#Looking at my name and blog probably gave that away though

[yujeong]

"I'm not choosing. I'm just not eating" - Pete and the concept of choice

Oh Pete. You wonderful being, you. (Can you tell that I'm lost for words already? Great) I cannot stress enough what this line has done to my brain. I keep thinking about it to this day. I'm sure there are posts here that have delved on it in a more coherent way than what I'm about to do but I would like to offer sth to the fandom besides a small number of fics that will fade into obscurity, so here we are. (If anyone knows of posts that have touched this subject, pls share them, I'd love to read them)

This line, at first glance, seems contradictory. What do you mean you're not choosing Pete? Not eating is a choice you've made. Surely, you must see that.

The thing is, though, Pete doesn't see that as a choice. To Pete, there's the choice of submitting to Vegas and the choice of fighting him. Doing nothing, to Pete isn't considered a choice. He's inactive, passive, simply existing. Kind of like how he is as a bodyguard in the main family. As a bodyguard, Pete doesn't make choices. Other people make them for him and he follows them. The first actual choice he makes is going to the minor family's compound to get the evidence against Vegas (which is fantastic and deserves its own separate analysis but I digress). Otherwise, he's just a weapon for the main family to use, nothing more, nothing less. You can tell that this is his philosophy in life by examining his behaviour throughout the show up to this point. Does he have opinions and expresses them? Oh hell yes. Does he still do whatever he's told with minimal arguing? Also yes. I would dare say, in headcanon fashion, that this is his mindset from when he was young and defenseless against his father's violence. I'm fairly confident in my opinion that Pete never fought back against his father, kind of like what Vegas is doing with his but not exactly the same. I believe Pete never even spoke back at him, like Vegas does both in ep 11, when he tells Gun he's doing what he told him, and in ep 13, when he tells Gun he never wanted to be his son. For this reason, I'm a bit skeptical with the headcanon of Pete killing his father. I think it goes against the basic principles of his character; he's submissive in nature and doesn't fight back and just accepts the violence inflicted on him. Maybe, in Pete's mind, he feels that he deserves it. It would certainly explain his self sacrificial tendencies throughout the series, that's for sure. Now, back to the scene in question, in Pete's mind, a choice would be to eat the food or to throw it away, wasting it. Not touching the food, letting it go bad, isn't a choice. Vegas doesn't see it that way because of course he doesn't; to Vegas, Pete is retaliating, acting defiant again but Pete isn't doing that. He's simply doing...nothing. Generally, the first time I saw this line, it reminded me of ATLA, specifically this exchange:

Whoever has watched the show probably remembers that episode, in which Aang learned the third option of earth bending. That is, doing nothing = waiting. That's what Pete did. He did nothing, he waited, either to slowly die or to find a chance to escape. I feel like I'm not explaining myself properly but I just love how Pete's mind works and I wanted to touch upon this line specifically. It's such a nuanced take on agency and whoever came up with this line deserves all the projects they can get.

[daydreams-after-dark]

Behind the Curtain |

han jisung x reader x minho (Minsung x fem reader)

MDNI // SMUT

Pairing: mean!han x bratty!fem reader x helpful!minho

Synopsis: you tease your boyfriend Han before a show and he's not happy. So he punishes you, leaves you in a needy mess, and sends Minho to look for you. What happens when Minho can't resist your needs?

word count: 3.5k

MDNI // CW BELOW

CW: oral sex in semi public place, edging, mean Han, bratty reader, unprotected p in v sex, unprotected double pen 2 holes.

a/n: this is a slight rework of a request / ask from my other blog, but feel that the readers here might enjoy. X. Shorsha.

It probably wasn't a good idea to have tagged along to the show. All you did was distract him, making him all needy, his grabby hands clawing at the hem of your shirt. “Come on, baby, I have to touch you before I go out there.” he said “Come on, please baby, let me get a taste of your sweet pussy”, “Come, on… no one will know.” He teased, even though, literally anyone would know what was going on if they happened to walk in the room.

“It won’t take long.” He whispered as he pushed you to sit on the makeup table, knocking bottles and brushes all over the place.

“But Hannie,” you cried as he pushed your underwear to the side and his fingers squeezed into your very tight, very wet, very needy pussy. “You need to practice your vocal warm ups. You don’t have time for this… You need to wait until after the show.” You tried to sound stern.

Han looked at you devilishly. “You’re right. I do need to do my vocal warm ups.” He said low, and he knelt down between your legs, lifting your skirt and pushing a thigh wide with his unoccupied hand. Han proceeded to practice his vocal warm ups, trills… all that, right against your clit, whilst his fingers roughly fucked you. You didn’t last all of five minutes before you were screaming his name and your legs shook around his head. Surely the others would have heard you, and Han secretly loved that idea.

He looked absolutely fucked out after you came all over his face, your wetness smeared all over his mouth and chin, messing up his stage makeup. “Baby,” he said with pleading eyes. “Can you suck me off before I go out there?” he bit his lip and stared at you with Bambi eyes.

He just would not be told that he didn’t have time for this. So you decided to be the biggest fucking tease. “Okay baby, sit on that chair there. Let me take care of you, okay? Sweet sweet baby.” You had his cock out in no time. It was already rock hard, you knew he wouldn’t last long as you stroked his length and teased the tip with your tongue. “So much precum, honey.” You noted. Then you really gave it to him. A mix of long, slow strokes, and swirls of the tongue on the head, then taking him all the way in to the base, and then almost pulling off entirely. “Fuck.” You heard him mumble under his breath. You stole a look up at his face and you knew he was in a whole other world. And so very close.

That’s when you popped off entirely and packed his beautiful cock away, zipping up his trousers and slapping him on the thighs. “It’s showtime baby.” You announced brightly and left him there while he came to his senses and realised what the fuck you just did. And let me tell you he was not happy.

From your view of Han from the side of the stage he seemed absolutely fine to anyone else, except you knew better. His tight leather trousers were struggling around his package. Lucky they were black and already somewhat wet look because you were sure he would be oozing precum in there. And he seemed a lot more aggressive with his rapping.

But it wasn’t until he was walking to come off stage and he made eye contact with you that you knew you were fucked.

It was exactly what you wanted.

You thought he was going to take you backstage and fuck you against the door to the make up room, or bend you over the sink in the bathroom while he made you watch in the mirror. You were definitely NOT expecting him to grab you arm and take you behind the stage curtain that partitioned off the unused section of the arena.

You did not expect him to push you to the floor while he sat in one of the seats and whipped out his cock. “Finish what you started, baby.” he said rather cruelly. This is the Han that really gets you going. You thought about teasing him further, but you realised that you didn’t actually have a lot of time before someone would come looking for you both.

Han didn’t wait for you to protest and grabbed the back of your head and pushed your mouth down over his cock until it hit you in the back of the throat. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in, baby? Letting me make you come, and then you leave me like that.” he panted as he thrust himself up into your throat. He attacked your mouth with a mix of anger, aggression and so much passion. All he wanted was to feel you around him when he came. How dare you tease him like you did. He was making your eyes water and your saliva ran down your chin and hand and landing on his lap. Han loved it messy. “Look at you, taking my cock like this…” he tangled his fingers in your hair pushing you down even further than you knew was possible, and absolutely fucking your mouth without any care for you.

Why should he care when you left him like that? He threw his head back, growling as you felt his cum shoot down your throat. But he was still hard. And you hadn’t learned your lesson. He stood up and lifted you off the floor only to force you to kneel on the seat with you holding onto the back of the chair. He pushed your skirt up around your back and tugged your underwear down. Grabbing onto your hair to both hold you in place and to use as leverage, as he lined up his cock with your entrance. “I’m still so fucking hard, and you still need punishing.” He sighed and he pushed into you in one motion, slamming into your cervix and making you cry out in a mixture of pleasure and pain. Han paid no attention to your needs, this was about punishing you and chasing another climax of his own.

You smirked to yourself. You enjoyed teasing him in the hopes you would unleash this version of Han. The wild, frenzied, relentless, brutal? Han. The one where he just wanted to use you for his own pleasure. He was always so attentive and caring, and sickly sweet (which you love), but when he was like this, fuck it did things to you. He’d never fuck you like this is you merely asked. You had to taunt and push him into it. Make him snap.

Han came inside you with a loud “fuck!!!” and pulled out of you without a care for your climax. You whined at the emptiness when you were so close to coming. Your vagina clenched around nothing. You turned to see Han putting his cock away with no intention of helping you as his semen started seeping out of you onto your legs, the chair… everywhere.

“But Han?” you say helplessly. He just looked at you unamused “You’ve got five minutes to make yourself come and clean yourself up, before I send Minho to look for you.”

You were left absolutely stunned and highly turned on by what just happened. You set to work to try and relieve yourself before you were caught by Minho.

.....

Han left you on the arena chair, in the semi darkness, panties down around your legs, cum leaking out of you. Not to mention the cum all over your chin either. Your skirt was hiked up around your hips. You looked like an absolute sight. But you were still so horny from what just happened.

Your legs were jelly from kneeling on the chair, so you decided to plonk yourself down on the seat (also getting cum on the chair - Han had given you fucking bucket-load), and set to work on trying to relieve yourself. You slid your hand down between your legs and closed your eyes, concentrating on bring yourself to orgasm.

Han headed backstage and immediately looked for Minho. He wanted to teach you a lesson for edging him and leaving him so fucking horny that he knew he was showing a partial erection the entire time he was on stage. But he also loved you. You were his sweet angel whom he loved more than anything in the universe. Part of him thought the idea of leaving you needy and in a compromising position extremely arousing, but at the same time he didn’t want to just anyone to find you. Plus, he had an idea.

“I need you to go find y/n. I’ve left her in a…um…situation… and I really don’t want anyone else to find her in the state she’s in.” He instructed his friend. Minho appeared disinterested, but on the inside he was intrigued, and maybe a tiny bit concerned that a random person might come across you first. “I just need you to go make sure she’s taken care of… and then bring her back.”

Minho had his suspicions on what he might see when he found you. He knew what you had done to Han before the show. He heard you both through the door before the show. He saw the look on Han’s face when they’d finished on stage, and he saw him grab your arm and pull you back behind the curtain.

Minho knew you liked to play games with Han. He knew you liked to bring out that rough, aggressive, brutal side of him. I’m aggressive too, Minho caught himself thinking.

Then he saw you. Minho stopped in his tracks, his breath caught in his throat. “Jesus fucking Christ” he whispered. He’d never seen anyone look so beautiful and at the same time so fucking dirty. You were reclined as much as you could be, legs parted with your panties around one of your knees. Your skirt flicked up around your waist and your eyes were closed. You had no idea Minho was standing there, fixed to the spot, mouth agape, staring at you as you dipped your fingers through your dripping folds.

“I just need you to go make sure she’s taken care of… and then bring her back.” Minho hadn’t missed the devious look in Han’s eye when he’d said that. Did Han actually mean…?

As Minho stepped closer to you he truly saw the state you were in. Your mascara was smeared down your face. So Han fucked her mouth ‘till her eyes watered, hmmm? There was an obvious sticky substance plastered to your chin. Yep, he definitely fucked her mouth. Minho’s eyes drifted over your body. Your breasts were heaving under your shirt, hard nipples showing through the thin fabric, a sheen of perspiration on your chest. Then he dared to look down between your legs, where your fingers were buried inside yourself. Minho sighed at the sight. “Fuck!” He muttered under his breath when he saw Han’s cum coating your inner thighs.

Minho’s dick was hard in his tight leather trousers. He couldn’t help but imagine being inside you, having your tight walls choking his cock. He felt his dick twitch when he imagined filling you up mixing his cum with Han’s. Minho sighed louder than he had meant to. Your eyes flicked open. Your eyes locked on each other.

Shit. Thought Minho swallowing hard, but he couldn’t look away. He stared at you with his classic unamused glare, that you could only imagine was him trying to snap you out of this ridiculous neediness you were currently exhibiting.

But the look had the opposite effect on you, and only made you even more aroused. He looked so sexy in his stage outfit, his makeup was still pristine despite him having been sweaty earlier while performing. You thought about the way he moved his body on stage and the way he rolled his hips. So strong. So powerful. So sexy. You bit your bottom lip at the mere thought of him rolling his hips against you, between your legs, inside of you, and you felt your walls flutter. You wanted him to fuck you.

“Minho…” you squeaked, your voice sounding so needy, your eyes hooded.

Minho shook his head. No please don’t make this harder than it is. He thought.

“Please… Minho… I need to you to help me. I’m supposed to be quick…. But I’m having trouble.” You said timidly, almost shyly, although your current situation did not scream “shy” at all.

Minho sighed, feigning annoyance, and sat down on the seat next to you. “Look,” he said “I think you should just tidy yourself up and come back to the makeup rooms. You look really slutty right now you know that right?” He wanted to touch your body so bad, but you were his best friend’s girlfriend.

He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. And then you were on him, straddling his lap, grinding yourself against his stage clothes. Your wetness and Han’s cum all over him.

It felt so good to grind yourself against him, against his erection, the friction of his trousers against your bare clit offering some relief. But you needed more. You smashed your mouth on his and threw your arms around his neck. Minho could taste Han on your mouth which made him hornier than ever, and he grabbed your face, holding it still so he could plunge his tongue into your mouth, kissing you rough and urgently.

His hands slid up your thighs to squeeze your ass, lifting you off his lap slightly, then pulling you back down as he rolled hips up against you. You both let out a moan. “Fuck, you’re making this so fucking hard.” He breathed as he repeated the action.

“Come on Minho…” you cooed. “Hannie left me like this… all needy… all ready… for you to find me.” You said breathy.

Minho let that sink in for a moment. Maybe you were right. Maybe he could help you. Minho really wanted to help you.

You stared at each other for a long moment.

Fuck it. Thought Minho.

“Lift up.” he instructed gruffly, pushing you off his lap enough for him to reach his fly. Your eyes lit up as he freed his cock, watching it spring up and hit him on the stomach. “You want it, then get on.” He ordered as he gripped your ass with one hand and lifted you up enough to sink you down over his length in one swift motion.

Minho wasted no time, fucking you hard and steady from the start. “Is this what you wanted, hmm?” He growled.

“It is what I wanted, Minho…Hannie made me want it…” Minho’s mind froze but he didn’t slow down his thrusts. “It’s true,” you continued, oblivious to Minho’s confusion. “he’d say little things… putting ideas in my head… making me wonder what your cock felt like.” You closed your eyes concentrating on chasing your release.

“But, Minho… I’m pretty sure this is what you want too.” You rolled your hips. “I’ve seen the looks you give me and Han.” You leaned in to his ear “I know you were listening through the door earlier.” You whispered.

It was true. It was what Minho had wanted. For so long. Oh how he’d imagined going down on you, wondering what you tasted like. He’d imagined you sucking his cock too, and how it might feel to have your lips around it. He’d imagined what your tight, wet cunt felt like. He never imagined he’d really get to feel it squeezing around his cock like this. He grabbed your hair and pulled your head back so he could attack your neck, sucking and nibbling, marking your skin. You moaned, your climax building rapidly.

Han’s words from earlier repeated in Minho’s head “make sure she’s taken care of…”

Minho’s hand slid up your shirt. “No bra. Should’ve known.” He said squeezing the flesh of your breast. “I need your mouth on my nipple. Now.” You panted. Minho hurriedly lifted your shirt, and attached himself as instructed, making you cry out at the pleasure/pain as he bit down. One hand was still glued to your ass assisting you as you bounced wildly on his cock.

“What do you imagine Han would think if he saw you ride another man’s cock like this? Like a fucking whore?” He hissed, not slowing down.

You laughed “What do you think he’d think?” You challenged.

“Fuck! He’d probably want to watch!” Minho replied. “You’re both such fucking exhibitionists”.

“He’d probably want to join in.” You added.

“I do want to join in.” A voice said.

——————————-

Neither you or Minho knew that Han had actually been watching from the beginning. A row back and seven seats away. His heart had exploded with happiness as he watched his best friend and you having sex. He loved you both dearly. He wanted to give you anything you wanted. But he also had his own fantasies. Like sharing you with Minho. When he realised that both you and Minho were attracted to each other, he set his plan in action. Even though neither of you had said anything, you didn’t need to say anything. Han knew, and he had been secretly planning a moment like this, where he could get the two of you together, and today’s events made for a perfect opportunity.

——————————-

You and Minho didn’t even slow down when Han appeared at your side. “You fucking asshole, Han.” You choked “leaving me so horny.” You didn’t mean it, you were just trying to spur him on.

“Yeah, Han… not sure it was really a good idea to send me to take care of her.” Minho winked at you. Tormenting Han was something you and Minho did well individually, but together, it made Han hard as fuck.

“You’re girlfriend is such a cockslut, I think she’d happily take two.”

This was exactly what Han had fantasised about. It was also what you had fantasised about. And Minho had definitely fantasised about it as well.

“You two have played right into my hands. You do know that don’t you?” Han smirked freeing his dick. “Is that so?” Minho sneered taking you in deep kiss.

It felt so incredible on Minho’s cock, but as soon as you sensed Han coming up behind you, and his hand land on one of your ass cheeks, you suddenly became wetter than ever.

“Pull her other cheek for me.” Both men had one hand on each of your cheeks spreading them apart and holding you still, so Han could press the tip of his penis against your other entrance. Minho halted his thrusts. You weren’t sure how Han was managing it in such an awkward position, but you soon stopped caring once he pushed the tip inside.

“Fuck!!!” You cried out. “That’s it baby, you can take it. I need you to take it. Fuck… your so… tight.” Han grunted as he inched his way in.

The stretch felt unbelievable as you were filled and stretched with two cocks. “How’s it feel for you, Minho?” You panted as Han began to thrust into you slowly. From Minho’s expression it was evident that he was trying to compose himself.

He gulped “it’s so fucking tight. It’s like your choking my dick.” He closed his eyes and started to move too. “Fuck… Han… I feel your dick moving against me.”

“I can feel you too, baby.” Han replied.

Shit! That’s hot. You thought. “Please… harder… faster… just fuck me.” You cried.

The men built up an unrelenting rhythm as they fucked you over the edge, coming hard and squeezing their cocks, and laying limp against Minho’s chest.

Minho had been close to coming for a long while, although he hid it well. But now that he’d taken care of you, he let himself go, releasing himself deep inside you with a few final thrusts and a long groan.

Now that you and Minho were both still, Han picked up the pace, tugging on a fistful of your hair and slamming into your ass until he too had come, filling you up once again. That was Han, always horny and always ready to coat your insides.

“Fuck, baby…” you weren’t sure if Han was talking to you or Minho.

But it didn’t matter. It also didn’t matter that you had no idea how you were going to clean yourselves up.

All that mattered was the feeling the three of you felt for each other, and that you had finally done something about it.

If you enjoyed this, please share with your Minsung x reader friends xxx and leave me a comment if you enjoyed. Luv you, Sorsha

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @kangnina @weareapackofstrays @rixenluv

[imjustasimpxd]

Something Old, Something New

(Chapter One)

➬ Ken Sato x Fem reader

Summary : At first glance, Ken Sato seemed to have it all. With money, fame, and success surrounding his name, there was nothing he couldn’t get his hands on. They say money can buy happiness. That may be true to an extent, however, can money buy forgiveness? Unfortunately for Ken, no amount of money and influence can turn back time and change the past. No amount of bribery can erase the fact that he had chosen to abandon his wife in favor of pursuing his baseball career. That awful decision he made took place five years ago, when he was just starting out as a professional athlete. But now that he’s matured and had time to reflect on his actions, can he hope for a chance to rekindle his marriage? Or should he accept defeat and live with the consequences of letting the only woman he’s ever truly loved slip away from him?

Word count : around 2,500 words

Warnings : mentions of abandonment and neglect, arrogant Sato, sad reader, mentions of regret, angst

Author’s notes : comments and reblogs are appreciated!! I appreciate all feedback on my writing so that I can know what you guys liked and what you think I should improve on

Disclaimer : this is a work of fiction and should in no way, shape, or form, be taken seriously.

Side Note : This fic, and everything else I’ve written on my blog is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or stela my work.

Ken Sato. Looks, wealth, talent, charisma, and confidence rolled into one good looking package. 

The mere mention of his name was enough to cause an uproar of fanatics screaming and shouting in excitement, as if they were a pack of wolves howling at the moon. 

Though he was mostly known for his impressive baseball career, being named one of the most eligible bachelors in sports didn’t hurt his credibility either. If anything, playing the part of the charming ladies’ man only increased his popularity, especially to any of his adoring fans that were women, which most of them were.

After becoming one the biggest celebrities in both Japan and American sports, there weren’t many people who were ignorant of a household name such as his. Every man wanted to be him, and every woman wanted to be with him. 

To the public eye, Ken Sato seemed to have it all. But looks can be deceiving, can’t they? Especially when it comes to a man who’s spent years hiding his true feelings behind a veil of humor and charisma. 

No one could know how much he was struggling to keep it all together, or the depths of the affliction eating away at his heart. He was Ken Sato after all, and Ken Sato wasn’t weak, he was a legend, and legends never died, they prevailed. So, he must too.

No matter how much the reporters hounded him, using every possible tactic they could think of to pry into his personal life, Kenji never gave them more than a shred of minuscule details. Feeding them like rats, giving them only the bare necessities to satisfy their hunger for a short while before they came crawling back, demanding more. 

He never let them know more than he wanted, more than he felt like sharing, and frankly, there was a plethora of details he didn’t feel like sharing. 

His reputation of perfection probably wouldn’t uphold itself that well if the media knew about all the things he was wrestling with. Between being a newfound parent to a kaiju infant by day and a masked vigilante known as Ultraman by night, Ken didn’t exactly fit the cookie cutter version of “having it all together.” 

And if that wasn’t enough, then the shame he harbored towards a decision he made almost five years ago would definitely topple the pedestal he comfortably built his identity on. 

