits herself more fully onto his lap. The hum changes to recognition and he thinks, for just a moment, of slipping out from under her and going to some other room, any other room, than tolerate her teasing about having found him out.

“Ieyasu,” she says softly. Into his ear this time, not onto the vulnerable skin of his neck. Her whisper makes him a different kind of vulnerable, one that isn’t so afraid. His hands tighten on the curve of her, just aside from where she has pressed their bodies together. “Are you... too hot?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” he shoots back, always emboldened by the way she doesn’t tease meanly. He likes the way she stokes up heat between the two of them when they are alone. This feels safe and good. And she is right there. He can feel her weight against his hardness, experimental and tempting. “Either way, are you going to take responsibility here for all the rain and the running and the freezing me half to death?”

She giggles and he feels very warm in his chest and belly. Ieyasu knows she can probably feel his smile against her cheek but he’ll have to live with that.

“I didn’t make the rain,” she points out. “But I did make you run, which made you cold. I can take responsibility for that.”

“Hurry up, then,” Ieyasu challenges. He dares to squeeze his hands and her startled sound makes him feel tall for some stupid reason.

She does not hurry. She never does as he tells her.

They kiss each other so long his lips feel like a separate part of his body, but they are as unwilling to part from her as the rest of him. Both her hands are in his hair now, and sometimes her fingertips drag down along his scalp and make him groan into her mouth. It’s safe there in the dimness of the quiet, warming room, so he lets it happen. When they are alone he can be this free.

His hands keep full with her, moving with her, and eventually he begins to pull her closer each time her hips move back. They’ve done this before; a comfortable game that lovers play, back and forth. Back and forth. She is still right there, warmer against him now, and sometimes moaning needy sounds right into his ear at precisely the volume that makes him want to throw caution to the wind and try to flip her onto her back on the floor so he can cover her body with his own.

But he stays. He does not hurry much, either.

He does mutter “Hurry up, then,” when one of her hands trails down to his neck, then his chest. Her laughter is so warm he buries his face in the curve of her neck and tries not to let his damnable blush go to his ears. He has the bright idea to kiss her skin and when her hand stills near his belly and trembles because of it, he bites her gently and says “Responsibility,” and then relishes the way her legs tighten on either side of his own.

Her hand goes between them then, and slips untremblingly into the part of his robe. Ieyasu thinks he can hear the way he slaps into her palm, he can definitely feel it, desperate and wanting, but she leaves him no time to be mortified because her fingers curling around him obliterate everything but the sensation of touch. She is all warmed up now, soft and comforting. When she strokes him for the first time, her hand feels as giving around him as she does in his hands.

He hates himself for it, but he groans. He squeezes her again, harder this time, and then walks one of his hands down her backside and under her leg. All her shifting (and, he would possibly admit if pressed, all his grabbing) has lifted the robe she wears-- his robe, on her body-- so high on her lips her legs are naked around him. It is easy to find what he wants, and easy to tease her.

“Thought you dried off,” he huffs. It does not sound half so seductive as he meant it to, but her gasp is gratifying.

“Still a little cold,” she whispers, and she grips his hair with one hand just as she strokes him again with the other. “Could you help me with that, Ieyasu?”

“Needy,” he murmurs. He’s not trying to talk about himself, but she does some turn with her palm and he only just manages not to yelp.

They touch each other more slowly than usual, really in no hurry now that their hands are involved. He’s wished before to have a whole day and night just to touch her and this may be the closest he ever gets. It’s not so bad.

When she moans his name as he strokes gently with his middle finger, that’s not bad at all. He gives her a break and uses the time she spends recovering to move his arm around the front of her so it’s easier to touch her. He uses his thumb for the second touch, more sure of his movement, and traces her wetness with the soft sort of contact that makes her shake. He presses a kiss to her jaw and murmurs “Where’s your mouth, woman,” just in time for her to find him and whine onto his lips.

