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wonwoonlight · 10 months

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take a chance / jeon wonwoo

Wonwoo x Reader // 1.7k words // nothing but fluff lol they're idiots

a/n: if you cant tell im absolutely insane abt this wonwoo. 100000% self indulgent and 100% not proofread as always ehe <3 v lowkey inspired also by niki - take a chance with me

He drives me crazy, it's so beyond me

How he'd look at me dead in the eye and stay unaware

Niki - Take A Chance with Me

[☆]

Wonwoo has never really been interested in romance.

When he was six and his friends started talking about girls were icky, he couldn't have cared enough to even think about girls in particular.

When he was fourteen and his close cousin who was practically his big brother told him about his first girlfriend, Wonwoo had simply nodded and congratulated him because the older guy looked like he was waiting for it even though he didn't get what's there to congratulate.

When he was seventeen and another cousin got married, he thought a little about what it'd be like to commit yourself for the rest of your life to another person.

Anyhow, now he's twenty seven and still pretty much free from the dating experience.

He just simply couldn't be bothered to try nor was he even curious enough to try.

There's too much risk. Too much things to do. Too many factors to think about. It's too complicated and Wonwoo has never been a fan of complicated.

Sure, the older he gets the more he understands about the attraction and whatnot. But the few dates that he has been on (which he could count with his two hands) was entirely due to his friends setting up with someone and his inability to say no the second time even though he did reject their so-called-help the first time around.

They eventually get the hint and stop setting Wonwoo up on a blind date.

He never sees romance as a necessity and he doesn't feel the need to have a partner, what is there more to say?

“I lost the floor 12 Abyss again.” You pout, half tempted to throw away the joystick in your hands. “I'm never playing this game again, I'm telling you.”

Wonwoo chuckles and tells you to move as he slides next to you, taking the joystick away and getting ready to restart your game.

“You just suck at this.” He teases, not minding your glare because he's way too used to it at this point. “And you say that everytime but here you are, still playing.”

“Shut up.” You pout, both impressed and unimpressed at the way he easily goes through the stages.

“Done.” He grins, all nine shining stars looking back at you.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don't.”

“I do!” You take back the joystick from him and close the window. “You don't even play this game! This is bullshit!”

He laughs under his breath and ruffles your hair, saying something about how he can't help being good at it.

You like that side of Wonwoo, as you often tell him, because people have always said that Wonwoo is quiet–that he doesn't talk a lot and it could be awkward being left alone with him.

And whilst it's not entirely untrue and you've been there too, you also know that Wonwoo is much more than his lack of words.

Wonwoo talks a lot once he's comfortable. You just need to be very patient and understanding about his silence before he gets there.

You… have been plenty patient, amongst other things.

You're patient enough to get where you are even though you've never imagined you'd get here.

Here, meaning being close enough with Wonwoo for him to be comfortable with you that he doesn't mind inviting you over to his place with no other companies.

Here, meaning being close enough with Wonwoo for him to not mind the fact that you like him and not act weird about it.

Here, meaning being close with Wonwoo despite the fact that you've confessed to him about your feelings but you're still here in his place, right next to him with not a single air of awkwardness between you two.

Turning off the Playstation, you settle on Wonwoo's sofa and decide to scroll through Instagram instead. You sigh, catching his attention, and when he asks you what's wrong, you simply shake your head no.

“What are you sighing about this time?”

This is something that people don't know about Wonwoo either: he prods when it comes to people he cares about.

Granted, he does it exactly three times to see if the other party would relent by then. He does that because that's how he is, he once tells you, because he rarely opens up at the first question but eventually cracks on the third time. That, by the third question, he's already had enough time to consider whether or not he really wants to talk about it.

“Nothing important.” You try to reassure him. “Just silly stuff.”

Wonwoo looks at you pointedly, but you simply smile and turn back to your phone, which he supposes means you don't feel like bringing it up just yet.

He closes his book and puts it on the coffee table, leaning closer to you to see what you're up to.

You wonder if Wonwoo knows what his action means to your poor, poor heart. If he's aware that, as much you said you're cool despite your confession, you still have romantic attractions towards him and confessing doesn't mean you're no longer affected by anything and everything he does.

After watching you go through your phone for a bit, it is quite easy for Wonwoo to realize what might be the core of your problem.

“You're thinking about why you're single again, aren't you?”

Your fingers freeze and so does your entire body, and Wonwoo would've laughed at how surprised you look right now, but he knows you're actually bothered by this problem from time to time though he doesn't exactly understand why.

And for someone who's observative and quite sensitive when it comes to things around him, Wonwoo can be a bit dense, still.

On what kind of universe does he think this topic would be okay to talk about with someone who literally confessed to you and somewhat got rejected though not explicitly?

“I don't want to talk about it.” You whine despite the fast beating of your heart. You honestly don't think you have it in you to talk about this with Wonwoo. At least not just yet.

“Why?”

You look at him, incredulous. “You know why.”

“Because you like me?”

You shrug, not wanting to deny it.

“Can I ask you something?” He asks, voice very gentle and careful.

“What?”

“I'm sorry if this sounds insensitive.” You press your lips together as he starts. At least, he has the conscience to know that. “But… what is it about being in a relationship that appeals so much to you?”

You pause before you answer, wondering what to say. “Do you want me to actually answer that?”

“If you don't mind answering.”

Wonwoo wonders if he makes you uncomfortable by asking such question. But if there's anyone he can ask about this, it can only be you. No one else would answer it in a way that he would understand. No one else would give him the sincerity that you'd give in your answer.

He feels bad knowing you like him and still asking you like this. But he supposes you're both close enough for that discussion, that he doesn't want to let your feelings get in the way of your precious friendship.

Perhaps he's selfish, but he doesn't want to be too conscious when it comes to your relationship with him despite everything.

“I guess it's just the fact that someone's always there for you.” You start, not looking at him even though his gaze is locked at you. “That there's this person who… you can tell everything to, from your secrets to what you feel like eating today. That when you want to do something, you can always run to them first before wondering if anyone else is available. That–”

“But that's already how we are?” He cuts you off.

You stare at him wide-eyed, wondering if it's some kind of prank even though you know he's not that kind of person.

“That's already what I do with you.” He says one more time–more firm and somewhat determined with a hint of confusion. “Why do you think you're in my place so often?”

“I… I– I don't know? You're… bored? And I happen to be free?” You stutter a little, not used to the way he's staring at you.

“I am bored.” He agrees, things suddenly crystal clear in his eyes. “But I'm bored because I don't have you around. And I want you here. That's why I asked all the time if you're available.”

You open your lips to say something–anything, but nothing comes out because your heartbeat is ringing throughout your body right up to your ears.

“You're the only person I send those posts about places I want to visit because I want to visit with you. I don't send them to anyone else. I don't even like going out all that much.”

“I… I don't understand?”

“Are we in a relationship?” He asks rather bluntly, mixing all your feelings together with one single question.

“Wonwoo, I don't think this is how you should go around it–”

“Have we been dating all this time?” He asks one more time, not even seemingly nervous about it.

He looks at you like he's expecting an answer, but how are you supposed to answer that? You've simply been happy that you get to spend time with him. You didn't think for one second that he might be into you despite all the time he asks you to accompany him somewhere and all the time you're alone in his place.

“I've been too oblivious, haven't I?” He concludes by himself, your silence doesn't deter him at all.

He reaches for your cheek, and if he notices how warm your face is, he doesn't mention it. But he caresses the apple of your cheek as he looks at you with the gentlest reflection you've ever seen in his eyes.

“I'm sorry it took me too long.” He whispers, and you bite your lip so hard to hide your smile because you don't want to be too happy before anything's decided. You're not sure what he's trying to say, your head is spinning with thoughts and your heart is beating at an erratic rhythm. “Do you mind… letting me learn a bit more?”

“About what?” You whisper back.

“Being a good boyfriend?” He smiles when you do too, feeling warmth all over his chest at how shy you seem to be. “You know I've never done this before, right? Let me take a chance with you?

You finally let yourself grin at this, no longer able to control the happiness blooming within you at whatever this might mean.

And as you lean your face more into his palm, Wonwoo thinks he's ready to take all the risks that might come together with whatever the future has in store as long as he has you by his side.

#wonwoo fluff #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #khione.fics #seventeen au #seventeen scenario #seventeen imagines #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo oneshot #psa reminder that hes MINE

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devilfic · 10 months

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❝late-bloomer❞

plot: you've never been kissed before. on a completely unrelated note, what if your best friend offered to be your first? pairing: tasm!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: post-tasm 2, gwen stacy mention, angst, self-deprecating thoughts about being undesirable and insecurity in love, best friends to wouldn't you like to know, eventual fluff, attempts at andrew garfield accurate rambling, he definitely talks you through it I mean who said that. words: 4.3k.

a/n: entirely self-indulgent because I wrote this after crying over being a late-bloomer for an hour ahahaha

Peter is reading something for research when you suck in a breath and finally ask, "What was your first kiss like?"

You hear his voice die in his throat. The small whispering of test results and calculations fall short, but you don't dare to look back. You're hunched forward so he won't see the way your eyes burn and brim with tears unshed because if he did, he'd ask about it and then you'd really start crying. Instead, you busy yourself with your phone, idly scrolling as if your question was pure curiosity alone.

You watch his ankles uncross, hear him sit up and then lean against the headboard again, fumbling for your train of thought, "Uh... sticky, 'cause I was six," Peter laughs, "You should know. You're the one who kissed me."

No matter how many times he tells you this, you can't remember the day you'd been so bold as to plant one right on Peter Parker's lips. You felt like you'd remember that, but you'd been such an impulsive child back them. Bolder. Thicker-skinned.

But Peter remembers, and so does Aunt May who swears up and down that she'd caught it on camera ("If only I could find that damned photo album"). You're the only one who doesn't. It's like it never happened, "No, God... no. I mean like your first real kiss."

"Like with tongue?" You hear the humor in his voice and even your sullen mood doesn't stop you from smacking his knee. "I dunno what you're talking about. That kiss was real to me."

"I'm serious, Pete."

He hums. You're so, so tempted to look back and see what he's thinking, but it would give you away too easily. "It was... it was a kiss. I mean, Gwen- you know. You know. I was crazy about her. I didn't think I just... kissed her."

"How did it feel? Do you know?"

"I felt like I needed to do it. I felt like if I didn't, I'd throw up. Not actually, just... like I'd explode with all the feelings I had for her."

Your finger hovers over a tweet. In your wondering about that feeling of almost nearly exploding, you try to picture that rooftop kiss that Peter had relayed to you between classes, with hushed whispers and childish laughter. It was windy, and I was breathless, he'd said, and I wanted to lay myself bare. And I just... pulled her in. Shot a web and swept her up and kissed her. I think I've lost my mind. You remembered pressing your back against the school lockers to cool yourself as you imagined the scene, the steps it took for you to settle the uneasy churn in the pit of your chest. The euphoria and panic upon realizing that your Peter was growing up.

You felt overwhelmed just imagining it. You barely hear Peter ask why you want to know. "No reason. Was just curious."

You think that Peter accepts that as good enough reason because the room is silent again. You keep scrolling, keep taking subtle deep breaths to keep the tears at bay. You see a picture of a couple on your timeline and scroll faster.

A few minutes of peace pass before Peter broaches the subject again, "What about you?"

"Hm?"

"I don't think you've ever told me about your first kiss."

Your shoulders tense. No good effort hides the strain in your voice, "I haven't?"

A beat passes. You glance over your shoulder and see Peter staring right at you, his lips upturned in a small, resting smile, but his eyes are inquiring. He's trying to read you. Perhaps he's just noticed the heavy cloud hanging overhead. "Nope." He pops the "P". He's waiting.

You could lie. You could say it was Flash Thompson who stole it, mention that field trip to the zoo in middle school when he'd sneaked next to you at the peacock exhibit and pestered you about you and Peter. Peter wouldn't question Flash about it. Even if they'd made amends, any conversation about him would send him over the edge with memories of his childhood bully and how much he pitied you for having your first kiss with him. And all of you were far too old now; Flash Thompson had gone to another state to play football the minute he got his diploma. It'd be so inconsequential, such an easy lie.

But the longer it takes you to deliberate on it, the worse it makes you look. You should've offered up an answer easily, jovially, unbothered. It should be inconsequential. Anything more and Peter would call your bluff because he knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes.

At some point, you feel the brush of a lone finger at the base of your spine and it startles you. Peter's slipped his finger under your shirt, stroking along the middle of your back, "I won't laugh. If that's what you're thinking." He says softly.

Of course Peter wouldn't laugh at you. As much as your relationship was teasing, he knew where you were tender.

But it wasn't laughing you worried about.

"I know." You say, in lieu of a real answer. You fear you've given yourself away.

Now there are two fingers stroking your skin, "You don't... you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to," but you can hear the discomfort in his voice when he says it, like the thought that it's something you don't want to tell him concerns him, "it's up to you."

Just lie. Your breath shudders and immediately you regret it. There's no way he hadn't heard that.

Before you can recover, you're feeling the heat of his entire hand on your back now as it slips further up, as he sits up in bed beside you and rests his chin on your shoulder. The closeness of his breath makes you feel claustrophobic all of a sudden, "Hey, hey. I'm sorry. Did I push? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

You struggle to shake your head, but now your eyes are burning again and you don't think you can stop the tears this time, "You didn't." You insist.

"You're crying, bub," he laughs (not mockingly, never mockingly, never when you cry) and reaches a thumb up to brush away the first warm tear, "what's wrong?"

There's a million things you could say. I've never been kissed before, I don't know what it feels like to be longed for like that, I want to be longed for like that, why haven't I been longed for like that? But it all feels so heavy. Peter picks his chin up to kiss your shoulder and that really does it, "It never happened."

Peter's lips still against your skin. Their warmth slowly peels away, though you feel his breath ghost over the curve of your bone, "What hasn't?"

"A kiss. A first kiss, Peter. I've never had one."

"That's..." Peter sounds almost shocked, disbelieving. He never picks up that thought.

You turn your head away and toss your phone onto the bed, no longer interested in pretending you could distract yourself with anything else. You try to shrug your shoulder out from underneath Peter's mouth but he's quick, the hand at your back locking around you and you can't escape him even though you want to, even though you need to get away from his sweet smile and lovely heartbeat that thuds a little faster against your side.

It was already so much to tell him you hadn't had your first kiss yet, to admit to your best friend who—despite popular Midtown High opinion—has always been so irresistible to lovers, that you haven't gone as far as something so... simple. Something teenagers running your old stomping grounds have probably experienced ten times over by now. You don't think you can handle his pity too, "Peter, please."

"There's nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. Everyone moves at their own pace."

You hiss through your teeth. You don't mean to, but the spite overwhelms you like red hot heat for a minute, "It's easy to say that when you've done it already."

You catch Peter's eye and immediately regret it. His untamed brows are drawn together, expression more analyzing than pitying. Even though you're brimming with feelings, he seems as if he's trying to wade through them, search for the gnarled root at the center of it all.

Then, and he says this so carefully that the meaning takes a moment to catch up with you, "There's nothing wrong with you."

It's the sincerity that does it. You shove his hand off of you, jerk away from him in a scramble to stand, but Peter is fast and lithe and he's always been two steps ahead of you even before the bite. He's up on his feet before even you are, coming to stand in your way when you go to grab for your bag, "Peter, move."

"Look, can we... can we talk about this?"

"I really don't want to. Move."

"Why are you shutting me out?"

"Because I want to go home. Move."

"Is it because of what I said?"

"Yes!" You blurt, growing frustrated the longer he blocks your path, "yes. Because I'm sick of being told there's nothing wrong with me when clearly..." Your voice tapers off, afraid to give him the reason he needs to worry about you, "Please. I'm just tired. It'll go away on its own, it always does, I just can't be here right now."

The standoff between you two lingers, feels like you might have to fight him just to escape. It takes everything in you just to keep eye contact with him and not burst into tears.

Peter clearly doesn't want to let you go. You can see that genius brain of his running every possible scenario in his mind in which he convinces you to stay, cry it out, leave happier than you came. None of them come soon enough. You brush past him when he realizes he's got nothing, and even the hand that grabs for you is halfhearted, shrugged off with little force.

"I'll see you later, Pete."

You let his front door shut on its own.

It hasn't been great.

What typically took a few hours to shake off had settled over you like a dark cloud ever since you'd stormed out of Peter's place. Even though you texted him like everything was fine (and dodged any phone calls so he wouldn't hear the truth with those freakishly good best friend senses of his), you had yet to see him again. Had yet to let yourself be seen.

You told yourself that it was just you missing Peter, and you believed that to be true, but you also believed that when he looked you in the eye and told you "there's nothing wrong with you", you hadn't been prepared for the nakedness of it all. He'd dug deep, right to the source. That kind of thing was hard to move past.

So you avoided him. If he came by your place, you pretended you weren't home. If he showed up at your work to take you to coffee, you lied and told him you had plans with a coworker. It had been several days now and you felt more and more cowardly by the minute.

It was Peter. Of all people, it was Peter. Your best friend. You could tell him anything (most things, some kept a little closer to the heart). You should be able to.

And it was silly. Being embarrassed about not kissing anyone. Plenty of people were in the same boat as you and they didn't ice their best friend out about it.

Ugh, now you were just making yourself feel worse.

You'd had enough. You'd end this pity party today. As you make your way through your apartment door, you promise yourself that after you've showered, after you've made yourself a filling dinner, after you've settled into bed, you'd call Peter and ask him to meet for pizza this weekend. You'd talk like civil adults who understand that life isn't a race. You'd share your couch, laugh about the whole thing, and maybe, just maybe, the hollowness in your chest that longed for someone's desire to fill it would finally-

He's sitting in your kitchen.