The press loved gossip, and they’d fight tooth and nail for even the smallest scintilla of drama. Twisting innocent words and blowing frivolous details out of proportions was the job of reporters. So, imagine the headlines they’d make if those reporters found out any real insiders on the life of the world-famous baseball player. 

Imagine the sales they’d make if a journalist ever got ahold of the information about his past, the same past he’s been hiding away from during his time back in Japan.  

He’s thought about calling, maybe writing a letter to express some form of condolences, but what if word got out? What if the press found out about the woman he used to be married to, the same one he abandoned five years ago in order to pursue his baseball career. 

Forget his most recent batting record, a scandalous story such as that would make headlines from both sides of the Pacific Ocean, and then there really would be nowhere else for him to hide from his past, lest he fancied moving somewhere more remote and secluded. 

If that day came, if Ken Sato was exposed for the decisions he made before becoming famous, then his reputation might take some irreparable damage. 

That’s why he was so closed off towards reporters, towards his teammates, towards everyone. 

Never let anyone close to you and they can never betray you. That’s how Ken Sato lives. 

At least, how he did live, before a little reptilian creature crawled into his life, forcing him to realize there were things that mattered more than wealth and fame.

Before taking care of a kaiju infant became the priority in his life, Ken Sato had rooted his worth in the success of his career. So once that career took off, offering him all the success and affluence he could ever want, he began to realize just how little he really had. 

Despite the riches, the popularity, all of it felt meaningless with no one to share it with. He could’ve held a party with hundreds of guests, surrounding himself with countless people all desperate to please him. Nevertheless, none of it would fill the emptiness engulfing his heart; knowing that no one he interacted with would ever see him as more than a means to financial gain and an increase in social status. 

He had a world full of convenience and opportunities at his fingertips, and yet, he never felt more detached from reality. 

His family was complicated, his friends were more like business partners who benefitted from their relations to him, and the one person he had ever felt truly comfortable around probably hated him now, after being dismissed in favor of baseball. 

In the end, even in a room full of dedicated fans, Ken Sato felt alone. 

However, then that little kaiju infant came along, and everything started to get better. Caring for a child, though tiring at first, gave Kenji something to work towards; a purpose that mattered more than advertising for energy drinks or scoring another record breaking hit at home plate. 

Emi finally gave him the one thing he always wanted, the same thing he always pretended not to need: family. 

After that, baseball didn’t seem to matter as much as it used to, unless he was teaching it to Emi. And all the wealth he had acquired over the years didn’t hold the same value as before, unless he was spending it on his adopted daughter. His lifestyle remained the same, but his heart was in a different place, a more peaceful one. 

Winning championships were more rewarding when he had someone to win for, someone to celebrate with afterwards. And now that he’d repaired the relationship between him and his father, things were looking promising for his future. 

But there was still one more roadblock, one last regret preventing him from moving forward completely. 

You. The woman he’d been married to for a whole year, and, regretfully, the same woman who asked for a divorce due to his neglectful and inconsiderate disregard for her. 

He was young and immature back then, foolishly believing the pursuit of his baseball career was more important than maintaining a healthy marriage. He was arrogant, thinking that extravagant gifts and vacations would keep you happy and secure his role as a provider. 

But he was ignorant to think that being married to you meant he no longer had to earn your affection. All the money and gifts in the world couldn’t make up for the fact that he was never home, and that you were never his priority back then. 

Every morning he’d wake up early, well before you, just to attend practice. And every night he’d come home late, just after dinner, claiming he had needed to stay longer than normal to practice more. 

You’d set out a plate for him, but after his baseball career started taking off, he didn’t really have the time for things such as family dinners or game nights; or so he said. 

He’d usually come home and skip dinner, taking a shower or going to sleep instead. You didn’t necessarily blame him for that, it was only natural for him to be tired from practice. But as the days of barely seeing him turned into months, and he started traveling consistently for his games, you started to feel more like a stranger to him than his wife. He was your husband on paper, but, in the confines of your home, you barely knew how to keep a conversation with him anymore. If you were being honest, you didn’t even really know him that well anymore. 

At least, not as much as you used to. Things were different when you first got married, he wasn’t always so arrogant and inconsiderate. Instead, he was passionate and playful, always knowing how to make you laugh after crying. Even on your first date, he was romantic and charming, making you blush to yourself every time a compliment slipped past his lips. 

But I guess the honeymoon phase people always warn you about before marriage was real; at least, it was for you and Kenji. 

Once his baseball career started taking off, the fame must’ve gotten to his head, and he forgot about the one woman who had been supporting him from the sidelines all along. You had gone to every game, recorded all his winning homeruns, supported his career even though it meant holding off on pursuing yours. And yet, he repaid you with neglect, with a one-sided marriage.

You held on for a while, convinced that he would come around, that his behavior would change and he would reflect on his actions. But after the one-year anniversary of your marriage arrived and he wasn’t even in town to celebrate with you, that’s when you made your decision. You were done being a second choice. 

You got in contact with a lawyer, gathered divorce papers and waited with bated breath till he got home from his trip. And the moment he walked in the door, you practically shoved the papers in his face, all the emotions you’d kept bottled up for so long suddenly coming out in a volcanic eruption of shouting and sobbing. 

And surprisingly enough, he stayed quiet through the majority of it, just watching with a hollow stare as you unleashed all the frustration you’d been harboring towards him. And without a word, he took the papers from you and fished out a pen from his desk drawer, signing them in silence. 

Maybe he had realized from your onslaught of emotions that you were better off without him, that he was clearly causing you pain, and you’d be happier once he set you free of him. Or maybe he really was just that heartless and figured now was the perfect opportunity to get rid of you. Either way, your stomach seemed to twist into a knot at the way he so casually signed those divorce papers and handed them back to you. 

This was what you had wanted, wasn’t it? You’re the one who had gathered the papers in the first place, you should’ve been happy that he was finally ending it, finally setting you free. And yet, you felt yourself holding back tears at his lack of emotion. He didn’t try to argue, he didn’t plead with you to give him another chance like you had expected him too. He just admitted defeat, giving up on trying to fix your marriage and taking off for Japan two days later. 

He left, leaving you back in America while he returned to his home country to continue baseball there; abandoning his American team in the middle of their journey to the championships. 

He had given you an opportunity to move on, to become the person he always prevented you from being, and so you took it.

You cut all forms of communication, threw out everything of his that he didn’t take when he left, and moved into your own apartment. It was a fresh start, a clean slate, and you finally had the chance to chase after your dream career, just like he had been doing.  

So, you did, and you didn’t give up. You refused to, you owed this to yourself, and you weren’t going to waste any more time pouring effort into someone who didn’t appreciate it. 

So, you worked, tirelessly, anxiously, until the day came when your newest novel finally become a bestseller all around the nation, and you were officially titled a successful author. 

Now it was your turn, to stand in front of a crowd of adoring fans, to sign autographs and attend fan events. It almost reminded you of your ex-husband, how people used to scream his name and cheer for his success. But now they were cheering for you, supporting you like he hadn’t. You almost laughed at the irony of it all. Five years ago, you would’ve never imagined the life you’d made for yourself now, celebrating your fourth bestselling novel in a row and becoming a well-known author like you always dreamed of. 

And yet, looking back, none of this would’ve been possible had you not been set free from the restraints your marriage to Ken Sato had bound you to. Without him and the neglect he subjected you to, you wouldn’t have worked as hard as you did. So really, in a way, you had him to thank for how far you’ve come and all the success you’ve accomplished. Because if he never signed those papers five years ago, you would still be tied down to a one-sided marriage. 

But you weren’t, and thank God for that.

Now you had moved on, and so had he. 

Or so you thought. 

Little did you know, Ken Sato was on a mission, and not as Ultraman this time. After undergoing the change and maturity necessary to become a parent to a kaiju infant, Kenji realized he needed to make things right between the two of you. Even if it had been five years since he last saw you. 

He wasn’t looking to ask you to take him back and rekindle your marriage, though he wouldn’t have minded if that ended up happening. Instead, he simply wanted to apologize for his actions, for being such a crappy husband back then. He had reflected a lot on the subject of your marriage over the past couple years, but, he never reached out in fear of your reaction to seeing him again. 

Although, after avoiding it for long enough, and getting a lecture about taking responsibility from his dad, he finally decided to go through with it and booked a flight back to America. 

He was nervous to say the least, but he knew he couldn’t back out. Even if you screamed and yelled at him, he had to take accountability for his past actions and apologize for the pain he’d caused you, for pushing you to the back burner while he allowed baseball to take priority in his life. 

He’d made peace with himself and his father already, thanks to the help of his adoptive daughter. So now it was time to make peace with you. And as he watched the plane lift off the ground from his window seat, he held his breath, wondering how you would react to seeing him again after so many years. 

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[leth-writes]

yandere Tim Drake x meta reader

This is the first part, I'll probably post a second tomorrow!

Summary: you're a meta who struggles to be seen, and Tim thinks you're the most interesting thing he's laid his eyes on for a long time.

Warnings: none, though as always my blog is 18+.

Tim was the only person to really see you. You’d been born a meta, though your powers slowly ramped up through your early childhood; unfortunately you didn’t even get a cool power. You weren’t even fully invincible, just slightly… fuzzy. It was frustrating, how no one would look you in the eye as a kid, at least until it progressed to most people not even being able to look at your face. You felt like half a person, like a silhouette without the details penciled in.

Then, as you got older, it got worse and worse. Suddenly, your own parents were forgetting you. You’d go to get dinner only to find none left, they almost gave your bed away, most of your clothes got donated… you learned quickly to keep your personal possessions close to your chest to avoid them being given out at the first chance. They could barely remember your name even when they could see you, always messing it up by a few letters. It was even worse at school. You found yourself often having your desk given away to new students, being forced to sit on the floor and try to get your work done, and your teacher always managed to misplace your homework. Eventually, the other students would attempt to walk right through you, as though you were a ghost and not a real person.

Maybe you were a ghost, maybe there was something wrong with you. Maybe you’d died and gone to hell after a life of sin… you couldn’t imagine God being good if they’d condemn you to this living, waking, purgatory. Eventually, you’d been completely kicked out of the house. You’d come home one day, only to find your whole family gone; they’d moved without you. The realization that you’d been erased from their eyes at the snap of a figure only left you hollow.

The hunger to be seen, to be known, left a giant gaping maw in your stomach, all teeth and gnarled, twisted flesh. It was horrid, this living, breathing, monster eating away at you until you couldn’t breathe or blink, curled up in the small, ragged blanket you’d found one day after dumpster diving. You often spent hours just laying on your side in an alley, praying to be released from your suffering, only to fail over and over again. It was horrible, but it was your life.

Everything changed when you met him. You’d been sneaking into Gotham Academy, mainly to use their bathrooms to shower and change into some spare clothes you planned to steal. You took the shortcut through the library, looking for something good to read to distract you from the gawping hunger growing steadily, trying to feed it so it wouldn’t consume you whole, when you heard the clearing of a throat. As always, you assumed it was just some rich kid with a mild case of the sniffles ditching class to read magazines in the corner.

You were wrong.

Suddenly, there was a hand on your shoulder. A hand, on your shoulder! It was the first time you’d been touched in 2 years. You whirled around and threw yourself into the chest of the boy who’d grasped your shoulder, the force of you colliding with him causing him to take a step back and readjust his weight, letting out a soft “oof!”. Tears streamed down your face, the hungry maw gnawing at you practically overtaking you.

The boy let out a gentle sigh, slowly raising the still outstretched arm to pat at your back awkwardly.

“Hey, are you… okay?” He asked, tentatively.

You realized you were still clawing at him like a wounded animal, and quickly stepped away, clearing your throat and looking down.

“Sorry, it’s just… been a while since someone hugged me, I guess I forgot what it felt like?” you said sheepishly, looking down and away.

“It’s alright, I was just wondering if you were new here? I haven’t seen you around campus before…” He started hesitantly, stepping closer. Shit, you couldn’t let him know you didn’t attend the school, or he’d call the cops on you! Who knows how long you’d be left in a quiet, dingy cell, hands cuffed together, before they remembered they’d put you there!

“Yeah, yeah, I’m new. It’s my first day and I got a bit lost… Silly me, huh?” You said, laughing awkwardly and rubbing your arm.

You looked up at him for the first time. Shit. It was Tim fucking Drake, heir to the Wayne and Drake empires, and practical king of the school. He ruled with an iron fist, blackmailing bullies and solving problems; even as an outsider, you couldn’t deny the power he held. The way he acted, you knew he was aware of his power as well. He was dressed in a rumpled uniform, something that would normally be a suspendable offence, but he managed to get away with it. He was leaning back, tie loose and shirt untucked partially, hair messy and fluffy. The sun filtered gently through the arched windows, a rare sunny day, illuminating the soft brown undertones of his hair and shining on his pale, exhausted looking face. He had deep eye bags but was otherwise unblemished, and the lightest green eyes you’d ever seen, almost sickly green.

Looking at him made you uncomfortable; it’d been years since you’d been able to talk to another person. His eyes glinted and his face slackened, looking stern and serious.

“No you’re not.” He said, voice low and threatening.

“W-Yes I am! I just don’t have my paperwork in yet!” You stuttered, backing into the bookcase and holding your hands up as if to defend against a physical blow. He sighed and shook his head, once again stepping into your personal space. “No you aren’t. I would’ve recognized you. I know everyone in this school; you don’t even have a uniform on.” He continued, glancing out the window as if uninterested.

Fuck, what should you do? You could run, but you had the feeling he’d be able to catch you… Or you could try and lie again, but he did seem pretty certain… Maybe you should just confess?

“Fine. I don’t go here. I’m just… I just need to use the bathroom, okay?” You hedged, looking away as though embarassed. It was best not to confess your status as a meta, for fear of Batman showing up to arrest you; you’d heard he had a vendetta against metas for some reason.

Tim nodded, looking satisfied. “Finally, the truth. Let’s go.” He stepped away, grabbing your wrist and pulling you gently along. You dragged your feet, sputtering, trying to stop him. “where are we going?” You asked him, incredulously. “We’re going to get you some clothes, my treat, and a shower. I can’t have you wandering around like that, you’ll never fit in. Besides, you’re the only interesting thing I’ve seen all month.”

You were so excited to finally be seen you didn’t even question why he referred to you as a thing instead of a person.

[kiyo-cant-write]

vil schoenheit with an otaku s/o

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I felt like we needed something on this blog with my bias, Vil. So I took it upon myself to write something.

This comes from my love of pairing otakus and nerds with ultra-glamorous people. Vil/Idia is also something I enjoy, but as this blog is catered to reader-insert content, have this.

If anyone has any Vil requests I may prioritize them....

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Summary: [Name] is the s/o of Vil Schoenheit and an otaku who challenges the shut-in Ignihyde Housewarden for his title. They have a fixation on games and often find themselves obsessed with them. What does Vil think of this?

TW/CW: None

Notes: established relationship, they/them pronouns for the reader, the reader is implied to be Ramshackle Prefect/Yuu, the reader is younger than Vil (lightly implied), explicitly post B5

Guest Stars: Rook Hunt. Neige LeBlanche (implied/referenced), Idia Shroud (mentioned)

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Vil Schoenheit

Vil wasn't always so open to dating someone who obsesses over fiction and 2D media to this degree.

Idia always irked him a bit, but maybe it was the tablet.

Honestly, he still doesn't really understand.

Vil Schoenheit is the commodity, not the consumer.

He respects his s/o for their dedication, though.

The only criticisms he has are if they do not take care of themselves properly (like neglecting food or sleep for games).

Vil has come to know random things about whatever anime or game his s/o likes and picks up special items when opportunities arise at work, albeit without drawing attention to it publicly.

What Vil wasn't prepared for was [Name]'s friendship with Rook.

It's a blessing and a curse to be in their presence.

He's thrilled they get along... but once they start yapping... it never ends and is typically about Vil himself or worse Neige LeBlanche.

Vil often pretends that he doesn't hear those chats.

He finds the praise from his s/o nice, though.

He's relieved they aren't one of his creeper fans.

Be assured that he did some interrogating early on for safety.

Vil appreciates that they live outside the spotlight.

It means that he can be "normal" with them.

It's nice to just be "Vil" and not some mega-star.

Vil values that even though they love his work, they also love him as a person, the Vil that the rest of the world isn't privy to.

Vil grimaced at the sight of his darling partner who was buried in blankets on the couch trying to "grind" for an "SSR" in some game about idols. He didn't pretend to understand such concepts but he was certainly watching it happen before him: [Name] was ignoring the world for games.

He sighed but he knew he chose this.

[Name] gave that tablet-wielding Idia Shroud a run for his title, surely. They were a shut-in as any otaku was, keeping their darling face away from view and covered by baggy clothing. They took poor care of themselves when "banners" were yielding?

That was what got on Vil's nerves the most. The utter disregard for their health in favor of fictional men and digital items.

"[Name]," Vil said, trying to get his beloved's attention.

They did not answer.

That's alright, they probably did not hear him.

"[Name]," he repeated a bit more urgently.

They remained focused on their screen, unaware of the person standing beside their cozy setup. Vil wasn't sure if he was offended or not. The housewarden sighed before using the only trick he had up his sleeve at the moment.

"[Full Name]."

"HUH?!?"

[Name] whipped around like they had heard gunshots and were faced with the radiant beauty of their boyfriend.

Oh! It was Vil!

"Sorry, Vil," [Name] offered, looking down for a moment to ensure that the story was paused, "I guess I wasn't paying attention."

"And that," Vil told them, "is a crime in and of itself, I look lovely today and you should appreciate all beauty that graces your eyes."

Vil smiled, posing in a way that made it seem natural. A hand on his hip asserted that Vil held the power in this room, even when it was not his dorm. Pomefiore's housewarden was too charismatic for words sometimes.

"You know, dear, like Rook always says and does..." Vil continued, pausing for a moment at the thought of his vice housewarden, "Though maybe not so enthusiastically as him."

"I love you so much, V, but I also have so many pulls I need to do to get this SSR," [Name] told Vil, tapping into the next part of the event they were working on, "This. is. why. I. exist. And Idia put the support card I told... begged him to."

[Name] had ventured to Ignihyde the other day, Ortho accompanying them, to beg the Game Master to put his level 105 maxed stat card for support. It was a terrifying journey that incurred the wrath of the heavens (Idia screamed in such a shrill voice that he nearly gave [Name] tinnitus) but it was worth it. The Game Master ceded and the support for the battle was won! Huzzah!

"I can see that this means a lot if you cried to Shroud about it, but you... " Vil trailed off until he noticed a familiar bag by the side of the couch, "I'm sorry, darling, do you have a guest?"

"Eh, do I have a guest?" [Name] asked Vil.

With that, Vil was about to launch into another lecture about how they should watch their house and remember if people were present, but he was cut off by the entry of one (1) Rook Hunt wearing something he would be skinned for if he were at Pomefiore with his hair tangled as if he fell asleep half smothered into something, hair and all. Vil could believe his eyes, but he didn't want to.

"Do I even want to know?" Vil asked him.

Rook raised his hands in a shrug that felt a tad passive-aggressive.

"I'm not going to ask then, neither of you has the answer that keeps my sanity alive," Vil said, sighing as he closed his eyes to avoid questioning his vice housewarden.

"We're doing this for you, Roi du Poison!" Rook told him.

"In what world does this game have anything to do with me?"

Vil was floored by the implication that he was familiar with one of these idol-ish games. He had worked on them once or twice, sure, but that was hardly the same as being a fan, a player.

"I thought this as well, but [Name] explained it to me!"

And... Rook was enthused. Yay. Time for theatrics.

"Rook, I'm not in the mood for theatrics, try to be concise."

"Of course, My Queen!"

"Rook-senpai did you make food?" [Name] asked him, cutting into the conversation.

"It is cooking now!" Rook assured with a (slightly scary) smile.

"I thought you..." Vil trailed off once more, it wasn't worth it.

Rook was here, he wasn't. [Name] knew, they didn't. At least Epel wasn't also here trying to get muscular at a dangerous speed (again). In the end, the hunter had agreed to cease his shenanigans, but there were sure to be more theatrics and tomfoolery ahead. It might seem impossible, but Vil could sense it.

"Do you two wish to tell me what has you so involved in this game? And how in all of this Twisted Wonderland it pertains to me?" the housewarden asked after a moment sitting down on the Ramshackle couch after a moment of deliberation and joining his vice housewarden and the love of his young life.

"It has everything to do with you!" [Name] told him, managing to tap away at the rhythm game while speaking which Vil would never admit impressed him, "I'm doing this because I love you.... and the cards. But mostly for you, V!"

"It's about your honor, Beautiful Vil!" Rook added.

About his honor? How was this about his honor?

Vil sighed as he turned to Rook. His hair was still a nest on his head, one fit for a bird. His golden hair color aided that appearance.

"I really wish you would fix your hair, Rook..."

Rook shook his head, expression saddening if only for a moment.

"Non, non. There is no time for it when your honor is at stake!"

And... Yeah, there's no stopping Rook now. Vil admitted to that defeat as much as it pained him, a couple of years of friendship had taught him not to... Well, to be crude, not to fuck with that.

"Yeah!!" [Name] agreed, "We need to focus on this. And... Win!"

Oh, good. Lovely. His lover was also not backing down.

Vil sighed as he leaned closer to [Name], a show of his own tiredness that he seemed to neglect the wrinkles to his clothing that could form. His face close to theirs, he watched their game, skimming the dialogue of the stylized men on the screen and trying to parse through why the player seemed to have a hoard of 167 men at their disposal while also being a 17-year-old orphan with dead famous parents who left them a company in their will.

Maybe I should have paid more attention when Idia tried to explain his visual novel collection to me...

Vil continued to watch, slowly feeling himself grow just a tad invested in the story. He cursed it, wanting to say he was above falling for the media he seldom worked in... And here he was, wondering what the MC was going to do now that one of the beautiful young men had been kidnapped by some kind of underground association of famous men. He was still a bit unclear about that last part.