They make a sort of fire between themselves, the kind of heat you need to get through winter storms, not summer ones. But he does not mind. He likes the way she clings and touches and breathes out sounds, honest about her pleasure. He likes that more than he can say even if he were better about saying things.

She leaves him to put her hand on his wrist, and she pulls him away. He’s about to give her a piece of his mind about it when she says “Please,” and then he’s all mixed up and undone for her by the pleading. He knows she knows it. “That’s not fair,” he grumbles, but he allows her to lead his hand behind him, and allows her to press his chest so he leans back and lets the hand take his weight.

“Don’t you dare ask me to move the other one,” he says, squeezing her for what must be the tenth time. She shakes her head, smiling, and takes him in hand again. This time she holds him still as she adjusts the angle of her hips and rubs herself against him, slippery and unrestrained, guided gently by his hand still cupped behind her.

Her slide down onto him takes the breath out of them both, and he wonders how his heart can pump so fast when there is no air in his chest to cushion the movement. A muscle in her leg jumps against him and he makes his hand on the floor a fist to keep himself from grabbing her.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly. She nods and squeezes the handful of hair she has, low on the back of his head. It’s a pleasurable tug, just the way he likes it. Not too hard. Only there, with him, knowing him. He doesn’t know how to tell her how nice this is, how much he likes being with her and the way they understand each other like this.

He does know how to say “Kiss me,” so he says it. Her other arm goes back around his neck and his chin is briefly nudged up by her breasts-- that’s not so bad, either-- before she ducks down to whisper something sweet against his mouth and does as he says.

Sometimes she does as he tells her.

He rewards her by rocking his hips up to hers. His reward is her stuttered gasp and the way her arms tighten around him. They do not rush themselves, not even now... slowly coming together with the sound of rain so far away is heaven on earth, and it is as pleasantly warm as heaven must be, Ieyasu thinks.

There is no need to slam up into her or hold her so tightly she cannot move against him, because he wants her to move against him, and he wants her to be free to move as she likes. Even her little fidgets are accompanied by sighs he wants to keep somewhere safe. Like the back of his mouth.

So they move together, in a way that builds gently, slowly, and beautifully. And every time he brings his body up to meet her, she is right there.

#ikesen fanfiction #ikemen sengoku fanfiction #ikesen fanfic #Ikesen Ieyasu #completely gaga for tokugawa #pseu slings

[echo-three-one]

Good Day!

As I told earlier, I finished my Soap x Reader Fic and yeah here it is.

I suck at titles and that shows.

Midnight Coffee Rush

John MacTavish x Female Reader

Warnings : Smut. Read at your own Risk or whatever.

Cross-posting to AO3 later 😳

THUD!

You softly slam your head on the desk as you stare blankly at the blinking cursor on your laptop. An article is due next week and you haven't really started on anything yet. Your editor keeps on calling you earlier today on how she can't work on last minute submissions. You assured her that yours won't need that much editing and she trusts you with that, but still, a deadlines a deadline.

Scanning your empty apartment room for ideas, you decide it's best if you take this ordeal outside and look for open places to work on. Coincidentally, the local café "John's brew" happens to open for 24 hours starting today. You feel uneasy at the name of the shop but that won't stop you from your goals today.

After a chilly midnight walk across the streets of your city, you finally make it to the shop, it looks like it can compete with the local Starbucks as its outer layout gives off the same vibe.

You push open the glass doors and the bell chimes from above you, this made the barista at the counter turn his head and greet you with a friendly smile. "Welcome to John's Brew!"

You stand just across the counter as you look up to view what the store has to offer while the barista waits patiently for your order. You order some fancy named coffee, wanting to try out why it has a star next to it's name as the barista, who now you know goes by the name "Gary" based on his name tag, explains that it's their best selling and unique blend coffee. He then passionately tells you how the coffee you chose is created by the owner of the shop and judging by the tone of his voice, he's excited for you to try it for the first time.

"Thanks Gary, here's my card." you reach out for your card and he cheerfully accepts it.

"What name should this go by, Ms. L/N?" he asks readying his marker.