Legs dangling off the island, mask rolled up to his nose, and a spoon clattering out of his mouth and into a bowl of ice cream. Your front door shuts gently behind you.

You stare at each other for a few seconds. Then you glance through your bedroom door, cracked open just enough for you to see the breeze rustling your curtains. You turn back to Peter, who's cleaning off his bottom lip of raspberry sorbet. "Did you climb through the window? You have a key."

Peter sets the bowl down beside him, shrugs, "You weren't returning my calls."

Your shoulders sag and you drop your things to the floor, "Peter-"

"No, no," you watch him slide off the countertop and bounce over to you, and the nearness you aren't prepared for makes you back away an inch or two, "No Peter. I'm not Peter. I'm Spider-Man. See?" He gestures to the suit.

You reach your hand up and pinch his exposed cheek, then narrowly avoid his teeth before he tries to nip you, "I'm not in the mood. I said I'd call you later, I'm just... busy."

"Busy avoiding your best friend."

You can feel him trail after you as you walk away, beginning to undress. He catches your coat when you throw it toward the couch and hangs it up all neat on a hook. He kicks your shoes to a wall and tugs your belt from your fingertips once you've undone it. Then, unexpectedly, he hooks said belt around your waist and yanks you back to face him.

The momentum throws you fully into his chest but he's sturdy, unmoving as you grip his shoulders and give him the most hostile look you can muster. You attempt to wiggle out of the trap but he pulls the belt tighter, forcing you closer, and then you start to panic as the space between you both disappears, "I haven't been avoiding you, I just needed space." You quickly explain.

"And I get that," he admits, "but you scared me. I've never seen you like that before. Not with me. Not ever."

Of course he hadn't. It was why you kept all of this a secret in the first place. Because you knew he'd worry, and you knew that there would be nothing he could do to fix it. Not like he usually could.

"It was a... brief lapse in self-esteem. That's all. You're making it into a bigger deal than it should be."

"It's not a big deal?"

"No! That's what I keep trying to tell you."

"So it doesn't matter at all."

"Correct."

"Right."

"It's just an arbitrary milestone that means nothing." You grip the leather of your belt but you're nothing against his superhuman strength. Pleading with your eyes, you do your best not to slip back into that vulnerable place all over again. Peter made you feel safe to do that. Way too safe to do that. "I promise. I'm not avoiding you."

You get sick of staring into the whites of his mask and so you grab the edge of it and pull it up to his hairline, little tufts of curls poking out as his face is fully revealed to you. You stare into those sharp, probing eyes of his, forcing yourself to stand the test of Peter Parker's perception.

Suddenly, you're released.

You stumble back a bit, the belt clanking against the floor, as Peter throws his arms up in defeat, "Alright, alright. I get it. I should've let you breathe the other night. I was just worried, is all."

You smile, "And I appreciate that."

Peter quickly glances at you and then away, making an exaggerated show of kicking imaginary dust off the floor. "First kisses really mean nothing then, huh?"

"Zilch. Nada."

"So... doesn't matter when it is, who it is..."

You watch him carefully, "If this is about when we were six-"

"No, no, I know that didn't count. You don't even remember it," his face contorts in a wince, "I was just thinking. Something."

Your eyes narrow, "Uh-huh."

"Well, I mean, is that why? Because you don't remember it? Or... is it because it was me?"

"The kiss?" Peter blows a raspberry, looking more bashful by the second, and nods without looking at you. "It's... it's because we were six. And we didn't know what we were doing. I was just mimicking what we saw. We didn't know anything."

"And now we do."

"Yeah. What are you getting at, Pete?"

He sits on the back of your couch and kicks his feet out in front of him. "If all that matters is that we both know what we're doing, and a first kiss is just a meaningless milestone to you, then I thought that maybe we could give it another go. You know. So when a real kiss comes along that actually means something, you'll have an idea of how it's supposed to go."

You're six years old again.

You and Peter Parker are sitting in the dirt, mouths covered in sticky ice cream that the summer sun melted right up. You're both talking about Flash Thompson's trip to Florida and the hilarious sunburn he came back with when you spot an elderly couple across the park, pressing their mouths together over and over.

You're looking over at Peter and asking about it, sure it couldn't possibly feel good, and he's telling you that when Uncle Ben kisses May good morning in the kitchen he always looks away because it's gross.

And you're thinking... you start thinking something.

You're thinking it would be funny—that Peter would hate you for it, but you're just so curious—and you're pressing your lips to his so quickly that he doesn't get a chance to pull back before you're giggling in the grass. And May's voice flutters in the background, a shrill and delighted, "I caught that!" that makes you both turn tail and run toward the swings.

Peter's still staring at you, waiting.

Part of you feels like it's pity. Like he doesn't want you to feel bad about yourself. Like he doesn't know how else to fix it, because he has to fix it. He has to fix everything. He has to be your hero.

But the other part? A restless and selfish part wants to take it; it's curious.

You take a step forward, the two of you watching each other, waiting to see if the other might back out at the last second. He stays exactly where he is, legs parting slowly, and the silent invitation makes you feel hot under the collar.

When you're standing between them, you feel his knees bump your legs on either side, his hands planted firmly into the couch cushions. You notice the grip he has on them, "Are you sure?" You pause.

Peter tilts his head in that strange, spider-like way. As if he cannot fathom why would you ask such a thing, "Of course. I'm the one who offered."

Your hands shake as they consider where to put themselves, and you get about halfway to his shoulders before he takes them and places them on either side of his face, mumbling something about how it might help you feel more in control, quell your nerves a bit.

Peter's cheeks feel so warm in your hands, and you can feel each swallow he makes the longer you take in his expression. "Should... I move in first? Or..."

He laughs, short and high-pitched, "I guess I can go first."

You know you're supposed to close your eyes, but as he comes in close, you can't help but keep them lidded, taking in every twitch of his mouth as he inclines his neck, shuts his eyes, and kisses you.

Your brain reacts a half-second after his lips touch yours. You've probably stopped breathing, and you have to force your lips to unstiffen so that you could actually feel him. His lips are a little wet—he'd been rolling his bottom lip between his teeth since he'd sat down—and they taste faintly of raspberry. They're not cold though, and the feeling isn't unpleasant.

You don't know how to react to it, don't know if you should move or not, and so instead you curl your fingers into the silk of his nape and wait for the pounding in your chest to stop.

You feel him mouth at your bottom lip just once, and then pull back. "How'd that feel?"

You recall the sensations that went through your brain (all that it can recall anyway, when Peter's looking at you like that), "Slimy...?"

Peter's face falls, and then he bursts into laughter, shakes with the force of it, and drops his head on your shoulder. "There's got to be a better word than that."

"I don't know! I was just thinking about the feeling."

"I don't want to know what it felt like, I want to know how it made you feel. Did you like it? Hate it?"

"I don't know. I'm- I'm nervous."

"Hey, that's okay," his hand rubs your hip, warming the skin there, and you find yourself leaning into it for comfort, "everyone is their first time."

Peter is so, so gentle. Your heart feels like it might give out, but a little less now that it's over and he's not looking at you in disgust. You don't know what you expected, but... this was better. By far. That part of you that felt selfish takes over again, "Can we try again?"

His eyes widen a bit, but he's immediately nodding, "Okay. Yeah. Okay. We can try as- as many times as you want."

You nearly choke on your spit. "Can we?" Your voice comes out a meek whisper.

Peter nods. He brings his legs in so that he's sitting properly now. "Of course. You wanna move me? I can sit somewhere else. Or you can sit if you want."

"No, I like you here," you say, feeling your stomach tighten when his thighs lock against your legs, "um. Is there anything I can work on? How did I feel?"

"Warm. Soft. Just try to loosen up, alright?"

You force yourself to release the tension in your body and move in first this time. Images of rom-com kisses flood your brain, how you memorized their rhythms and the placement of their mouths. You try your best to mimic it, make it feel as good as it seemed to look, when you feel one of Peter's hands slip behind your head and angle you away just a hair, "You're tensing up," he warns, making you pause, "it doesn't have to be perfect. It's just you and me. Breathe for me, okay? Turn your brain off."

You feel your stomach flip a bit, and nod along mindlessly. You try again.

This time, it feels a little different. Not wet or stiff, even if it is still awkward. It almost overwhelms you when, as you're mouthing at Peter's lip, he returns the favor, but you keep your brain empty. You can't focus on the details because it won't feel right. You can't focus on the way it looks because it won't feel right.

So you focus on Peter. You focus on the hand on your hip drawing you closer and the hand on your neck rubbing circles into the knot there. You focus on the feeling of his suit under your pinkies. You focus on the small hum he makes when, with quite a bit of building up to it, you pass your tongue over his.

Almost as soon as you do it, you pull back. Peter is flushed and it makes the beauty marks on his skin stand out more. His eyelashes flutter, a half-smile on his lips that are kissed red. By you.

You open your mouth to ask but he beats you to it, "I think you've got it now... yeah. Definitely." You're so relieved you sigh, sagging away from him, but he catches your hands before they can can leave his face completely and holds them in his lap. You don't dare move them. "How about you? Did you like it?"

You nod, speechless.

Peter laughs and squeezes your hands in his, "Okay, good. Good. I love you, you know? I know it doesn't... replace what you're looking for, but you're wonderful. You're insane and funny and stunning and there's nothing wrong... you know? You're perfect. Take it from your loser best friend who had to get bit by a radioactive spider to get to first base."

You snort, "I mean, if that's all it takes..."

Peter shakes his head and stands, but his hand remains on your neck as you follow his eyes to his full height, "So, we good? No more ignoring me?" You bite your lip, nodding your head. Peter smiles. "Good, cause I'm starving and I need you to split a pizza with me."

"You just polished off a tub of ice cream and you're still hungry?"

"I'm a growing spider, honey. And I missed you." Without warning, the hand on your hip hooks around your back and hoists you into his body, throwing you off balance once more, "I'll swing us there and cover cheese sticks too. Sound good?"

You know you don't have much room to argue when he's being so generous. And not when he's beaming at you, so genuinely relieved to have you back that it would knock you off your feet if he wasn't holding you up.

He was right; this wouldn't replace what you were looking for, but it gets pretty damn close. Closer than you expected, actually. But it's just the adrenaline. This didn't change anything.

Did it? You stare up at Peter.

"We can try as many times as you want."

You might have a very different problem than you started with.

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes

#peter parker x reader #peter parker scenarios #peter parker imagines #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman scenarios #spiderman imagines #spiderman fic #spiderman fluff #spiderman angst #andrew garfield #spider-man #marvel #mjwrites #tasm

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preeningpisces · 6 months

Note

pleaaase could we get some more choso stuff? maybe some more nsfw headcanons if you have them or if not then some drabble of him being a Little Freak (endearing)?? anything that you'd feel like tbh <33

Omfg of course!! I actually have a lil fic I’m working on for him rn, so hopefully I won’t take too much longer. Love me some freak Choso. Thank you for taking the time to send this!

Hopefully this isn't too weird, lol

Choso being a lil freak

Content: fingering, masturbation, handjob, mild dacryphilia, ear eating, saliva, use of good boy and baby

18+ content below, mdni, afab!reader, enjoy!

The TV drones in the background as you scroll through your phone, leaning into the arm of the couch. Anxious anticipation rolls off your boyfriend. You don’t have to look to know he’s fidgeting with the blanket, trying his best to focus on the show—an episode of How It’s Made, his favorite. It’s obvious what he wants, it’s what he always wants when you’re around, but he remains bashful nonetheless. Amused, you let him stew in discomfort, wanting to see how long it takes for him to crack.

He adjusts himself and scoots closer to you, in what you think was an attempt at subtly. A smirk threatens to split your mouth, and you can feel your lips wobble from the effort of resisting. What was once fiddling with the blanket becomes a bouncing leg, drumming fingers, and more frequent glances. Laughter presses against the seam of your lips when he sighs, but you keep it at bay. You’re as focused on your phone as he is on the TV; his energy is contagious and makes your desire spark. But right now, you just want to antagonize him.

Sex is a recent development in your relationship, and ever since you gave Choso the keys to the kingdom, he wants it all the time. Not that you mind. Introducing your boyfriend to sex in all its forms has been fun, to say the least. This isn’t cruelty: you’re just building his confidence to initiate, you tell yourself. Not two minutes later, he says your name in question. Innocently, you set your phone aside, giving him your full attention.

“Do you…?”

“Do I what, Choso?” It’s clear he didn’t anticipate any pushback, because looks ready to retreat.

“Can we?” His stare is intense and imploring as he rests a hand on your knee.

“Oh, I don’t know, this article is pretty interesting” — a lie. When he deflates with puppy eyes, you feel too guilty to not throw him a bone. “But I could be persuaded.” Confusion flits over his face; he really does need everything laid out for him, doesn’t he? “I’m going to keep doing what I’m doing, unless something more tempting comes along,” you say, and with no further explanation, return to your scrolling. You know this worked even though he hasn’t moved, because he’s wringing his hands and mulling over his next step.

Maybe you are cruel. Just a bit.

An unsure arm winds around your hip, and pulls you away from the armrest to sit upright. With a delicate press to your jaw, he turns your head to kiss him, but you pull back.

“Ah, ah—you can’t turn me away or block the screen.” Now understanding the game, he nods with wide eyes. “Good boy.” Excited, he sits right next to you, but doesn’t remove his hold on your hip. Hesitant kisses tickle your jaw and neck—more endearing than distracting. The complete lack of reaction prompts Choso to trail from your jaw to your chest, and cup your right breast.

A post makes you laugh, and you feel him bristle beside you. Riled up, he squeezes your breast harder than you thought he would, and goes for your nipple. Choso absolutely loves your breasts, it’s no shock he sought them out first. What is shocking is how aggressively he’s touching them. Normally, his touch is irreverent and pleading. A weak pinch makes you flinch, but you keep your focus.

“Is that okay?”

“All I said is you can’t turn me or block the screen,” you say vaguely, allowing his imagination to fill in the rest. A sharp pinch is his reply, making you gasp. Tentative kisses are forgotten as he breathes into your ear, now more focused on the weight in his hand. Wearing no bra, there’s only a thin t-shirt between you and his fondling; rolling your nipple around and tugging it occasionally. As if just remembering he has one, he mouths at your jaw, and gently nips at your ear. The sweet attention makes you hum, your eyes hooded as you lazily continue scrolling, barely paying attention to what you see.

Suddenly, the kisses stop, and his hold on you relaxes. You fight the urge to look at him. Is this his way of playing, or is something wrong? Before you can ask, his lips rest at your ear, barely touching. Anticipation stills your shoulders, and you stare at the screen blankly as you wait for him to do something. Those lips press against your ear, and stop, gauging your reaction. When there is none, he kisses your ear fully, gently.

You expect him to move on, but one kiss becomes two, then three, then doesn’t stop at all; his head angles, and his kiss becomes more passionate, fully making out with your ear now. It tingles, and despite your bewilderment, you let out a breathy whine. Emboldened, he introduces his tongue, which licks at the planes and ridges. Cheeks hot and appalled, you shriek his name—he squeezes your hip so hard it could bruise.

Normally, he would release you and frantically make sure you’re alright, but your taunting must have affected him more than expected.The odd sensation makes you squirm, but you stubbornly grip your phone, and don’t turn to him. This only cues him to pull at your nipple with a twist, making you arch and moan.

He’s quick to move on; his hand dips under the waistband of your sweats, then your panties, and wastes no time rubbing soft circles around your clit. As if touching your pussy wasn’t enough, his tongue dips into your ear’s canal, making you nearly drop your phone. It doesn’t go far, but enough that it’s oddly sensitive. Sounds cut in and out, like you’ve dived into a pool and swam back up. Embarrassingly, you feel yourself throb.

“You’re really wet,” Choso says, and immediately returns to assaulting your ear. His bluntness only makes you more mortified, and the nerves in your neck and jaw prickle. The attentive circles are consistent, and keep a steady pace, which only drives you crazy, noises spilling from you freely. With his mouth covering your ear, you can’t tell how loud you are—every sound you make blares internally, as if you’re listening to yourself through earbuds. Your sounds arouse more of his own, overwhelming your mind. You can’t even hear the TV anymore, or the sticky sounds you know your pussy is making.

So enwrapped in pleasure, you hadn’t even noticed Choso was humping the air, his moans somehow both stifled and amplified. Unable to resist, you toss your phone and cup his bulge, letting him grind into your hand. Abandoning your hip, he helps you slide his sweats and boxers down his hips, cock twitching with need once it's exposed to the cool air. You wrap you hand around his cock and stroke him making his legs tremble. The hand previously on your hip winds back around you to continue stroking your clit, while the other slides two fingers in your needy cunt.

“Oh, fuck–oh fuck,” you belt, grinding against his hands, helping him find your g-spot. When he grazes it, you shout his name, and he strokes it with every thrust of his fingers. “Yes, baby, just like that.”

The steady pace fumbles when you spit in your palm and continue stroking him. He chokes on a gasp and sucks the shell of your ear in his mouth; it’s the most you’ve been able to hear since he began, but the leftover saliva prevents you from hearing clearly. You twist slightly as you stroke upward, squeezing near his head. Even with the lingering saliva, you’re finally blessed with the wet sounds of his cock and your pussy.

“Please—ah—please cum,” his high-pitched and needy voice doesn’t match the way he roughly fingerfucks your pussy, stretching it with spread fingers and pushing your hood back to attack your clit. Overwhelmed, you shiver as you approach your release; it isn’t until he resumes his lip lock with your ear and tongues at the canal that you come with a keen. “T-that’s it, you look so pretty when you c-cum.”

