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periprose · 7 months ago

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Sweet as Nuka Cola

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Reader

You're an upcoming actress who has a constant flirtation with Cooper Howard. But even if things seem to be off to a good start, a nuclear bomb, a cryogenic pod, and two hundred years of carnage ruins all of it. Is there something to be salvaged from your relationship with Mr. Howard?

Genre: Mutual pining, flirting, slow-burn, angst, friends to kind-of enemies to lovers (no cheating but maybe it's a little murky?)

Word Count: 11k

“Action!”

“Hello. Yes, it’s me.” You wave at the camera, adorned in a classic-red sweetheart neckline dress. “You might know me from ‘Girls Want It All’ or ‘Next Door Babe.’”

Here, you play up your recent bombshell status. As Ed, the director of this advert, keeps reminding you, you need to sell yourself to make customers listen.

You sway in your dress, squeezing your arms and throwing your waist back to plump and push out your chest. The implication of the sex appeal in your movies keeps people watching.

But you’re still a rather new actress, so America might not know you so well. You’re glad Nuka Cola has hired you– if you want to be a star, you need more exposure.

“Do you enjoy feeling refreshed?” You cock your head to the camera, pursing your red lips. “Well, golly, what a silly question. Who doesn't?”

“That's where Nuka Cola comes in.” You lift a bottle out of the cooler next to you, all gentle in demeanour, showing off the logo of the bottle to the camera, in your perfectly manicured hands. “With triple the amount of caffeine found in competitor's bottled cola, it's sure to keep you feeling up for a long, long time.”

“And it's good for you.” Ed whispers, a last minute adlib you did not agree to, but you're a professional, so you add it on with a little wink.

“And it sure as heck is good for you.” You smile, the infamous smile that's won you notoriety to Hollywood execs for being the newest bombshell on the block, and you throw your shoulders back as you really lean into your image.

“Cut! That's a wrap, everyone!” Ed, wanting to finish early, quickly starts ushering everyone out so not a cent more gets spent.

You immediately relax out of your practised, professional smile. “Any ADR needed?”

“Don't think so, but we'll let you know.” The director is already moving onto whatever his next project is. Advertisements make more money than anything else these days.

You head over to catering, where you're craving– not a Nuka Cola, considering how much sugar is in that thing it's hardly refreshing at all– but an iced tea.

You stretch out your ankles in your kitten heels as you prepare it. If you told your Ma back in Mojave that the worst thing about fame would be the uncomfortable outfits, she'd smack you. So you keep it to yourself– you're grateful, you're humble, you'll never be an entitled asshole like those fucking execs.

“Watch out, I'm behind ya.” A man gently presses your shoulder as he walks next to you.

You know that voice. Famous movie cowboy, devilishly handsome, easy to admire. A career worth emulating.

“Mr. Howard?” You turn to look at him, and it is him. Wearing a tuxedo suit, smiling his classic, rugged grin at you.

“The one and the only.” He laughs in a self-deprecating way, as a man tired with his fame and used to mocking it. “Hey, wait, don't I know you?”

You immediately feel your face heat up. “Probably not– lots of people have mistaken me for Lucky Yates so far…”

“No, I do know you.” He points a finger at you, while pouring himself a mug of black coffee. “I told you mister, I'm not here for a long time. Just a good one, and if you can't provide it for me, I'll be inclined to look elsewhere.”

Cooper Howard does a perfect impression of your girly, haughty tone from “Girls Want It All”, and it surprises you that he even knows your dialogue that well. You're not used to this much attention, especially not from one of Hollywood's most notable movie stars.

He says your name.

“Yeah, that's me.” You say sheepishly– even though you know you have to fake that confidence, it's hard when you've been caught off guard. You're starstruck– you don't know how to operate, now realizing that even celebrities are noticing you. “Just shooting an ad for Nuka-Cola.”