"This is why, V," [Name] told him, tapping the arrow on the screen to reveal a character Vil had not seen in the section [Name] was reading.

They were tall blond with deep blue eyes wearing a shimmering gown and extremely high heels.

Vil looked back to [Name].

"Everyone is saying this character is the in-game equivalent of you," they told him, "So I wanted to help them... win against..."

A voice echoed from Rook's phone that sounded eerily similar to a certain raven-haired boy's voice. But it wasn't, Vil was certain of it. There was a certain energy to Neige's voice that this person did not have, a kind of sweetness that made Vil's stomach churn a bit.

"The you-coded guy is going to be my strongest card and he will win in the polls! Rook and I will make sure of it!" [Name] told Vil, "Also if he does lose I still have to do a favor for Idia-senpai so I really don't wanna lose."

The fact that [Name] was willing to go to such lengths for his apparent honor was heartwarming to Vil if not a tad silly. Since the events of the competition, Vil had rethought some of his prior-made statements, but it seemed that [Name] and Rook both wanted to assure him of his worth and that was... sweet, honestly. A little weird considering they chose an anime game to do so, but sweet nonetheless.

He smiled at [Name], pressing a kiss to their cheek.

"Thank you, my love," he told them before looking over at Rook, "And you as well, I suppose, Rook."

"...Might this lessen the pain I caused at the VDC?" Rook asked.

"I'm no longer angry but perhaps," Vil told the hunter.

"And it was all my idea!" [Name] cheered, glowing with pride.

"Oui, your shared love is most radiant~" Rook practically sang, pausing his rhythm game (he has a full combo and SS rank) to stand and gesture boldly to Vil and [Name].

"I know, it's why I love them so much," Vil mused.

Yes, having a significant other with differing interests had perks, sometimes. Vil had to admit that every once in a while, [Names] hobby was cute, on them anyway... Vil wasn't so sure he could handle it if they came to school as a tablet like Idia.

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Imagine the rest for yourself~

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^

[alphajocklover]

just wanted to say that Uncle story you made was really good... Any chance for a part 2?

Hey everyone. I wanted to thank you all for your kind words concerning my Uncle John. After I shared what had happened to him and how I got into TF reporting, I got a lot of supportive messages (along with the regular ones that seem to think this is some sort of… kink blog? What even is that?). Because of how kind you’ve been, I thought I should update you on how everything is going. I’m sorry to say there isn’t much to update you on though. I have a good idea as to who transformed my uncle, which I’ll probably expand upon in another post (I keep saying that, I know, but I will), but what I don’t know is where he is. I haven’t got a clue where he is at the moment, but luckily I’m not the only one searching for him.

The Douchebag Revolution has been keeping an eye out for him for one. Since I help them out sometimes they’ve been helping me. They can be surprisingly nice at times, and they’re pretty sympathetic to people who have been transformed against their will, since they all were at some point. They also seem to have somehow gotten the idea that Uncle John was straight before he got transformed, but since that seems to motivate them more I haven’t corrected them.

I have members of other groups I’ve mentioned helping me too. I won’t name names, since they could get fired (or transformed), but I do have some connections at EB Jewelry, despite the company's anti-journalist policy. They’re the reason I was actually able to get some information on the company in the first place, and they’ve been using some of their connections within the company to help look for my Uncle. They haven’t found much yet, though it's because of them I can safely say that EB Jewelry isn’t involved in what happened.

Then of course there are the other TF Reporters who help, a few personal friends of my Uncle, and… Nick. My Uncles literally devilish friend, Nick. Honestly, he’s been looking harder than anyone, and I think I know why. I’ve always referred to Nick as my Uncle’s devil friend, and that's how he introduced himself to me, but… from what I’ve noticed, they were actually closer than that. It was the little things that gave it away. The look in Nick's eyes when he talks about my uncle, both fond and painful, the way he seems more desperate to find him than I do, how protective he’s been of me since my Uncle disappeared. I think he and my Uncle John were seriously involved, for quite a long time.

It’s kind of weird to realize your Uncle is, or at least was, in a long term relationship with a devil, but no matter the reason, I’m glad he's here. I don’t know If I could do all this without Nick's help. He’s half the reason I haven't been turned into a dumb hunk myself. I do worry sometimes that this is starting to get to him. Whoever transformed Uncle John has been sending… pictures, recently. He’s always transformed in a different way and with a different look, but I can just tell it’s him. They’re showing him off like some sort of trophy, using him to mock us. Nick never says anything but it’s killing him seeing my Uncle that way, I can tell.

This whole thing is my fault. I was the reason my Uncle got changed. I have to get him back. I know whoever took him is reading this post. I know you’re powerful, powerful enough that time travel, demons and capitalist don’t want to fight you. But I’m not afraid of you. I know who you are, and I’m giving you a fair warning: I’m coming for you, and I’m getting him back. No matter what.

**I’ve been meaning to do a sequel to the ‘My Uncle’ story for a while. I love big lore stories. I need to introduce the big bad soon, but there so much other stuff to write too so it might still be a bit. Hope you love this story and hope you guys can wait!**

[sorrowsofsilence]

Desolate Love • N.S

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader (oneshot)

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: Angst, angst, angst.

Prompt: His October eyes sang secret confessions as he poured his soul into the melodies of desolate love; but you weren't meant to be sung for, even if you loved each other first.

Authors note: I have never written anything like this publically before, but I'm feeling a little sad and angsty lol. I hope you enjoy the words that came from my heart. (ps. I know many on the taglist are here for smut, and this isn’t smut, but I'm just re-using tags since I'm not sure who enjoys what! Pls let me know if you don't want to be tagged in all things!!)

Tags: @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking @gretaswhore28 @veronicaphoenix @lma1986 @calleyx13 @somewhere-diamond @talialovesmiw @auratheopossumwitch @blackveilomens @skulliecadaver-blog @silentglassbreak @darkmxgician

No one talks about the grief of a loss that was never yours to mourn.

He got a tattoo; a constant reminder of the pain.

A reminder of what once was.

A reminder of what would never be.

You wrote unspoken words in your diary, quarrels that would never be said aloud.

Words that confessed years of feelings, years of silenced affections.

As your fingers grazed over the pages of yearning within the leathered journal, your heart reminisced the ache for unattainable amour.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you let out a quiet sob, unsure why you were even crying for someone who was never yours.

He consumed your mind; the way he smiled at you the day you met; his contagious laughter that danced through the walls in grandeur.

“Is this Henderson’s gym class?”

The voice behind startled you, and you turned, meeting a pair of ochre eyes. The stutter that left your lips caused your face to warm in embarrassment, as the messy brunette locks that fell across the boy’s features left you captivated.

“Yeah, I think so?” Your brows furrowed as you second-guessed yourself, even though you double-checked the classroom timetable a thousand times.

His lips spread into a dancing grin, his slight buck teeth chewing playfully on his bottom lip in shyness.

“Cool,” He stuck out his hand, long fingers wrapping around yours, “Noah.”

“Y/N,” You returned the smile, your ears heating as his October gaze never left yours.

You pulled away, briefly glancing down at his shirt, immediately excited.

“You like blink-182?”

Noah looked down at his shirt, pointing at it, “Oh yea, I fucking love them.”

He glanced up at you, fixated, “Do you?”

You nodded excitedly, “They’re probably my favourite band at the moment, other than the 1975, and Oasis, and-” you began to ramble, but stopped, afraid to embarrass yourself anymore than you felt you had.

Something flickered within his eyes at that moment; something you never noticed.

“Wonderwall?” He asked.

A song that became yours.

The burned CD he gave you collected dust in the corner of your room, aged and scratched from years of use. The disk player sat untouched, left as a painful reminder from when the tunes that played were melodies of hope; melodies of elation.

These feelings of grief consumed you, engulfing you into an overwhelming feeling of remorse.

The waves of heartbreak came and left, nostalgia shielding your anguish when memories flooded in.

No one ever filled you with such devotion and desire as he did; and throughout the naivety, you could have sworn it to be love.

It was the way Noah would shout your name from across the room when he saw you, or the way he would cover your eyes, asking you to guess who.

Every time you would laugh, placing your hands on top of his, saying you weren’t sure.

But you knew every time.

His long fingers would twirl your hair when he sat behind you in class, tugging the strands playfully before running his nails over your scalp.

“I just like your hair,” He’d say.

And whenever he picked up his guitar in the band room, he would strum the chords to your song, as if inviting you to listen to his lyrical confessions.

His texts consisted of using silly nicknames, and an overload of emojis to express his feelings. It was over the top, almost as if he was afraid he never came across as genuine enough without them.

Late night conversations went on for hours, laughing at the random stories and memories exchanged through flirtatious banter. You wanted to tell him everything about you, and learn everything about him.

You wanted to know his favourite colour, and what cologne he wore. His goals and dreams intrigued you, his fears and dislikes alluring.

You began to like the things he did, just to have something to talk about. You watched the shows he recommended and googled the things you didn’t know. Anything for him.

Noah would tell you how proud he was of you if you shared an accomplishment, or how pretty you looked when you wore your hair down.

He told you he loved your sneakers, and the way your oversized sweaters engulfed your body.

“You could wear mine,” He said, “You look good in my clothes.”

He would grab your hands, drawing silly pictures in Sharpie. It always left you frustrated when the image of an scribbled smiley face barely faded with each scrub.

But really, you would stare at it in admiration, blushing at the thought of his fingers brushing against yours.

“You like him, don’t you?” Your best friends pried, causing you to flush in embarrassment.

“He doesn’t like me like that,” You sighed, shaking your head, “We’re just friends.”

Just friends don’t play with each others hair like that.

Just friends don’t call each other pretty.

Just friends don’t text each other all night long.

“Is it easier to just pretend?”

Time went on, and your heart fluttered at every smile Noah shared with you, and at every word you exchanged.

The daily good morning and goodnight texts left you melting, succumbing your heart to his as he claimed it for his own.

Deep down, you knew he liked you more than just a friend. The way he treated you was special; there was no way that was how friends treat friends.

N: “Hey, your crush 100% likes you back.”

You: “Uhh hey? How would you know?”

N: “Well, I know who you like.”

You: “I guarantee you don’t.”

N: “Hmm, but I do? And I know he likes you back.”

You: “Sure Noah, haha. Go to bed.”

N: “I’m just saying. He likes you. Goodnight Y/N <3”

With a spiralling mind, your heart hammered.

Did he know how you felt about him? Did he just confess his feelings?

Hope.

It wasn’t until he pulled you into the storage closet a week later, that sorrow knocking down any previous signs of faith.

Torn.

“Y/N, I just wanted to talk… but I know you have feelings for me.”

His eyes bore into your own, sorrowful and sullen.

“Look,” he began, grabbing your hands in his, eyes glancing at your entwined fingers, “I- I just promised myself to someone else. My girl- ex-girlfriend, is coming here, and the reason we broke up was because I transferred.”

He began to ramble, unable to look into your eyes as he confessed his worries. Your heart began to shatter as you forced a small smile. Pulling your hands from his you placed them on his shoulders, causing him to pause.

“Noah,” You said softly, the words leaving your mouth a blatant lie, “It’s ok. I understand.“

His shoulders fell as he watched you. He brought you into a hug, squeezing you against his body, holding onto you.

Ludicrous. Empty.

You cried, your knees held to your chest in comfort as a shield from the feelings of abandonment. How could you be so naive?

You: “Just wanted to say thank you for telling me. I’m sorry if my feelings complicate things, I care about you a lot Noah.”

N: “I’m sorry, for everything. You mean a lot to me, and I care about you. ”

You: “If you knew who I liked all along… why did you say that my crush liked me back?”

It took him almost an hour to respond.

N: “Because I do like you Y/N. I like you a lot… but I promised myself to someone.”

The tears that fell from your face that night left you parched and broken, your world-shattering.

You found someone else a year later. Love that fulfilled your every need, someone to cherish you for you. It was someone who gave you everything; but your mind selfishly always wandered back to him.

You didn’t know that the day he found out you became spoken for, was the day he broke into a million pieces from a whole.

His heart was mutilated, head spinning with uncontrollable thoughts of regret.

How could he have let you slip through his fingers? All for some what-ifs?

He pretended to be happy for you.

Years passed, and you both grew. Both changed, both matured.

You got a ring, and Noah played in a band. You went to every show, you still showed up, even though you knew you were always a second choice.

He watched you the whole time as his fingers traced the strings of the guitar, and your heart yearned for him; screaming and aching and crying that you were just a body in the room.

It wasn’t until he found someone, that you told yourself it wasn’t healthy to fixate on past uncertainties.

It was rare you went to shows now. But when you did, you watched as he stood on that stage and sung; his smile brilliant and just for her.

But then you would meet his gaze, and you knew that the ochre was always for you. Forever yours.

His October eyes sang secret confessions as he poured his soul into the melodies of desolate love.

But you weren’t his: you weren’t mean’t to be sung for.

Some nights you called him drunk. You told him you missed him, that you wanted him to know you think about him all the time.

He told you he missed your voice, and how he wished you two still called.

He said he was happy you found someone to love you, because you deserved to be loved.

You knew he was lying.

It was the last time you talked, until you saw him sitting in the audience as you walked down the aisle, marrying a man you loved. A man who promised himself to you forever. A man who chose you first. A man who was not him.

Noah asked for your hand, he asked you for a dance. Your bodies swayed one last time in a synchronized beat, but just as friends; as desolate lovers.

You never listened to Wonderwall again.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you let out a quiet sob, unsure why you were even crying for someone who was never yours. You were meant to be happy now.

As your fingers grazed over the pages of yearning within the leathered journal, your heart reminisced the ache for unattainable amour.

A reminder of what would never be.

A reminder of what once was.

Noah got a tattoo; a constant reminder of the pain.

No one talks about the grief of a loss that was never yours to mourn.

[navybrat817]

Any chance we'll see tattoo artist Steve soon? 🥺

Here's a bit of Steve's birthday, nonnie.

By Any Other Name

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Steve Rogers x Teacher!Female Reader Summary: You're the only thing Steve wants for his birthday. Word Count: Over 900 Warnings: Implied sex, implied oral sex (f. receiving), future couple, Steve Rogers (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Meet Thorn and Rose, set in the same AU as Hottie and Sugar. ❤️ Thank you to @jobean12-blog for chatting with me about this! Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics and Steve edit by the wonderful Nix. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The first thing you thought when you woke up was that you couldn't believe how well rested you were. The sun was already up, shining bright through the window and curtain. You didn't normally sleep in and had no idea what time it was, but you didn't care as you nestled back into the pillow. It was going to be a good day.

If indicated by the wonderful ache between your thighs.

Your eyes widened when the figure beside you wrapped an arm tight around your waist. For a second, you almost forgot that you weren't alone and weren't in your bed. The large body was so warm and solid, practically a furnace. The beard that tickled your neck made the ache in your core throb with need.

So, I did actually sleep with my tattoo artist. It wasn’t a dream.

"Morning," Steve rasped, his lips lightly brushing against your skin as you held back a whimper.

“Morning,” you whispered back.

Your heart fluttered when he raised his head, his deep blue eyes focusing more as he smiled. His blonde hair was slightly dishevled, but he managed to still look perfect. You probably looked like a monster. It didn’t stop him from pressing a kiss between the center of your eyes.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his muscular arm pulling you a bit closer.

"I'm okay," you replied after a moment, lightly tracing one of the tattoos on his forearm.

"Just okay?" he asked, concern in his eyes.

You weren't sure how to respond. The gorgeous man who talked you through getting your tattoo was practically a stranger. And you slept with him. To say he rocked your world was an understatement. The man shattered you and you couldn’t believe how he was able to put every piece of you back into place.

“Steve, Steve, Steve!”

“That’s it, sweetheart. Scream my name when I make you come for me. I’ve got you.”

The mere memory, along with his chest against yours, made your nipples hard and made you damp between your legs. You didn’t draw any attention to it though. While he didn’t seem like the type to kick you out of his bed, you had no idea where he wanted to go from here.

“More than okay. I slept really well,” you admitted, backing up just a little. He didn’t need your morning breath in his face.

Steve only pulled you closer. “So did I,” he smiled, cracking his neck a little. “And how’s your wrist feeling?”

“Just fine. Thank you,” you said as he gently took it to check. You still couldn’t believe you ran from the chair when he turned the tattoo gun on. Needles weren’t your thing. He managed to get you through it and you were glad for it.

The rose and single thorn tattoo was beautiful and worth conquering that fear.

“I’m glad you went through with it. And I’m not afraid to tie you down if you try to run from me again,” he winked, making your cheeks hot. “I have to say, this is the best way to wake up on my birthday.”

“Wait, it’s your birthday?” you smiled when he gave you a sheepish look. “Happy birthday, Steve. I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”

To be fair, you didn’t know and you hadn’t expected to go home with him last night.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, slowly tugging the sheet away. “But do you want to give me something?”

Instead of trying to cover yourself up, you let him fully see you in the sunlight. The way his eyes darkened, he liked what he saw. “What did you have in mind?” you asked, your voice huskier than before.

“Well, Bucky and the guys are having a small thing for me tonight,” he said, lightly running his fingers along your torso. “Would you, maybe, want to go?”

Not what I thought he’d have in mind, but that kind of sounds like a date.

“Sure,” you smiled, happy that he wanted to see you again. “I’d love to go.”

Watching his face light up was almost like you gave him a real gift. “Is it selfish to ask for one more thing?” he asked, bracing himself over you before he leaned down to capture your mouth.

Any self-conciousness about your breath and anything else disappeared as desire took over. His cock was hard, trapped between your bodies as he lightly grinded against you. “That all depends on what you ask for,” you teased as he moved his kisses down your neck.

“Scream my name again. Do it while my tongue’s deep inside you,” he said as you bit your lip. It sounded more like a command and one you knew you wouldn’t be able to resist. “And do it again when I give you my cock.”

“Steve,” you whimpered, slipping your fingers into his hair.

“Louder than that, Rose,” he said, nipping your collarbone and making you giggle at the reference of your tattoo. “And since it’s my birthday, I get to eat as much as I want.”

“You really are going to be a thorn in my side, aren’t you?” you asked affectionately.

“I prefer to be the ache between your gorgeous thighs,” he smirked. “So open up and let me eat.”

Your legs spread without another word. You’d let him have his fill. It was his birthday, after all. And it would’ve been wrong to deny him.

Steve deserves it, right? Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

To Be a Man - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Wife!OC (Sophie)

Word Count: 2.2k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Secret Marriage; Non-Traditional Family Dynamics; Mentioned Death of Minor OCs; Marriage of Convenience/Necessity; Mentions of Type 1 Diabetes; Third Person POV, Named OC kids and Wife, No Physical Descriptions of Any OCs

Summary: Hangman is married. And it’s no one else’s business.

Prologue Part 2 Part 3

Master List

A.N. Disclaimer - I don’t have Type 1 diabetes and so this is purely based off of a little research and what I’ve seen my friends with Type 1 do.

“You’re married!?”

Hangman turned around at the accusation to find the rest of the Daggers, save for Coyote, who he was talking to before they were so rudely interrupted, staring at him like he had grown a second head. He scoffed and rolled his eyes, not sure why it was any of their business.  

“Yeah, what’s it to you?”

“Who the hell are you married to?” Rooster asked, earning a condescending smirk from Hangman.

“My wife.”

“Well, no shit Sherlock.”

“Where’s your wedding ring then?” Payback questioned, leaning on the table to inspect Hangman’s left hand. “I’ve never seen you wear one around.”

“It’s on my dog tags, dipshits,” Hangman replied, pulling out the chain to show them, even though he didn’t have to do that. “That a crime?”

“Why do you flirt with other women then?” Bob inquired, sharing a look with Phoenix. “Two women gave you their numbers last night alone.”

“Did you see me calling either one of them?”

“Well . . . no, we didn’t, but—”

“—When did you get married?” Phoenix intervened, tilting her chin up and narrowing her eyes a bit. “And where is she?”

“Two years ago. And she’s driving here right now,” Hangman stated, checking his watch. Pulling out his phone, he looked up his wife’s location before turning back to the Daggers. “She’s about five minutes away, if you want to be specific.”

“She’s staying here with you?”

“For a while, yeah. Like anyone else’s spouse would,” Hangman retorted, getting a bit annoyed with all of the questions. “Why?”

“Well, we’ve got to meet Mrs. Seresin,” Rooster drawled, folding his arms across his chest. “Since we’ve heard so much about her.”

“Do you even have a picture of her?” Fanboy questioned, causing Hangman to shoot him an annoyed look.

“Yes.”

“Well, are you going to show it to us?”

“No,” Hangman snorted, shaking his head. “No, I’m not.”

The Daggers continued to list of questions that Hangman half-answered, half-gave bullshit responses, before Hangman spotted a familiar silver car rolling into the lot. Ignoring the Daggers, he set his drink down and got up from his seat, slipping around the railings on the back porch of the Hard Deck to greet his wife. Coyote was about to take a sip of his drink when he found five sets of eyes trained on him.

“I’m not telling you guys anything,” Coyote stated, shaking his head. “They’ll be here in five seconds.”

“So, you knew the whole time that Hangman was married?” Payback questioned, causing Coyote to nod in return. “And you never thought to mention that?”

“Not my business to tell.”

“Jake!” a shrill voice that definitely belonged to a little kid broke through the air.

The Daggers all quickly pivoted from Coyote to the boardwalk where a girl, probably around six, sprinted down the wooden path. Hangman picked up his pace and scooped her into his arms, lifting her off the ground effortlessly. And if the Daggers weren’t confused and befuddled before at Hangman’s personal life, they sure were now.

“He’s a dad!?”

“What the hell is he doing with a kid!? This is Hangman we’re talking about, right?”

“She called him Jake, dumbasses,” Phoenix pointed out, though she watched the interaction closely. “What kid calls their dad by their first name?”