Your body locks up as your stomach twists from the convulsions, and your pussy clenches around him nonstop, but he doesn’t let up until you still. He covers your limp hand with his own, and he pumps his cock furiously, chasing his end. Gripping one of his buns, you smash your lips together. Distantly, you expected a waxy taste, but were relieved to find none. Tongues graze, drool pools, and he makes debauched sounds when you pinch his tongue between your fingers.

“Are you gonna cum?” You pull his tongue tauntingly and squeeze around his cock. When he nods instead of answering, you pinch it harder, and his cheeks go redder than you’ve ever seen them.

“Yeth, I’-I-” he lets out long, continuous whimpers as he comes. Sensitive, he removes his hand, but you grip his wrist and make him stroke himself through it, thick cum leaking over your joined hands. Tears and drool roll down his face, but you keep stroking his cock with a sickening squelch.

It’s only when he stops leaking cum that you release him, soothing him with kisses to his wet cheek before fetching the nearby water. The two of you lay against each other, now winded.

“I’m just going to address the elephant in the room: why did you stick your tongue in my ear?”

“You wouldn’t let me kiss you,” he shrugs, as if it was obvious. “I’m glad you liked it, though.”

“I did not!”

“Okay, if saying that makes you feel be-” you smother him with a throw pillow.

Next time, you’ll think twice before giving Choso the reins to do whatever he wants.

#freak (endearing) got me lmfao #secret dreamer ☁︎#dreams of choso ☁︎#wet dreams ☽#choso smut #choso x reader #jjk smut #it actually feels kind of nice so dont knock it til you try it folks #hope this is what you were looking for anon!#drabbles ☽#dream interpretation ☽#dreams ☽

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yandere-daydreams · 2 years

Text

Title: Clingy.

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Wanderer x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 5.0k.

TW: AFAB!Reader, Modern AU, Non/Con, Blood, Intimidation/Threats of Violence, Toxic Relationships, Emotional Abuse, Slight Financial Abuse, and Codependent Behavior.

[Part Two]

On your third date, your boyfriend-at-the-time demanded that you give him a spare key to your ‘shitty shoebox of an apartment’, despite refusing to so much as let you into the penthouse Ei had leased for him while going to a university a hundred or so miles away from the multi-story, marble sculpted, beachside mansion he’d reluctantly flown you out to when he got sick of listening to you ask why he still hadn't introduced you to his moms eight months into your relationship. That probably should’ve been your first red flag, but somehow, you’d persisted. He brought out your competitive side, like that.

He made you want to dig your nails in, plant your teeth in your neck, and refuse to let go. It wasn’t good for you, but nothing he did was good for anyone. That never stopped him from doing it, though.

You could only assume that this – Kunikuzushi, your boyfriend of eighteen months and your ex-boyfriend of one, splayed across the couch in your living room, the keys he’d never given back dangling from his ring finger and the phone you’d forgotten when you left for work that morning in the other – wasn’t going to be good for you, either.

You didn’t say anything at first. It was all you could do to groan, to shake your head, to pretend you didn’t see him or didn’t care long enough to throw your messenger bag onto the nearest chair and tear off your jacket. He’d clearly made himself at home. A textbook was open on your coffee table, a drink from the cheap, trendy café he’d always whined about having to take you to sitting half-empty next to it. He wasn’t looking at either, though, his attention entirely centered on your phone. You didn’t have the energy to pretend to be surprised. He used to like to go through your conversations and delete the contacts he ‘didn’t trust’ when you were together, too, but you’d been more willing to write it off as the cute-but-concerning tick of a jealous boyfriend, back then. You must’ve fallen out of practice after your breakup.

You opened your mouth, but he was ultimately the one to break the silence. “You know Ajax?”

You crossed your arms. “Why are you here?”

“I mean, I know you’re in the same microbiology course, but c’mon, him? The fucker couldn’t tell a proton from a nucleolus. Honestly, I’m surprised he hadn’t flunked out yet. Give it another semester - he’ll be gone by spring, I promise.”

“I didn’t say you could come over.”

“I texted you last night. Did you try to block me again?” You’d blocked him, then reported his number, then changed yours when he’d started using burner phones to drunk dial you in the small hours of the morning and leave disjointed, rambling voice mails about how well he was doing without you, how much time he had now that you weren’t pestering him, how many people he’d slept with since the last time you'd seen each other. All of it was bullshit, obviously, but it was his bullshit. Somehow, he always knew just how to get under your skin. “Scratch that – I’ll take care of it. I should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to get through a month without my help.”

You grit your teeth. Swallowing as much of your anger as you could, you stepped in front of him, snatching your phone out of his hands and retreating before he had a chance to take it back. You were tempted to look at what he’d been scrolling through, see which conversation had gotten him so upset, but you forced yourself to turn off your phone completely, to set it down on the far side of your coffee table and think about something else. It’d take hours to fix the damage he’d done, to unblock all the acquaintances he didn’t approve of and the apologize to all the friends he'd insulted under your name. You’d rather get rid of him first, then try to fix everything he'd already started to tear apart. “Get out.”

He scanned over you, his eyes lingering on the wrinkles in your button-up shirt, the cheap material of your dress pants. “Y'know, if we were still together, you wouldn’t have to put up with that shitty job. You could just quit and finally move in with me.”

Once, you’d let him buy you a new laptop when yours gave out in the middle of the semester and you didn’t think you’d be able to scrape enough up for another before you next exam. It’d been a used model, already a few years out of date, and you swore up and down that you’d pay him back when you had the money, but he’d held it over your head for months, smirked and gloated and taken every opportunity to remind you how grateful you should be to have a boyfriend so willing to spoil his oh-so-unfortunate partner. He hadn’t let you pay him back. He hadn’t let you pay for anything until he’d gotten tired of playing savior and went back to acting like a brat, too desperate for your attention to care if he was in-charge. You doubt he’d be any more bearable if you actually moved in with him, if you lived in his house and relied on his good-will. If you actually depended on him.

But, rather trying to say any of that in a way he’d understand, you sighed, clenching your eyes shut. “It’s an internship and I need it for my major. Get out.”

His scowl wavered. “When did you get so bossy? This isn’t going to work if you think you can tell me what to do.”

“I’m not bossy, you’re just a prick. Get out.”

He sat up, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Cut it out. I’m not going to want to get back together if you keep acting so immature.

“I don’t want to get back together with you.” And then, gesturing towards your door. “Get. Out.”

If nothing else, that seemed to shut him up.

It took a few seconds, but eventually, he responded. There was an airy laugh, a thin smile, a certain air of hurt disbelief as he sat up. “You really aren't kidding, are you?”

You didn’t indulge him with a reaction. Rather, you watched with a pressed scowl as he pushed himself to his feet and stepped toward you. He was in his usually ‘too cool to try, but too bored not to’ get-up – ripped jeans and long sleeves striped in black and violet, half a dozen rings and bolts pierced into the curve of each ear and a belt from a brand you couldn’t name, but knew you were supposed to tacked on to further feed into his ego. He must’ve been here all day. His short hair was more disheveled than he usually liked it to be, and you could see more irritation in his dark eyes than you were used to, paired with a certain type of frustration that only ever slipped out when you managed to keep him waiting. You hadn’t, technically (you couldn’t be late to meet someone who you didn’t want to see), but you didn’t bother trying to point that out.

“I thought it’d be nice to see you after… How long? Five weeks?” He glanced down, starting to toy with something in his back pocket. “I thought we could order lunch, talk for a while, maybe watch a movie or something. Then, I don’t know…” His smile took on an apologetic lull, almost pleading. “Kiss and make up? It’s not like any of this is new for us.”

He wasn’t wrong. You’d been together for a year and a half, and most of that had been spent caught up in ear-splitting, tear-inducing, world-ending fights. He’d burn the notes you borrowed from your classmate, and you'd refuse to talk to him for a week. You’d decide you were over his constant mood swings and go on a date with the cute guy from your calculus class, and he’d mail a slab of raw meat to your best friend because, in his own words, ‘you couldn’t come up with such a stupid idea by yourself’. It wasn’t balanced, you would never be able to give as much as he took, but still. When he started yelling, you did too, and when he showed up at your door a few days later, his eyes still bloodshot from crying, you always took him back. Because he was Kunikuzushi. Because you loved him.

Because you knew he’d make your life hell, if you didn’t.

Which was exactly why you couldn’t just… kiss and make up, this time. Not if it’d mean swallowing your pride and letting him get everything he wanted.

You sighed, but kept your arms crossed, your expression stern. “I’m tired, Kuni. I don’t want to do this anymore.” You paused, bit down on the side of your tongue. “It’s not good for either of us. We’re not good together. I don’t want to pretend that we are.”

His smile wavered, but didn’t fall. “What do you mean, babe?”

“I mean,” You braced yourself, shut your eyes. “I think you should leave.”

At least he seemed to hear that. You watched with as little sympathy as you could manage as his grin cracked and fell away, as his shoulders slumped downward, as he let out an airy chuckle that cracked halfway through. “You’re breaking up with me?”

“We broke up a month ago.” And he’s been insufferable ever since. “And we’re not getting back together.”

Parted lips, glassy eyes. He raked a hand through his bangs, doing what he could to blink away the tears slowly forming in the corners of his eyes. This wasn’t new, and yet, you still found yourself struggling not to break, not to embrace him and mutter soothing nothings while he sobbed quietly into your shirt and wrapped his arms around your waist and, inevitably, ended up on his knees, his face buried between your legs as he made you cum until you forgot why you’d been mad at him in the first place. “Fine. That’s fine. Honestly, that’s great. I don’t know why I’d ever want to be with such a heartless bit—” His voice broke before he could finish. He made a half-hearted effort to wipe at his eyes, but that only drew more attention to the tears starting to roll down his flushed cheeks, only made you more tempted to pull him into a kiss and act like this had never happened. “Fine. If you’re really that sick of me, I’ll go.”

He pushed past you, starting towards your door. That was what you wanted. Kunikuzushi gone, your apartment empty, your life just a little less fucked than it always seemed to be when he was a part of it. You should’ve let him go. You should’ve stood there until he was gone. You should’ve let him leave.

But you heard another hitched sob, a string of muttered swearing, and something in your chest broke open. With a shallow sigh, you dropped your arms to your sides, forcing yourself to speak through clenched teeth. “…do you want a hug before you leave?”

Kunikuzushi glanced over his shoulder. “A hug? What do you think I am, a toddler?”

“It's the only thing I'm putting on the table. Do you want it or—”

You never got the chance to finish. His arms were already around you, pinning your arms to your torso as he buried his face in your shirt. You choked back your protests, forced yourself to fight the instinct to push him away, and in a few excoriating seconds, his hold on you loosened, his back straightening, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder and his lips pressing into your neck. There was a lingering8 kiss laid onto your jugular, then another to the corner of your jaw, but you didn’t bother to try and push him away. Instead, you only shifted in his arms, nudging at his chest. You’d gotten yourself into this, called him back when he was a few steps away from leaving. You only had yourself to blame. “I didn’t say you could—”

“I knew you’d change your mind.” A hand fell to the small of your back, the heel of his palm pressing into the base of your spine. “You always do. You always make the right choice, in the end.”

You opened your mouth, ready to remind him that you weren’t taking him back, but you hesitated. He was always weird, just a little too hostile, just a little too desperate to keep you close to him, but you didn’t trust the levity in his voice, the way his smile pressed into your skin despite how close he’d come to crying a few minutes ago. “I think…” You trailed off, bit down on the side of your tongue. “I haven't changed my mind. You have to—”

Something flat and stiff pressed into your back – the blunt edge of a switchblade. His switchblade, you realized, dredging up hazy memories of bandages wrapped around thighs and hollow promises that he’d be more careful, next time. You heard his nails drum against smooth metal, felt something cold and sharp cut into the skin above your shoulder blade, and you froze, your mind instantly going blank.

He laughed, the noise cracking and airy. Warm breath fanned over the crook of your neck, and he melted into you, nuzzling into the curve of your throat. “I love you.” And then, pressing the blade into your flesh. “Say you love me too.”

Automatic, robotic. The only thing you could spit out through grit teeth. “I love you.”

Another laugh – more giddy, this time, more eager. If he noticed your reluctance, it clearly didn’t bother him. The switchblade was pulled up to the nape of your neck, then drawn in a loose arch to your collarbone, the tip never leaving your skin. “I mean, yeah, obviously. That’s why we get to stay together, even when we’re at each other’s throats.”

He paused, burrowed into you. In turn, you were dragged further into his chest, but pushed away just as quickly, allowed to get just far enough to make it possible for Kunikuzushi to raise his free hand to the collar of your shirt and drag you into a clumsy, rushed kiss – too rough and too forceful for anyone but him to enjoy. His teeth scraped against your lips, his tongue dragging over yours, but he pulled away with a breathy groan, his pale cheeks flushed and his eyes still glossed over. “…you didn’t get with anyone while I was gone, right? You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

How could you? He hadn’t given you room to breathe, let alone get past anything more than a first date with someone new. Even when you’d been together (actually together, not fighting or on a break), he’d been so suffocating, so possessive, you’d never been able to get any further than heavy petting, oral, his body on top of yours and your legs wrapped around his waist before he said something you couldn’t brush off and the night devolved into something... less romantic. It was hard to be with someone like Kunikuzushi, someone who acted like they’d rather give up the air in their lungs than a second of your time. Even after a year and a half, it was hard to let your guard down around him when he seemed so willing to give you every reason you ever could've needed to keep it up.

You guessed you should’ve expected this, looking back on it. He’d was bound to get tired of waiting for you to trust him eventually.

This was just his way of letting you know that he’d never really needed you to, in the first place.

Stiltedly, you shook your head, and he let out a relieved sigh. “Perfect. That’s why we’re supposed to be together.” He kissed the corner of your lips, then your forehead. “You’d never hurt me.”

He didn’t give you time to respond. Instead, he took you by the hand – his fingers intertwining with yours as he turned and tugged you forward, moving to lead you further into your apartment. The switchblade left your skin, falling momentarily to his side, and for a few brief seconds, you considered trying to get away, jerking yourself out of your hold and running as far away as you could get from him and his fucking issues. You made a passing effort, but Kunikuzushi’s grip turned crushing as soon as you began to shift, and you gave up before he could break something more vital than your heart. He was between you and the door, you and your phone. He had a knife, a weapon. He had you, and until he decided he was done, he wasn’t going to let you go without a fight.

With little ceremony, you were drawn out of your living room and into your cramped bedroom. Kunikuzushi let go of your hand, but you didn’t have time to run before you were being pushed onto your unmade bed, before he was straddling your waist and pinning you to the center of the mattress. The knife was brought back to your neck, but quickly plunged lower, slid beneath your uppermost button and used to separate thread from fabric. Somehow, annoyance managed to overshadow your panic, if only for as long as it took for one rational thought to be followed by another. This was your nicest shirt, one of a handful you’d splurged on for your internship, but it wasn’t like Kunikuzushi would ever understand anything like that. It wasn’t like he’d ever tried to, before.

The tip caught on the slight dip below your diaphragm and you winced, a few dots of red immediately seeping into white fabric. You winced, beginning to protest on reflex. “Kuni’, that—”

“I’ll take care of it.” Absentminded, only half conscious that he was speaking at all. He reached the hem, pulling his switchblade free and letting your dress shirt fall away from your chest and over your shoulders, as useless as it was embarrassing. “I’ll take care of everything when we’re done. Just sit pretty and keep your mouth shut for a while.”

Really, you could only wonder why you hadn’t dumped him sooner.

Your pants were next, slits carved into the material over your hips and ruined fabric torn away. He moved to cut off your boxers, too, but seemed to hesitate, to linger, to find the strength to pause just long enough to drag two fingers over your clothed slit and press the pad of his thumb into your clit. You hissed at the friction, but Kunikuzushi only smiled, dipping his head low enough for his lips to ghost over your collarbone, then the midline of your chest, then the tender spot just below your navel. The last was accompanied by a slight groan, throaty and deep. You did what you could to block it out. This would be better if you didn’t think about it, if you just imagined he was trying to win you back after a fight, that there was a wilting rose in his other hand and not a knife already stained with your blood.

It was almost a mercy when his hands finally slipped under the hem of your boxers, doing away with your last layer of protection with only a slight laugh and a lilting smile. You did what you could to relax, to lean back and close your eyes, but Kunikuzushi’s weight was an ever-present anchor to reality, only made worse as he shifted lower, as he pulled your legs apart and threw them over his shoulders. He pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses into the inside of your thighs, his teeth ghosting over tender flesh as he sucked harsh bruises into whatever he could reach. This was his favorite part, by far. He’d always been clingy – possessive to the point of total, nail-biting, jaw-locking paranoia. At first, you’d been able to write it off as a sort of overeager enthusiasm that came with a new relationship, but he’d never stopped. He was always ready, always desperate to dig his teeth into your skin and leave as many marks as you’d let him – or rather, as many as he possibly could before you were able to pry him away. Even then, you’d tried to think of it as cute, just one of the quirks of your immature-but-loving boyfriend. Now, all you could do was hope it’d be over soon.

It took him full minutes to actually reach your cunt, for his tongue to lave over your slit. Instantly, you stiffened, clenching your eyes shut and attempting to ignore the heady sounds of his whimpering moans, the feeling of his tongue tracing patterns in your entrance. It was sloppy, messy, all drool and teeth and clutching hands, but warmth flooded into your core as the bridge of his nose ground into your clit, as his hands wrapped around your hips and dragged you that much closer to his mouth. Everything he did was dirty, but he knew you, knew your body, knew that you’d have to spread your legs as soon as his tongue thrust into you.