“Ah, that’s smart of you.” He leans in– about to give you a bit of Hollywood advice, no doubt– and you feel yourself turning warm at the attention he’s giving you. “I wouldn’t expect any less from one of Hollywood’s upcoming stars– residuals aren’t enough to make the world go round.”

You know he’s admiring your street smarts, but you have to ask. “Upcoming, really?”

“Miss, I’m not sure many other actresses could’ve delivered that little monologue I just did without, er, pardon my language,” Cooper takes a sip of his coffee, his eyes peering down at you over the perimeter of the cup. “Fucking it up. Pantomiming too much wily, feminine shit that execs love, without that little edge of real, subtle emotion. I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

You giggle a little. “C’mon, really? I hardly got to act the way I wanted to.”

“That’s how it starts. Little moments, little subtleties where you’re letting your real character shine through– it’s noticeable to the industry. More opportunities come that way. But it’s smart to use, uh…” Cooper swallows, a tiny, imperceptible thing that reminds you of your bombshell image, that he must be thinking about it. “Smart to use such attractive imagery, if you get my drift. The public will eat you up.”

The way he drawls that latter part makes you feel excited, but you keep it down– it’s well known Cooper Howard is a married man, and you are not about to be ruined by an affair. Even if he does sound sort of flirty, this sort of complimenting is so common in Hollywood.

“What are you doing in the advertisement shooting lot?” You ask, changing the subject, and Cooper shrugs, a nonchalant ripple of a movement that tells you his general cool demeanour isn’t just acting.

“Promised my wife I’d shoot an advert for her. Vault-Tec, you know?” He admits, telling you he hasn’t forgotten about his wife, either. “Gotta head to the experimental Vault they’ve set up next door.”

“Yes, of course.” You, like anyone else, have seen the ads of Cooper in the Vault-Tec suit– it’s a rather controversial thing to be partaking in, but you think he knows what he’s doing.

“Well, Nuka-Cola.” He hands you an iced tea– one you didn’t even notice him making for you as you were talking to him. “I’ll see you around.”

The Ghoul walks around the wasteland, two hundred something years into the future.

He’s searching for a bounty– Leopold St. West– worth at least 1000 caps, and it’s terribly difficult to find him when every single person claims he’s in all these different locations, not a single one correlated to each other.

So he’s walking around a destroyed neighbourhood, where Leopold was last seen a day ago, if his fellow ghouls are to be trusted. If he had to guess, these are the remnants of China Town– the faux Asian-esque details, the cheesy red colouring, the false authenticity Hollywood loves to portray as “good as the real thing”. God, Coop does not miss some parts of the fame.

He suddenly stumbles over a piece of the broken sidewalk. Coop’s usually pretty agile, nonchalant on his feet– he knows this feeling. He’s going through withdrawal.

“Shit, I need a minute.” He mutters to himself, feeling a bit woozy.

He's only got a couple more vials of drugs, so he can't be using them all willy-nilly. No, he needs to recoup things and go through this carefully.

Shelter is necessary– the longer Coop is out in the sun, the harsher the effects of withdrawal feel. And, if he’s lucky, one of these buildings might have something for him to loot– more drugs if he’s extra, extra lucky.

Coop enters a nondescript building– where a radroach is waiting, and he immediately fires at it without even looking, killing it in one shot– and he sees the sign over the entry way, marking the lobby.

This is some Hollywood executive-owned club. It’s hard to tell– two hundredyears of wear-and-tear will do that for you– but Cooper Howard distinctly remembers this place, maybe in some conversation back then, maybe when he was networking.

Every single thing has a distinct, thick layer of grime over it. Coop thinks of sweaty strippers dancing, actors cheating on their wives– they’re all probably dead now.

He reaches into his satchel and takes a hit of one of his vials– and hopes he can replace what he uses with something here.

There’s not a single bottle behind the bar, and he jostles through, not seeing a chem or a drug left behind by anyone on the floor or behind the counter, and he’s mildly disgruntled over how every place has nearly everything picked clean by raiders, wastelanders– just other people. Coop will always loathe these other assholes.