Hangman kept walking with the girl in his arms, chatting excitedly with her. Then another kid, a boy probably three or four years old, jumped up onto the boardwalk and raced towards Hangman as well. The Daggers grew even more confused. Hangman leaned over and scooped him up like he weighed nothing, pressing a kiss to the side of the boy’s head.

A woman finally stepped out from in between two cars and pulled Jake in for a tight hug, which he tried to return as best he could with two kids in his arms. The Daggers watched their interaction like hawks but gave each other confused looks when the woman, who they presumed was Jake’s wife, pulled away with just a kiss pressed to his cheek.

“That’s his wife, right?” Rooster asked Coyote, who nodded. “They’re not that affectionate?”

“Maybe five strangers staring at them makes them a little uncomfortable,” Coyote suggested, taking a sip from his beer.

Hangman eventually led his family to the back of the Hard Deck, dreading the conversation that awaited him. Jake’s wife glanced up at the Daggers, who were clearly waiting for them, before turning to Jake. Nudging him gently with her hip, she jerked her head in the direction of his squad.

“Did you tell them anything?”

“Nope,” Jake replied, shaking his head. “Not a single thing.”

The family of four made their way up to the back deck. Setting Leila on the ground and taking her hand as they walked up the stairs, Hangman finally turned to face the stunned and even more curious Daggers. Leila hid a bit behind his leg, always a bit shy around strangers, but he rested a hand on her shoulder to remind her that he was there and that it was all alright.

“Everyone, this is my family. Family, these are the Daggers,” Hangman introduced, half-assed, earning an immediate poke in the side from his wife. Gritting his teeth slightly, Hangman restarted. “Daggers, this is Leila and this is Tyler and this is my wife, Sophie”

After Hangman introduced her, Sophie waved politely in greeting to the Daggers, who awkwardly waved back to her. Withholding an eyeroll, Hangman started on the introductions in the other direction.

“Guys, that’s Bob, Phoenix, Rooster, Fanboy, Payback, and you already know Coyote,” Hangman listed off, pointing at each Dagger as he spoke.

“Javy!” Leila called, running over to greet him.

“Hey, Firecracker,” Coyote joked, picking Leila up and setting her on the stool that Hangman had been sitting on before.

From there, the awkwardness slowly dissipated. Very slowly, but it did dissipate just a bit. Leila and Tyler were running around on the back deck, laughing and stretching their legs after the long car ride down from Lemoore. Hangman had switched his beer for a water and returned from inside the bar with a drink for his wife, whose order he knew from heart.

They were in the middle of a conversation, though Hangman thought that it was bordering on an interrogation with some of the other Daggers when Sophie’s phone started to buzz with a weird ringtone. In an instant, Jake turned to where Leila and Tyler were playing.

“Tyler, come over here,” he called, causing them to stop.

Hangman picked up his wife’s phone and tapped it, causing Tyler to pout. Tyler begrudgingly trudged over to where Jake and Sophie were sitting and Jake quickly scooped him up and sat him on his lap. Meanwhile, Sophie had been rifling around in her purse, pulling out a separate bag.

“Fruit snacks or the granola bar?” his wife asked Tyler, holding out both items.

Tyler quickly leaned over and grabbed the fruit snacks before turning around to hand them to Hangman. Taking them without hesitation or delay, Hangman ripped the package open and poured the fruit snacks into his hand for Tyler, who started to slowly eat them one by one. The other Daggers seemed a bit confused, though Bob instantly recognized the situation.

“He’s Type 1?” Bob guessed, causing Sophie to nod sadly.

“Yes, he is,” she replied, checking her phone again. She showed Jake her screen, causing him to encourage Tyler to eat the remaining fruit snacks in his hand, before turning back to Bob. “You know someone with Type 1?”

“No, my dad has Type 2. My sister has the same set up on her phone,” Bob explained, causing Jake’s wife to nod slowly.

Tyler seemed a bit upset, though resigned to his situation, but Hangman did his best to try and make it enjoyable for him. Teasing Tyler for his choice in fruit snacks, hiding them and pretending to find them in random spots, and other very un-Hangman-like actions that caused most of the Daggers to grow even more confused at the situation, Hangman blocked all of that out and just focused on Tyler.

“Alright, just hang on for a second, bud,” Jake told Tyler, who clearly wanted to play again.

After they were sure that Tyler’s glucose levels were stable, Hangman set Tyler back on his own two feet. Leila, who had been chatting loudly with Coyote and Fanboy, let out a shriek and started to run after her brother again as if nothing had happened to disturb them in the first place.

“How long have you known that he has it?” Rooster asked, watching Leila and Tyler play.

“About two years now,” Sophie explained, folding her arms underneath her as she rested them on the picnic table. “He was only a couple months old when his doctor suspected something. Took some time to get an official diagnosis.”

“He doesn’t seem to let it get him down,” Payback commented, watching Tyler laugh and run around Coyote.

“No, he doesn’t,” Sophie replied with a soft smile. “He’s like my sister.”

“Your sister has Type 1 too?”

“No . . . she didn’t,” Sophie stated softly, her tone earning a few confused looks.

“Leila and Tyler are her niece and nephew,” Hangman supplied, gently resting the outside of his thigh against his wife’s own to remind her that he was there for her.

“My sister and her husband died a few years ago,” Sophie continued quietly, shifting a bit in her seat. “I got custody after they passed and after Jake and I got married, he adopted them.”

And suddenly all of the pieces were starting to fall into place.

Leila eventually came running over, asking if they could go down to the beach. Sophie got up to take them down herself, not trusting two kids who grew up in desert territory to know anything about ocean water safety. And when they were gone, all eyes fell on Hangman. After a long, drawn out sigh, he slowly narrowed his eyes at his squad mates.

“If any of you fuckers even think about going to the brass about it,” Hangman vowed, pointing menacingly over at the gathered Daggers.

“Dude, no one here is looking to take insulin from a little kid,” Fanboy stated quietly.

It wasn’t exactly uncommon for service members to get married for the benefits. And hell, you would have had to have been a completely selfish, heartless, brown-nosing government lapdog to try and get someone in trouble for making sure that a kid with a treatable condition lived happily without bankrupting his family.

“How did you meet your wife then? You knew her before the kids’ parents died?”

“Yeah. We were in a long term . . . situation-ship at the time,” Hangman recalled, earning familiar looks from his teammates. “And she told me that it was a lot to handle and she didn’t expect me to hang around, especially because I was deployed at the time. I came back home to visit her and saw how stressed she looked—she was crying, Tyler was still in the hospital at that point, Leila was barely talking . . .” Jake trailed off, a dark expression coming over his face. “I didn’t think. I just told her to marry me and I’d get it figured out. And I did. They live up with me in Lemoore now.”

“And you guys have an open relationship?” Rooster guessed, earning a sharp glare from Hangman immediately.

“No,” Jake replied bluntly.

“Not even a little?” Rooster asked, alluding to Hangman’s flirtatious personality.

“No,” Hangman stated, folding his arms in front of him. “We’re not.”

“But you’re not in love, are you?”

“That’s complicated,” Jake responded, loosening his posture a bit sheepishly.

“Yes, they are,” Coyote called back, earning a look from Hangman.

“Yes, they are what?” Sophie called out, strolling forward with Leila and a soaked Tyler beside her.

“What happened?” Jake asked, standing up from the table.

“Leila thought that it would be funny to push her brother into the ocean,” Sophie returned, shooting her niece a look. “She thought wrong.”

“He kept pulling on me!” Leila whined, stomping her foot on the ground. “I told him to stop! And he didn’t listen!”

“Well, that’s no reason to try to drown him. Go, sit on the bench right there. Now,” she ordered, causing Leila to huff but follow her order.

“I’ll take him,” Jake offered, walking forward to grab a soaked Tyler from his spot next to Sophie. “Come on, Ty, let’s get you dry.”

Jake reached out his hand for the keys, which his wife handed over without even a look in his direction. It was that smooth, that natural. Jake held Tyler, who had started to shiver despite the warmth, in his arms, not caring in the slightest that some of the ocean water was now soaking his own clothes. Coyote seemed rather amused at the shocked expressions on his teammate’s faces, which Jake blatantly ignored as he strolled away.

“What?” Sophie asked, spotting their confused expressions.

“Nothing,” they all echoed back to her.

Prologue Part 2 Part 3

[thewhumpcaretaker]

ok ok ok your sub! john drabbles actually gave me the best idea. tattoo artist x john wick

tattoo artist reader is there to comfort him and make sure he’s okay and doesn’t pass out esp if it’s his first tattoo.

also writing this made me remember a fic i read that’s not finished but breaks my heart

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21060659/chapters/50100092 if you want to read 🖤

Thank you so much for this ask!! I've been thinking about this idea for a while actually. There was another ask about this a long time ago, maybe on my JohnWickCaretaker blog? I can't find that one, but if that was also you, then thanks a second time. Also, yaaaaay, fic recommendation! 🖤

John Wick x Tattoo Artist Reader (Gender Neutral)

Author's Note: John is a little younger in this one (I’m picturing him being 18-19), so he’s not as mature. He’s even more shy and gets defensive more easily. Also, I'm not a tattoo artist, and haven't gotten any tattoos, so this is just based on what I've read about it!

CW: forced to get a tattoo, tattoo needle, crying, reader swears frequently, bittersweet ending

Image sources: 1 2 3

“You have time for a walk-in?”

You didn’t even hear this guy open the door. Once you’re done being startled, you notice…him. You’re not supposed to let yourself think this way about clients, but shit, he’s cute. He looks soft. Mostly clean shaven, with a thin, elegant face (maybe it’s the high cheekbones), topped off with a mop of dark hair. And probably inexperienced, based on how nervous he looks. A little part of you wonders how this is going to go for him. “You’re in luck. What’s your name?”

No answer.

“Can I see an ID?”

He hesitates awkwardly. “I’m coming from Mrs. Petrov.”

Oh. So he’s one of these. You doubt that’s her real name, but Mrs. Petrov sailed into your shop one day offering to double the usual price if you’d keep quiet and ask no questions, and you sure need the money. Your skin is crawling a bit but you take a deep breath and get into it.

“Okay, good enough for me. What design are we looking at?”

He hands you a paper. It’s the same one you’ve seen half a dozen times: hands touching in prayer over an image of the cross. Guys come to you for this tat again and again, “from Mrs. Petrov.” One told you it was a mark of his acting troupe, another said it was a family crest, another a symbol of his church. They’re probably all lying, but you know better than to call them on it – or to turn any of them away. You’re pretty sure it’s a mob thing. It breaks your heart a little bit to think he’s caught up in all that. He doesn’t look the part. But then, you also know better than to judge by looks alone.

You gesture to the chair. “Settle in, face down. It’s better if we have your shirt off.” He’s way too delicious underneath it. The perfect canvas...shhhhh stop it. You’re a professional and he’s…god knows what. “This will take about four or five hours. Is that okay?”

He nods.

“Silent type I guess?”

That gets a faint smile before he lays across the bench, chin resting on folded arms. You flip the Open sign to Closed, pull on your gloves, and start prepping tools. You turn on the radio to 80s rock, filling the silence between you - though it doesn’t feel like a stressful silence, surprisingly. Both of you know how odd this situation is and you’re both just trying to get through it. There’s a camaraderie to that.

You glance down at the design in your hand and whistle. It’s pretty big, taking up most of the center of his back, between the scapulas. “Is this your first tattoo?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, well I’ll be real with you: this is going right over the spine, so you can expect some pain. Nothing that’ll kill you, just…not super pleasant. So I’ll check in from time to time, see how you’re doing. If you need a break, we can take one.”

“I won’t.” He sounds pretty sure of that. Standing behind him, you shake your head. It’s always the ones that are so sure…

“Well, after a while, I’ll need one.” You run disinfecting wipes over the center of his back and set to work. When the needle touches down for the first time, he winces once, but he doesn’t wince again for the next ten minutes of linework. It takes you that long to realize that he’s barely breathing. “Your muscles are tense, buddy. I need you to relax for me or this will hurt more.”

“…I just…don’t want to move.” There’s something so sweet about the way he says it.

“You won’t move. You’re actually less likely to shake if you can let yourself go totally limp, like you would if you were about to fall asleep. Here, sit up for a second, take a deep breath, and stretch out.” He listens, but he’s not looking at you. You’re pretty sure he’s blushing.

“Okay. I’m relaxed.” Liar. You can still feel the knots in his muscles when you touch him again. But at least it’s a little better than before, and he’s getting impatient. “Keep going.”

Well, the customer is always right. “Alright, let’s do it.” You grab your pen and get back into place. The best you can do is try to distract him. “How did you choose this tattoo anyway?” Might as well see what story this one will make up.

“I didn’t.” That’s probably the truest answer you’ve heard so far.

“Do you…like it?” God, you hope so.

“Not really.”

“…You’re telling me I’m putting something on your body right now that you don’t want there?”

“No,” he says, a little too quickly. “Forget it.”

That’s probably for the best anyway. You’ll get too pissed off if you keep going down this line of questioning. You take a deep breath and try for something lighter. “So what do you, uh…do for fun?”

“Reading, mostly.”

“Oh, sweet. You read anything good lately?”

“Kind of. I’m reading Anna Kerenina.” He slips into a faint accent when he says it, and you have a suspicion.

“What translation?”

“Just the Russian.” He sounds a little annoyed, like you caught him out on something. You suppose you did, and it was kind of fun.

“Bilingual. That’s badass.”

“Thanks.” There’s silence again for a minute, but it feels friendlier.

“So what do you think of it?”

“It’s...fine.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Yeah, it’s kind of dry.”

“I guess, but I don’t mind that. I just don’t like Anna and Vronsky. Which is Tolstoy’s whole point, but…”

“They’re both little shits to everyone. Makes it hard to get invested.”

“Right, exactly.” He shifts his chin. “If I was married, I can’t imagine cheating.” From some people, a line like that would sound like a transparent attempt to come across as a “nice guy.” But he says it so wistfully, you know he means it.

Don’t say what you’re about to say. Don’t say it. Be professional.

…Fuck it, you’re doing this under the table anyway. “Are you dating anybody?”

“No.” It sounds so bitter that, for a second, you think you really are dealing with a nice-guy-impersonator. But then he clarifies. “My…lifestyle doesn’t allow for that.”

“Oh.” You can’t think of any way to reply that doesn’t involve the burning questions in your mind about what exactly this “lifestyle” entails. So you lapse into silence again, for much longer this time, just thinking, wondering what it’s like to be one of these young men with the cross tattoos. Are they all friends with each other? What exactly do they do? Is it difficult? How does it pay? How did they get into it?

You stop when you’re done with the linework. “Okay, that went great! We’re totally done with the outlines, which is half the battle. I’m going to take a break before we start on the shading.” You circle around in front of him to grab your water bottle, and catch a glimpse of his face as he’s straightening up.

He’s wiping off silent tears.

Your heart almost drops out of your chest. “Oh shit. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, but it sounds hoarse and shaky. “Just hurt more than I expected.” He huffs a laugh, trying to play the whole thing off as unimportant.

“Dude, I told you we can take breaks if you need. If you’re crying from pain, you’re too tensed up. Tell me next time, alright?” Before you realize what you’re doing, you’re rubbing his shoulder. He freezes for a second, and you pull back. “Sorry, I – I didn’t mean to – “

“No, it’s okay. I’m just not used to that.”

“Damn, how do they treat you at Mrs. Petrov’s place?” You’re half joking, but you want to know more and more by the second. And when he just looks grave and doesn’t answer, your heart does that weird dropping thing again.

“…Let me get you a water, okay? I’ll be right back.” You’re grateful for the short walk to the mini fridge you keep in the back of the parlor. It feels so heavy in that room. You’re starting to wish you hadn’t taken the deal, because whatever this is, you don’t want to be involved.

When you come back, he’s perfectly composed again, but looking at you more carefully this time, like he’s finally really seeing you. After he takes a drink of water, he hesitates for a second. “My name is Jardani.”

Warmly, “Nice to meet you.” You take the bottle back and set it on the table, within reach. “You’ll tell me if you get overwhelmed next time?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I’m trusting you.”

You watch him settle in and get back to work. It’s okay at first but there’s a dark shadow under those praying hands that needs to go right over his spine. It’s basically pure black. A couple minutes into it, he exhales sharply, like he’d been holding his breath for a while. “Stop.”

You set your pen down right away. “You got it.” You pull up a chair next to him and he turns to look at you, without sitting up. He’s really pale. “How are you feeling?”

“Lightheaded.”

“Yeah, you can pass out if you get tense like that for too long. But you’re okay. We can take as long as you need.” You put your hand on his shoulder again, massaging it, and this time, he lets you. You can feel some of the tension finally seep away and the color returns to his cheeks. The dark pools of his eyes are fixed on yours, and if you aren’t careful, you feel like you could fall into them and drown. There’s something trapped in cold waters down there, pleading for rescue.

Yeah, sure. If you were being unprofessional before, now you’re being a downright sentimental fool. This guy has probably shot people.

Despite being deep and rumbling, his voice sounds so quiet that it’s almost shy. “You don’t know what this means to me, to have a…nice moment... Thank you.”

“Oh – you’re welcome. It’s nothing, really.” You’re absolutely done for. “Um, do you want to stand up and stretch before we get back at it?”

“Mm-hm.”

Your brain is fried but you manage to hold it together while the both of you get back into position. The rest of the session goes pretty smoothly, and you talk a little more here and there. At first it’s just about how he should take care of this thing when it’s finished – staying out of the sun and all that. But then he starts to ask you about yourself - what you read, how you got into tattooing, your favorite designs. Everything you say seems to interest him. You can’t quite believe it but he’s obviously developing a crush on you. Or at least getting attached in some way. You can’t blame him, if the smallest friendly touch is such a foreign concept.

It's too soon when you place the finishing touches. “Okay! You want to take a look?” You help him up, his hand resting in yours for an instant as he slides off the bench, stiff and probably aching. It sends a jolt straight to your heart, to support some fraction of his weight and to feel the way his fingers squeeze down on yours before letting go. You mourn the contact instantly, and distract yourself by adjusting the two mirrors that reflect into each other, allowing him to see his back. “What do you think?”

“It does look cool actually.” He cracks a little heart-melting smile, and you’re really relieved. He may not have wanted it, but at least he’s not devastated.

“’Course it does, it was done by the best in the business,” you joke. Though to be honest, you really are impressed with your handiwork. Doing the same tattoo so many times pays off – each one has looked more polished than the last. It’s almost a shame to see him put his shirt back on…for multiple reasons.

“Oh, uh…” He fishes something out of his pocket. A wad of hard cash – a LOT of it, as usual. “Here’s the payment.” And then he’s leaving, before you can do anything, say anything, even catch the breath you’d lost trying to comprehend everything that just happened.

“Hey, wait!” You don’t really know what you’re going to say, but then he’s facing you again and you have to say something, and it just comes out. “…Do you need help? I don’t know what’s going on, but look, I’m not an idiot. I know something’s wrong here. I don’t know who Mrs. Petrov really is and I don’t care, but if you need me to do something, like…I don’t know, call a social worker or something or help you get transport out of the city...” Your voice falters. You have no idea what he’d need and even less idea how to provide it without getting both of you killed. And what if you’ve misread the whole situation? What if you’re completely out of line?

It certainly looks that way. It’s like a switch flips in him. “No. Whatever you do, don’t fucking try anything. It’s none of your business.” It’s the coldest he’s sounded. “You won’t see me again.” The door slams behind him.

You brace a hand against the counter behind you, shaking. How could you be so stupid, honestly. This emotional roller coaster isn’t worth it. You wish you’d never seen Mrs. Petrov, let alone this Jardani with his damn pain-soaked eyes and cornered-dog behavior. There’s something awful going on, and you can’t do anything about it, you’re just making it worse. If you can get out of this deal, you have to, even if it means getting out of the city. Maybe out west - San Francisco sounds nice this time of year.

You’re just putting yourself back together and trying to decide what the hell you’re gonna do when the door flings open again and he storms back though it, stopping short right in front of you. For a second, you just stare at each other, breathing hard. Then he catches the flash of foolish happiness in your eyes at seeing him again and musters his nerves.

And he. Fucking. Kisses. You. Forcefully, with his strong hands gripping your arms and his teeth colliding with yours, pulling, desperate, rebellious, like he’s trying to tell you something he’s not allowed to say. You’re pretty sure it’s, “Thank you. For being one of the few people who cared.”

And then he’s gone again, and this time, you can feel it: he’s never coming back.

[nebulousbrainsoup]

hey could i send a request for han jisung x readers enemies to lovers university au with the smut prompts 1 + 45 + 81(spoiled they get caught🤭) maybe with a party setting 🥰 thank you sm

prompts:

1. "I love it when you moan my name." || 45. "Just shut up and fuck me." || 81. "If we get caught, I'm blaming you."

Vehemently

fulfilled as part of my 150(ish) followers event.

PAIRING: han jisung x fem!reader GENRE: enemies to lovers, smut, college au RATING: 18+ ; minors/ageless blogs dni TAGS/WARNINGS: ft. felix, hyunjin & lino, swearing, alcohol use, drug use, slight misunderstandings, sassy jisung & reader, quick edit, let me know if i missed anything! WORD COUNT: 3.7k SUMMARY: above! A/N: i haven't been able to stop thinking about this request since you sent it, but good LORD has this fic eluded me. i think i'm coming to the realization that i cannot be mean to any of the boys who are younger than me, even if it's only by a few months. but here you are, my dear, i hope the wait was worth it. have a full-length fic as an apology </3

smut tags/warnings under the cut ; masterlist | join my taglist | buy me a coffee?

NSFW TAGS/WARNINGS: lil bit of hate sex, rough sex, dom-leaning jisung, sub-leaning reader, but they’re both switches to me, bratty behavior, biting, marking, brief oral (fem receiving), use of a condom, protected sex, piv, little bit of edging, nicknames (baby, sweetheart, pretty boy), getting caught; let me know if i missed anything, please!