You arched your back as two fingers slid into your entrance alongside his tongue, scissoring you open while his attention shifted to your clit – his lips sealing around the sensitive bundle of nerves while he sucked gently. If he hadn’t been so vocal, it might’ve been more bearable, but no, he couldn’t seem to stop whining into your cunt, to stop sending waves of those awful reverberations from your clit to your core every time he whimpered or grunted or moaned. Before you could stop yourself, your hips were rolling weakly against his mouth as he nursed you through your sudden climax. When you fell limp, his mouth fell away, but his hand still cupped your pussy, his fingers still curling and thrusting inside of you.

He didn’t slow down, didn’t let up, not until you were crying out and clenching around him, not until you could feel the slick running down your thighs, soaking into your sheets. He didn’t stop until you were babbling – spitting out incoherent pleas for him to slow down before the overstimulation turned from overwhelming to agonizing. You were forced to endure another kiss to the inside of your thigh, the wet sound of his tongue running over his fingers, but he pulled away in a few seconds, finally letting you have just enough space to breathe. Even that was temporary, cut short by his lips crashing into yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue, as little as you wanted to. You could feel him panting against your lips, and it was all you could do not to scream.

He pulled away abruptly, grinning. “You’re a virgin.”

It wasn’t a question, but you found yourself shaking your head, denying it on instinct. “I never—"

“You didn’t have to.” There was a peck to the corner of your lips, another to your cheek. “I know everything about you. Your parents were too strict to let you date in high school, and none one’s ever lasted more than a couple of weeks with you before me. Since you wouldn’t so much as take off your shirt around me before our three-month anniversary, I’m going to assume you weren’t a total slut before we met.”

You narrowed your eyes, shoving gently at his chest. You just needed space. You just needed him to get away from you. “So?”

“So,” he leaned in, his smiling growing that much wider. “I’m going to ruin you.”

It was something about his tone, the dark glint in his eyes as he leered over you. Your heart dropped in your chest, and very distinctly, something very large and very sharp began to crawl up your throat.

You started to shake your head, but he was already edging jeans downward, already freeing his cock – the flushed tip leaking precum in fat, white pearls. His weight was enough to keep you pinned down as he aligned himself with your entrance, as he traced the head over the length of your slit, and his eyes never left your face, your expression painted with heavy strokes of horror and disbelief. He never wavered, never blinked, even as he thrust inside of you, bottoming out in a single uninterrupted motion. Even as you cried out, the sound more pained than anything else. Even as you felt a single, warm teardrop fall off of his cheek and onto yours. You hadn’t realized you’d shut your eyes, not until you forced yourself to open them, not until you found him cloudy-eyed and grinning above you.

He was crying, again.

Huh.

You thought he would’ve given up on that, by now.

He wasn’t gentle. He’d never been delicate with you, but right now, it felt like he was trying to be rough, to pin your legs against your chest and split you open every time he moved his hips, every time he found a way to hit something deeper and more sensitive inside of you. You tried to scream, but your voice caught in your throat, strangling itself into something more akin to a cracked whine and a few broken whimpers. The stretch, the pressure was more than you could take. You couldn’t stop yourself – going rigid underneath him, your eyes rolling back as your mouth fell open in a silent, agonized cry. Your reactions, however involuntary, only seemed to spur Kunikuzushi on, his pace growing more erratic and his breath now coming in quick, shallow pants. No matter what you did, it just made him worse.

You could hear him talking, distantly – little mumbled tangents forming between thrusts. “You’re just so—” He cut himself off with a long, wordless moan. “We’ll do this every day, until— until you know you don’t need anyone but me. Then, you’ll love me, and you’ll never have to—” He thrust deeper into you, letting out a fracturing laugh. “And then, I’ll rip out your tongue and cut off your legs if you try to leave. We’ll always be together. No one will ever, ever take you away from me again.”

You weren’t with him. You didn’t want to be with him. If it wasn’t for his immaturity, his manipulativeness, his fucking knife, this wouldn’t be—

His knife.

Both of his hands were on your thighs, his nails digging into your flesh, keeping your knees pressed into your chest. He wasn’t holding it. He couldn’t be.

Without daring to look away from him, you groped around the mattress blindly, your fingertips eventually brushing against something cold and metallic – his switchblade lying abandoned on the edge of the bed. You took it up before you could hesitate, gripping the handle tightly enough for the sharp corners to bite into your palm, for your hand to cramp and go numb by the time you found the strength to actually lift it up. You didn’t aim. You didn’t have time to, not unless you wanted to think about what you were doing, not unless you wanted to let Kunikuzushi win. Not unless you could—

The curved tip just barely made contact with the skin above his collarbone before you faltered, before he had time to catch your wrist in an iron-clad hold. You tried to let go of the switchblade reflexively, but his hand shifted to wrap around yours, to keep the blade pressed into his chest – applying just enough pressure to break the skin. “Do it.” Soft, drawn out, too eager to mean anything good. “I’d let you carve your name into me, if you wanted to. All you'd have to do is ask.”

You didn’t ask. You didn’t want to. You didn't want any of this, but Kunikuzushi pressed the blade in his skin regardless, letting out muttered confessions of love and loyalty as a thin red line formed in his flesh, as blood dripped down his chest and disappeared behind the loose collar of his shirt, blotting against the dark fabric. He guided your blade to his lips, next, making a small nick in the corner of his mouth before taking the switchblade out of your hand and tossing it onto the floor, out of your reach. It would’ve hurt less if he’d tried to hurt you, too, taken the blade to your skin after his own. If would've hurt less if he’d acknowledged that you’d tried to do anything at all.

You didn’t have much time to linger on that thought, though. He was already moving again, already making up for time lost by fucking into you like a man crazed. With no preparation, no warning, he jerked forward, his chest pressing into yours as he kissed you, as he forced his tongue past your teeth and smeared his blood over your lips. It felt like you were drowning in nickel, being slowly suffocated by some nameless, slick, oppressive force. It felt like you were choking, despite being able to breathe, to think as clearly as you’d ever been able to around him. It felt like you were going to die.

But, you weren’t. He’d never be so kind, he’d never let you have that kind of comfort, not when he was still grinding into you, not when his cock was twitching against the walls of cunt and he was groaning into your mouth without reservation. You could feel your poor overstimulated pussy clenching around him, your vision burning white around the edges as, for lack of anything more stable to hold onto, you wrapped your arms around his neck and raked your nails over his back, clawing into whatever you could reach. If he noticed, if he cared, it only worked to drag him that much closer, to leave him as deep as he could possibly be when he finally finished, when you felt something warm and vile flood into you.

He stayed like that for a long moment, silent and unmoving, his chest pressed into yours and his lips trailing from your mouth to your throat, settling just above your jugular. It was a small mercy when he finally pulled away and straightened his back, easing himself out of you and wiping the blood off of his face, his neck. You watched from a distance as he fixed his clothes, before pushing himself to his feet, never sparing you so much as a second glance. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Pack your stuff, and make sure you’ve gotten your shit together by then. I’m not letting a mess like you into my apartment.” He paused, lingered long enough to smile. With no sense of visible urgency, he walked to the side of your bed, retrieving his switchblade and kissing your forehead softly, gingerly, with a kind of tenderness you could only wish he’d found a few hours earlier. “I love you, babe. Even when you act like a fucking idiot.”

His grin pressed into flesh, cutting and cruel.

“And I’m so, so glad you’ve realized that you love me too.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere commission #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #genshin impact imagines #yandere genshin imagines #scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche #wanderer x reader #yandere wanderer #yanderecore #yancore

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swarvey · 3 months

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screaming over paper rings. stardew and taylor swift?? PEAK ‼️ so, in a similar vein, i have a lil request

could you possibly write a one-shot with any taylor swift song of your choosing? i'd like for it to be x sebastian but i know he's not one of your favorites, so if that's uncomfortable i'd be down with haley. either is fine, i would just love to see what you'd come up with! your writing is wonderful, and i can't wait to see what else you write <3

- 🪩

when you've moved on | sebastian x gn!reader | part one

summary -> you're with alex now, but is he really the one you want? warnings -> none! seb smokes a cig and there's some swearing, that's ab it. just angst. heh. word count -> 1817

a/n: ahhh ty disco anon!! i'm glad you're liking the taylor/stardew crossover as much as i do <3 decided to do my take on the trope where they watch you move on with someone else in town, enjoy!!

part two -> elliott (tolerate it)

the way i loved you ->"but i miss screaming and crying and kissing in the rain."

"seb."

"hm?"

"see that?" you point up to the stars, eyes wide and bright. "that's orion's belt. if you look close enough, you can see his whole body."

raising a brow, sebastian squints up at the sky, noticing the three, shining stars all in a row next to each other.

"huh. guess you're right," he says, smiling lightly at your excitement at the stars.

you'd been ecstatic when he offered to take you stargazing, riding out to the spot where he'd kissed you for the first time. the picnic blanket beneath the two of you is soft, and although the evening spring wind is chilly, seb feels warm enough to fall asleep with your head resting on his shoulder.

"we should do this more often," you sigh happily, grabbing onto his arm and pulling him closer to your side.

he kisses the top of your head gently, closing his eyes. "whatever you want, sweetheart."

"seb?"

"yeah?" he responds, keeping his eyes closed.

"seb!"

"what?"

"sebastian, wake up!"

sebastian wakes with a start at the sound of his mother shouting, groaning as he sits up reluctantly.

scratching his head and yawning, he asks, "what time is it?"

"nearly eight-thirty, seb, you said you'd be up by eight," robin chides. "come on, we're going to be late for the festival."

he scowls. he's tempted to lay back down and cover his head with his blankets again, but he would rather not deal with more of his mom's antics.

"fine. i'll be up in a minute." as she heads back upstairs, sebastian groggily pulls on some warm clothing, trying to ignore the stinging in his heart. why, why was he still dreaming about you? he knows you've moved on, so why has he been cursed to see you every night? sometimes, he wakes up and forgets you're not his anymore, forgets about the fight you two had, forgets the sharp, hurtful words that came out of his mouth he didn't mean at all.

he'll never forget, though, the words you said back to him, an unforgiving amount of hurt and anger in your eyes as rain poured down on the two of you.

"i'm done with this, seb," you'd said, voice shaking and weak from arguing with him. "i've given you enough chances to prove me wrong, to show you actually care about me, but i guess i was wrong. i can't do whatever this is any longer."

then, you'd walked away, leaving him alone in the downpour in front of his house.

how could he have been so stupid? no one in his life has ever known him better than you did, and he still let you slip from his grasp. what an idiot, he thinks, scoffing at himself as he makes his way upstairs and joins his family.

though, as they enter the festival of ice, seb immediately regrets not staying in bed.

you laugh as alex pulls your winter hat over your face, grabbing a handful of snow and throwing it at him in retaliation. haley rolls her eyes as she stands to the side, annoyed as she pulls out her phone and begins absentmindedly scrolling. meanwhile, alex starts to chase you, grabbing you from behind and hugging you tightly before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

seb looks away. he thinks he might gag.

"hey, seb! you made it!" his blond-haired friend runs up to him like an excited kid, snow already scattered in his hair. "geez, did you just wake up or something? you look kinda rough, buddy."

"thanks," he replies flatly.

sam scratches the back of his neck, flashing an apologetic smile. "sorry, didn't mean to tick you off. come on, abby's waiting over there!"

sebastian keeps his gaze on the trees as he follows his friend, trying his best to tune out the sound of your laughter he once craved to hear. how did you end up with a douche like alex, anyway? he never understands why sam speaks so highly of him, and now you go off and date him?

"helloooo," abigail sings, waving a hand in front of his face.

"oh, hey," he greets, blinking out of his thoughts. "sorry, i'm still waking up."

she raises a brow, studying his face. "right. had another nightmare?"

"i guess you could call it that."

abby shakes her head, crossing her arms. "i'm telling you, sebastian, if you would just listen to me and move on, life will start to be much nicer to you."

"i have moved on," he snaps, though quickly sighs when he sees the knowing look she gives sam. "i'm sorry, really, but i'm fine. i promise."

"if you say so," she says, her tone unbelieving. he can't blame her for being worried — abby was the one who was most concerned about him after the two of you broke up, knowing how much he'd cared for you.

or, more accurately, how much he still cares for you.

"how about we go check on vincent?" sam suggests, obviously trying to lighten the mood. "the little guy was super excited for today."

as the three make their way over to find sam's younger brother, seb finds his eyes wandering over to you once again, unable to keep himself from checking on you. to his surprise, your eyes meet his for a split second, only for you to jump slightly and turn back to alex and haley.

did you miss him, too?

after the festival ends, sebastian finds himself lingering around a little longer, telling his friends and family that he'll catch up with them later. he walks over to the river, listening to the comforting sound of running water as he pulls out a cigarette and his lighter.

"i thought you quit?"

he whips his head around at the sound of your voice, nearly dropping the items in his hand into the water.

"i did," he replies after a moment, continuing to light the cigarette. "just felt like i needed one right now."

you wordlessly walk closer and stand beside him. he can feel your eyes burning into his face.

"well, how have you been?" you ask, rubbing your arm. "i heard you . . . haven't been sleeping well."

he huffs. "what, did alex tell you?" i told sam to keep his mouth shut.

"does it matter?" he doesn't have to look at you to know you're frowning. "it's been nearly a year, you can't let this keep dragging you down, seb."

he ignores the painful twinge in his chest at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. seb. sure, almost everyone tends to use that nickname for him, but it just sounds so right coming from you. it used to make his heart warm every time he heard it, no matter the place or time; while doing chores, eating dinner, in bed.

even now, when you aren't his anymore, a part of him is glad to hear you still say it with the same tone.

"as i've been telling everyone else," he says after blowing smoke out from his lips, "i'm fine. there's no need for you to worry about me anymore, anyways — you got mr. pro over there to care for now."

"don't talk about him," you snap, a sudden defensiveness coming over your voice. "you don't get to bring him up."

seb scoffs, finally turning to look at you. god, you look just as breathtaking as he left you, snowflakes glittering on top of your hair and eyelashes. there's a certain glint in your eye he doesn't recognize, though, and he decides to test it.

"why?" he questions carelessly. "are you scared i'll be too honest with you?"

"what? i—"

"well that's too bad, sweetheart," he interrupts, his old nickname for you filled with an unfamiliar venom. "i'll be truthful with you, just like i always have been. i wasn't perfect with you, not at all — i ignored you and hurt you, over and over until you got sick of it and left, so i know i could've treated you better."

he sees your eyes begin to water, and for a moment, guilt overcomes him, but he goes on anyway.

"but there's one other thing i know," he continues, taking a step closer to you. he points behind him in the direction of the town. "you and him? you'll never love each other like we did. sure, we had our fuck-ups and arguments, but i have never loved someone like i did with you, and i know you feel the same."

"you don't know anything," you whisper, though the confidence you had before has vanished.

he huffs a sarcastic laugh. "really? you sure about that? tell me, does he know you always sleep in every saturday, since you're in the mines until late on fridays? or how you always go to the saloon, just to play your favorite song on the jukebox?" he pauses. "i bet he doesn't know anything about the stars, does he? have you even asked him to look at them with you?"

"stop!" you demand, fists clenched tightly as you give him the same look you had when you left him. "this is different, okay? alex and i are taking our time, so neither of us ends up making stupid mistakes like we did."

"as stupid as they were, that's what i liked about us," seb says, his voice a level gentler than it was before. "we weren't perfect, but we didn't pretend to be. it's what made us so real." he shakes his head, lifting his cigarette to his mouth. "but if you want to go live your high school daydream, then by all means, go ahead."

you scowl. "you know, i came here to check in on you, but i see now that you're as helpless as you were when i broke up with you."

he winces slightly at your harsh words, but remains stoic nonetheless. "go ahead and think whatever you want, sweetheart, but i think one of us is clearly more helpless than the other."

"fuck off, seb. get over yourself."

as you start to walk away, he turns to look at you once more, watching as you hesitate.

"i wanted us to work," you say quietly, void of any hostility. "i tried so hard, but you made it impossible."

"would you do it again?"

the question is slipping out of his mouth before he even realizes it, but he can't take it back now. he expects you to turn around, to storm at him and laugh at how he can even think that.

instead, you leave him with no response, hugging yourself with your arms as you head back towards your farm.

interesting. he throws his cigarette down into the dirt beneath him, putting it out with the heel of his shoe. he wonders why you didn't say anything.

that night, for the first time in weeks, sebastian doesn't dream.

#stardew valley x reader #stardew valley #sdv #sdv x farmer #sdv x reader #stardew valley x farmer #sdv sebastian #sdv sebastian x farmer #stardew sebastian #stardew valley sebastian #angst #stardew sebastian x reader #.lin’s asks!#.disco anon!

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katz-rambles · 2 months

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Hellooo again lovely writer ! This is a new day, so it means I have a new idea for you ;)

How about reader and one of the ghoul (your choice) being forced to shared a bed ? And now, what if reader had a spicy dream during the night and woke the ghoul sleeping next to her with her moans ? How would they react? 👀

The one-bed-trope, some forced proximity and a sprinkle of unresolved sexual tension, how could it go wrong !

Yess! I love the one bed trope smm. This may not be very good as I'm exhausted, haha. I chose Sodo/Dewdrop because this just seemed fitting for him.

1.1k words

(nsfw, wet dream, fingering, PiV, squirting, cumming inside, aftercare,)

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰

Sharing a room with someone, that's not too bad. You're not a stranger to sharing rooms with people, just not a room with one bed, especially not with someone you can't stop thinking about. You've read this in romance books but when it happens in real life you want to scream. This is not going as planned.

“There's only one bed,” You groan and place your bag on the floor, looking around for a couch or something that you could sleep on.

“Aww, you don't want to be close to me?” Sodo teases you, a smirk on his lips. You already know this is going to be a long night. You're tempted to pick your bag up and throw it right in his smug face.