He climbs the broken stairs with a lanky, languid stretch, making it over a fairly large hole where a corpse waits on the floor below. A raider who didn’t watch where he was stepping. That tells him there should be loot up on this upper floor– at least a bit of it.

He walks to the one closed door in a less-than-discreet hallway, gold sconces and railings marking the way.

“Ah… private office.” Coop jiggles an ostentatious handle to a mahogany door, that is surely leading to an even more pretentiously ostentatious office, and he finds that it’s locked.

A good sign. Most likely no one’s ever been in there, because it’s probably a difficult lock to pick.

It surprises him that no one’s ever just forced their way through.

Coop doesn’t waste time on this though– he just takes a teeny gun out of his bag, fires it, and admires the hole in the door where the handle used to be. The door creaks open on it’s own, and he saunters into a well furnished, dusty office room.

“Nope, nope, nope…” He pushes box after box in the shelves next to the wall, and they fall with loud clatter– loaded with panicky, nuclear-war-on-the-horizon type shit, like canned meats and beans and preserved jams and pickles. “Fuck no.”

He pushes off a toy figurine of Vault Boy down with extra gusto.

Coop looks behind the desk, where there’s a dusty placard reading Adrian Amos II. He grins– one of the worst producer bastards of all time is not someone he’d feel bad about stealing from, even if there was still some conscience left in him. No, sir, Adrian Amos the second did not deserve any sympathy, especially after the way he was known for bitching about salaries, abusing PAs, and having a predilection for going after less-than-consenting women.

Coop grits his teeth, remembering that asshole and how terrible and gaudy this club was back then. Not that it was better now– but he’s grateful for one man’s deserved death, at least.

He jostles open where the second drawer is filled with the glass clinking sound of many, many vials.

“Fucking jackpot, Jesus.” Coop stares down at how many there are– at least 40 or 50– a hell of a lot to just be left behind.

Well, based on the other supplies, Adrian Amos got fucked over and either didn’t make it to his vault in time, or forgot to run to his private club before heading in.

Coop doesn’t give a fuck, though. He starts piling the vials into his cases, and then back into his bag.

There’s a sudden whirring sound near him. “Huh?”

To his left, an imperceptible secret door has pushed itself outwards, decorated in the same dark brown wallpaper as the rest of the room.

Coop looks down and under– he’s accidentally pressed a secret button on the underside of the drawer. “Fuck.”

He doesn’t know what would be inside the secret room– assassins, raiders waiting on someone to dupe? Maybe even synths, just meant to protect Amos when he needed it.

Inside the room, it’s dark, and he can’t make out anything. Coop can only draw his gun rapidly when there’s a blue light suddenly emitting out from the inside.

He’s careful as he approaches– last thing Coop wants is an ambush– and as his vision improves, he sees it’s a cryonic pod, all frosted over so he can’t make out who’s inside.

Coop sighs, ready to leave it behind– he’s not interested in waking up Amos– and instead, the thing whirs, heating up it’s insides with extremely hot steam, and then opens up with a mechanical flourish.

Coop instinctively steps back, coughing “Holy shit!” as the air whooshes past him.

A body falls out, just looking slightly frosted– mostly thawed by whatever the cryo tank just did.

You're on set again, sitting in a free lawn chair while others get ready for their take– it's not for a Nuka-Cola ad, it's just a guest appearance on everyone's favourite sitcom, The Grady Group, where you play an overly promiscuous babysitter who has no sense for watching over kids.

It's comedic, it's an easy way to get laughs– plus it actually boosts the shows’ ratings since you've been in movies and all. You’re done filming already, you’re just sitting here watching the rest of the shoot, dragging out your return to your car, and then back home.

Something about the fictional family you wait on, Gill and Gina Grady, and their kids Gideon, Gessica, and Gwen, it makes you miss having a family of your own. In fact, you have half a mind to call your mother, despite all the bitching she’ll give you about the things you haven’t done yet.