"Just Y/N." you say. Gary raises his eyebrows in confusion.

"Sorry, I'm sure I heard that name somewhere." he dismisses his thoughts and writes your name on the cup.

"We'll you're a barista, I'm sure you've heard a lot of names in your line of work." you jokingly reply. It made him laugh as he gives your card back and you make your way to the corner of the room.

The music is soothing and the ambience is more than enough to keep you going, you pull out your laptop as you start typing ideas for your article.

Gary took the liberty of delivering you your drink saying "You looked very focused" and "There isn't that much customers anyway" and you smiled at the service he's done. He stays for a while insisting that he wants to witness your initial reaction as soon as you taste the coffee. So you slowly blow off the heat and took your first sip.

Your eyebrows raised and your cheeks blushed as the warm beverage tickles your tastebuds a wave of nostalgia brings shivers down your spine.

***

"So, what do you think of this?" A shirtless man with a signature mohawk and scar on his left eye approaches you just as you get up of bed. You remember smiling at the view, his deep blue eyes pierce through yours as he excitedly offers a cup of coffee he claims to mix himself.

"Mmm! This tastes, well... something even I can't describe! It's good? delicious? heavenly maybe?" You giggle as he inches closer to you crawling up the bed and reaching on your face for a kiss, blindly reaching for the cup and putting in on the bedside table.

"Not even the words from your thesaurus can't describe?" He whispers as he pulls the kiss away, eyebrows wiggling. Your heart melts at the sight of him.

"I'll tell you the perfect word when I find it." You giggle as you reach for his face and pull him to yours, as he softly crashes his body on you, rolling around the bed.

***

"Maam?" Gary taps your shoulder and you immediately flinch and turn to him.

"I'm sorry." you laugh nervously.

"It felt like you had a good time going on with that drink. We're having a contest as to which word best describes it. If you want to submit your word, I'll leave this pen and sticky note on your table." he cheerfully explains as the door chimes, making him rush back to his counter.

Shit. You thought to yourself. Of course it had to taste the same, even the name of the shop checks out. Your heart starts to thump louder and louder as you put the pieces together, you convince yourself it's just the coffee, but then again the evidences never lie. John's Brew, that exact taste, no word yet to describe it.

You flinched as you turn to the heavy door slam to your left, just by the counter. A man, walks out of it wearing a very fit long sleeve tucked into business pants, you assume it's the manager. Then again, you see him scratching his head, which happens to have a rather unique haircut. A mohawk. Holy Shit.

***

'Congratulations Ms. Y/N L/N! You have been accepted on the writer program. Please report tomorrow for your orientation.'

The text read just as you wake up. Your face lit up in excitement as you squealed like a kid. Your life would change for the better.

A very wet John MacTavish popped out of the bathroom, his face was full of worry as he quickly wrapped himself with a towel.

"What's wrong?! Something out to get ya?" He asked, a bar of soap on is arms ready to throw to the intruder.

"I just got accepted!" you squealed excitedly at him, hugged him thight not minding how wet he was. He slowly wrapped his arms around you and you felt that you're the only one excited about this news.

"Congrats. But what about your life here? What about me?" he muttered, his facial expressions dropped.

"I'm sure we'll work it out? It isn't that far, right?"

"I'm sure we'll work it out"

"Not now John, I have articles due."

"I'm too exhausted for today, John"

"I'm sorry. I fell asleep."

***

The loud growl of your stomach shocked you back to reality. Come to think of it, it's already 2 in the morning and you're almost through with your article. A muffin won't be that much of a distraction. You turn to the counter and see John catering to a lady on a bright red dress. She probably came from a club and now trying to sober up with a coffee. You pretend to type on your keyboard but secretly view the event from the corner of your eye. They are laughing and he escorted her as she is walking tipsily to the sofa. They exchange some words you barely make out and can't help but feel rage bubbling inside you. But then again, you don't have the slightest audacity to do so. You slowly ignored him while focusing on your job. You left his messages on read and calls on voicemail. You feel guilt rushing through you. Out of impulsive emotions, you quickly decide to finish the article home as you grab your laptop and coffee and rush to the exit.