“No,” You sigh and glare at him. You're already done with his shit and it's not even midnight yet. You stare at the bed and, for a second, you hope you can somehow mitosis the bed into creating another one. Yet it never does. Maybe you can trade rooms with someone, but everyone else is probably already asleep or trying to get to sleep so it would be pointless to try.

“Well, sweetheart, if you're not going to then I'm going to shower. No peeking,” Sodo snickers and goes into the bathroom. Maybe you will throw your bag at him. The water turning on pulls you from your thoughts, now you have to wait until he's done to get into more comfortable clothes, great.

—

The bed is a lot softer than you thought it would have been, for a shitty motel that is. You're laying on the bed on your stomach scrolling mindlessly on your phone when you feel the bed dip beside you. When you look over at Sodo you immediately regret it, not because he's ugly or anything, but because you're afraid you won't be able to look away, he's wearing some lose pajama bottoms and a thin shirt that basically leaves nothing to the imagination, his blonde hair is down and still damp from his shower that perfectly complements his charcoal skin. For a second you don't want to look away, trying to forever have this image in your head.

“Take a picture, sweetheart, it'll last longer,” He smirks when you realize you've been caught, he's enjoying watching you stumble over your words to find a response. “Shut up,” You snap at him, but your voice isn't harsh enough for you to actually be mad. You turn off your phone and pull the covers over yourself, the heat radiating from Sodo is enough to cook you alive so you ditch the idea and take them off almost as quick as you put them on. Thankfully, sleep comes quickly to you tonight.

—

“So good for me.. fuck.. so tight too,” Sodo growls into your ear and his thrusts don't stop or slow down. His face is buried in your neck and he groans when he feels you clench around him. You reach up to tug on his hair and he moans into your neck when you do. His hand goes down to rub your clit and he almost whines.

“Fuck! Sodo, please don't stop!” You cry and your back arches slightly, your hips move to try and match his unrelenting pace. You can feel the coil in your core getting tighter and tighter, and just as it's about to snap you get woken up to the feeling of being shook.

You're panting and you rub your eyes when you're fully conscious. “What?” You groan and look over at Sodo, internally hoping you didn't make any noise or you'll be done for. Your next words get caught in your throat when you fully take in his current appearance, he definitely heard you, his pupils are blown wide and he's biting his bottom lip, there's a bit of sweat on his forehead that causes some of his hair to stick to it, even through the darkness of the room you can make out the bulge in his pants.

“Sorry to wake you, but I can't help myself,” He groans and moves his face closer to yours, in a second you reach up and pull him down to kiss him. If you weren't already turned on, you are now. He grinds his erection onto your thigh and he pants into the kiss. When he breaks it you both know what to do, you grab your shirt and pull it off as he does the same, and he helps you get off your shorts and panties and he kisses you once again.

“Already.. so… wet,” He gasps between kisses and presses a finger into your folds and teases your clit. You whimper and he smirks and eagerly kisses your neck. You run your fingers through his hair and tug gently, this elicits a noise from Sodo that could make you cum on the spot. He presses a finger inside you and starts to pump them in and out, curling them up to press your sweet spot and you moan, a little too loud but neither of you care right now. He brings his head back up to your lips and kisses you again, he pulls his pants and boxers down and thrusts into you.

“Oh fuck. Does it feel as good as it did in your little dream?” He chuckles when you whine and turn your head away. “Shut up and fuck me.” You groan and he complies, his thrusts are deep and quick, yet he manages to find your sweet spot once again.

With every thrust his pelvis grinds against your clit causing you to moan.

“So fuckin’ tight..” He growls and grabs your thighs to lift them up around his waist, getting deeper than before. You can feel your orgasm approaching and from the moan he lets out so can he. Your walls tighten around him and he whines at the feeling. You can feel a gush of wetness from the noises he's making, you both already know that the rest of the band is going to kill you both from the noises you two are making but you both couldn't care less. You reach down to rub your clit and you feel the coil in your core get tighter.

“Fuck! Sodo.. please ‘m close,” You whimper through your pants and he speeds his thrusts up a bit, determined to make you cum. You wrap your legs around him and pull him closer to you and you feel a gush of wetness when you cum and he moans when you do. His thrusts don't slow as he gets closer and he cums deep inside you.

You're both panting and sweaty when he falls on top of you. “That was better than the dream,” You both laugh and he rolls off you. “Let's get cleaned up,” He picks you up and brings you to the bathroom.

Let's just say that the rest of the band will make sure you and Sodo never share a room again.

#sodo x reader #sodo ghoul #sodo ghost #Sodo x reader smut #dewdrop x reader #dewdrop ghoul #dewdrop ghost #dewdrop x reader smut #ghost band #ghost band x reader #ghost band smut #ghost bc x reader #nameless ghouls smut #ghost smut #smut #the band ghost x reader #the band ghost x reader smut

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taylor-titmouse · 6 months

Text

Julia is sick of working late. She's sick of being disrespected, and most of all she's sick of her boss. Lance is a burned out, smooth-talking playboy, but he also happens to be the son of the CEO. When Lance pushes her buttons once too often, Julia is tempted to put him in his place – but is it worth throwing away her career for a moment of satisfaction? Content: -F/M -dom -degradation -small penis humiliation -directed masturbation -power play 5k words, EPUB and PDF format Only $3, Releases later tonight! you can go read the first two pages on the shop page!

i've mentioned a couple times now that my editor and the author of roger crenshaw: the dogs at duskfall @mortalityplays is now available for freelance work for people other than me, but i don't think i've made as big of a deal how he's ALSO going to start releasing his own smut shorts on the last friday of every month! he is SUCH a talented writer on top of being an excellent editor and it's my absolute delight to work with him on the cover for his first release. FINALLY i have a great answer when asked "is there anyone else writing smut like you?"

and since this was the first time in a while i went through a cover design process that wasn't just me making one for myself, i thought i would go into how it went!

The Prompt

R/L wanted something that didn't visually describe the characters, because he had deliberately avoided that himself in the text. these characters are archetypes, ideas of characters: a woman who works in an office and her playboy burnout boss. for an erotic fantasy scenario, not going into detail can be ideal, as it allows the reader to project their own fantasies onto the characters. but what does that mean for a cover, when showing off the characters is often the point?

The Thumbnails

it means silhouettes, babie! if you're a reader of romance you've probably seen this approach a few times. silhouettes allow you to give the impression of a character without actually specifying them. HOWEVER! that can only go so far. note the female silhouettes in the left and right thumbnails--one with a pony tail, one with her hair down. these two very minor design elements say completely different things about the character, and pin her design down into something specific. (there is a whole line of feminist thought about this, that there is no such thing as an "unmarked" woman, or rather a woman whose presentation does not say something about her, ie a woman not wearing makeup is not perceived as neutral the way a man not wearing makeup is).

so anyway including her in the cover in full doesn't work for the prompt, because how she wears her hair or how she dresses would say something about her that we don't want to say. thus: we chose the middle design!

a man in a shirt and tie are super archetypal, and """neutral""" enough to not say anything specific about lance, our male protagonist, other than he has a job and is of average size (which are of course not technically truly neutral, but for our purposes, are functional as symbols). and while a long, narrow, leg does still say something about julia, it is abstracted enough to simply represent the concept of "woman" without projecting an overall image of her in the reader's head. she has a leg, and she wears high heels. that's all you get!

The Sketch

now we can move on to the sketch stage! this is the point at which the palette and text are figured out. i tried a few fonts before landing on one that had the retro paperback all-caps feel that i liked, and i used what i believe to have been a risograph print texture from retrosupply.

we went with the text up top rather than at the bottom, because it lends weight to the shoe and balances out the blacks in the pants. it also allows the figure to take up more of the cover, which is ideal. honestly, not a whole lot to say about this bit that i didn't cover in thumbnails: which is the point of doing thumbnails in the first place!

The Finish

well you can just scroll up to see that one. the final colors ended up a little less saturated, a little cooler, to bring it home to the retro paperback look i was going for and tie the colors together. i'm very pleased with it and had a lot of fun. cover design is one of my favorite parts of putting out books, and it was especially fun working with someone else to bring their vision to life.

anyway, you should go buy this book! it's only three dollars and i want to make more covers for these! your purchases would prove that i am a very good investment as a cover artist >:)

#tt art #tt talks drawing #cover design #fuck yourself friday

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theemporium · 2 years

Text

[REQUESTS OPEN]

a belated happy birthday to the biggest rafe sympathiser i know @1986harrington enjoy the shameless smut between the two hottest characters on the stupid boat show that brought us together :) it’s also severely unedited but you have waited long enough so hey ho ignore the mistakes

[4.7k] when sneaking around with boys from different worlds is all fun and games until you get caught. and they get curious. (smut)

It was wrong.

You didn't owe either of them anything, and you never gave the impression that what you shared with each of them was exclusive. You didn’t even expect them to return the favour.

But still, deep down, underneath all the pleasure and thrill, you felt a little bad.

Not that that would make you stop. How could you stop?

It was addictive. Something so primal and unexplainable about nights shared between the two boys, nights where neither of them knew about the other, nights where they thought they were the only ones to have you. No one would ever understand, you were sure there were a handful of names and phrases they would throw at you if they ever did discover your secret.

But you didn’t want to stop.

You thought you were being clever with it, that you were getting away with it. You knew there was a risk, but that was a part of the thrill—the fact you could get caught.

You just didn’t expect it to happen like this.

It was a weekday, a simple Wednesday and the last thing you expected was a guest. You had been sat on your bed, phone in hand as you aimlessly scrolled through with your textbook open before you in some false pretence of studying for the test you had later that week.

You hadn’t been bothered with your outfit—simple sleep shorts and a tank—when you heard three, consecutive raps against your window.

Frown painted on your lips, you made your way towards the window to pull the curtains back, only for your eyes to widen at the familiar blond seated on the edge. You quickly unlocked the latch, pulling the boy into your room before he lost his balance on the thin slit of wood.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, heart thundering in your chest and a smile unknowingly growing on your lips at the roguish smirk on his lips.

“I was passing by the neighbourhood,” JJ stated simply with a shrug of his shoulders.

You raised your brows. “Were you now?”

“I might have gone on a little detour,” he added with a wink, and you couldn’t even blame your body for the way you flushed in response. He was a pretty boy with even prettier charm, and god, did he know it.

“My parents could hear,” you said, though it wasn’t a very convincing argument nor had it ever stopped either of you before.

“Is that an offer to find a way to keep you quiet?” JJ countered, his fingers already instinctively reaching for you as they slipped beneath the hem of your tank and glided against your heated skin.

Your lips twitched. “Got any ideas?”

“I can think of a few, princess,” he murmured as he ducked his head down, his lips against the skin of your neck and you couldn’t help but lean your head back with a happy sigh.

JJ Maybank was one of those boys that were so naturally pretty, that it hurt. The ocean blue eyes, the surf swept and tousled blond hair, the killer smile and the taste of sea-salt on your tongue. He was the kind of boy your mother warned you about, that pretty face that was so inviting but you knew had the power to break your heart.

He was the definition of a pogue, and maybe that added knowledge just made him ten times more tempting to you. He was the last thing you should ever want, and yet the forbidden nature of it all made you crave him even more.

Between the heated kisses and lingering touches hidden away in the shadows, knowing that JJ Maybank was the last person you’d want to be caught with was what made you keep coming back for more.

He was bad news for a good kook girl like yourself, but then again, the same bastards that made those rules clearly had never tasted JJ Maybank.

“Jay,” you murmured in a breathy sigh as he began to guide you through your room in small, shuffled steps until the back of your knees hit the mattress and you fell back against the bed. You barely had a chance to push yourself further up the bed when he was already crawling over, his lips pressing kisses on any visible patches of skin before he made it to your lips.

“Say my name so pretty,” he muttered against your lips, and you just knew that if you pulled back now, you’d see a smug smile on his lips.

“Maybe if you put that mouth to use, you’ll hear it a lot more,” you retorted, albeit in a breathless voice, but the snap was still there and it thrilled the blond as much as it thrilled you. To the world, you were a little goody-two-shoes, but behind closed doors was a whole other story.

“Making demands now, princess?” he mused as he pulled back enough so he could see your face, his fingers tracing down your jaw as he spoke. “Got any more orders, Your Highness?”

“Yeah,” you nodded and flashed him an innocent look. “Take your damn clothes off, Maybank.”

His grin was wide. “Your wish is my command, princess.”

His moves were always quick and agile, kneeling at the bottom of the bed as he tugged the tank top he was wearing over his head and threw it on your bedroom floor. His hands moved to his shorts, but you slapped his hands away as you took over, undoing the button before looping your fingers through the material and tugging him back down over you.

“So impatient,” he teased as he moved to push the material of your tank top higher up your stomach.

“I just know what I want,” you said to him with a certain spark in your eyes.

“And what’s that?” JJ asked, eyes darkening in interest.

“Want to know my dirty fantasies, Maybank?”

He bit down on his lip, trying to hold back his groans. “Oh baby, there’s nothing more that I wanna know.”

You grinned. “Then earn it.”

His lips were on yours before you could even finish your sentence, the material of your tank pushed further up until it was tucked just beneath your tits. His thumbs brushed against the skin of your stomach, smiling in delight as your body shivered with the light touches. There were a handful of ideas in his head, so many ways he wanted to take you on these prissy pink sheets with your parents just down the hall, but he couldn’t quite choose one—he wanted you to choose, he wanted you to choose how he’d ruin you. He wanted you to choose—

“Well, isn’t this an interesting development?”

Both of your heads snapped towards the door as the unfamiliar third voice sounded through the room.

And much to your own fucking horror and embarassment, it was Rafe Cameron who stood leaned against the door, arms crossed over his chest and an unreadable emotion darkening those ice blue eyes of his.

It shouldn’t have thrilled you as much as it did.

“What the fuck?” JJ spat at the kook casually standing a few feet away, using most of his body to cover yours even if the sight was nothing Rafe hadn’t seen before. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Rafe raised an unamused brow. “I could ask you the same thing, pogue.”

The blond’s glare hardened. “I don’t think you can.”

Rafe’s gaze moved towards yours, and you knew he wanted to hear you say it. He wanted to hear the words come out of your mouth.

“Got some light you wanna shed on the situation, sweetheart?” he asked with his head tilted, and maybe it should’ve intimidated you but it didn’t. It really didn’t.

“I–” you suddenly sat up on the bed, not bothering to pull the tank top down even when two sets of eyes settled on the plain of your torso. “I can explain.”

“That would be ideal,” JJ gruffed out, eyes narrowing at the other boy before he looked back at you.

You looked between the two boys, both so fucking different from each other and yet you craved them all the same. They couldn’t be more different, and yet the thing that connected them was you. You were all they had in common and, selfishly despite the moment you were currently dealing with, you didn’t want that to stop.

“Never heard you so quiet in the bedroom before,” Rafe mused, his words thick with lust, rage and something else that made you clench your legs together. “Then again, never thought you’d slum it down with a pogue so I guess there is a first for everything.”

“Because your prissy kook ass is so much better?” JJ countered with a scoff.

Rafe’s brows furrowed together. “Yeah, actually–”

“Stop!” you hissed at the two of them, pushing yourself off the bed as you stood in the space between the two of them. “Both of you stop this pissing contest, it reeks of fragile masculinity.”

This time it was JJ who spoke, something mixed between confusion, lust and anger painted across his face like he couldn’t quite decide himself how he felt.

“What the fuck?” he gritted out.

“Don’t give me that look,” you said with a scoff when you saw Rafe giving you a similar look.

“One wasn’t enough?” Rafe commented.

“I didn’t hear you wanting to be exclusive,” you snapped back, looking between both boys. “Neither of you.”

“So what? You open your legs for a pogue?” Rafe sneered.

“Jealous?” you retorted and the boy’s shoulders tensed, which only made your smirk widened. “Oh, you are.”

“I’m not,” Rafe muttered, though it wasn’t very convincing.

“Jealous I didn’t come running to you, Rafe?” you continued to push him, hearing the blond behind you let out something between a scoff and a laugh.

Rafe’s eyes narrowed. “You still did in the end, didn’t you?”

JJ chuckled. “Only when she was desperate enough.”

Rafe’s tongue pressed against his cheek as he glared at JJ before his eyes found yours again. “So, who was it?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Who was what?”

“Who was better, sweetheart?”

“Better?”

You could feel the heat of JJ’s chest pressed against your back before you felt his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

“He wants to know which one of us fucks you better, princess,” JJ murmured, his words feeling thick and sweet despite the snarky undertone.

Your breath hitched and the blood roaring in your ears seemed very hard to ignore now as you stared ahead at Rafe, who had closed the distance until he was just inches away from pressing his chest against yours.

“Answer us,” Rafe spoke so softly, but his words were a command.

“I–” you opened your mouth but no words came out.

Rafe raised his brow.

“Need a little reminder?” JJ’s voice was lower, rougher as his fingers skimmed along your neck as he pushed your hair over one shoulder. His head dipped down, tip of his nose brushing against your skin as he placed a soft kiss at the base of your neck.

“I think she needs a reminder how well a proper man can fuck her,” Rafe said as though you weren’t standing right there, as though it was just JJ he was talking to.

You could feel JJ’s breathy laugh on your neck. “I don’t think a kook prick like you could give her what she needs,” he murmured. “She likes it rough.”

Rafe’s darkened gaze met yours. “Oh, I know.”

Your body was buzzing, humming, thrumming as you tried to remind yourself that you needed to breathe and your lungs needed air. But it was hard when Rafe was staring at you like he wanted to devour you and JJ’s hands gliding up and down your arms was making you want to melt into his embrace.

“Let’s let her decide,” Rafe suggested so casually like you weren’t seconds away from exploding. “Let the best man win.”