It also doesn't help that Gill and Gina are a couple in real life– named Arthur and Bea Smith, they really, really are in love, and in between takes they're often canoodling with each other.

You're happy for them, if not a little– jealous, despite the fact that you're not interested in dating anyone right now. At least, you thought you weren't, but you find that lately, when you return back to your apartment all lonesome after a shoot, you feel like something is missing.

“Hey. Nuka-Cola.” Cooper Howard strolls over to where you're sitting, and you smile up at him, covering your eyes from the sunlight streaming through the windows.

“Mr. Howard. Shooting today?” You ask, and he shakes his head.

“Not at all. Just lounging around, waiting for my kid.” He sits in the lawn chair next to you, leaning back, crossing one leg over the other. “Janey is on a field trip at a museum next door– I thought I’d kill some time before picking her up.”

“Ah, cute.” You grin. Janey Howard is an absolutely precious kid– she shares her dad’s smile, but has a curious nature that you admire. “Is she well?”

“As well as kids can be at that age, running around all the time.” Cooper shrugs. “You know how it is.”

“Kind of. I actually did used to babysit kids, so I know– they can never sit still or mind their business.” You laugh as Cooper grins.

“So you went method for your guest appearance, huh?” He asks, and you’re mildly baffled.

“How do you know about that?” You squint at him, just being jokingly suspicious.

“Oh, I saw a few clips of your footage. While I was walking over here.” He points over at Stu, the director, standing on the living room set, watching clips on his viewfinder. “Seemed pretty natural to me.”

It almost bothers you that he seems so interested in you and your work, that he always voices support– but he’s well-known for being happily married, for being content in general, unlike you.

Still, better a friend than nothing at all, that’s what you always tell yourself.

“Thanks. But it’s not hard being around kids, is it?” You reminisce being a kid in Mojave, playing with your friends on your street– and then as a young adult, babysitting new kids that still wanted to play with you. “I still sometimes feel like I’m just a kid pretending to be an adult.”

“That never goes away, darlin’.” Cooper laughs, and you blink. “Being an actor, especially, you’re never losing that childhood sense of wonder, you get my drift?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nod. “I just don’t feel complete, I guess. I’m still waiting for the moment I’ll know I’m an adult– like maybe if I get married or something like that.”

“Being married didn’t change that for me either. Neither did being a dad.” He winces, and scratches at his stubble. “Just don’t tell anyone I said that, but I think it’s all apart of being a human person.”

Your face turns a little more glum at that, and he wonders what he said that bummed you out. It’s not his intention– he wants to cheer you up.

“What’s with the sad, forlorn, ‘I’m-a-pretty-girl-come-comfort-me�� look?” Cooper utters as he leans in, and you laugh a little but silence yourself, recognizing his compliment.

It’s dangerous to flirt with this guy, this taken man who has nothing to gain but a bit of affection he may be missing, but you see that he knows his compliment had effect anyways– and he definitely likes that.

You just choose to assume it’s entirely friendly.

“I just… I like the thought of having a family.” You suck in air,at how foolish and girly this sounds, hardly the cutthroat businesswoman you need to be out here. “This is stupid, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it isn’t.” Cooper taps his arm rest, thinking. “You’re hurting, I can tell. You got that same pissed off look most ladies get when they ‘don’t wanna talk’ but they’re holding tons of shit inside.”

Damn this guy, you think, but you decide to be honest.

“I just didn’t think it’d be so lonely out here. In Hollywood.” You press your palms together. “Like, everywhere I go, I’m surrounded by classic Americana, the nuclear family– and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m jealous.”

“As a bachelorette, don’t you got plenty of options?” Cooper grins. “I mean, are men not lining up to court Nuka-Cola girl?”

“Ah…” You hum, thinking of dates you’ve had here, settling back in your seat. “I don’t know– it’s cheesy but I want more sincerity.”