"Ma'am! You left your sticky note." John's voice echoes across the shop. This made the few notable customers look at the both of us in curiosity.

You slowly turn back to him leaning on the counter, his elbows resting on the counter looking at you, he knows what he's up to. You remember telling him to stop flexing his biceps in front of you in public. It's kind of an inside joke for the two of you and he seems to remember it all too well.

"Your word. For the contest." he points out to the bulletin board of sticky notes on the other side of the hall.

"I... can't think of anything yet..." you stammer as you exit the door, walking as fast as you can away from him.

"Y/N, wait!" he quickly grabs your arm. You almost expect that he'd do this even after all those times.

"John I-" you quicky turn to him, hot tears start forming on your eyes as he pulls you close to his warm embrace.

"Yeah. You've been very busy... I know." He mutters as you sniffle on his chest, smelling his musk that never changed even after all these months.

"Congratulations on your most recent award, you know. Article of the month, and the month before that and that one time you wrote about the wildlife in Africa..." he trails off while rubbing your back as more tears fell from your eyes. He'd been watching your career grow, even after all this time. It somehow feels you don't deserve him. And you believe you really don't.

Pulling away, you looked at him with a smile.

"I'm sorry..." you croak.

"Why are you sorry, Y/N? You met someone else out there?" he asks. Then again, you both didn't really have a proper conclusion to your relationship. You initially felt like you were slowly drifting away from each other as your careers grew, but here he is, having the same sparkle in his eyes as when you last saw each other.

"No... but, it's been very long and I have been ignoring you... breaking my promi-" He suddenly pulls you close and kisses your lips, you deny him at first but you slowly grip his arms and let him have access to your mouth.

Longing is the only feeling you both feel right now as you slowly kiss back and respond to his mouth. His kiss gives you assurance that even after all this time he yearns for you to come back, his assurance that you did what you had to do to get where you are now even at the cost of completely shutting him out. But of course you weren't, you also long for him every single day, but life has to keep going, and you believed that he'd found someone else after all those times. But this moment made you feel wrong about him, and it's now your chance to get things right between the two of you.

"You know, I always assumed you're still my girlfriend." he smirks. He is true though, there was neither a formal nor informal break up effort on both sides, just indifference due to many reasons.

"Well, I assumed you looked for someone else... and I'm to shy to ask how things have been..." you croak, trying not to cry again. You realize your stupidity once more, but he wipes off your tear with his thumb and lifts your chin up to look at him.

"You still owe me a word, you know." he jokes as he walks you back to the cafe, arm wrapped around your shoulder. As soon as you both enter the door, Gary greets his boss while mopping the floor.

"You were right boss, she is pretty!" The barista smiles and gives John a thumbs up to which he replies,

"Guess I'll be back in my office doing paperwork, Gary. You take charge here okay?"

"Yes, Captain!" he jokingly salutes and continues his work.

"You done with that article?" he asks, a tone of concern in his voice.

"Almost.." you reply shyly. You still can't digest everything that happened so far, but your heart keeps on thumping and your mind's been trying to scream something to you.

"You know, I could use some company while I do some paperwork..." the trails off, the tone in his voice shifted into something you felt excited about. Something along those words mixed with that accent sends flutters across your insides.

"If you'd want me to..." you reply as he opens his office door letting you in. It was a small office a sofa just beside the door, two chairs infront of a large office desk filled with scattered papers, ledgers and journals. He quickly folds his laptop and puts it in his bag as you take off your coat, admiring the view. Plaques, certificates and awards plaster across the walls, along with pictures of his staff calendar schedules and some other things scribbled across the whiteboard. He offers his hand and you give him your coat, only to be pinned to the door.

"God, I missed you so fucking much." He breathes as you stare at his cold blue eyes blazing with desire, you know full well where this is going and you have no objections. You wished for this to happen as soon as your plane touched the city.