JJ’s fingers circled around your wrists. “Hope you aren’t a sore loser, Cameron.”

“I never lose, Maybank.”

You barely had time to process their words, let alone remind them that you were standing right there, before Rafe’s hands were on either side of your cheeks and he was pulling you towards him as your lips met his in a sloppy kiss.

It was instinctive to let out a gasp, your lips parting just so slightly but it was enough for Rafe to slip his tongue inside you, a low groan of appreciation emitting from the back of his throat. He was intoxicating, and his kisses were no fucking different.

“Kiss her like you mean it,” JJ muttered against your neck, teeth lightly scraping against the spot below your ear that he knew made your knees buckle.

Your hands reached back for him like you needed to know he was there, like you needed to feel them both to keep you sane or otherwise you’d lose your mind. But before you could even grip the belt loops of his shorts and pull him closer, he was slapping your hands away. A small whine climbed up the back of your throat, only to quickly die down when he gripped both your wrists in one hand, keeping them pressed against your back.

“Shhh,” JJ cooed mockingly as you tried to fight his grip for a solid few seconds before giving in, the smug smile undoubtedly painted on his face. “Don’t worry, pretty girl, I know what you like.”

Your breathing was close to panting when Rafe pulled away slightly, your head moving forward to chase him but his fingers pressed into your cheek and kept you in place.

“Focus on me, doll,” he murmured, his eyes locked on your lips with a look that only thrilled you. “You hear me?”

You nodded your head dumbly.

“Good.”

It was too much. Too fucking much all at once and yet you never wanted it to stop.

The bruising kisses, the passion and anger poured into these fucking kisses that made your brain stop working. You didn’t even realise kisses could affect you so much, and yet here you were, thinking you could reach heaven with his kisses alone. Or maybe hell. Whatever made him keep kissing you.

But then there was JJ, with his lips all over your neck and shoulders and collarbone. There was the way he was gripping your hands in one of his own, that small bit of attention and authority making a wave of pleasure rush down your back. There was the way his other hand glided up and down your body until his pinky was playing with the waistband of your shorts, just enough to tease you.

The whine you let out was only swallowed by Rafe’s kisses.

“Hm, always a desperate thing, aren’t you?” JJ whispered to you as his finger dipped beneath the waistband, teasing along the edge of your cotton panties. “Never took much to get you wet, princess.”

You could feel Rafe’s smirk against your lips.

“Bet you’re fucking soaking, loving all the attention,” JJ continued as his hand dipped beneath the barriers between him and your cunt, a breathy chuckle fanned over your heated skin as his fingers slid along your lips. “Oh princess, you are fucking loving this.”

“Please,” you breathed out between kisses.

“Want me to touch you? Want me to make you feel good like I always do?” he asked and he could feel the way your body shivered against him at his words. “How can I say no to my princess?”

It was hard to focus on the way Rafe was kissing you or the way he nipped your bottom lip to get your attention. It was hard to focus on anything except the way JJ’s thumb pressed against your clit in slow circles, a choked whine leaving your lips as your body surged forward.

“Is he making you feel good, doll?” Rafe’s voice was rough and hoarse as he spoke, your forehead pressed against his shoulder as JJ’s fingers worked against your soaking cunt until you were weeping for him, until you were begging to have him inside you. “Is he making you feel as good as I do?”

“I–” But the words were cut off by a pathetic moan when JJ finally slipped a finger inside you. Slow, far too fucking slow and you could feel the smugness oozing from him when you clenched around the single digit.

“Fucking look at me,” Rafe commanded, his fingers tangled in your hair as he tugged your head back so you were staring up at him, eyes glossy and lips swollen, and god they had barely touched you and you looked like a fucking wet dream.

“Shit,” you moaned, eyes fluttering close as another finger slid inside you, curling in a way that only JJ seemed to be able to do and your knees buckled in response. You were pretty sure if you weren’t sandwiched between the two men you would have fallen.

“Come f’me, princess,” JJ groaned in your ear, his grip tightening around your wrists. “Show the kook bastard what a good girl you are for me.”

Your lips parted in a silent scream, muscles tensing and body locking as the pleasure washed over you. You could feel the heat of their bodies and your own, it was overwhelming and suffocating and still not enough and despite the fact you had white dots sprinkled in your vision you wanted more.

You wanted everything they had to offer.

“Cute show,” Rafe commented, his thumbs caressing the apples of your cheeks as he pulled you closer to him. “But that was nothing, Maybank.”

You were pretty sure either of them could have asked for anything at that moment and you would have given them it. Your mind felt fuzzy and your legs still a little shaky and when you turned your head to look at JJ, seeing him slide the fingers that were inside of you into his own mouth, you were quite certain this would be the night you died.

“Take this off,” he murmured as his hands fell to her waist, tugging at the hem of her tank top as he did. He didn’t give much choice in the matter, not that you minded. Somewhere in your post-orgasmic bliss, the way Rafe made demands made your thighs clench together.

Except it wasn’t your hands that pulled the fabric over your head. The rough calluses brushing against your skin made you shiver as JJ pulled the tank top over your head before making work on your shorts and panties too, the way the boy was so soft at undressing you made your head spin.

But you couldn’t look away from the way Rafe was staring at you, with a hunger in his eyes you knew all too well and it sent a thrill down your spine.

“Gonna do what I say, right, doll?” Rafe asked softly, almost like he truly cared what you wanted as he pulled you closer to him by your hand, guiding you as he walked back towards the bed.

You nodded dumbly.

You gasped a little at the sharp sting on the side of your thigh as Rafe pulled you to stand between his legs as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Words.”

“Yes.”

“Atta girl,” he murmured as his lips twitched upwards. “Take a seat, darling, so I can show that dirty little pogue how you really like it.”

During your escapades with Rafe, you were pleasantly surprised by how much time the boy liked to spend between your legs. You would have thought of him as a selfish lover, someone who cared more about his own needs than his partner’s.

However, it became very clear that the time he spent between your legs was purely selfish for him. No matter how much you moaned or whined or cried, the boy would pin your hips to the mattress until he was done with you. He decided when he was done. He decided how many times you would come before he finally gave you his cock like you’d beg him for.

But this was new.

You were used to being sprawled out on the bed, clenching the sheets between your fists as you cried out for him. Now, your thighs were burning as you hovered above him, not quite ready to commit but the darkened look in his eyes gave you a very clear idea on how quickly his patience was dwindling.

“Thought you were a good girl,” Rafe grumbled, his hands squeezing the fat of your thighs as he tugged you down. “My obedient girl.”

“Rafe–”

“Shut up,” he murmured before his arms wrapped around your thighs, closing any remaining distance between you both until you were sat on his face.

“Shit,” you gasped, still sensitive and soaking from JJ’s hands minutes ago but the feeling of Rafe’s tongue lapping against your cunt like a starved man was too good. The noises he made, the way his eyes rolled to the back of his head, even the way he fucking tightened his grip on your thighs like he was scared you’d disappear.

This was about Rafe and his pleasure, nothing to do with you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you repeated, mixed with breathy whines as your hips began to roll against his face, his nose nudging your swollen your clit that you couldn’t help but reach out to grip the headboard for support. There were days your hands would be tangled in his hair, but the buzzcut prevented that now—not that you were complaining at all about the haircut.

“You look pretty with your tits bouncing like that,” JJ’s voice made you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, eyes glossy and hooded as you whined helplessly as the man below you ate you out like it was a fucking sport.

“JJ–” you choked on a whine when Rafe pinched your thigh, clearly not happy about hearing another man’s name on your lips.

“Look prettier when you’re bouncing on my cock though,” he commented thoughtfully, one hand turning your head so he could sloppily kiss you whilst his other one rounded your body and pinched your nipple between his fingers.

The whine you let out was embarrassing.

It was like you could feel them everywhere, both pairs of hands exploring your bodies in ways that you never wanted to stop. You couldn’t let them stop. Hell, if you had known that being caught by them would lead to this, you would have done it weeks ago.

You could barely keep yourself straight by the time you came on Rafe’s tongue, you had tears in your eyes and your legs were shaking as the boy gripped your thighs, not quite ready to let you go yet. And the blonde behind you was no better, so lost in slow and lazy kisses whilst he cupped and groped your tits like it was the first time he had ever touched them.

But the whole night had been about you: them touching you, them pleasing you, them whispering the filthiest things known to man in your ear. And you were greedy and insatiable, and you wanted them to just let go. You wanted to know how fucking close they were to snapping.

“I think it’s a tie,” you told them, still panting and breathless as you leaned back on JJ’s chest. “And you haven’t been fair.”

JJ sounded amused, his face nuzzled against the crook of your neck. “Fair?”

“You’re both wearing far too many clothes,” you said nonchalantly.

As soon as the words left your lips, you could almost feel a shift in the air. It was like the night had been leading to this moment, like it was some sort of twisted plan set up by the universe that was finally coming to be. It felt like you were finally getting what dirty fantasies and hopeful dreams had made you crave in the dark, lonely nights where neither boy was warming your bed.

It shouldn’t have turned you on the way they moved your body like you weighed nothing, like you were a toy for their pleasure and amusement alone. It shouldn’t have turned you on the way their eyes glimmered with lust and desire as you pulled their boxers down. It shouldn’t have turned you on the way they fucking consumed you—and yet, here you fucking were.

“God, this fucking ass,” JJ groaned from behind you, his hips slapping against yours as he thrusted in and out of you, a steady tempo that just wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you wanted him deeper, you wanted him harder. But here he was, gripping the fat of your ass as he pounded into you from behind.

But you couldn’t even beg or cry for more, you couldn’t bat your eyelashes and play him like you knew would have him doing anything you wanted. You couldn’t do anything with Rafe’s cock hitting the back of your throat, tears running down your cheeks and your cunt clenching around JJ as the boy slowly lost his control.

“Look so pretty choking on my cock,” Rafe muttered between gritted teeth, fingers lost in your hair as he bobbed your head up and down. “My fucking girl is made for my cock, hm?”

You moaned around his dick, unable to help yourself as you body lurched between the two boys.

You couldn’t keep count on just how many times they made you come, and how many times they let you get close before pulling you away. Because despite their competition and differences and rivalry, the one thing the boys seemed to have in common was that they fucking loved to see you beg for their cocks.

They loved that the little good girl kook was a slut, just for them.

“Taking me so fucking well,” JJ moaned, skin slapping against skin echoing through the bedroom and he couldn’t have been more fucking glad that your parents were out. He knew you loved it when he was vocal, and god, he loved it too.

“Gonna take it all, sweetheart?” Rafe goaded, heavy breathing mixed with soft curses as he felt your tongue wrap around the tip of his cock. “C’mon, we know you can. Be our good girl, yeah?”

“Take it all,” JJ said it like it was a command and it was your undoing, the orgasm completely wiping you out as your body shook and tensed as the pleasure washed over you. You could feel the boys following you soon after, you could feel their hands on you but you couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever again.

Maybe this really was the night that ended you.

You could feel them shuffling around the bed, could feel a wet rag between your legs and you could feel a soft shirt with a familiar cologne clinging to it being pulled over your head. You could feel the duvet being pulled over your body as your head hit the pillow, and your arms blindly reached out.

“Stay,” you whispered the word like it was forbidden—and maybe it was. “Both of you. Please.”

Because the truth of the matter was that there would never be a world where JJ and Rafe wouldn’t be them: a pogue and a kook, two boys from different worlds who would never find a way to understand each other or put years and generations worth of rivalry behind them.

But for you? They could bite their tongue and pride. Even if just for a night, even if it was just for a couple of hours.

“You chose a winner, sweetheart?”

A slow grin pulled at your lips as you felt both boys tense beside you, waiting and biding their time as they awaited your response.

“It’s still a draw,” you murmured sleepily, nuzzling your head into the chest of whichever boy was on your right. “Guess another round is in order. Sudden death.”

A breathy laugh could be heard from behind you. “Sudden death?”

“I wanna be thorough in my research.”

“Goody-two shoes my ass.”

“You saying no?”

“I never said that.”

“Good, I hope those bodies of yours live up to their stamina then. Otherwise, I’ll be severely disappointed in the morning”

589 notes · View notes

kitashousewife · 2 years

Text

staying in

an: yahoo! it's my first piece for my cuffing szn event! im currently under three blankets AND it snowed today so i felt inspired to write

pairings: husband!nanami x fem!reader

warnings: stress mention, food/eating mention, alcohol mention, nanami is a really good husband, pet names (love, darling, sweetheart) fluff, lowercase intentional

every friday night, nanami takes you out on a date. some nights are small; dinner, dessert, and home right after. some are bigger; cooking classes, pottery classes, plays, dinner parties, or even catching a drink at one of the fancier bars. since it's friday once again, he spends the last hour of work deciding where to take you.

he doesn't want to give in, but a large part of him doesn't want to go out at all.

today has been freezing. the wind's been blowing non-stop, and it even tried to snow during lunch. of course, the students loved the few flakes that fell, but nanami was not as excited. snow meant dangerous roads, traffic, power outages, and that deep chill that sets into your bones.

to distract from the low temperatures, nanami scrolls on his computer, looking up different restaurants, shows, and events going on. the two of you have been busy for a while; the last two weeks of dates were spent with take out and heading to bed early. he doesn't want the same thing to happen this week.

as soon as the clock hits five, nanami walks out of jujutsu high as fast as he can. he has it all figured out; he will take you to the new restaurant that just opened up, then afterwards stop at the bar on the way home for some cocktails, and before the night is over; stop for whatever dessert you'd like.

but, with every passing minute driving home, nanami is fighting the urge to throw all of those plans out the window. it's beginning to snow again; the closer he gets to your shared home, the more the flakes begin to stick. by the time he pulls into the driveway, the roof has a light dusting of snow stuck to it.

the scowl on his face grows with each footprint he leaves behind, the crunch of his shoe against the snow tempts him to stay in. but, he won't give in that easily.

"i'm home," he announces, voice dripping with irritation as he shakes off his coat. he puts it away, along with his shoes, before walking into the kitchen. his sour mood sweetens almost immediately when he sees you, pouring yourself a cup of tea.

"hey ken, how was your day? are you loving the snow?" you grin, the last part thick with sarcasm. he rolls his eyes and you snort.

"no, not particularly. the kids enjoyed it, though," he mumbles, loosening the tie from his neck. "it's friday night."

you blink at him from the rim of your mug. 'it is indeed. what are your thoughts?"

he walks over to you, wraps his arms around you and dips you, earning him a laugh and a smile as the two of you dance.

"well, i was thinking about that new restaurant that opened last week, maybe some drinks, some dessert," he lists, dipping you further and further with each word until you're squealing. he pulls you up once more, brushing the hair out of your face. "what do you think?"

you smile and nod, but he can tell you aren't too thrilled.

"what? did you have something else in mind?"

you wince. "don't hate me, but i kinda want to stay-"

"in? me too," he sighs. "but i haven't taken you out in weeks, love."

"ken, i don't mind. let's stay in, yeah? besides," you glance out the kitchen window and smile. "everything is covered in snow." nanami groans, and doesn't need any convincing after that.

"i'm going to change, then. i'll be right back," he shuffles towards your bedroom. you can't help but smile. this week was shit, it's freezing and you would much prefer staying in than having to get dressed up. nanami works so hard, and you could tell this week was wearing on him too. you knew he was tired and wanted to rest, especially after he had a surprise mission to attend to earlier in the week.

"so," nanami's voice cuts off your thoughts. you turn to see him in what you would say is his best look: sweatpants, sweatshirt, and his round "at home" glasses, as he likes to call them. you love when he looks like this because you know that it means he is ready to spend the evening at home, with you.

"so," you mimic. he smiles.

"what would you like for dinner? we could order take out, but i don't want to make anyone drive in this weather more than they need to."

you hum and walk towards your pantry while nanami looks through the fridge. "we have pasta? but we don't have any sauce,"

"we have a bottle of wine in here, do you remember where it's from?"

you peek your head out of the pantry. "wine for dinner?" he rolls his eyes.

"okay, so no wine for you," you stick your tongue out at him and return to your search.

"it was from gojo, by the way," a small ahh comes from behind the refrigerator doors. "finding anything good, ken?"

"well we do have the ingredients for sauce. i can make it, if you would like."

"i would love that. you are the best cook in the relationship."

nanami chuckles as he grabs ingredients for the sauce, placing a kiss on your lips after he has what he needs. you watch as he goes around the kitchen, grabbing the tools needed for the job.

"darling, would you mind turning on some music? maybe even the fireplace?"

"not at all. any requests?"

he lights the the stove and turns to look at you over his shoulder.

"surprise me."

you feel very special, because your sweet husband just so happens to be very particular about his music. the vintage record player that sits in the living room is rarely touched by you, save for a few special moments like this. the vinyl sits in their cases, organized by genre of course, making it easy. you drop the needle in the groove of a slow jazz record, and nanami nods from his place in front of the stove. before joining him you flick on the fireplace and then walk back to his side.

"i have another job for you," he says, focused as he measures out another ingredient. you sigh at the smell, the sauce already looking better than anything you would've ordered tonight. "what's that?"

he stop stirring momentarily to pick you up and set you on the counter next to him. "well i need a taste tester, of course."

it's your turn to place a kiss on his lips, this one lingering for a bit longer than the last. he's made this sauce a hundred times, so you know he's just using this as an excuse to have you close by.

your hungry stomach is grateful that nanami works so fast, finishing up dinner quickly and plating it for you two at the table. he pulls your chair out for you, even pushing you in before grabbing the wine out of the fridge. before he sits down he pours your glass, then his own.