“In that case, don’t be jealous, marriage ain’t all that.” Cooper tuts, knowing that you of all people should hear about how it doesn’t complete you. “It’s not perfect, it’s not a magical fairy-tale where everything gets solved, it’s a hell of a lot more work than people let on.”

“Oh.” You knew that, deep down– but hearing it from him really solidifies that for you. It’s a silly dream.

It sounds like he’s speaking from experience, so you quiet down. But you’re not trying to get your hopes up about that or anything.

“And you’re not an idiot, Nuka-Cola. Don’t get into something you’re not a hundred fucking percent sure about.” Cooper clicks his tongue. “If you really feel the urge to suddenly go and play wife with someone, just for me, make sure he’s absolutely worth it.”

“For you?” You raise your eyebrows at that.

“I figure you won’t do it for yourself. Love is blind and all that.” He points at himself. “But if I, as your buddy Cooper, hold you to that? I’ll bet that you’ll vet every single guy.”

“Oh, really.” You smirk at him, your nose scrunching a little. “Is that for my benefit, or yours?”

“Uh…” Cooper is truly caught off guard here. He knows he didn’t intend anything by what he said, but it does feel like… he won’t enjoy the fact that if the next few times he talks to you, continuing become close to you, he’ll have to get the approval of some man.

Some man who wouldn’t even know you as long he has known you. He always likes his chats with you, and there’s an urge inside him not to let you go.

He thinks again that you’re a little too spontaneous. Not easy to dupe, no– he can’t just flirt with you for fun because you’ll always pick up on it, even if he did it by mistake.

“No comment.” He finally answers with a raspy, low tone, one that you barely hear but are satisfied by.

A few months later, you check your face in your little compact mirror before stuffing it in your purse and heading inside Sebastian Leslie’s home. Exciting, yes, because this is the first time you’ve been invited not just to network, not just because a big name has seen you in the movies and wants to flaunt that they know you tangentially.

No, this is the first time you know someone, you’re actually in with a crowd– you’re friends with the host. You don’t feel nearly as awkward walking into Sebastian’s comfortable home and seeing familiar faces that you’re close with, decor that you already recognize.

“There she is.” Sebastian greets you with a tight hug– for a massive flirt he’s actually rather protective of you sometimes. “Love the dress, by the way– is that a vintage Chanel? Black is very flattering on you, my dear.”

You get the sense he didn’t want you to be involved in this industry sometimes, but other times– he likes that you put work in.

“I saw your newest advertisement on TV yesterday.” He comments, and you giggle.

“Was it good?”

“Yeah, amazing as usual– but you gotta do more than that.” Sebastian holds your hand as he pulls you into the crowd of other low-level actors, people who could risk showing up, really, and you fix your dress, a black one with a low square neckline. “Look into Vault-Tec– I’ve been telling Cooper here about how our futures are totally going to be surrounded by their products, even though that fucker does not want to listen.”

Cooper’s lounging in a low sofa in the pit of this living room, holding a crystal glass full of amber liquid, black button up shirt half open– he looks dishevelled, hair slightly askew, jaw off-kilter as he presses his tongue into his cheek, thinking. Lost by something, but still put together as celebrities are. Geez, you really need to temper your attraction to him.

It doesn’t help how he looks at you, either– there’s something deep and reverent about his gaze, like he wants to believe whatever he sees when he’s looking at you– but you have no idea if it’s real, or if it’s just an act like with most of these celebrities.

You used to see him a lot more frequently too, over the last few months. Either at set, or at more fancy parties– most of which he’s been perfectly pleasant and kind to you.

“Of course you’d label me as some fucking chairman for them, Seabass.” Cooper slams back half a pint of whisky, and pours himself some more. “Hey, Nuka-Cola.”

“Hey, Mr. Howard.” You smile gently. You’ve heard about his divorce– everyone has, but you’re not 100% sure why it’s happened, why now when things seemed to be going so well for him.