Coming to this party was an awful idea. You’d known it when Felix had invited you, but he’d flashed those big brown eyes of his at you and you’d melted immediately. It was his birthday, after all, and you and Hyunjin were his best friends—it would be rude for you not to show, especially since your roommate had made it clear that he would be going. Though you were wary, you decided to give it the benefit of the doubt, with a promise from Hyunjin that he would stay by your side.

The second you’d walked through the door, though, Felix had wrapped you both up in hugs, and when you’d turned back around to find your roommate, he’d vanished. The same happened with Felix when you spun back around, and you were left alone in the entryway of a house you had never been to before. You sighed in defeat, resigning yourself to finding the kitchen alone. If you were going to be here, you may as well take advantage of the free liquor. 

You’d nearly finished mixing your drink when a familiar, loud laugh caught your attention, and a chill lit down your spine. Of course Changbin would be here, you reminded yourself. He’s one of Felix’s favorite people, after all, and just because he—and probably Chris, now that you thought about it—was here, it didn’t mean Han Jisung would be. You would be fine.

Lee Minho, on the other hand, was a more unexpected sight, and you nearly jumped out of your skin at finding the man staring at you, head tilted in confusion. He looked much like the black cat he was frequently compared to, and felt just as ill an omen. Sure, he and Felix were on the dance team together, but you had never known them to be close. Han and Minho on the other hand, had always been suspiciously so. 

You gave a tight smile, which he did not return, instead asking, “What are you doing here?”

You scrunched up your nose at him. “It’s… Felix’s birthday party? Why wouldn’t I be here?”

Realization, though you weren’t sure of what, dawned on his face. “Ah, of course, silly me.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Why are you here?” 

“It’s Felix’s birthday party,” he echoed, raising his plastic cup to you before turning to head out of the kitchen. “And Han’s, too.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you watched him nearly skip away, and you quickly downed your entire drink. If Hyunjin couldn’t get you out of here now, you were going to have a long night ahead of you.

By the time you finally found your roommate, you had already caught sight of Han twice. You were fuming quietly when you finally made your way out to the backyard, unsurprisingly finding Hyunjin with a joint in one hand and a cup in the other, laughing as he passed it on to Jeongin. His eyes flickered up to you as you approached, and he began to scoot over to make room for you in the circle.

“Sorry! I kind of forgot we were sticking together. You can—”

“Did you know this was Han’s party, too?” You cut in, hands on your hips. 

The circle went quiet, and Hyunjin tilted his head at you. “You… didn’t?”

“If I did, I probably wouldn’t have come.” You seethed, and he flushed, eyes dropping to the floor. When he didn’t reply, you huffed, crossing your arms and starting back for the house. “Whatever. I’m out of here.”

It wasn’t anything against Felix or Hyunjin; you simply hated Han Jisung. You’d shared a gen-ed course your first year here, and he was the first face that stuck out to you in the lecture hall. You hadn’t expected much when you finally gathered the nerve to approach him—maybe a hello, or a quick number exchange. Instead, he’d kept his head down, given you a disinterested half-glance over, and made his way to the door without a single word, leaving you standing awkwardly alone in the middle of the lecture hall. When you’d finally gotten to know him through your mutual friends—with some reluctance—you’d immediately found him loud and annoying, far too cocky for your tastes. Between the awful first impression and his inability to take anything, especially you, seriously, your hatred for him had bloomed quickly.

And now, here you were at his birthday party. You’d seen him, sure, but you’d be damned if you let him see you. You had appearances to keep up and a heart to keep intact. Resolving to find Felix before just ditching him, you made your way back into the roiling crowd in the living room. It was hard to see between or over the dancing bodies as you were jostled, trying fruitlessly to elbow your way through, and you quickly abandoned that plan of action. Sighing, you made your way back to the kitchen, hoping for a little peace to clear your scrambled mind.

No such luck would come, it seemed, as the moment you turned the corner into the kitchen, you slammed face-first into the very man you were trying to avoid. His own freshly made drink went down the front of both of you, and you huffed a sigh, biting the inside of your lip to keep the tears of frustration from spilling. This party was a stupid idea.

“Oh, shit, are you okay?”

Before you could spiral into your abyss of self-loathing, his voice cut through your thoughts. 

“Fine,” you spat, “can’t say the same for my clothes, though.”

He frowned, irritation crossing his features at your attitude. “Look, sorry, but maybe you should watch where you’re going next time. I know you hate me, but take it easy on the booze, would you?” 

You rolled your eyes heartily, turning on your heel. Just as you were about to cross back into the living room, his hand latched around your wrist. “Wait!” He looked stunned as you turned around, swallowing thickly and giving you a once-over. “It’s kind of my fault, too, I wasn’t really… Let me grab you something to wear and I can dry your clothes or something.”

“It’s fine, I was heading out anyway.”

“It’s only been an hour. Felix wants you to at least stay til midnight, right? For his actual birthday? You and Hyunjin are like his best friends, come on. Don’t make him suffer just ‘cause you’re pissed at me.”

You scrunched up your nose and, not for the first time, Jisung thought it was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. He never quite figured out why you hated him so much, but it was common knowledge between your mutual friends, and he played into it every chance he got. It was easier that way; he could put some distance between himself and his feelings for you. Whatever the reason may be, you absolutely despised him, and to see you here tonight was a complete surprise. He assumed you were here for Felix—everyone knew how close the two of you were; and the last thing he wanted to do was force you to leave the party because of his presence or clumsiness.

“Let me help. For him. Then I’ll stay out of your hair for the rest of the night.”

You sighed, but the way your shoulders slumped told Han he had won this battle. “Fine,” you muttered, tugging your wrist free of his grasp. “But it’s just for Lix.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” he teased, grinning widely. As he squeezed past you, he took your hand, grip tightening as you tried to yank away from him. 

“Don’t want you to get lost in the fray, do we?” His cocky little smirk was still plastered on his face, and you rolled your eyes heartily, gesturing him forward.Although it had heat rising to your cheeks, you were thankful for Jisung’s hand in yours—though you were loath to admit it, he was right. You would have been swept away in the crowd within seconds if not for his firm grip. God, what you would do to have those hands elsewhere; he really was unfairly pretty. As he dragged you along, you got a lovely view of just how much he had filled out since that first day in the lecture hall—his shoulders having broadened and his biceps having thickened. Despite your front, you were just as head over heels for this man as you had been the day you laid eyes on him.

There were significantly fewer people upstairs, and you tugged your hand from his grip the moment you could, though with slightly less vehemence this time. He still shot a sideways glance back at you, a half-glare that held less heat than it had earlier. By the time you made it to his room, you were fighting to keep your façade up, replaying how quick he’d been to help you and how his hand felt in yours on a loop. It seemed both of you were struggling to hold onto your hatred. As you crossed the threshold into a space that, until this point, seemed both forbidden and tainted, you felt a shift in the air. 

His space was a lived-in amount of messy; there was a half-full Starbucks cup on his desk, clothes on the floor, and his bed was unmade. He didn’t touch the light switch by the door, instead picking up a remote, the lamps connected to it casting a warm glow over the room. It felt cozy, you thought, and immediately frowned. Maybe it was just the alcohol talking.

He turned to you, t-shirt and shorts in hand, holding them out for you to take. “You can change here. I’ll wait outside for your clothes… Unless you want help.”

He grinned, his grip on the pile of clothes in both of your hands unrelenting, using your tugging on them as an excuse to crowd into your space. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Jisung?” you hissed back.

“I mean… I wouldn’t mind putting you in your place,” he practically purred, his free hand shifting to hover over your waist. “See if you still hate me so much when I’ve got you under me.” 

“As if your mediocre dick game could change my mind.” You weren’t sure if it was just the alcohol talking, but suddenly, you wanted nothing more than to test this theory.

His jaw set and his eyes narrowed, leaving a very different version of Han Jisung in front of you than you were used to. “I’ll show you mediocre,” he hissed, releasing his hold on his clothes and shoving you back toward his bed. “It’ll be anyone else you’ve had or will have.”

“What the fuck ever.” You rolled your eyes, letting his clean clothes drop to the floor, reaching up to grab his shirt and tug him toward you. “If we get caught, I’m blaming you,” you muttered, dragging him against you and crashing your lips together.

You felt him grin against you and you sank your teeth into his lower lip, pulling a quiet hiss from him. One of his hands snapped up, fisting into your hair to yank you back. The look on his face was one you wanted to either slap or kiss off of him; the line was too blurred now to tell which.

“Like it a little rough, do we?” He prodded, both his hands dropping to the hem of your shirt. He tugged it over your head in one fluid motion, your bra quickly joining it over his shoulder. He straightened back up, licking his lips hungrily as he took the opportunity to drink you in. “Wonder if I can still taste my drink…” he mused, quickly pressing you back against the mattress to latch his lips to your chest.

You groaned, half in frustration and half from pleasure. “Do you ever stop talking?”

He sunk his teeth into your breast sharply at your jab, a surprised squeak leaving you at the feeling. Almost immediately, he was releasing you and soothing the sting with his lips and tongue, no doubt attempting to leave behind a mark that, even if it weren’t visible, would be felt tomorrow. You let a quiet groan pass your lips, and Jisung pulled back with a quiet pop to grin at you.

“Still hate me?”

“Vehemently.”

He clicked his tongue. “Looks like I need to try harder, then.”

In a feat of strength you weren’t aware he was capable of, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you, tossing you further onto the bed. You gasped, catching yourself on your elbows as he joined you, making quick work of the button and zipper of your shorts. With a swift tug, he’d pulled them down to your ankles and, with your help, they joined the rest of your clothes on the floor.

Suddenly aware of the disparity between yours and Jisung’s clothing, you sat up, hands grabbing at the hem of his shirt so you could bunch it up under his arms. “Off,” you demanded, and he quickly complied, tugging it over his head.

Before you could say another word or pull at his shorts, he slipped back down your body, his lips trailing wet warmth down your torso. The moment he reached the waistband of your underwear, he paused, gazing up at you through his lashes. “You’re sure about this?”

For the first time that night, he seemed unsure. His doe eyes were wide and open, an honesty behind them that the two of you didn’t usually share. It made your stomach twist and your heart skip a beat, and you nodded. 

“I thought you had something to prove,” you muttered in an attempt to ignore the tangle of feelings in your chest, tugging him down toward your core.

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your clothed heat before tugging your panties off. The moment they were gone, he was back between your legs, licking a fat stripe up over your folds before his lips attached themselves to your clit. You whined, high-pitched and heady, and he smirked up at you, pressing a kiss to your clit. “Like that, huh?” 

Your jaw clenched and you sighed heavily through your nose, your grip in his hair tightening until he winced. “Han Jisung, I swear if you don’t… Just shut up and fuck me or put your mouth to better use.”

“Your wish is my command,” he muttered as he pushed himself back up your body, your lips meeting again in a messy kiss. 

He pulled back before you did, wincing again as you tried to tug him back to you, both of you fumbling with his jeans. “Gotta let me up, baby,” he murmured between kisses. He was clinging just as desperately as you were, his lips barely parting from your own. “Condoms are in my desk.”

You huffed, annoyed, and flopped back against the mattress, releasing his scalp from your death grip. The sound pulled a quiet chuckle from him as he stood, finally unbuttoning his pants and darting across the small room to his desk drawer. He shucked both his pants and boxers to the floor as he made his way back, and it was everything you could do not to gawk, open-mouthed, at how unbelievably pretty he was. The arms you’d noticed earlier were only the beginning, apparently—his toned stomach and legs matching them perfectly in a stunning contrast to his round face. Fuck, even his cock was pretty, flushed and leaking as he rolled the condom over it. The last shred of your pride was the only thing keeping you from begging to wrap your lips around him first.

“Like what you see?” He broke the silence, and the self-satisfied look on his face told you he had most definitely caught you staring. 

“Keep running your mouth and I’ll leave you like this.”

The panic-stricken look that flashed in his eyes had you biting back laughter, but it was quickly replaced by something darker as he caught the grin on your face. He glared at you as he settled between your legs again, ducking down once more to suck hard on your clit.

“J-Jisung!” you gasped, hand snapping down to card into his hair again. The tight circles his tongue drew over the little bundle of nerves had pleasure rocketing up your spine, your entire body tensing with the sudden onslaught. As suddenly as that had begun, the stimulation shifted, his tongue darting between your folds to taste you, and you whined out his name once more. He groaned against you, giving your clit another harsh suck—one that nearly brought you over the edge—before he sat back on his heels again.

“Fuck, I love it when you moan my name,” he sighed, caging you in below him as he lined himself up with your entrance. “It sounds a lot prettier than all those nasty, empty threats.”

“Han,” you sighed, hips rolling toward his own.

He frowned disapprovingly and shifted his hips back, the hand that had been guiding his cock now pressing your hips into the mattress. “Not like that, sweetheart, c’mon. Say it right.”

“Didn’t I just tell you to quit talking?” you huffed, grabbing at his hips.

“Or put my mouth to better use, and I think at least one of those requests has been fulfilled.” 

The grin on his face was wide and you were once again hit with the urge to wipe it off his face. The surge of rage lasted only a moment, though, before he was teasing at your hole again and your breath caught in your throat. You melted under him, hand sliding up from his hips to grip at his shoulders.

“Jisung,” you breathed, hips rolling forward again. 

This time, you saw his shaky inhale as he did the same, quiet, broken sounds leaving you both as he finally filled you. He swallowed thickly, head tucking into your neck to pepper light kisses against your skin as he bottomed out, giving you both time to adjust. He was bigger than you’d expected, just thick enough to provide a pleasant stretch. You hummed, eyes slipping shut, and ground your hips against his.

“You have something to prove, don’t you, pretty boy?” You muttered against the shell of his ear, and you felt his shoulders shake with the chuckle that left him. “Fuck me like you hate me, Han Jisung.”

He propped himself up as his hips rolled back, the hand not bracing him wrapping around your back to lift your hips from the mattress. As his lips twitched up into a smirk, he slammed back into you, settling immediately into a ruthless pace. You managed to choke back the shout that left you halfway through it, nails sinking into his back as your jaw dropped open. Strained, needy sounds were punched out of you with every snap of his hips, matched by his own pants and groans as you scratched down his back. 

“This what you wanted?” he ground out, eyes narrowing when you gave no response. “Wanted me to—to fuck you stupid? Can’t even—mmph!”

You cut him off with your lips, swallowing his next deep groan and muffling your own squeak as he picked up his pace. The kiss devolved quickly into little more than sharing air, your bodies pressed tightly together as you chased your highs. One of your hands shifted from his shoulder, snaking between the two of you to rub at your cli and Jisung shifted as you did, pausing his rhythm to sit back on his heels and drag you with him. When he resumed his pace, the new angle had you crying out, your free hand fisting into the sheets and your eyes rolling back in your head. Distantly, you thought you heard him huff a laugh, but you were too far gone to care.

You were falling over the peak of your pleasure in moments, his name falling from your lips one last time. The sight of you alone, skin sweat-slicked and back arched in pleasure, was enough to bring Jisung to the edge of his own orgasm, and the sound of your voice sent him careening over it. He pulled your hips flush with his own and let his head fall back, basking in the feeling of your walls pulsing around him as he spilled into the condom. Both of you stilled, your eyes closed and only the sound of your shaky breathing filling the room as the weight of reality prodded at the edges of your foggy mind. You could stay suspended in this little fantasy for a moment longer, you decided.

Or, you would have, if not for the rapping at the door. You and Jisung shared a look of panic and scrambled apart, both grabbing for the top blanket on his bed as the door cracked open. Your stomach sank as Felix’s voice met your ears, his blue head of hair peeking around the corner.

“It’s almost midnight, dude, what are you—oh!”

You locked eyes with your best friend before you could pull the covers over your head, and heat immediately rushed to your face. Slowly, you sank underneath them anyway, unwilling to meet his gaze any longer.

He snapped back around it nearly immediately, pressing his back to the door as he finished. “Uh, nevermind! Midnight is soon, we had that, uh… thing planned, but… I’m gonna head back down, you two have fun!”

As the door snapped shut behind him, the silence that fell over you and Jisung felt heavy, and you just as slowly crept out from under the blankets. Meeting his eyes, you saw the same confusion you felt reflected in his stare. His eyes flickered rapidly over your face as he gnawed at his lower lip, searching for something, though you had no idea what.

“Still hate me?” He muttered, nearly immediately moving to discard the condom, busying himself to avoid meeting your gaze.

Your voice was shaky, the heat absent from it as you replied, “Vehemently.”

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© July 2023 nebulousbrainsoup | all rights reserved. do not copy, repost or translate my work.

[lean-ground-beefro]

welcome to the stage...

a Joel Miller one shot: Flip the Switch

Pairing: CEO!Joel Miller x F!Reader Prompt from @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog:

𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 =Santa!Joel x elf!reader 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕥 = you’ve been a lazy elf so Santa Joel punishes you

Summary: You've been tasked with being Joel's 'Helper Elf' at this year's Christmas Party and good god do you hate your job... Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) Word Count: 3,562 Content Warning: DubCon, Smutty smutty smut smut, fingering (f receiving), p in the v - unwrapped, degradation, power plays, power imbalance, boss / employee dynamic, swiches, dom/sub dynamic, name calling, couch fucking Author's Notes: I am @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog's Secret Santa and I am so sorry for how late this is, bb! I am thankful for you and I hope you enjoy my first foray our of the chubby universe.

Thank you to @softpascalito, @theywhowriteandknowthings & @neverwheremoonchild for their eyes and beta skills. 💜🥦💜

Santa-baby-I've-been-an-swful-good-girl regards,

Beefro👌🥦💜

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When you’d been asked to dress as Joel’s ‘Helper Elf’ to his ‘CEO Santa’, you’d scoffed at the idea, already planning on resigning from being one of his company’s administrative assistants. You were tired of the long hours and being worked to the bone for very little pay and respect, but you decided to hold off to see the shitshow that the company’s Christmas party would be since Joel himself was in charge of planning it.

Joel was an egotistical brute who had no business being allowed to mingle with people in an enclosed space. His only saving graces were his brother, Tommy – CFO and President, and the only one who could rein him in - and his stupidly handsome, brooding good looks. He infuriated you; he knew he could get away with just about anything because he was the boss and most of the peons were scared shitless of his brutal tirades being directed at them. He threw it in almost anyone’s face how loaded he was and that he owned them. You hated him as much as you loved how quickly you came on your vibrator when though about his voice, his eyes, his hands that were burned into your memory. Fuck Joel Miller and fuck his cocky fucking smirk.

The day of the party you’d been given a cheap, sleezy looking elf costume with an email soon landing in your inbox with instructions to wear it that night, along with what your duties would be. Rolling your eyes, you read the email and realized that you would be spending the entire evening at Joel’s side, truly being his ‘Helper Elf’. You were to make sure he knew every person’s name (you rolled your eyes because if he really gave a shit about the people who worked for him, he’d already know their names), make sure he had food and a drink available to him all night (great – you were going to be a glorified personal waitress for the douchebag), make sure the event ran smoothly (as the one who apparently planned the event, why was this up to you?), had out gifts as ‘Santa’s Helper’ to the employees (groan…), and lastly, keep him company throughout the evening.

The whole thing made you rethink waiting to quit and you huffed, looking down at the cheap, probably highly flammable, elf costume on your desk.

“Fuck it.”, you groaned, picking it up and shoving it into your purse and heading to the bathroom to change.

*****

You were silently cheering yourself on. All evening, you’d made a conscious decision to be as annoying and useless as possible for Joel, and boy oh boy!, you’d gotten under his skin. Two hours into the party, and Joel had gone to get his third refill at the bar because you weren’t ‘paying attention’ and he’d also missed out on most of the buffet because you ‘forgot’ to get him a plate. You’d also managed to ‘unknowingly’ give him several wrong names, making him look like an ass towards several employees who’s names he really should have known. When it came time to hand out presents, you conveniently were ‘required’ to make yourself scarce and were unable to help.

While he’d barely said more than a few sentences to you, his scowl said everything you needed to be satisfied. At this point, you’d had more than a few drinks, and while you still maintained your professionalism, you’d stopped adjusting your skimpy elf costume and let it ride up higher on your thigh as you sat next to Joel. You’d caught him looking down at your bare lap more than once, making you grin to yourself.

*****

You had to give him his due; Joel had managed to put on a not-mediocre, standard office Christmas party. It was more than you thought he was capable of. That, and the fact that he kept the stupid Santa suit on the entire evening and posed for pictures with anyone who asked. You swear you might have even seen a genuine smile on his face when his brother came up for a picture dressed as a reindeer.

What really made you happy though was when Tommy asked Joel how his night was going, and you heard him respond, “Strapped me with a lazy fuckin’ elf, Tommy…” as his face held a cold sneer.

Right under that smile was the asshole who you’d found so much delight in needling all night.

By the time the party wrapped up, you figured you’d done your duty and you’d be free to go home and continue the party with a cheap bottle of wine and your cat. Everyone else had left and as you grabbed your bag from under the table, you heard Joel’s telltale stomps come up behind you. Before you could turn around, he had his hands on your waist, pushing you against the table.

“Think you’re bein’ cute, sugar?”, he growled into your ear.

“The fuck are you doing?!”, you snapped back, trying to wriggle out of his grasp more out of surprise than disgust.

He held you tighter, his thick fingers digging into your waist, and you could feel your panties getting wet.

“Don’t you fuckin’ move… can you follow that fuckin’ direction?”

“Oh Jesus! Just fuck off!”, you snarled back, again, trying halfheartedly to remove his hands from you, but hoping he didn’t let go.

He grunted as you shoved him back and turned around. You both stood and glared at each other, daring the other to make the first move. A small, menacing grin spread on Joel’s face as he took a few slow steps towards you.

“No one’s fucked the Christmas spirit into you yet, sugar?”, he growled, licking his lips and roughly pushing you back onto the table.