Unable to form any words, you quickly pucker your lips, signaling him to move closer and kiss you. Now that you're both alone, his kisses felt much more intimate, needier and his tongue explored every possible area he could. You hear the door lock itself and his hand slowly caresses your ass through the tight jeans you're wearing, pressing himself so you could feel the tension growing beneath his slacks. You slowly slide your hand through it and earned yourself a chuckle from him, as he moves his lips below your ear and around your neck, hearing each smack of his lip and sniff of his nose.

You let out a soft moan as you feel overwhelmed on what he does to your body, you couldn't focus on what's going on, your hands rubbing his hard crotch, his hands softly caressing your ass or his mouth doing wonders around your neck. He continues to do this until your pants and whines become erratic and fast and stops just at the right time for you to catch your breath.

You open your eyes to him, who seems to be enjoying your reunion, a sexy smirk across his face. You let out a smile whist still panting, and he seems to like what he sees, letting a soft chuckle.

"I remember that look on you. You're up to something.." He recalls as you push him to the sofa to his side, straddling on his crotch as you unbutton his long sleeves.

He grunts as soon as he plops on the sofa and groans as soon as you slowly wiggle your ass on top of him. You could clearly see the building frustration in his face as well as in his jeans.

You quickly undone seven buttons as he quickly tosses it somewhere and viewed his muscular physique as you sit on him. He became hairier and you find it very sexy, trailing your hand down his body, all while staring at him as seductive as you can. He smiles at the gesture as you slowly unbutton your shirt, never breaking eye contact, until he can't resist anymore and got up from the sofa. He lifts you down and you stand on the floor as he works your way to slide off your jeans. He quickly buried his face on your pussy as soon as he sees it and devours it like a hungry wolf. He never dissappoints as the feeling made you shudder, grabbing onto what's left of his hair in excitement. This goes on up until you softly pull his head out and move to unbuckle his belt, sliding his slacks all the way down as his cock springs free as soon as you take his boxers off.

You stare at him as you slowly jerk your hand around his cock, his eyes almost in a trance, as you teasingly kiss the tip, which was slowly oozing of precum. He grabs your hair and tucks it behind your ear as you slowly swallow his cock, giving him a blowjob that you've always imagined of giving him when you meet again. You're tongue slowly swirling around his length, feeling every vein and skin around it. You countinued mixing it up with your hand and mouth until he groans in anticipation and pulls you out of him.

He slowly gets up and shoves all his paperwork away from his desk and carries you to it, spreading your legs as he slowly pushes his tip on your opening.

You whimper at the first entrance, it felt different than usual, maybe because it's been quite a while since you to have done it, but that didn't stop the both of you from continuing. His eyes mesmerize you as he slowly picks up his rhythm, you can see his chest muscles bounce as he thrusts himself deep in you. He slowly rubs the upper area of your pussy as he thrusts, giving you a sensation that makes you wanna scream in pleasure. But given the circumstances, you only let out small gasps and whimpers. However, his grunts and moans are also getting louder, so you decide to let loose and follow his volume.

"Fuck." You whimper as he continues his fast pace as evidenced by the loud slapping noises. He quickly flips you to the desk and continues to fuck you from behind. Each thrust felt like the desk is inching closer to the wall, you didn't protest as you loved the sensation, how your walls clench as his warm cock slides in and out of you. You feel his motions change and you know full well what that means, you moan softly signaling him thay you're also almost there as he makes his final thrusts and shoots his warm load inside you, feeling the rush of his cum drip as he pulls his cock out.

He pulls you up and reaches for a kiss, a long yet intimate one as you both use the language of kiss to assure that you'll still be the same way no matter how distant it may be.

"See you after my shift?" he murmurs as he puts on his clothes, now all wrinkly and messy.

"Yes." you smile reaching for another kiss.

After preparing to go home, you quickly grab a pen and wrote the word you describe the drink, plaster it on the board and make your way out of the café.

#horRAYfic #codmw #Soap x Reader #john soap mactavish