"thank you, ken. this is better than anything we could have eaten tonight."

he kisses your head before taking a seat. "we'll see about that. you haven't even tasted it yet."

the next few hours is full of laughter, mostly from you, as the two of you swap stories from the week. nanami's tales of the students have your stomach hurting just a touch, wishing you had seen things for yourself. after dinner the two of you clean up together before sitting down on the couch, enjoying the warmth of the fireplace.

"what would you like to do tonight, sweetheart?"

you nuzzle into his chest, curled up in a blanket at his side. "whatever you want to do."

he chuckles. "unfortunately i need to catch up on some new information the higher-ups sent out this week that i haven't looked at yet. you want to do that?"

"nope, i'm good," you tease. "i think i'll read while you do that. is that okay?"

he kisses your cheek before grabbing his computer. "i would love that."

you don't mean to, but the soft jazz that continues to play, mixed with the warmth of the fireplace lulls you into a light sleep. nanami realizes you've fallen asleep when he feels you lean into his side. his heart swells, looking at your beautiful face, peaceful and coated in a golden glow from the fire. he tries to be as quiet as possible while reading through, not wanting to disturb you after the week you've had.

"ken?"

"i'm sorry, love. did i wake you?"

"no," you voice is groggy. nanami finds it adorable. he shuts his laptop and pulls you close, smiling to himself at your sleepy sigh.

"ken?"

"yes?"

"i want something sweet,"

he fully laughs at that, shaking his head. you can't hide the smile playing at your lips either.

"are you really my wife if you don't want something sweet, shortly after eating?"

you sit up and gasp dramatically. "shortly? it's been," you glance at the clock. "two hours after we ate dinner! come on ken, i know you wouldn't say no to cookies."

"you're absolutely right, i wouldn't," he agrees.

"well," you say, standing up with a stretch. "i can make some cookies for us. it's only fair. maybe i'll make some for our neighbor while i'm at it," you slowly shuffle into the kitchen, grabbing ingredients of your own and turning the oven on.

while you work, nanami leans back on the couch and begins to drift into a sleep of his own.

"ken, come here!" he groans in question, and you laugh.

"i need a taste tester, don't i?"

"oh, obviously," he sits up immediately, coming right by your side with a happy grin on his face. you give him a kiss on the cheek before scooping him some dough. he eats it quickly, sighing the second it touches his tastebuds.

"i'm so glad we stayed in. best idea you've ever had," he says, words slurred lightly as he cleans off the spoon you gave him. you look out the window once more, eyes widening at the amount of snow that blankets everything outside. when you turn back and see your husband, sitting on top of the counter just like you were hours earlier, peace melts through your body.

you're glad the two of you decided to stay in, too.

#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento fluff #nanami fluff #jjk fluff #jjk imagine #jjk scenario #nanami kento #nanami x you #kento nanami #jjk x you #jjk x reader #heidswinterevent

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odue-sp · 2 years

Text

Asmodeus x Male Reader

The two sat at the table, Asmso was scrolling through the male's phone, as M/n watched on nervously. Just seeing the demon's neutral face was terrifying enough. His nails tapped on the wood table before slamming the phone down, the scream definitely broke.

"Tell me why your feed is full of men? And your likes are also full of men?" You look away before he reaches over and grabs your face. His nails grew out of anger and scratched your face a bit. "Answer me, slut." You shut your eyes as a last resort but he didn't like that. "Your comments aren't doing you any favors." He snarled.

He moved away and sat on your lap. "You think they want someone as worthless as you? You can even get it up," that's right, you sold your soul to him. You couldn't fuck anyone even if you wanted to. Your dick was his toy, and only his. He pushed the back of your head into his neck, you breathe in his scent. He was letting out some pheromones knowing you'd become eager and willing by just a simple taste.

"Asmo," he ignored your pleas, only giving out waves of toxic yet sweet fumes. Your sex was growing by the second and he pushed you back and sat on the table. His gaze staring down at you. You knew.

You lowered your head, sucking and licking the tight shorts that hid his own sex. The sounds echoed before he grabbed your hair and slowly revealed his hardened dick. It was much bigger than yours as you were just a mere human. Asmo never minded, he knew if he wanted that you'd let him fuck you but he preferred you to lead.

"Suck it, princess." He spoke sweetly but you knew better, he was degrading you and you didn't mind. Opening your mouth and throat to pleasure the demon who smiled at your efforts. "Such a slut for me. Maybe I'll ask MC to join us. I'm sure he'd love to fuck you while I ride your cock."

He grinned at your tearful look. You felt embarrassed by the suggestion. Asmo shoved you down his length, feeling you choke and gag felt like heaven as he grinned blissfully on your troubles.

"I know I'm not much to look at," you shook your head despite the tip digging down your throat. "But you know better, don't you? My little toy fantasizing about being fucked by some bulky humans?" He grew angry remembering the reason why this was happening.

Without missing a beat, he picks you up and trails to his room. Throwing you on his bed before crawling over you. "Only me." His pink eyes glowed as he wasted no time taking every inch in one movement. You threw your head back in overstimulation letting out choked moans. "As... Asmo... Uwak!" You shuddered trying to stay grounded. "Look how whorish you look, drunk on my ass already?" He grinned at the sight and rode you.

The brothers tried to help by trying to get him to eat or just orders but he didn't stop, not even when you cried and sobs into the pillow, he just shoved into your face to keep you quiet. MC even tried to help you...

"M...C—" you whined feeling the cock thrust into you as Asmo smiled happily at the situation. "M/n....I'm so sorry." MC groaned out as he couldn't refuse Asmo's tempting offer. He offered you on a silver platter. Every thrust and hop flooded you with endless pleasure before you looked at Asmo.

"Kiss... Me... Goodnight."

Asmo stared, his pink eyes now dimmed. MC was already tired out and was hugging you while sleeping. "There's a good princess." He whispered and deeply kissed you as he calmed for the first time and you for the unknown time... "Hic... You're so mean." You weakly cried out.

"Don't piss me off, princess."

#obey me #male reader #male reader insert #x male reader #male y/n #pseudo's ff #seudo's ff #male reader smut #male!reader #obey me x male reader #obey me mc #om! asmodeus #obey me asmodeus #asmodeus avatar of lust

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hobobobo-fett56 · 1 year

Text

It’s Bedtime Pumpkin: Lloyd Hansen x spouse!reader

Warnings: slight angst, y/n subtly not liking coffee, sleep deprivation

Excuse the grammar mistakes, I am very tired but I cannot fall asleep until I write down this idea

Insomnia was a bitch. Sorry, insomnia was making you it’s bitch. That, and your nightmares kept you from wanting to sleep even if you could.

Usually your husband would be home to wrap you in his arms and protect you from anything that dared disturb your sleep, but he was out on a job, and you didn’t know when he would be back.

So you had been up for a week, it’s not a big deal to you, you had developed a “routine” for when Lloyd wasn’t home, and you had almost perfected it:

1. Kiss Lloyd goodbye and make sure he has extra snacks in his bag just incase

2. Go to work, the busy rush of your job was an easy distraction from your exhaustion

3. Clean and throw yourself into as many jobs as you possibly can, your current hyper fixation should do the trick

4. Lots of sugar and food, eating kept you awake.

Rinse and repeat daily (except for step one of course)

It was unusual for Lloyds job to last more than two or three days, so of course the exhaustion was getting to you, but at this point, you had convinced yourself that sleep was the worst possible option, that it was life threatening. It was getting so hard to stay awake that you were tempted to drink coffee, but alas your distaste for the beverage won, and you were running out of ideas.

Currently it was two in the morning, the house was spotless, all of your work projects for the next two months had been finished hours ago, and you were out of yarn, thread, fabric, flour, chocolate and basically any art or baking supply you could think of so coming up with a fun new craft to be focused on was out of the question.

Now, in a last ditch attempt to stay awake, you were doom scrolling on your phone, from baking compilations to tumbler stories to some of the filthiest smut you could find, you were looking at everything to stay awake.

If Lloyd were here, he would have scolded you for not taking proper care of yourself, telling you that you need to find a way to sleep without him, and (as your therapist does constantly) suggest some form of anti-anxiety medication to help with your fears.

But he wasn’t here. In fact you couldn’t remember the last time you had talked to him, it felt like years although it had probably only been a day or so. You missed him desperately during the times that he was away, but you knew he loved his job so you were happy for him.

You had switched to instagram and were scrolling through reels when you heard some scuffling downstairs by the front door. It was so quiet that if you were asleep, you wouldn’t have heard it, but you of course were not asleep, just halfway delusional from lack thereof. Without thinking, you grabbed your guitar which you had been taking lessons for, and crept out of your room brandishing the instrument like a baseball bat. You got down the stairs and turn the corner only to scream in fright and drop the guitar when you ran straight into your husband.

He in turn, screamed in surprise causing you to jump and fall.

Immediately he had his arms wrapped around you and was holding onto you tightly before you could hit the ground.

You could hear his rich laugh “honey I’m home” he said still laughing while he pulled you up so he could face you. You began laughing too, finding the situation quite comical.

Lloyd checked his watch “why are you up so late pumpkin? Are you ok?” He asked

Just the question sent you into hysterics. From laughing loudly to sobbing, your body crumpled to the floor, relieved that you could finally rest.

“Woah woah woah, what’s going on here pumpkin, hey sweetheart what’s the deal?” Lloyd crouched down to you and you tried to calm down.

“I’m so tired, I’m so so so tired, I just want to sleep, but I couldn’t” his face softened at that, and he easily picked you up off of the floor.

“Come on then, it’s bedtime pumpkin” with that he was carrying you both up the stairs and placed you into your shared bed.

He kissed your hand before he left your embrace for at the most fifteen seconds (the utter betrayal) to strip down to his underwear so he could crawl into bed with you.

Thankful he had chosen to not wear a shirt as he pulled you into his chest, and gave you as much skin to skin contact as he could, you breathed a sigh of relief. His body was radiating warmth and safety. You finally felt like you could relax.

“Are we gonna need to have a talk about your sleeping habits, baby?” Lloyd broke the silence.

“Mmm probably, but can we do it tomorrow, I’m tired, and I missed you so much” you mumbled

He kissed you forehead “sure pumpkin, go to sleep, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Thanks bubba” the soft rhythmic rise and fall of his chest lulled you into a deep peaceful sleep, unknowingly to you, Lloyd was just as tired, and crashed as hard as you did. Neither of you could sleep without the other.

The end.

#lloyd hansen #sierra six #grey man #lloyd hansen imagine #lloyd hansen x reader

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elisela · 1 year

Note

‘I missed you’ + sterek

west coast swing sterek, wild about you, long distance relationship

—

Somewhere in the air over Colorado, Derek gets cold feet.

It’s insane what he’s doing, actually. It’s just—no reasonable person would buy a last-minute ticket halfway across the US just because they miss the guy they’ve been dating for all of six weeks. Even if he and Stiles talk and text so often that Derek feels like it’s been twice as long, it’s just not … it’s not him. It’s not something he would usually do, and the rush of adrenaline he’d felt buying the ticket and driving to the airport is starting to fade, leaving anxiety and doubt in its place.

He blames Kira. And Jordan, who’d made a considering face and said, “Actually, I think you should go for it,” when Kira suggested he go meet Stiles out west. Lydia had called out her agreement behind him so she’s also on Derek’s list of people to ignore for the rest of his life if this turns out badly; even Allison hasn’t escaped potential blame, because she’s the reason he has a rolled up, ratty poster in his carry-on bag.

This is a mistake. He should just grab a hotel in Anaheim for the night and fly back to St. Paul in the morning. Maybe call Cora and see if she’s still in San Diego, but if she’s not he’d have to explain why he’d asked and he’s not up for that. Another point to the absolute insanity of this decision—he hadn’t even thought to book a hotel before throwing clothes into his bag and leaving.

He needs to never listen to his friends again.

—

A notification pops up on his screen as he’s scrolling through available hotels, then a torrent of them—all the texts from Stiles he didn’t get while he was in the air. Derek hovers his finger over the screen for a few wavering seconds before tapping on it, watching as the screen fills with four hours worth of Stiles’ thoughts, questions, and right at the bottom—

Stiles Stilinski [2:34pm]: Sorry for all the messages I didn’t give you time to respond to

He frowns, swiping away the text from Lydia that drops down in order to respond.

Derek Hale [2:34pm]: I didn’t have service, sorry. Not ignoring these—composing my essay about the validity of pepperoni and pineapple in my head right now, you’ll get the fully edited version later tonight.

Stiles Stilinski [2:35pm]: Heads up that the peer review board is going to be striking that one down as soon as it’s submitted.

Derek grins at his phone and navigates away so he’s not tempted to spend hours talking instead of actually making a decision, then clicks on Lydia’s text so he can put off making said decision for a moment longer.

Then he stares.

Lydia Parrish [2:35pm]: Did you know Jordan’s never been to Disneyland? Unbelievable. No time like the present though, right?

He’d ask if it was a joke, but Lydia had apparently anticipated that and had sent a photo along with the message, Jordan’s outline silhouetted against one of the large airport windows.

Derek Hale [2:37pm]: I didn’t need a babysitter.

Lydia Parrish [2:37pm]: Of course not. I took the liberty of booking you a room at our hotel. The confirmation is in your email. Lydia Parrish [2:38pm]: Coincidentally, it’s the same hotel the team is staying at tomorrow night. Lydia Parrish [2:38pm]: Our flight doesn’t get in until much later tonight, I’ll text you when we land. Lydia Parrish [2:38pm]: Just know we’re doing this because we love you and support you, but also because we knew there was a 90% chance you backed out before the game.

Well—she wasn’t wrong. He sighs, pushes off the wall he’d been leaning against outside the Starbucks, and opens his email as he makes his way outside to where the line of taxis wait.

—

He buys Lydia and Jordan tickets to the game—another thing he’s putting firmly on his questionable decisions list, if only for the teasing that will occur once they realize what he’s brought with him. He goes to Disneyland with them in the morning, takes pictures he’ll share on his Facebook later, and picks up a pair of Yoda ears he thinks Stiles would get a kick out of. Halfway through the day he gets a text—Stiles complaining about an extra mandatory practice, followed by a half-hearted threat to trip and injure himself to get out of said practice. But he really must have to focus because he doesn’t text again until later, just as they’re leaving the park and heading back to the room to get ready for the game.

Stiles Stilinski [3:54pm]: Do you watch my games? Stiles Stilinski [3:54pm]: I should actually be congratulated on my restraint because I’ve been wanting to know if you’ve changed your mind about hockey for weeks but I held back. Stiles Stilinski [3:54pm]: There’s no right answer but there’s definitely a wrong one so you know. Tread lightly. Or lie.

Derek has not really changed his mind about hockey, but it’s not like he’s watching the games for the hockey aspect of it.

Derek Hale [3:55pm]: I watch most of them. Some of them start too late for me though.

And then—inspired, he texts again.

Derek Hale [3:55pm]: Do you want me to watch tonight?

Stiles Stilinski [3:55pm]: Derek Stiles Stilinski [3:55pm]: I kinda always want your attention Stiles Stilinski [3:55pm]: In case you hadn’t noticed

—

Surprisingly, there’s no teasing. It’s the opposite, in fact.

“This,” Lydia says, pointing at where Derek’s unrolling the Marry me, Stiles Stilinski sign, “is romantic. Jordan? I hope you’re taking notes. You could learn a thing or two.”

Jordan grins and rolls his eyes, even as Derek shoots him an apologetic look. “Got it. You want a sign asking you to marry me.”

“Ha, ha,” Lydia says, sinking back into her seat. “I do want some of those fish tacos though, if you needed ideas.”

“You can both go get the tacos,” Derek says, because players are starting to appear at the tunnel for warm-ups and he’d like them both gone. Or there and quiet, but he knows that will never happen.

“Oh no, we’ve got too many people to send videos and second by second reports to,” Lydia says sweetly. “Speaking of—I’m pretty sure that’s him, so—no, Derek, don’t cover your face with the sign, Jesus.”

Derek’s stomach is in knots. It’s too much, it’s not enough; he wants Stiles to come over and give him the same wide smile he’s been used to seeing every day and also wants him to skate by without seeing him at all. His hands feel sweaty as he grips the poster, plastering it to the glass in front of their seats, and he looks down at the concrete floor like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen the moment he sees recognition dawn on Stiles’ face.

“Derek,” Jordan says quietly, warm hand patting Derek’s back, “he’s smiling, man. Look.”

Stiles is less smiling than grinning maniacally, and he all but throws himself at the glass. “Derek!” he yells, and the knot that’s been in Derek’s stomach since Colorado vanishes. “What are you doing here?”

Derek grins back helplessly, and the words come easy in the wake of Stiles’ obvious joy. “I missed you,” he calls back.

Some of the exuberance slips off Stiles’ face, and Derek is suddenly looking at a smile that’s softer, much more private. “I missed you, too,” Stiles says.

—

Stiles Stilinski [1:38am]: You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me

Derek Hale [7:35am]: I know

Stiles Stilinski [10:16am]: Nvm I take it back

Derek laughs when he picks his phone up, leaning back when he feels Stiles slide in behind him in line for coffee, a kiss being placed on the back of his neck.

You’re the best thing that’s happened to me too, he writes, and hits send.

#sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #eli writes #obligatory this is unedited disclaimer blah blah

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howlingday · 7 days

Text

Wight Fright

A new villain has entered the fray! And this one is more dangerous than anyone else Ruby Rose, aka The Red Rose, has ever faced before! Worse yet, this deranged foe maintains a secret identity by eluding capture every time he's defeated! Just who is he...?

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

Roman: Look, buddy, I dunno who you are-

Wight: Of course you don't! That's the point of the mask! And here I thought you were the genius criminal mastermind...

Wight: Or you were, CRIME KING. So step down before I start sharing secrets!

Roman: You clearly don't know who you're dealing with. Neo? Take out the trash.