“Oh, fuck you! You couldn’t fuck a quack into a duck, you asshole.”

He raised his eyebrow at you and gave you a warning look before roughly gripping your chin and forcing you to look up at him. He brought his face close to you and stared down at you meanly.

“You’re a shitty helper elf. Don’t you dare be a shitty lay, too.”

Before you could respond, he hoisted you up on the table, shoved the skirt of your dress up around your waist and pushed his fingers against your clothed core, making you let out an involuntary moan and a buck of your hips.

“Fuckin’ sweet, sugar…”, he purred, eyeing you with a grin.

You rolled your eyes and groaned against his touch. “You’re a disgusting old man, Miller.”

“Fuck, you’ve got a nasty little mouth on you…”, he murmured with a devilish grin as he pushed your legs apart and stood between them.

You swallowed hard as he grasped your neck. His other hand’s fingers moved between you and his eyes fluttered. He groaned when he felt how wet you were through your panties.

“Fuckin’ eh, sugar…”, he cooed, returning his softer gaze towards you. “You wet for daddy?”

You sucked in a breath as he circled your covered clit with his index finger, and tried to sound as firm as you could. “Fuck off with that ‘daddy’ shit, Miller.”

He tsk’d you, griping your throat tighter. “You and your mouth, sugar…”, he chuckled, watching you squirm, then growled. “You’re gonna be begging me to be your daddy when I’m done with you.”

That was it. This man had fucked around enough with you as your boss and now he wanted to demean you like this? Pulling yourself together, you pushed his chest and shoved him off you with all your might and before he could pounce on you again, you quickly moved to the side, causing him to lean over the table.

You shoved him forward, and to your surprise, he didn’t resist. Instead, he chuckled. “What’re you gonna – “

It infuriated you that despite your rejection of him, he was still smiling and seemingly enjoying himself.

“Just shut up!”, you snarled back, snaking your hand around his front and gripping his infuriatingly impressive cock through his cheap, fuzzy red pants.

“You fuckin’ shit… you’ll never be my daddy…” You could feel him get harder as you growled into his ear. “Too fuckin’ old to even pin me down…”

“Ungh…sugar… oh fuck…”, he panted, rutting his hips and griding his cock against your hands.

The fact that Joel was getting off to your less-than-kind words was not lost on you and you scoffed.

“This how you’re gonna get off, Joel?”, you cooed coldly into his ear as he panted. “Big tough Miller gets off to girls telling him no?”

“Please… sugar… fuck… please…”

“That the best you can do? You’re pathetic, you know that?”, you snapped at him as you shoved the front of his pants down, freeing his cock.

You stood back and tugged his arm, signalling him to turn over, and when he did, his cock did not disappoint. He was huge and the head was angry and weeping. He watched your face, eyes staring in wonderment at his dick as your mouth parted, jaw going slack. He grinned and chuckled, causing your eyes to meet his, only making you angrier with him.

“Fuck you, Miller!”

“Calm down, sugar… not the first whore to get cock dumb on me…”, he cooed, still with a smug grin on his face. He reached out trying to pull your hand to his member.

You yanked your hand away and spat into your palm before gripping his cock and starting to jerk him.

“Fuck you, Miller.”, you seethed lowly. “Fuck you and your fuckin’ smug face.”

“Why you – fuck… why you so pissed, sugar?”

“You’re such a pompous dick! So fuckin’ arrogant and you’re a shit boss.”, you fumed, continuing to pump his cock, causing him to pant. “Throwin’ your money in people’s faces, not knowing their names… someone better put you on your place, Miller. After tonight, I quit, you smug fuck!”

It was like a switch flipped; he snapped out of his submissive and amused state as soon as the words left your mouth. He gripped your wrist, ripping it off his cock and sat up, his other hand going around your throat.

“I don’t think so, sugar. You’re not going anywhere.”

He stood up, holding your wrist and throat, and guided you backwards to the couch and pushed you down on it. You fell back, your legs parted, and he took advantage of this. Joel leaned over you, pushed your panties to the side, and shoved two of his thick fingers into your sopping wet cunt, causing you to yelp.

“You can take it, sugar.”, he smiled menacingly at you, then growled through clenched teeth, “And you’re gonna take it.”

He pounded up into you with one hand while the other gripped your hair in his fist. The sounds that came from your mouth were foreign to you. Yeah, you liked it rough, but this was different. This was your soon-to-be former boss, finger banging you on a couch after a Christmas party and after you’d just about had him wailing your name. You had no idea what had happened to flip him, and before you could get too deep into your thoughts, he hit the perfect spot. That sweet, spongy spot in your pussy that less than half the me you’d fucked had even accidentally grazed, and here was Joel, repeatedly hitting it like it was a doorbell it was an emergency house call.

“Oh fuck!... right th -  yes!... fuck… Joel, there… yes!”

As you felt your walls start to flutter and when that white hot heat started its ascent, he pulled away, grin on his lips.

You sat up on your elbows and looked at him, mouth open and eyes pleading. “What are y-?”

“Fuck you, that’s what.”, he grunted with a grin, shoving his slick fingers into his mouth and sucking.

You could only stare up at him in response. When he finally deemed his fingers clean, he pulled them out of his mouth with a pop and grinned at you.

“Tell you what, sugar. You take back what you said, and I’ll fuck you right here on this couch like you deserve.”

Confused, you continued to lookup at him until it dawned on you.

“You want me to not quit?”

He nodded, grin dropping from his face.

“You think I worked Tommy over to let you be my fuckin’ ‘Elf’ and put up with your bullshit attitude tonight for you to just quit on me, sugar?”, he asked lowly, leaning over you, pinning your head between his elbows.

“Think I haven’t watched that fuckin’ body of yours sashay ‘round the office and had to fuck my fist when I finally got alone?”, he crooned is a husky whisper, pressing his hot mouth on your neck and alternating between licking and nipping your skin. “Think I don’t notice your ass in those skintight skirts and imagine you sittin’ on my face?”

You let out a moan and gripped his shoulders, trying to pull him further into you. He quickly pulled back and sat up on his knee packed between your open legs, and grabbed your hands.

“I’m not hearin’ what I need to, sugar…”

You were frustrated and needy, hating that he had gotten the upper hand on you. Stubbornly, you shook your head.

“Fuck you, Miller. You’re a shit boss and a shit person and I’m not gonna let you fuck around and get nothin’ in return!”

His eyes darkened and his frown hardened into a scowl. He gripped your chin, pulling you up to him as he leaned down to you, feeling his hot breath on your face.

“Listen here, you little bitch. If that’s what you really want, I’ll send you outta here with my fuckin’ bastard in your belly whether you like it or not as a reminder of what you fucked up.”, he growled, holding you stare as if to challenge you.

You could feel your slick flowing from you, dripping out of your cunt and down your crack. Your mind and body were screaming ‘yes’ and ‘no’ in a pathetic battle with themselves at his threat.

“Or…”, his tone softened, as did his grip on your chin, “you can stay and get a promotion.’”

Your face morphed from pleading to confused again. “A-a promotion?”

“A promotion?”, he mocked. ”Yeah, sugar. A fuckin’ promotion.”

He lazily dragged his hand down your body, slipping it between your legs again and into your panties, and began rubbing small, light circles around your clit. You shifted, brows folding as you fought to keep your breath steady and eyes on him, refusing to break again and beg him again.

“You’re good at your job, and I agree… you don’t get enough for all your hard work. How ‘bout this, baby… you work exclusively for me… be my girl here… my helper elf all year round – minus the shitty, bratty attitude you came here tonight with – and I pay you what you’re worth…”

It took all your strength to not cave right then and there, but you were stubborn. “A personal cocksleeve for the office? How fuckin’ charming.”, you snapped back, in a voice far shakier and breathier than you had hoped it would be.

Joel smiled and chuckled darkly, continuing to tease your clit.

“You keep actin’ like you don’t want this, sugar, but my hand can feel your poor little pussy throbbin’ and needin’ me… and I’m sure your bank account would appreciate my attention as well.”

“Fuck you.”

“I plan on it, baby.”, he grinned menacingly. “But I gotta know how you want it… one last fuck… or…”

He nudged his nose against yours.

“My own, personal, little sugar… who’s so good at her job… and can keep me in my place when she wants… get me on my knees and make me beg… and let me fuck her into submission when I need it.”

When you tried to push up against him, he held you in place, keeping his fingers in your folds and his face close to yours in an act of dominance.

“No… I’m the boss right now, sugar, and I asked you a question. I expect an answer.”

You couldn’t help the whimper that crept out of your throat and that was all Joel needed. He kissed you, softly at first then increasing the fervour, prying your mouth open with his lips and tongue. Teeth and spit helping your faces mash together.  The hand he had between your legs moved to his waistband and he pulled it down, again, freeing his cock then gripping it. He pulled back slightly and slid its thick head through your slick.

“Tell me you want it, sugar…”, he grunted, looking at you from under heavy eyelids.

“Fuck…”, you breathed out, your pussy clenching on nothing. “I… of fuckin’ course I want it!”

“Ask nicely, sugar. Drop the attitude.”

“Fuck… please… please, Joel! I want it… I want you… I wanna be… fuck you for making me say it… I wanna get that promoti – aah!.”

Before the last syllable could come from your mouth, Joel pushed your panties aside and shoved his cock into your heat, giving no grace period for you to adjust.

“S’what I thought, sugar.”, he huffed out in a grin.

“Please… oh fuck, please move, Joel!”

“Yeah? Why? ‘Cause your pussy’s too tight for me? ‘Cause you haven’t been fucked by a man with a big dick and bank account?”, he cooed, tilting his hips to push further into you, his tip pressed firmly against your cervix.

“Fuck! Yes… please!”, you yelped, squirming under him. All thoughts of trying to take any control back were being forced out of you by his dick and he knew it.

His smug grin stayed firmly on his face as he pulled out in a painfully slow movement before slamming back in, pushing you further up the couch. He grabbed your hips and held you as he did it again.

“Faster… faster, Joel…”

He shook his head, still grinning. “Uh-uh…”

He kept his slow exit, harsh entry going as he watched your face contort and your cunt clench and release him. You were sure he was just torturing you, but the way he looked down at your face and body mixed with the even pace he was keeping and his size, you knew he knew what he was doing. You could feel the heat building up again, and he could, too.

“That’s it, sugar… I can feel it… come on, baby… lemme have it…”

The wave of your first orgasm hit you, rippling through your body and pulling a long, loud moan from your mouth.

“Oh, good girl!… finally, takin’ directions… good girl…”

He let you start to come down before he picked up your foot, placed a kiss on your ankle and draped it over his shoulder.

“That’s right, sugar… did so good for me, now I’m gonna return the favour.”

He thrusted into you harshly and picked up the speed, forcing your spend out onto both your thighs and his curly thatch of salt and pepper hair that crowned his cock. He pummelled you over and over, bringing you to the cusp of another orgasm and pulled out.

“Turn around… on your knees, sugar.”, he grunted, swatting at you.

You had to fight your trembling body and shaky legs to move, but once you got up on your knees on the couch, back facing Joel, he took over and moved your body into position.

“Now I get it, baby… you behave when you know you’re gettin’ something…”, he chuckled, pushing your face against the cushioned headrest. “Gonna have to get a reward system in place… give you a gold star and a fuck when you do good…”

Before you could return a snappy comeback, he pushed his cock back into you, making the only sound your mouth could produce be a whine.

The angle that he was fucking you in was even better and more intense than before. His grunting and murmured praises filled the room along with the wet, vulgar noises of his cock impaling your cunt. You felt another orgasm coming on, but it was more. Your pants turned to whiny yelps and moans and you felt like something was about to burst.

“Joel… Joel!”

“I know… can feel it… come for me, sugar… come on…”

“Joel… it’s – unhg!... I’m…”

You felt the bubble burst and cried out, collapsing on the couch. Joel let out a grunt-turned-moan at the flood of liquid pouring out of you, holding your hips, and continuing to fuck into you. His thrusts got sloppy and as you leaned on the back of the couch for support, he punched into you one last time, holding your hips against him tightly as he unloaded himself into your pussy with a loud groan.

When you tried to move, his hand moved to your back, soothing over it, as he panted. “Stay put, sugar… just… just stay put.”

You relaxed and laid forward, putting your weight on the couch, and closed your eyes. You could feel his cock twitching in you as it began to soften. His weight shifted and he pressed a kiss between your shoulder blades. The uncharacteristically gentle action made your eyes open abruptly and you sucked in a breath.

Joel’s chuckle reverberated against your back through his chest. “Congrats on your promotion, sugar.”

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TAG LIST:

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[rougepancake]

Monophobia

FT. Kars; Afab! Reader

WELCOME TO THE MONSTER MASQUERADE

WARNINGS: Minors and ageless blogs dni. Sexually explicit content under cut. Corruption, implied loss of virginity (reader), vampire Kars, jealousy, Kars sort of steals you from Joseph. Not proofread.

SUMMARY: Joseph Joestar wanted to ask you to dance with him so badly, but someone beat him to it. He wanted to whisk you away into the night and tell you how much he loved you, but someone fucking beat him to it. And it was Lord Kars, of all people.

It had been quite a long time since you had attended a formal ball, and it showed. Everyone here knew everyone, except for you.

Actually, you did recognize a few faces, but you wanted nothing to do with them. Instead, your plan was to dance by yourself in a ballroom full of strangers. They meant nothing to you, and were just a symbol of your status amongst the people of your country.

With that thought in mind, you decided to set down your wine and head out onto the floor. Faces turned towards you, but their stares didn’t last long. They were simply too wrapped up in their own business to care about someone who was dancing alone.

You let your body move freely to the music, your eyes closed in a moment of pure ecstasy. This atmosphere was one unlike any other you had experienced, and you loved it. Your moves were perfectly timed with the music that was being played by the live orchestra, or at least they were. Someone grabbed your hand, throwing you off entirely as they brought you back towards them.

Hastily, you turned around to meet the gorgeously captivating eyes of a man who seemed all too familiar. He smiled arrogantly, and you could have sworn that you saw fangs, though it was probably just a trick of the light.

“Well hello there my darling.” His moves matched yours, and you couldn’t help but smile at how he adapted to your movements. “I have never met someone as inclined to dance as you, would you be interested in providing me with your name?” His voice was deep and confident, his aura being at least ten times stronger than every man in the room.

Something about him was off, but he was simply too beautiful of a creature to ignore.

“My name is of no importance, us dancing together is as much of an introduction as you need.” You spun gracefully at his whim, giggling softly as you did so. Though, you couldn’t help but feel as if you were being watched.

And you were.

Joseph Joestar has had his eyes on you since you first walked into the room, but he wasn’t able to bring himself to talk to you. You looked stunning in that getup, and it made his heart hurt to watch you dance with none other than Lord Kars.

He couldn’t help but glare at the two of you as Kars whisked you out of the room and off to who knows where. Why hadn’t he made a move? Maybe it’s because he didn’t expect you to actually show up…

It was his ball, after all.

“Where are you taking me, Lord Kars?” His name rolled off your tongue in a way that made you want to repeat it. Such a sound was beautiful in its own right, and it made you curious as to why.

Without a word, he pulled you into a random closet that was far away from the rest of the party. There was a look in his eyes that gave you chills. And as unsettling as it was, you didn’t have it in you to leave his side.

“You know not of what I am, only what I have allowed you to see…” He spoke in a low tone, as if prompting you to ask him what he was talking about. “Would you… like to see more..?”

You hesitate to nod, since you can’t help but feel like something bad is going to happen to you. Your giddiness fades away slowly, and as he flashes his inhuman fangs in the darkness, an overwhelming sense of dread washes over you.

“Y-You’re a…”

“Vampire. Aren’t I beautiful?” He smirked and leaned down, aiming for your neck with his fangs.

“Wait!” You push him back as far as you can. Your back is now quite literally against a wall, and your hands are on his chest. You may not be the strongest, but you’ve clearly caught him off guard.

And he’s pissed.

“What? Are you frightened?” There’s an audible change in his tone, like he’s trying to intimidate you. “Are you not used to seeing monsters?”

“N-No- it’s not that!” You manage to blurt out, still holding him back. “I just don’t want to die at the hands of a stranger-“

“Oh? Who said you were to die at my hand?”

He reached out and placed a hand underneath your chin, smirking at you in the dimly lit room. He dared not to push back against you, knowing that it would most certainly scare you off.

“Trust me my dear, fear is the last thing you’ll be feeling when I’m done ruining you.” Then, out of what seemed to be nowhere, he pulled you towards him and kissed you roughly. A feeling unlike any other spread throughout your body and you began to feel yourself leaning into his touch. There was something about him that made you want more than you should.

Though, there was just something about him that you couldn’t tear yourself away from.

The more he kissed you the more you realized you weren’t going to leave this room without experiencing his full beauty. He was going to tear your innocence away and replace it with a carnal desire that only he could quench.

He was going to ruin you.

[coupsie-daisies]

Kinktober '23: Virginity | Min Yoongi

Pairing: GN!Reader x Min Yoongi

Genre: Smut (minors DO NOT interact), Kinktober 2023

Summary: You finally tell Yoongi, the guy you probably shouldn't be fucking around with, that you're a virgin. Nothing could have prepared you for his reaction.

WC: 2.3k

Warnings: Reader is described having a vulva and breasts, but uses gender neutral pronouns, virginity loss (a dumb construct), unprotected sex, mentions of alcohol consumption, marijuana mention, fingering, Yoongi has a dirty mouth and a bit of a possessive streak, creampie, soft Yoongi

A/N: Here we go, kinktober day 1!! Hopefully yall like it, and forgive me if I fall behind schedule. Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist for my kinktober fics

Tags: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @wooyussy // @burningupp-replies // @bunnypig18 // @decaffedthoughts // @brownieracha // @ferrethyun // @snow-pegasus // @wonuqrtz // @mixling-blog

Main Masterlist

Kinktober '23 Masterlist

This fanfiction is property of @/coupsie-daisies, reposting on any other platform is prohibited

You felt ridiculous underneath Yoongi, the thought clouding your mind as you kissed him, as his hands pushed up your shirt to expose more of your stomach for him to touch. And the worst part was that you felt even more ridiculous for thinking about it so much.

You had been fooling around with Yoongi for a couple of weeks now. You'd met at a party one of your older friends had invited you to, and you knew Yoongi by reputation only. He was a bit of a fuckboy, he'd slept with plenty of people and made quite a name for himself as an 'experience'. It was actually a little terrifying the way people talked about him, like he was something everyone had to experience.

But he'd been kind when you'd met him, introduced by your friend Hoseok with a request to help keep an eye on you. You'd been offended, actually, at the implication that you couldn't look out for yourself. But having Hobi's friends around to keep an eye on you had actually been quite nice, eliminating the need to socialize with strangers and all that. Yoongi had kept a drink in your hand, though sometimes swapping it out for water when he'd decided you should slow down, and eventually you ended up sitting on a couch, sidled up to him as he smoked up with his friends.

The first time you kissed Yoongi he was high, and you were maybe a little more tipsy than you should have been. But it was the start of something great. You and Yoongi were friends, maybe not the closest of friends but he wasn't a stranger. You felt safe with him, and you could go to each other with your needs. Any needs. Which was how you ended up under him now, his fingers rubbing firm, fast circles against your aching clit.

"Yoongi, please," You whined. He smirked, and you cursed him silently because you really did understand why everyone was obsessing over his skills.

"Please what, pretty baby?" He asked, leaning down to kiss your throat, and you huffed.

"Please, wanna cum. That's what you came over for, right? To get me off, help me destress." You were being annoying, you were sure, but you didn't care in the least. You just wanted to get off, and Yoongi had promised to help you relax. But instead he had you winding so tight you thought your muscles would tear.

"Not gonna make you cum on my fingers, baby. You want to be fucked stupid, right? Don't wanna think anymore? Gonna make you all dumb on my cock instead."

His words sent a rush of arousal through you, wetness dripping out to slick onto his fingers. But even so, he stopped, feeling the way you tensed under him. His fingers were slower now, barely giving you anything as he pulled back and gave you a questioning look.

"You don't want that?" He asked. You and him had never gone that far, sticking to dry humping or going down on each other, sometimes he'd slide his fingers into you, but that was different.

"No! I mean, I do! It's just..." You squirmed, blinking away your building anxiety. Yoongi stopped entirely, sitting back to give you space to breathe, but the distance only made you feel naked, much more exposed than you would have liked.

"You know you can tell me. We communicate. I promised to take care of you, I'm still gonna do that." He promised you, and you fought off a small, surprised expression. You hadn't imagined he'd taken it that seriously back then, let alone now.

"I'm a virgin." You said finally, avoiding his eye. There was quiet, and you squirmed before Yoongi was towering over you, his hand gripping your chin to lift your gaze back to him.

"You've been letting me play with you all this time, and you just weren't gonna tell me that?" He asked, his thumb tracing over your lower lip. You could swear his gaze was only getting more intense, and you swallowed.

"It's embarrassing," You admitted. He huffed out a tiny laugh, his eyebrow quirking upwards in the way that always had you going a little bit feral.

"Embarrassing? What about me being able to ruin you for any other man is embarrassing, pretty thing?" He asked. You felt a quiet squeak slip past your lips. You quickly regained your confidence though, not wanting to give him the upper hand.

"So you wouldn't be able to ruin me for anyone else if I'd already slept with another person? Good to know," You teased, lips curling into a troublesome grin. He rolled his eyes, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek. Then his lips were pressed to the sensitive spot just under your ear, his tongue dragging over it before sucking hard. Your body pressed closer towards his, rolling into the warmth that washed over you.

"Oh, baby, I already have." He whispered, his attention trailing further down your neck, leaving tiny bruises that you knew would bloom bright overnight. Your fingers laced through his hair, tugging lightly as a silent plea for him to leave his teasing and move on. He groaned quietly, not seeming to want to wait either.

He sat back, taking a minute to admire you as if he hadn't seen you laying naked beneath him more times than he could count on one hand. You felt a new wave of arousal rush through you under his attention. His hands brushed your stomach, sliding up to cup your tits, thumbs brushing in feather-light touches over your nipples as if he would hurt you if he touched them too firmly. You released a breathy moan, your eyes shutting as you basked in the attention.

"Gonna make you feel so good." He said, quietly enough that it was almost like he was talking to himself, but you knew better with the way his hands lowered down to knead at your thighs, feeling the soft plush flesh under his fingertips before pushing them wider apart.

You were entirely exposed to him, and even though he'd touched you just a little while earlier, this felt so much more intimate. His fingers slid easily through the wetness leaking from your hole, teasing you with slow, careful touches before sliding two into you, scissoring them and curling them carefully. His eyebrows were furrowed as he focused on the slide of his fingers inside your pussy, his tongue poking against his bottom lip. The attention had you hot all over and you squirming which only forced his fingers to prod a little harder against that spot you loved. You keened, his name on the tip of your tongue but coming out instead as a long whine.

"Please, need you. Don't wanna wait anymore. Waited forever." You huffed. He smiled, a genuine, brilliant smile as his thumb flicked over your clit. And then, finally he was pulling his hand away, maneuvering the two of you with gentle touches until he was settled between your legs, the tip of his cock nudging against your folds.

"Say it again," He requested, the head of his aching length running teasing circles around your clit. "Say you need me, tell me how bad."

"Yoongi," You huffed, and he dipped his cock ever so slightly between your swollen pussy lips, laying enough pressure over your entrance to make you choke on your complaints. Any shame or frustration gave way to pure desperation to feel more of him, to be full of him, surrounded by him. "Please, I need you. Need you so bad I could cry, want you to be my first, want you to take me."

Your words made him hiss, his hips pressing carefully forward, nudging his cock into you inch by inch. You tipped your head back against the pillows, your back arching off the bed and pushing you closer to him, needing more of him, needing him closer. One of your hands scrambled to find his waist, pulling him down closer to you. He didn't hesitate to give in, lowering himself until your chests were pressed together, his face tucked into the crook of your neck and his hips continuing their slow, steady roll against yours. It was another few moments before he was fully sheathed in your tight, wet warmth. His weight rested on his forearm beside you, his other hand gripping at your hip, thumb tracing over the curve there.

"Feel so fucking perfect wrapped around me, shit," He grumbled, voice muffled against your skin, but you heard them all the same, your walls fluttering around him as you tried to get used to the feeling of having him inside of you. He was definitely hitting places you'd never felt before, stretching you out more than his fingers ever had and making the fire in the pit of your stomach burn hotter, the flames consuming you and turning your inhibitions to ash.

"I need more. Fuck me, baby, please. Can take it." You begged, your fingers stroking through his hair again. He shifted, the movement pulling him out of you, and you almost sobbed when he rolled his hips back to draw most of the way out before sliding back in with ease. The rolling thrusts of his hips were slow, easy, and you melted into them. You tugged at his hair with one hand, the other dragging your nails against his waist, pulling him impossibly closer until you were breathing him in.

"Can't believe I haven't done this yet." He mumbled, sucking at your shoulder until a pretty little mark was left in his wake. "You're fucking made for me, built for my dick. Never gonna let you go. All mine, gonna take such good care of you."

He was almost as fucked as you were, his breath coming out in pants as his hips sped up. He slid his hand down, pulling your thigh up to wrap around his hips, drilling himself even deeper and groaning when you moaned his name, tightening around him.

"There," You managed to gasp, and Yoongi shifted, giving himself a little more leverage to speed up, fucking against the spot that had made you react so perfectly for him. He wondered under the fog of his mind if you'd ever felt it before, if your fingers could reach it, if you had been waiting for him to find it. Or maybe, he hoped as he reached down to swirl his fingers around your clit, maybe you would only associate it with him. The spot that he hit just right, the spot that he could find with ease.

"Choking me," He hissed out, never easing up. Your legs tightened around his hips, and your walls sucked him in like every pullback of his cock was a loss you couldn't stomach. You were close, he knew that reaction, knew those sounds like the back of his hand and he was determined to feel you cum on his dick. "Go on, pretty, let go for me. I know you're almost there, you can let go."

His words were soft, sweet, washing over your like ocean waves and dragging you down into your orgasm, air ripping from your lungs as you released around him. You trembled, your hips grinding up to meet his desperate movements, and his movement slowed down to ease you through it.

His movements didn't stop even as you came down, and it was hard to say if he was urging you towards a second one or if he was just too transfixed by the feeling of your walls finally wrapping around him like they'd been waiting for him to slide into you.

"Want you to cum too," You said, the hand in his hair moving to guide his lips towards you, pulling him into a kiss. The taste of him on your lips was like a drug, his tongue slipping past your lips to map out your mouth and his teeth dragging against your lip, not hard enough to be considered a bite, but certainly enough for you to know he could. It didn't take anything more than the kiss to push him over the edge, his groan getting lost in the press of your lips, and his hips pressing flush into yours as he spilled into you.

The kiss slowed, still hungry and desperate, but languid now as if he were savoring the moment of you two pressed so close together. Once he was out of breath, he pulled away, nuzzling into your neck and dragging you as close as he possibly could given your position. He rolled you onto your side with him so the two of you were tangled together, his softening cock finally slipping out of you and his leg trapping yours between his own.

"How was it?" He asked after a few moments of stroking his fingertips against your waist. You kept your eyes closed, basking in his attention and letting a smile curl on your lips.

"It was perfect." You said, pressing closer so he couldn't see the way your smile grew.

"Only the best for my darling." He said, tipping your chin up to kiss you again. You smiled against his lips before pulling away a bit. He followed your lips, and you giggled.

"Yours, huh?" You asked, fingertips drumming against his bare chest.

"I want you to be. Always have. Now more than ever.  don't want anyone else to have you like I do." He confessed without hesitation, and the sincerity in his voice genuinely surprised you. Your teasing gaze softened, and you kissed him once more.

"Nobody will. They couldn't even if they wanted to. I'm all yours."

copyright 2023 coupsie-daisies, all rights reserved

[glassartpeasants]

Run Rabbit Run .08

Yandere!Eustass Kid x F!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, blood, reader having a crisis, pregnancy, angst, probably slight cringe cause i've been sleep deprived and think everything good idea then, and most likely other shit i can't think of atm

A/N: apparently my body can't decide whether to write Kid or Kidd cause i wrote Kidd half way through this after spelling it 'Kid' in the last two fic's. So please bare with my stupidity

music playlist

@rebeccawinters @iggy5055 @dairygrrl @childconnoisseur @menifire1092 @nerdgeekandeverysweet-blog @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7 pt.8 pt.9 pt.10 pt.11

~~~

Even though you’ve been counting down the months to finally reach Sabaody, a part of you yearned for just a few more weeks with G-5. Now, with only three more days till you dock at the archipelago, the excitement is palpable. Time seemed to have a mind of its own, neither hastening nor slowing. They say time flies when you're having fun, and indeed it did. Four months dwindled to three, then two, and before you knew it, you were down to mere days.

You couldn’t wait to see everyone, to reveal the person you’ve become during the two-year separation. The anticipation to demonstrate your newfound devil fruit powers and everything Smoker and G-5 have instilled in you. To prove that you've earned the title of a Straw Hat.  That even in the face of pregnancy, you stand strong, capable of protecting yourself and your friends. You’ve toiled day and night to hone your abilities and devil fruit powers, all while nurturing the life growing within you.

Tashigi helped you in buying things that’d make your life a bit easier. Pregnancy pillows, maternity clothes, vitamins to keep yourself healthy, and everything in between. She even convinced you to write a journal for every day of your pregnancy. It did help a lot more than you thought it would. You wrote what you wouldn’t tell anyone else and how you truly felt about your situation that day. Some good and some bad.

A wave of emotions would often overwhelm you when something triggered memories of your time with Kidd. The echo of people calling your name, the rumble of thunder, all reminiscent of your time spent in the shadows. While you knew you’d never be the same person you were before Kidd, you have strived to heal from all the things that have transpired.

It wasn’t working very well, though.

Looking at any reflective surface has your heart shattering when your eyes land on the visible scars on your body. Trying to picture yourself without the scars was impossible as you struggled not to imagine Kidd in the image as well. It was almost easier to pretend you were born with your scars rather than think about the one that gave them to you. Even in everyday life, he'd pop into your head when you weren’t thinking about him. Closing your eyes, you still see his amber eyes staring right back at you.

Being alone with your thoughts always makes things difficult. If it were too quiet, you’d hear his voice whispering in your ear. Feeling his fingers touching your skin when you wore short-sleeved shirts was also common. Times when you were so close to slumber, you’d start to smell his presence. The only thing that seems to calm you down now is a tune your mother used to sing to you.

It had been sealed away in your memories for years, and now you managed to remember the words and tune after having a dream about her singing it to you. You watched her rock yourself as she sang the little song before tucking you in. Her face was a blur, but you could still hear her. At least you could still remember her voice. Yet when she stopped singing, you immediately woke up.

Since then, you’ve been subconsciously humming it when working around the ship. You remember getting embarrassed when Tashigi asked you what you were singing. When you told her that it was something your mother sang to you when you were a baby, she got stars in her eyes.

“You should sing to them! I heard it’s extremely beneficial to the baby!” You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Your more invested in this pregnancy than I am, and I'm the one carrying the baby.”

“I heard it’s great for bonding and-” She stopped herself before she could finish. You knew what she was trying to say and that there was no ill will behind it.

“It’s okay. I know you meant well. Maybe if the situation were different, I’d be more excited. But I don’t want to get too close to them since I’m putting them up for adoption.”

“I’m sorry. I forgot about that. I guess I just got excited for something other than listening to men yelling and fighting.”

“No, I promise it’s okay! Things happen. You meant well, and that’s all that matters to me.”

Leaning against the railing, you look out at the setting sun. The beautiful colors you memorize as you imagine sailing off with the Straw Hats. Happy laughter as you’d hear them tell their stories of their adventures from the two years you’ve been separated. You couldn’t wait to hear Luffy’s infectious laughter or see Robin's calming smile. Only three more days until you make it to Sabaody then-...

…What then?

You’d still be pregnant, on the run, and scared that any second Kidd’s going to show up and whisk you away. Even after you put up the baby for adoption, your body would still look pregnant for a while before going back to normal. Your body would wonder where the baby had gone and when it’d come back. How were you supposed to live life normally after this? Knowing that you have a baby out there that you’ll never get to see grow up. Always worry if they're safe and scared that Kidd might find them and use them as leverage to make you come back.

But at the same time, you couldn’t take them with you. The sea is no place to raise a child, let alone a baby. They could fall overboard, get kidnapped by Marines or rival pirate groups, hell, they could get ill at sea, and you wouldn’t have the medicine to make them better!

Anyway, you looked at it, it felt like nothing was the right choice. The negatives outweighed the positives in your head. It’s possible that everything you’ve experienced has made you an internal pessimist. That, or maybe you were just thinking logically. Either or, it still sucked.

“What are you thinking about?” Tashigi’s voice pulled you from your negative thoughts as she stood beside you.

“Everything and nothing at all. Three days, and then we’ll be enemies. Feels weird knowing that.”

“Yeah. It’s gonna be weird not having you around. I’m gonna be stuck as the only girl once again.” You laugh a bit at her admission.

“If only we’d be able to call one another. But it’s too much of a risk in case any higher-ups were to find out.” Both of you sigh before turning to each other.

“Why do you have to be a pirate?”

“Why do you have to be a Marine?” The two of you laugh as you see the stars start to appear in the night sky.

“The stars are pretty, huh? Maybe we can find constellations if we look hard enough.” You can see Tashigi thinking out of the corner of your eye before her head perks up.

“What if we take pictures? Like a group picture? We’d be able to remember each other even if we can’t talk.”

“You're right! We can do it tomorrow morning! I heard it’s supposed to be sunny and clear!”

“Perfect! We can go around telling the other Marines about it, and they’ll all agree. Vice Admiral Smoker, we might have to convince or drag.”

“I think it’ll be worth the extra chores.”

~~~

As you lay in your bed once more, you look out over the multiple sleeping marines. In a few days' time, you’ll never see them again. If you do, then you’d have to fight them. Once you get back to the Straw Hats, you’ll undoubtedly have a bounty from the government. Then you’ll genuinely be ‘enemies,’ but the thought of hurting any of them made you want to cry. How could you hurt those who took you in, no matter who you were? They risked getting in trouble and put themselves in danger just for you.

Maybe if your forced to fight them, you could just run away? Usopp does it a lot, so why couldn’t you?

You move slightly to get more comfy, only to hear a ‘thud’ come from the side of your bed. Gently moving to the best of your pregnant abilities, you manage to see a particular journal that you haven’t read since the first week you met the G-5.

Heat’s journal.

Biting your lip, you mentally fight to figure out whether you should read it or not. After taking months to try and process Heat’s internal thoughts and the truth about your home, perhaps you were ready to read the rest of it.

Scooting closer to the edge of the bed, you manage to grab the book by the tips of your fingers. You bring it up just enough for your other hand to hold it. A slight pain rummages through your body as you try to bring it up. Thankfully, you manage to pull it up just enough to grab it with your other hand. Snuggling into the bed more, you use the moon as a light source to read the book.

Something happened. I don’t know what it was exactly, but whatever it was, put (Y/N) in the hospital on the island we’re currently docked at. No one but Killer and Kidd himself were allowed to see her. Doctors must have been in and out of that room when (Y/N) first entered.

I can’t see (Y/N) trying to kill herself. Not with the small determination I can still see in her eyes. It had to be something involving Kidd. If Kidd can put a hot metal branding on her, then I don’t think he’d be above doing something to land her in the hospital.

I’ve talked to Wire about his thoughts on what could have happened. He told me that while he saw nothing, he heard multiple thuds and yelling coming from beneath the deck. Immediately upon hearing that, a sour taste filled my mouth. I have to go down and see for myself the room Kidd has been keeping (Y/N) in. There has to be something down there that could tell me something.

Of course, Kidd didn’t want his crew to know he almost killed you. Typical. What did Heat say when he saw you come back from the hospital? When what was the starting time when you forgot your memories. Gently skimming through the pages, you found the entry you were looking for.

I don’t think my eyes have ever widened as much as they did when I saw Kidd and (Y/N) holding hands. There was a bright smile on (Y/N)’s face when she finally came aboard the deck. Her legs are wobbly, and it looks like she’s learning how to walk again. She had bandages covering her head. Behind her and Kid was a doctor along with Killer.

Obviously, somethings not right. (Y/N) or Kidd must have hit her head so hard that a real doctor is needed. While I know it’s a very cliche scenario, I think that she must have hit her head so hard that her memory fogged. And if that’s so, what lies had Kidd told her already? Maybe if I'm able to get the doctor alone, I can get some information.

So Heat saw you the day you returned to the Victoria Punk after the incident? You were shocked that Kidd didn’t bring you back to the ship during the night. But thankfully, he was too stupid, and it allowed Heat to see the first part of the aftermath in real-time.

You don’t remember the first week or two when you got back to the Victoria. Not the doctors or leaving the hospital. It was probably for the best, though. You don’t need any more trauma than you already have.

“What were his thoughts during those five months?” Looking back at the marines to ensure they were sleeping, you flip through the pages again.

Caught (Y/N) staring out to sea earlier before the night entirely took over. It’s been a while since I’ve talked to her, honestly. I felt like I was going insane trying to figure out how or if I should help her now. She looks so happy now, but at the same time, her happiness is based on lies and blood.

Why did this have to happen? What sins did (Y/N) do in a past life that made this her reality? One minute, she was living her life, then the next, she’s stuck in a storage room on a pirate ship. I try not to think how alone she must have felt before this incident. Always being stuck in the dark and only seeing the same people over and over again. Me talking to her can only do so much. It won’t bring back her parents or friends. Nor will it bring back her home.

It still eats me knowing that I’m the reason this woman has no one left. No friends or family. Well, there’s those Straw Hats she’s told me about.

I remember them from Sabaody. Their captain was a strange one, but it did seem like he cared for his crew. If he’s willing to risk his life by storming Impel Down and Navy headquarters just to save his brother, then I think if there is any place or pirate crew for her to be in, it’d be the Straw Hats.

Maybe if I mention Saboady, it’ll spark something and clear the fog that’s invaded her mind.

"If only you knew Heat. It was the thing that made me realize somethings not right.” For a Kidd Pirate, he truly was a fallen angel in disguise. While you’ll never forgive him for what he did to your home, he proved that almost everyone deserves a second chance.

Holy shit. I can hear my heart beating in my ears. I haven’t run as quickly and quietly as I could in forever. Not to mention the underlying threat of getting caught giving (Y/N) a devil fruit.

Finding the damn thing was entirely on accident but a pain in the ass to bring on the ship without anyone noticing. Even stealing the fruit was a feat in itself. I don’t know how that fisherman found it or what he was planning on doing with it, but in the end, it’s going to a better cause. 

I managed to have (Y/N) eat it by luring her outside the dining hall earlier. When I watched her eat it all, it made a slight ease wash over me. At least now, she’d have a bit more of a fighting chance against Kidd if he did anything.

I feel bad that I couldn’t tell her everything right then and there, but I was already pushing it by being so close to everyone, especially with Killer being somewhere on deck. I didn’t want to cause a scene and have Kidd freak out or anything. The longer he’s in the dark, the safer it is for (Y/N) and myself.

Honestly, I thought Killer would have knocked some sense into Kidd when he found out about (Y/N). I was obviously very wrong. 

“If anything, he was just as insane as Kidd. Fueling his crazed thoughts and obsession. I still remember that dumb conversation I heard between him and Kidd about boarding up the storage room.” It pissed you off more that if it weren’t for Killer’s mask, you probably would have put two and two together quicker. Facial expressions are everything. 

I caught (Y/N) staring at the sky again. Thankfully, Killer and Wire were on the opposite side of the ship, so I was finally able to talk to (Y/N) alone. She didn’t know what I made her eat initially, which shocked me. Maybe she hadn’t done anything to trigger it yet.

We both found out pretty quickly what her devil fruit power was, though.

I was trying to tell her that everything she knew about Kidd was a lie. That her life was a lie. I wanted to be more collected and calm about it, but how do you carefully say something like that?  It was hard seeing her eyes flash all her emotions, but it soon turned to pain when a harsh shock hit my hands. It felt like a burning hot pole went straight through my hands. 

It hurt like a bitch, but the pain subsided when I saw her looking at her hands. When I also looked at them, I saw electricity slither across her hands. I watched her put her hands together and was speechless when a ball of pure electricity formed. She started panicking when the ball was getting too big for her to control and starting to hurt her. I told her to throw it out to sea, and when she did, I felt like I was watching the moon shrink. It was so bright and slightly calming. The farther it went, the more at ease I felt. (Y/N) had a chance. She had a chance to defend herself and run away.

And I’ll be there to make sure she’s safe.

Tears fall profusely down your face, reading the last line. How can the world be so cruel? All he wanted to do was help, and yet he lost his life.

You go to read the next page only to see it’s blank. Feeling your throat dry, you start skimming through the rest of the pages, hoping to see more writing, yet there is nothing. It felt like your heart had been ripped directly from your chest. That was the last thing Heat has ever written, and it just had to be the most heartbreaking thing to read.

Curling up as best you can, considering your belly, you hold Heat’s journal close to your chest. You try your best not to sob as you don’t want to wake up the rest of the Marines sleeping next to you. Between sniffles and the slight shaking as you try to control your breathing, you whisper to yourself in hopes that wherever Heat is, he’ll hear you.