Neo: (Smirks)

Wight: Oh... Tsk, tsk, tsk... Afraid to get your hands dirty, Roman~?

Neo: (Leaps at him)

Wight: (Catches her, Tosses her out window)

Roman: Alright... So what do you want?

Wight: So the whole destroying you and taking over your position as the leader of the criminal underworld wasn't obvious enough? Well, darn...

Ruby: Excuse me! Is this an all-access hole or do I have to make my own entrance?

Wight: Oh, goodie~! Our hero has arrived~! Just in time to watch me wipe out her greatest foe... Or, well, second greatest foe.

Ruby: Aw, did this henchman turn on you, Roman~?

Roman: I don't know who this idiot is... Not yet, anyways, but I'll find out soon enough.

Ruby: Well, until then, I'm gonna pretend he's one of your goons, anyways. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Wight: Hellooo~! I'm standing right here~! Really, you're both SO rude!

Ruby: Oh, right, I'm so sorry! You're here to make Roman Torchwick's life miserable and I still haven't said thank you! I guess my only excuse is that YOU'RE HOLDING INNOCENT PEOPLE HOSTAGE. It's really confusing to my little, flower brain.

Wight: Hm... Yes, this is quite the dilemma... But perhaps the Wight Fright can offer a solution? Join me, and together, WE CAN RULE ALL OF VALE!

Ruby: Like, the city or the whole kingdom? Ah... Nah. Sorry. I make it a personal rule of mine to not team up with anyone dressed in all white. That, and completely unhinged.

Wight: Oh, well... It's your loss... OF LIFE~! (Throws bombs)

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

Wight: (Tapping away on his scroll device) With guards all wrapped up, kept tight and close, I hurt, or help, my dear, little rose~!

Wight: I'm in a rhyming mood this episode~!

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

Wight: See, I'm not like those other buffoons playing supervillain. They all think they can distract the flying flower, instead of doing what REALLY needs to be done.

Ilia: But... But I don't wanna mess with Rose! She helped my best friend!

Wight: Oh, don't worry! You'll get over that little qualm soon enough! Unless, of course, you want to keep wearing rubber boots and gloves for the rest of your life~?

Ilia: (Throws lightning)

Wight: (Catches with yellow dust) Oh, please! Your unique molecular change intrigues me, and I'm tempted to make this change permanent just so I can learn how this happened! You're a gambler, aren't you? Would you bet on duration or frustration~?!

Ilia: ...

Wight: There's a good girl~! But don't worry! You'll get your life back... AS SOON AS YOU FRY UP THE RED ROSE. Oh, and do try to keep this a secret. I like to give anonymously~!

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

Ruby: You can't hide from me, Wight Fright. Because I know who you are behind that mask!

Wight: We all wear masks, Red Rose. But which one is your true self? Your face or what you wear over your face?

Ruby: I know you're Jacques Schnee!

Wight: HAHAHAHAHA~! AM I~?!

Ruby: (Wraps cape around him)

Wight: Ooh, nice molecular netting~! (Phases out) NOW TRY MINE~!

Ruby: (Caught in net, Can't escape)

Wight: So what do you think of my Phantom Fisher~?! HAHAHAHA~! Now for a little scientific experiment~! What breaks first; my Phantom Fisher OR YOUR BONES~?

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

Wight: What's the matter, Rosey~? Feeling off your game?!

Ruby: Nah, my game's good, Witty! I'm just trying to figure out the rules!

Wight: Rule one; Rose gets PLUCKED~!

Ruby: Rule two; Ignore rule one!

Ruby: Rule three; Bring The Wight Fright INTO THE LIGHT! (Rips mask off)

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

Whitley: (Looks out window, Gasps)

Jacques: (Flying around as Wight Fright)

Whitley: (Turns) Dad?

Jacques: Son, that's clearly an imposter.

Whitley: ...Right. Right, of course. Except for one thing... I heard you apologize to The Red Rose last night.

Whitley: Jacques Schnee NEVER apologizes! (Throws vase)

Emerald: (Illusion drops, Sneers) I didn't sign up for this.

#rwby #ruby rose #jacques schnee #rwby superhero au #rwby au #spectacular spiderman #roman torchwick #neopolitan #ilia amitola #whitley schnee #emerald sustrai #the spectacular spider man

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rowniebow · 2 years

Text

and they were roommates | peter parker x male!reader | 3/7

summary: microwave, pancakes, and a mother.

pairings: tasm!peter parker x male!reader

cw: death and cursing but idk does there really need to be a cw for cursing

word count: 2.9k+

an: i hope someone is liking this as much as i am haha...

previous ⭒ masterlist ⭒ next

⭒

"what is this?"

you glanced over your shoulder and the back of the couch to find peter sitting at the island of your shared kitchen staring at the television screen. you wondered when he got there and how you didn't notice him watching with you.

"a movie."

"what movie?" he rolled his eyes a bit at your response.

"forest gump," you shoved the popcorn you had made into your mouth. "you've never seen it?"

"no, why?"

"it's a classic!"

"aunt may and uncle ben weren't the biggest on family movie nights."

you shrugged a little, and patted the seat next to you on the couch. when he sat and made himself comfortable, you silently offered the popcorn to him, which he denied.

the last half of the movie that he had joined you for was enjoyed by the two of you in a comfortable silence.

when the movie finally ended, peter glared at the credits. "that was nice, i guess, but why is it a classic? it's no star wars or lord of the rings-" his eyes fell away from the scrolling words and onto your slouched body.

your body uncomfortably drooped over itself, your chin falling to your chest. peter almost winced from the pain it looked like your neck would be in if you stayed like that for much longer.

he, gentle and smooth as ever, slowly snuck the popcorn bowl from your hands and quietly sat it on the coffee table. he fetched a pillow and throw blanket from your room, propping the pillow on the arm of the couch. he gently pushed you over and onto the couch into a more comfortable fashion, hand on the side of your face to monitor how fast you fell onto the pillow. he laid the blanket out over your body, tucking you in and silencing the television before it could wake you.

he let out a heavy sigh when he watched you cuddle yourself into the couch-bed he had made you. he was practically sweating trying to make it all okay enough for you. he glared at the time, finding it to be awfully late, as per usual with him.

he tip-toed his way to his own bedroom, his sights lingering on you from his doorframe.

⭒⭒

peter awoke on a bright sunday morning to find you at the island, enjoying a bowl of extremely sugary cereal that he remember very vividly criticizing you for, even though it was his guilty pleasure cereal and he just so happened to be trying to eat better at that moment and was just mad that they stayed tempting him in the cupboard.

"these are so bad for you, y/n."

"you say that like i care."

"well- you should! your body is a vessel. everyone should take care of their body."

"if you're seriously trying to talk me into eating plain ass cheerios with you... some battles you have to fight on your own, peter, and your bland cereals is one of them."

"i'm not! i just think you should be more mindful of your cereals."

"you only live once, parker."

"you won't be living long at all with that big ass bowl."

today, peter thought, he'd join you in the short happy life club with your unhealthy cereal and got himself a bowl.

"oh, peter!"

"yes?" he spoke absentmindedly as he poured himself the cereal then milk groggily.

"i've been forgetting to tell you all week: i have to leave soon for a while. i'm not sure when i'll be back but i shouldn't be too long."

peter couldn't help but let his neck snap so he could look you in the eyes. neither of you had gone any where for an extended period of time since you two moved in.

"what? where are you going?"

"ah, my mom is sick in a hospital in jersey, so i'm gonna go be with her."

peter looked over your face, jaw nearly dropping at your unmoving features. "y-your mom is in the hospital? i'm sorry, are you okay?" his voice was weirdly soft, a caring part of him you hadn't seen before

you almost laughed at his words, "yeah, i'm fine, thanks."

peter thought over your actions for a moment. he quickly came to the realization that this was, yet another thing, that he didn't know anything about of his roommate of nearly seven months now. frankly, he didn't even know you had a mom. he assumed not since you told him you've been moved out since so young. did you have a dad, too?

"w-what is she sick with?"

you looked up at peter. seemingly shocked at his interest.

"she - well, she's had cancer for a year or two now. the doctors told me she's on her way out." peter looked at you and your features, at how nonchalant you were despite the gravity of this conversation. he looked as though he were studying you with wonder under a microscope. "i shouldn't be gone more than a week."

peter wanted to ask why you seemed to not care so badly.

you were tempted to tell him without him verbally asking (his expression really gave away his thoughts).

you only smiled, though, deciding to play oblivious.

and peter saw your smile, your genuine smile, and let his thoughts move along to the fact that you'd be gone for about a week.

you would be gone.

peter expected himself to be giddy at the thought of the apartment all to himself. he expected to have butterflies in his stomach out of excitement for you to be no where around for days straight.

he furrowed his eyebrows, however, when he felt his stomach swell with sickness at the thought. his chest became heavy and suddenly it was as though he was heaving to breathe.

you would be gone.

"are you already packed, then?"

"yes,"

"are you going to catch a cab to the airport?"

"yes,"

"do you want me to come with?"

"come with me to see my mother die?"

"sure! or just the cab ride, if you want?"

silence.

"for safety, of course."

"i think i can handle myself, pete. thanks, though."

peter's eyebrows were knitted together, creases clawed at his skin.

"are you-," you giggled to yourself a bit. "is peter parker going to miss me?"

"fuck no. i'm going to be living my dream while your gone!" lies.

"oh yeah?"

"for sure. i'm going to bring all my friends over and we'll party and make a mess on your bed." lies.

"really now?"

"absolutely." lies. lies lies!

"okay, i'm sure excited to hear about all zero of your friends hanging out and making a mess out of my bed when i get back."

you gathered your dishes and washed your bowl and spoon.

"i'll see you when i get back! have a good time with your zero friends!"

"yeah, whatever." he grumbled.

your footsteps disappeared down the small entrance hallway and out of the door along with your voice wishing one last goodbye.

peter looked around the now empty and silent apartment.

the time was two twenty-three, mid afternoon. he had woken up a lot later than usual, a lot later than you and he could tell.

the apartment was practically spotless. dishes, done and put away (other than the bowl and spoon you used). floor, swept and vacuumed. couch, fluffed pillows and peter's favorite throw blanket sat along the back. coffee table, wiped down and television remotes sat symmetrical with the sides. the microwave, still dirty but he was well aware of the silent protest you two had over it so he never considered that.

you went through the effort of cleaning the apartment so it would be nice for him while he was gone.

peter finally groaned into the silence. it had been less than a minute and it was already unbearable.

and that pissed him off.

he couldn't go one minute without you here in the apartment. jesus christ. he made his way to his room, ready to angrily blast his comfort playlist, abandoning his forgotten bowl of sugar on the counter.

⭒⭒⭒

throughout the week you were gone, peter was angry.

he found himself yelling into his mattress when he found himself craving the song you always play on repeat. he found himself yelling even more when he couldn't remember the name of it, and he was not about to text you to ask.

he found himself sitting at the island alone, grimacing at the taste of his pancakes because they were so bad compared to yours. he didn't know what he did wrong to make them so bad, he used the exact same two dollar box mix that you did.

he found himself sneaking into your room to light the candle that you always had going, that was very against the rules your landlord set for your apartment and peter always scolded you about but you never listened. ("parker if you think that man gives a shit about anything other than our rent you are insane,").

he found himself rewatching movies he had never seen before living with you. forest gump, wizard of oz, home alone. you judged him a lot for not seeing these before. you even watched some of the horror films, despite not liking horror, just because they were your favorite.

and peter? man, peter was mad. the thought never left his mind: why does he want you home so bad? were you truly that big of an improvement in his life?

maybe peter was just sad that he had to be alone. oh, but he never really had problems being alone before.

he wanted to scream! he missed you. horribly.

⭒⭒⭒⭒

on the seventh day of your absence, peter had grown worried.

you said not more than a week, hadn't you?

are you for sure going to be back today then?

did something happen?

should he check the news?

were you okay?

his eyes were glued to the news on the television for hours. his lips were gnawed raw.

he, honestly, hadn't even realized you were consuming his thoughts. he went about his day as if this new found obsession was a daily occurrence for him.

in some ways, perhaps it was.

the way you sat on his shoulder in the grocery store, imaginary nagging running through his mind as he sorted through the ice cream flavors.

the way you always seemed to be haunting him in the pictures he captured for work. behind the building, on the power lines, sitting in that empty chair.

the way you cling to his back while he swung through the skies at night. were you going to be up waiting for him all night again (the answer is always yes.)? should he go home early? he knows you have a big day at work tomorrow.

peter didn't think anything of this, though. i mean, you were constantly around him. the two of you, even if it wasn't always positive, never ceased your conversations.

in the mornings rolling your eyes over breakfast.

in the afternoons on the weekends, struggling to deal with whatever rash temperature new york brought into your shitty run down apartment.

up late at night, struggling to watch a movie and instead pointing out annoyances within each other.

it's only natural that you were always in his mind.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

on the ninth day that you were gone, peter had made his decision.

after many hours of careful consideration and contemplation, he has decided to text you.

a small sentence. maybe two. nothing fancy.

nothing to show you at all what has been consuming him the last week.

"are you coming home soon?"

no, no! that's too... desperate, he thought.

"hey, did your trip get extended?"

ew! that 'hey' is too much, good lord.

"come back i need you to go to the store"

...no, that might be a bit too mean.

peter was practically pulling his hair out. why was he so nervous about a simple text, he'd never know. he let his phone fall next to his head, a loud groan pounding it's way through his lips.

he glared at the ceiling of his room, his bedroom door open as if he expected you to come in complaining any moment now.

after several moments of staring at the popcorn textured white sky, he shakily picked his phone back up.

"you okay? thought it was only going to be a week?"

his eyebrows were knitted together at his words. he wasn't happy with them, but he was satisfied.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

you felt your phone buzz in your pocket and lord have mercy on whoever was texting you right now. who could be bothering to interrupt your peace with your self in this one, small moment? a small moment that was meant for you and no one else? a small moment where you could let yourself be?

tears threatened your eyes in frustration as you breathed calming breaths. a shakey hand reached into your pocket, lines of vulgar thoughts running through your head.

peter parker: "you okay? thought it was only going to be a week?"

you nearly threw your phone out of fright. since when did peter text you? you two basically only had each other's information in case of emergency.

was this an emergency? you didn't think so.

you supposed it could have been. you did say a week. peter was probably thinking you had died in some tragedy because of your lack of contact.

your breath stopping nearly choked you.

peter was texting you? he was thinking about you? about when you'd be back?

no, certainly he just hasn't been cleaning or needs groceries. maybe he really did follow through with his threat and was trying to have people over.

what were you to say back, though?

"sorry, i meant to text you-"

no you didn't, don't lie! you didn't think he was giving a second thought about when you'd be back.

"i’m all good, thank you for asking!-"

no, no! thank you for asking? what kind of bullshit fake ass response is that.

"oh i'm great. mother died, see you soon."

you chuckled to yourself a bit at the thought of that one. you personally would laugh at the blatancy but you supposed most people wouldn't appreciate the sour attempt at a joke.

you tapped the phone on your head, attempting to knock a socially acceptable response out of it. a shaken breath concluded your thoughts, assuring yourself that whatever response given would be brushed over, anyway.

"my fault! i'll be home late tomorrow"

yeah, yeah, for sure. that's very cool, calm, and collected of you. very mature response. absolutely doesn't let anything on at all.

you escaped the broom closet you were hiding in. you left your small moment.

you left your one small moment of peace with your self. a small moment that was meant for you and no one else. a small moment that was meant for being alone, and was infiltrated by peter parker, all the way from new york.

and you weren't mad.

maybe even glad.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

it was extremely late when the door to your apartment creaked open (a new issue about the shit hole to try and solve).

peter had decided to stay home to greet you when the clock struck nine at night and you still weren't back yet. he and decided to refrain from his nightly endeavors.

so when the door creaked open after he had passed out on the couch to the sound of car alarms going off on the street below and light tapping against the window, his sensitive ears perked up and his dizzy body came with them.

he sat up alarmed and saw you immediately (thank god for the front door being a straight shot from the couch).

he saw your tired eyes and new creases between your brows.

he saw your chewed lips that were too similar to his own.

he saw your drenched clothes from the pouring rain and your wet hair.

he saw you as your whole and full self and wanted to run and scoop you up in his arms.

but he refrained, of course.

"h-hey!" he watched you struggle through the door with your small suitcase.

"hi, pete,"

"how was your trip?"

you laughed a bit. you would hardly consider that shit show a trip. "it was fine. did you have your friends over?"

peter saw your tired smile and couldn't help but smile too. "oh yeah, your room is totally trashed."

"great," your dropped everything in the small kitchen. a sigh escaping your lips as you rummaged through the fridge that was oddly full.

peter watched you pull out a box of left over pizza he had the day before... for breakfast.

he missed your pancakes a lot.

"how was your mom?"

"oh, she-you know. passed. that's why i was staying longer than i thought. her funeral was yesterday."

peter didn't understand you. how you were speaking so casually about the death of someone who you were close to - who he assumed you had been close to. but he wanted to understand.

you obviously weren't that close based off of your actions. maybe you were in shock, he thought.

"i’m-i’m sorry to hear that," he tensely watched you, anxiety dropping like a pit when you went to throw your pizza in the microwave.

"yeah- did you-?" you stared into the microwave. "did you clean the microwave?" your eyebrows were furrowed and your face was only accusatory. as if it upset you.

"yeah, i got tired of it." and hand shot up to scratch the hairline on his neck.

"oh, okay," you started the microwave and watched the seconds count down. peter went to say something but you spoke again.

"thanks,"

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

peter cleaned the entire apartment, and the microwave, for you as soon as you said you'd be home the next day.

⭒ next ⭒

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