“Thank you.”

~~~

Another island was reduced to ashes after falling victim to Eustass Kidd’s wraith. A once lush and thriving island is now in flames and crumbling as the ruthless pirate searched tirelessly for a certain someone last seen there.

“God fucking damnit! When I get my hands on whatever Marines are holding her, I’m going to kill every single one of them! They’ll wish they never got involved when I break each of their bones!” Kidd’s voice boomed across the town as his amber eyes scanned everywhere.

Where are you?! Why aren’t you here?!

“Kid.” Killer’s voice breaks through the brute's rage, making him turn his head.

“What Killer?!”

“We’ve searched everywhere, and there's no sign of her. It’s not like we can ask anyone either since everyone has evacuated before we arrived.”

Ever since the incident on Halyard Island, as soon as your location was revealed in the paper, people would evacuate their homes to try to save their families and avoid the unstable tornado of destruction that was Eustass Kidd. 

Some people stayed because it’d been their home since birth, and they’d rather die than leave it defenseless. There have been rebellions to try to stop Kidd, but they were always snuffed out the moment Kidd saw them. The same could be said for any Marines that were sent to stop him. Getting sent on a mission to any island that you had been spotted at was a death wish. Sometimes, the Marines were too late, and Kidd had already destroyed the island. But when Kidd would see them, he wouldn’t let any Marines leave until he talked to each and every single one of them. And since none of them had you, none of them would leave the island alive.

Your name had become a jinx to any Marine that spoke it. Speaking your name would always have the Marine that spoke it sent out on the next mission to stop Kid from destroying yet another island just to find you. And since none of them had you, they’d never come back alive to say what they’ve experienced.

After being the ‘cause’ of death for so many Marines, some rookies have given you the nickname ‘Devil’s Darling.’ It was a joke at first, but as the death toll rose and how Kidd’s name got more infamous, more and more people adopted it. And with a nickname like that, more people have come to hate you.

While you haven’t done anything, the fact is that if it weren’t for you escaping, no one would have gotten hurt. If only you had bit the bullet, no one would have lost their lives. Many victims of Kidd’s rage blame you for it. Anger and fear take over the hearts of many, and to the civilians of the New World, you’ve become as feared and hated as the man hunting you down.

The government had become more conflicted on where to stand with you. While you were technically innocent, the people have been nagging them to put an official bounty on your head. If they did, you’d only be wanted alive. The power they could hold if they managed to capture you. You could be the key to finally catching and imprisoning Eustass Kidd.

And Kidd knew all of this.

He knew the hatred the people had started to hold for you. How they’d give you to him if they managed to recognize and grab you before you left the island. In a way, he had the whole New World in his hand. Their hatred and fear was and will be the town’s own undoing.

The only people stopping him were fucking journalists who don’t say or do a thing when they see you. They are so desperate for a story and to lead him on that they don’t care about how they’ve helped in the destruction.

“Of course, she isn’t here. Fucking hate those journalists and Marines.” Kidd kicked a smoldering piece of wood in anger. Ashes fly to the sky as it did nothing to soothe his rage.

They don’t understand that he needs you. He dreams of you every night. Dreams of you laying next to him and kissing his face. Some where you were holding his child, soothing them to sleep. Humming a small tune before noticing him and smiling. You’d say something to him, but he could never remember what it was when he woke up.

And while there were dreams, nightmares followed suit. Nightmares of you falling into the ocean and sinking to the bottom with your hand outstretched for Kidd to grab and save you. Or the times when you’d be running from Marines to him only for you to get shot as soon as he had you in your arms. The nightmares plagued him much more than he dreamt of you. He’s always had nightmares when you weren’t lying next to him. Ever since the first night you’ve slept with him in his bed, he’s never been able to sleep alone without waking up sometimes during the night. The warmth your body gave him while you slept, go thim addicted.

Those first few months you left and joined those damn Straw Hats, the same nightmare happened every night. It replayed the scene of you sailing away from him over and over again. No matter what, those months without you behind closed doors were pure hell for Kidd. You were just gone from his life after being by his side for a year and a half. He’d never get to kiss you or hold you close again.

But just as Killer tried to get Kidd over you, he saw you.

He was fighting a pacifista next to that dweeb Trafalgar Law when he turned his head, and there you were. You were running as fast as you could, and there he saw you. What you were running from, he didn’t know, but what he did know was that you were alone. No Straw Hats or Marines to take you away now. You were his for the taking once more, and this time, he’d make sure you knew it-

“Earth to Kidd!” Blinking a few times, Kidd’s pulled from his memories by Killer snapping his fingers in his face.

“I was thinking! What is it?”

“Haven’t you noticed a pattern? How each island she’s at, she gets closer and closer to the Navy Headquarters?” A pit filled Kidd’s stomach hearing Killer’s words.

“What are you saying, Killer? Spill it!”

“What if their taking her to the safety of Navy Headquarters? Or worse, Impel Down?” Kidd grits his teeth at the thought. No way in hell was he gonna let those fuckers take you.

“Any Marine ship we see, attack. Don’t care if they're not in our course. No Marine ship will get past the Victoria. Search every part of the Marine ship, and if she isn’t there, sink the ship to the bottom of the sea.”

“And the Marines on it?”

“Kill them all.”

~~~

“You wanted to see me, Vice Admiral? If it’s about the pictures we did yesterday, I have some here if you want to choose one.-”

“Sit. We need to talk.” Your heart stopped for a second, but you managed to snap back and sit on the chair in front of his desk. The way he sat in his chair behind the desk made you bite the inside of your cheek. When Tashigi told you that he wanted to see you, you were nervous. She said that while she didn’t know why he wanted to, you had no need to be scared.

Obviously, she was wrong.

“O-Oh? What about?” You can feel your palms sweat as the room seems to heat up.

“The government has finally put up a bounty for you.” Hearing those words come from Smoker's mouth made time stop as thousands of scenarios played through your head. Would he turn you in?

“But I haven’t done anything! Why do I have a bounty?!”

“You haven’t done anything. But Kidd has.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“He’s been destroying islands, villages, and Marine ships nonstop. Anything in his path has become a victim of his rage. According to headquarters, we’ve lost a lot of good men to him. Rookies, Vice Admirals, and Admirals even have been killed. His bounty has tripled in the last six months. Wouldn’t shock me if it raises the next time the new bounty posters come up.” You were speechless. How many people have been hurt or killed because of you? So many deaths for simply living. This has to be a nightmare.

“I don’t understand. Why do I have a bounty for things he’s done? I’m not out here hurting people!” Smoker sighed before running a hand through his hair.

“They want to use you to lure Kidd so they can capture him. That and many people of the New World are treating you as much of a threat as kid himself is.”

“I’ve never hurt anyone! I hate Kidd as much as they do, so why do they hate me?...”

“Fear. Kidd’s insanity has caused fear to cover the entire New World. Seeing your name and last known location in the paper is a death wish for the island you were last seen at. I don’t know how these damn journalists keep spotting you no matter what disguise we put you in.”

“It’s like they’re actively looking for me. Why are they so determined to find me? People have been hurt, yet they don’t care!” Guilt starts to eat at you as the thought of countless people getting hurt because of your problems eats at your heart.

“First Heat…now this? Why is this happening to me? What have I done to deserve this?” You whisper to yourself as you lay your hands on your thighs before gripping your pants tightly. Tears start to whelm in your eyes as you bite your lip. The images of people's faces you’ve never seen before start to pop up in your mind as if to make you suffer more. The survivor's guilt already consumed you after Heat’s death, but now, with having so much more ‘blood’ on your hands, the pain was unbearable.

“Heat? Where have I heard that name before?”

“He was a crewmate on Kidd’s ship. He’s…no longer with us.”

“A Marine kill him? I don’t think I’ve heard of any Kidd Pirates getting sent to Impel Down.”

“No. Kidd did.” Even though you spoke between sobs, SMoker still managed to catch your words. He was stunned to hear such a thing. Killing his own crew? If he can do that without remorse, what else is he willing to do?

“He helped me escape the first time I was stuck with Kidd. He undid the chain that was connected to a collar Kidd had me wear and told me to run. When he saw that I had gotten captured again, he tried to help me again, but…”

“But?”

You ran as fast as you could around teh deck to try and find Heat and Kidd. In the dark, the whole boat felt like a maze. Each passing second was an eternity. How can you find them in time?

“Your fucking stupid to think I wouldn’t notice how you're trying to play hero! At first, I gave you the benefit of the doubt when you let her go the first time. But now, when everything’s good, you're trying to ruin it!” Kidd’s voice rang in your left ear, making you stop in your tracks.

“What are you talking about Kidd? Are you drunk or something?”

“Don’t play dumb! You know damn well what I’m talking about! Your telling (Y/N) shit she doesn’t need to remember! Telling her things that’ll ruin what I’ve worked so hard for! She’s happy, and you want her to be sad?!”

“That’s not happiness, Kidd! Her ‘happiness’ is based on lies! I know I’m not the greatest person. I have skeletons in my closet, but what you're doing is insane!” Hearing Heat bite back makes you dash towards the two voices.

Just then, a few loud thumps accompanied by a cough echoed across the deck. A bang was soon heard right after, and it only made you run faster. When you finally made it to the source, your horrified to see Kidd with his back facing you and a bloody, jagged knife in his hand. In front of him, you see Heat on the deck with his back leaning against the railing. Red starts to seep through his clothes, as you can hear his breathing become erratic. You watched him cough harshly and see droplets of blood shooting out from his mouth.

“I don’t remember asking for your input, Heat. I won’t let you ruin this for me. If only you had minded your business, then none of this would have to happen.” Heat gives Kidd a strong glare before laughing at him. His teeth covered in blood as he smiled at Kidd.

“She’ll find out. It may not be by me, but your house of cards is crumbling, Kidd. She’s gonna find out whether you like it or not.” You can hear Kidd crack his neck at Heat’s words.

“Not to mention, she and the rest of the crew are gonna wonder what’s happened to me. How are you gonna explain that?”

“I can just say you fell overboard. Since your a devil fruit user, you’ll sink to the bottom. The crew will believe it, and so will (Y/N).”

“Doubt it. She’s not stupid, Kidd. She’s gonna remember everything that’s happened. Her home, friends, family, and everything you’ve done to her, she’s gonna remember. And when she does, I’ll be laughing in hell.” You watch Kidd charge at Heat with the knife clutched tightly in his hand.

“No!” Running from your hiding spot, you jump in front of Heat. Despite the fear that coursed through you, you spread your arms out to a T so you can protect him from your knife-wielding lover. Your arrival brought silence among the three of you.

“(Y/N)...” Glancing back to Heat, you see the shock in his eyes. Your heart bleeds as Heats breath becomes more ragged with each second that passes. 

“(Y/N)! What are you doing?! You need to get away from him! He’s working for the Marines! He’s a traitor!” Biting your lip between your teeth, you try not to cry as your lover lies directly in your face so casually. 

A strong, familiar tingling feeling circulated through your arms and legs as you stood in front of Heat. Buzzing rings in your ears as the feeling grows stronger as you anticipate Kidd’s next move.

“Move (Y/N). I’m trying to protect you! He’s going to hurt you, it’s not safe next to him.” Looking into Kidd’s eyes, you stand yoru ground and still stand in his path. You can feel your heart race as he reaches out to you. The feeling of his fingertips from his real arm just barely touching your wrist before a loud ZAP could be heard echoing across the Victoria Punk.

“Son of a bitch!” Kid recoils his hand back and tries brushing it against his red feathered coat. The buzzing of the zap still ringing in your ears as you quickly turn your attention to Heat. You're quick to start inspecting him for more wounds but can only see one. A stab wound dangerously close to the heart but at a perfect position for it to be in the lungs. While Kidd missed the heart, he managed to puncture a lung which could be just as fatal. It also explains the coughing up of blood.

“Heat! Hang on! Everything will be okay! Just give me a second!-”

“Where did you get devil fruit powers?...” You stutter as you try to figure out a lie to say. Yet, you watch Heat give Kidd a bloody smirk. From that, it didn’t take long for Kidd to put two and two together.

“You gave her devil fruit powers?! I’m going to fucking kill you, you bastard!” Your heart almost stops completely as you see Kidd stomping towards the two of you. The way his face looked so sinister made it feel like you were living another nightmare.

Quick to jump to your feet again, you place yourself between Heat and Kidd. The buzzing continued, and you watched as electricity slithers around your arms and legs, helping you give off a threatening aura.

“Don’t you dare hurt him, Kidd!” Despite the electricity covering you, Kidd still reaches out. Just as you watch him reach for your arm, he changes direction and grabs your hair. With a harsh tug, Kidd throws you behind him. Your body hits against the hard wooden deck with a ‘thunk.’

You can feel the air being knocked out of your lungs as tears prickle your eyes. As you struggle to get over the pounding in your head and the ache in your body, you hear Heat cough harshly again. When you open your eyes to look at the two men, your eyes widen in horror as you watch Kidd hold Heat up by the throat. Lifting him to his feet, you see Heat struggle to get Kidd’s metal hand off his throat. 

“Enjoy the bottom of the sea Heat! Say hi to the sea kings that’ll feast on your corpse, will ya?” Jumping to your feet despite still being dizzy, you dash towards Kidd and Heat. But just as you took three steps in, you watched as Kidd threw Heat against the railing, making him tumble over it and fall off the boat. 

Running to the railing and praying that he’s simply hanging on, your hopes were crushed as soon as you heard the heartbreaking sound of water splashing. Leaning over the edge to see if you could throw him a rope, you only had time to see bubbles rising to the water's surface before Kidd grabbed you by the hair and began to drag you away.

“Kidd found out about it. My devil fruit powers wouldn’t be a thing if it weren’t for Heat. If it wasn’t for him, who knows how long I would have been stuck with Kidd and his web of lies.”

“How long has it been since his death?” While he could see that this was obviously a sensitive topic for you, perhaps if you spoke about it, it might loosen whatever burden his death has caused.

“A week had passed after his death when you guys found me. So, as long as I’ve been here plus a week.” Letting out a hum, Smoker continued to listen.

“It’s all my fault…If only I had been more careful then maybe he’d still be here. He’d still be alive instead of at the bottom of the sea.”

“I watched Kidd kill him. I saw Kidd kill the only friend I had and there was nothing I could do about it!”

‘That explains a lot. There’s a lot more layers of trauma she hasn’t told me or Tashigi about. If there's something that traumatic she’s keeping to herself, what else could be going on inside that she’s not talking about?’

“There are times when I feel like he’s haunting me. I see him sometimes in my nightmares. Or times when I’m leaning against the railing and go to look down at the sea only to see Heat standing beside me. But when I go to check if he’s really there, it’s always an empty space. I’ve caught glimpses of him staring at me through the crowd. People walk back and forth and I see him staring at me. But then somebody walks in front of him, and then he’s gone!” Smoker watches as your body shakes and tears begin pouring down your face. You grip your uniform pants even harder as you try to stabilize yourself as you begin to hyperventilate.

“Every time I see him, I don’t see the Heat I know. I see him as a corpse. No matter what he’s always just staring at me with lifeless eyes. It always looks like he’s…”

“At the bottom of the sea?”

“Yeah. Down there.” A minute os silence passes before SMoker speaks.

“You shouldn’t feel guilty for his death. From how much you’ve told me, it sounds like he knew the risks that came with trying to set you free. That he’d be putting his own life in danger to help yours. Do you think he’d want you to feel guilty for a sacrifice he was willing to make?”

“No.”

“Then don’t blame yourself for something that someone did of their own free will.”

“Yes, Vice Admiral.” While Smoker knew a single sentence wouldn’t fix all the trauma Heat’s death had obviously caused, he supposed it was better to get it off your chest. With Heat’s death, along with the people Kidd’s hurt in your name lingering in your mind, he can’t imagine the toll it’s taken on you.

~~~

Today’s the day. According to Tashigi, you guys should be at Sabaody before 3 pm. After months of training and pregnancy, along with your time with Kidd, you’ll finally be able to return to the Straw Hats.

It feels unreal. Almost as if it’s a dream. Yet, the dangers of Sabaody didn’t slip your mind. Bounty hunters, potential civilians willing to hunt you down, and the navy waiting to use you as bait. All odds were against you.

You did know the sunny was docked at tree 41, so maybe you could have G-5 bring you close but not too close to the sunny? The closer you are to it, the safer it’ll be for you. Well, you and the baby.

Not a second goes by where it’s not on your mind. Any time you move, you have to be cautious you don’t hit your tummy on anything. Eating foods became a test as foods you used to love, you now despise. Now, you're studying foods that are healthy for the baby and what’s not. Anything an over-paranoid pregnant woman does, you did. Even though you're gonna give up the baby for adoption when the time comes, you are gonna make sure the baby is healthy. 

There was a nagging feeling that ate at you whenever you were alone. Sometimes, you could feel the baby kick whenever you tapped your belly purposefully or on accident. It was as if they were responding to you. If they could feel the vibrations from a simple tap, could they also hear you talk about not wanting them? Even if six months old, what if? You knew it was impossible for them to understand you, but the nagging feeling never went away. 

Maybe when you reunite with the Straw Hats, that nagging feeling will fade away.

~~~

Another art thing. not really proud of it but it is what it is

[enheene]

hii let me just start by telling you that your blog is just *chef's kiss*🤌

could you write something with this sunghoon in mind? :3

(this episode really turned the whole fandom feral🫠)

thank u <3

Hiii, thank you so much!! Here you are^^

What about the pool party?

18+ MDNI

}^Summary: You and Sunghoon are just best friends. At least that’s what both of you keep saying (even though you’re both in love with each other). Well for the others, it looks quite different.

}^Warnings: bff!sunghoon x afab!reader (it’s not mentioned in the fic but it’s friends to lovers), riding, fingering, exhibitionist!hoon, unprotected sex (please practice safe sex), food, alcohol was only mentioned, not consumed, idk what else

}^Words: 1.4k

}^A/N: It’s pretty rushed so i’m not that satisfied with that story and I feel like this trope(?)/plot(?) is overused and I literally had no ideas of what to write.. I’m really sorry for the outcome!!

Knowing the siblings for over 15 years now is quite long, isn’t it? Well, today is the 23rd birthday of your best friends brother, to which you’re of course invited to. Jay decided to make it a rooftop pool party at their apartment, since their parents will be heading off to their colleagues “hangout” party. And since he knows a lot of people from high school and college, Jay obviously had to invite them.

You were as usual invited for the close friends and family only celebration before the actual party took place, so you already took all of your clothes and things you need, thinking that you will probably end up sleeping there.

After everyone sang happy birthday and gave their presents, you and Sunghoon headed off to his room to start getting ready for the rooftop pool party. “Sunghoon, which one is better?” You asked him showing him a bikini and a swimsuit to choose. “Hm, I like the swimsuit one but it’s up to you.” Bullshit. With you wearing a swimsuit he was hoping he wouldn’t get as horny because of you. That’s bullshit too. He’s horny all the time even when you’re wearing your homeless type of outfits. Letting out an “okay” under your breath, you decided to ignore his ‘help’ and wear a bikini just to provoke him for fun. Already wearing the bikini, you have put on in the bathroom, you asked him how you look. He cursed multiple times in his head as he did NOT want to get hard right now and especially not in your presence. “You look okay, I guess.” You scoffed at his answer and put on one of your shirts and shorts, since the party is still some hours away. “Imma get something to eat. You want something?” He asked you as you answered with a simple “No, thanks”.

Walking to the kitchen, Sunghoon saw his parents getting ready to leave the apartment, exchanging a “Bye.” with them. He saw Jay and a friend of his packing all of the alcohol and some snacks that were officially for the pool party asking him “What are you doing?”. His older brother answered “Basically, more people than I’ve actually invited will come, so we decided to move my birthday to this one lake we always went to.” Sunghoon was a bit confused. What lake? “I don’t know what you’re talking about but won’t it be too dangerous there? Because of the water and you know.” “Yeah, but here is it as dangerous as it’s there.” Sunghoon wasn’t so convinced about this idea but whatever, it’s not his life. Though he already decided that the both of you won’t be going anywhere, just stay here and have fun at your own.

Going back to you with some snacks and soda, he shouted your name and for you to open the door. You did so as he went into his room, placing the snacks and drinks on his desk, telling you to change back into your normal clothes. “But what about the pool party?” You asked him. “They’re going somewhere else but we are staying here.”

You were disappointed but still did as he said and changed back into your strap dress that is on the shorter side, but this time not putting on the bra, as it’s going to be just the two of you.

After some time spent together in his room, you decided to go to the kitchen and eat some proper meal with him. Preparing all the needed ingredients, Sunghoon comes up with with the idea of eating outside and enjoy the view of the city, to which you agree. Sunghoon sets the table outside and puts the already cooked pasta in the middle of it. To your surprise it’s not that late but the sunset is already there, so after you finish eating you tell Sunghoon to stand up and follow you. As you stand in front of the pool you try to push Sunghoon in but with his sudden grip on your dress, he pushes you in with him, making the both of you wet. You start splashing water at each other which makes the both of you laugh and scream out loud. The harsh movements in the water made you slip, though with the fast reaction of Sunghoon grabbing your waist, you avoided the fall.

As you found the balance in your legs, you stand up staring deeply in his eyes. He does the same. Feeling shy, you look down noticing his soaked, white, long sleeved shirt which was now fully see through, making you get a glimpse of his toned abs and chest. He followed your eyes, spotting your hardened nipples, getting him hard as well. Sunghoon takes your chin into his hand and makes you look at him, as the other is still holding your waist, and asks “Can I kiss you, y/n?”. You slowly nod your head as a yes. Sunghoon leans in to kiss you. As your lips meet, you put your hands on his chest and he pulls you in even more. The kiss is passionate, sweet and tender. Grasping for a breath, you take your lips off of his and lean your forehead against his, your noses touching. The short pause made the both of you want even more, so he picks you up and you wrap your legs around him. You feeling his bulge poking your still clothed cunt made you even wetter, so you started to kiss him again as he placed you on the edge of the pool. Pulling up your dress and taking off your panties, he looks at your cunt and touches your clit moving his finger in circling motions and up and down as you whimper his name under your breath. „Love, you’re so wet.” He puts his finger into your hole making you moan and lean down on your elbows, throwing your head back. He chuckles seeing your reaction as he adds another finger in your clenching hole, massaging your thigh. With a mischievous grin, he led you to come to your high on his fingers, you moaning his name as he praised you for doing so well for him. He picked you up so he could sit down in the pool, you on top of him. You unbuttoned his shorts, pulling them down enough to free his cock and immediately after put your hands back on his shoulders. “Are you sure you want this, love? There is no going back. You know that, right?” He asked making sure that it’s not against your will. “Yeah.” You answered him smiling somewhat naughty. Sunghoon pushed his tip into your still slightly throbbing cunt as you opened your lips and scrunched your face from the mixture of pain and pleasure. Your best friend started breathing loud and hard, you letting out a loud moan, when his cock is stretching you out, being now fully, deep in you. You slowly start bouncing on him revealing all the sounds he had always wanted to hear. Water splashing around you. Him groaning and whimpering into your ear. His one hand on your waist and the other one on your hip. “F-fuck, love, faster please.” He pleaded you. You have never expected riding in water being so hard, so you ask for his help and he sped up the pace. “Hoonie, ughhh, I love you so much.” “I love you too, love.” With the feeling of your approaching orgasm, you let him know about the need to cum soon while he’s cursing and mumbling out a “me too, lov-fuck.”

What the both of you didn’t know is that Jay and some of his male- as well as female- friends came back into their apartment to get more alcohol and snacks and that the both of you were fully visible to them all through the big windows in the kitchen-living room.

As you both reached your high at around the same time, you exchanged an intimate and lingering kiss with each other. You smiled against his teeth deciding that it’s time to head back inside and shower. Turning your head to spot your panties, you saw multiple people inside looking right at you. “FUCK HOON, they’re all standing there! They saw us!”. “And what about it, love?” Sunghoon brushed it off quickly being proud of it. “Your brother, Jay, also saw us? That’s about it, Hoon.”

“Well, wanna show them some more?” Sunghoon suggested smirking.