Well is relative, though. You know loads of actors have decried him privately– no one wants to hang out with the man promoting the end of the world, apparently. It must be a tough thing to only be hired for your wife’s advertisements– and even then, you don’t exactly agree with what they’re marketing, either.

You don’t feel so strongly against Cooper, though. Maybe because you do like him– but also because you know what it’s like to have your image connected to something you don’t really promote. Nuka-Cola isn’t healthy, it’s got enough sugar to induce instant death when drank regularly. But you do it for the connections, the money– and you’re sure Cooper did too.

“Cooper is fine.” He grumbles, and you remember his last name is maybe a sore subject right now.

“Sorry.” You do your best to be delicate as you sit next to him, and Sebastian sits on the other side of you. “How’re you, Cooper?”

“Not bad. If you count being divorced as being alright.” He sighs, and you feel terrible that you even asked. “It’s like I never knew her, man– I thought Barb was different. Or they changed her, I don’t fucking know.”

“She had her eyes set on the prize. As did you, Coop.” Sebastian states, and Cooper turns, affronted.

“We’re all interested in money and glory, Seabass. Fuck you if you think otherwise.” Cooper tenses, and you feel a bit awkward listening in on this conversation.

“What did I say that negates that? I’m as money hungry as they come.” Sebastian shrugs. “I only meant that– despite it all, making money was what you had in common, evidently not the world-going-nuclear shit. Maybe you’ve got a heart of gold, a change of mind, I don’t know, Cooper. But throwing away an easy life just to pay alimony must be fucking awful, so I just don’t think you’re in it for the money anymore.”

“You’re fucking telling me.” Cooper sniggers. “I don’t think Barb cares. I’m here with no career, and she’s out there getting promoted in Vault-Tec. As for the heart of gold… any former marine would’ve been against that shit.”

You want to ask what shit, but you don’t want to overstep your boundaries. You get the general fear of nuclear war– but Cooper sounds more personally affected by it.

Cooper glances over at you. “What do you think? Better to be richer than you can spend in a lifetime, or to be out with a good conscience?”

“I don’t know if I’m that interested in money.” You say honestly, and Cooper raises his eyebrows.

“Really? Nuka-Cola’s a saint, huh.” He chuckles– he’s clearly a bit buzzed.

“No, I’m not. Of course I want to have a career.” You think about this carefully, so it doesn’t sound insincere. “Making money is nice– but I don’t think I have the right to say it should come at the cost of human lives. You know Nuka-Cola is terrible for you, right? ”

Cooper stares at you for a moment too long, and then looks away. “Yeah… addicting.”

He’s definitely not talking about Cola, but you continue on. “Yeah, so just in that way– I disagree with how much power marketing has. We’ve convinced America that they need this– just so some chairman can make an extra dollar.”

Cooper looks at you, renewed by whatever you just said. “Hell, woman after my own heart. That’s damn true.”

“Yes, yes, you two oblivious flirts– there’s no art in filmmaking anymore, just commercialism. Not like it hasn’t been the case for a century.” Sebastian chimes in, and you bite your lip, pretending not to notice how Cooper’s face is smirking bashfully. “But, babe. You’re going to want to make your money before the world fucking ends.”

“What’s that?” You startle, and Cooper laughs sardonically at your surprise, while Sebastian gets up.

“Let me get myself a drink– I hardly want to tell this story sober.” He leaves, and Cooper has half a heart to glare at him– he knows Sebastian is leaving the two of you alone so he can do the dirty work.

Not like his reputation can ever get better, especially by telling this story again with it’s lurid details, but at least it doesn't hurt that he's with you.

“What does he mean by that, Mr. Howard?” You wince at your use of that. “Sorry– I meant Cooper.”

“Ah, call me what you’d like.” Cooper takes another sip of his drink, leaning back in the couch to the point where he is practically lying down and against you. “It sounds good coming out of your mouth no matter what you pick, Nuka-Cola.”

Now that’s a suggestive, loaded line, and you feel a little more comfortable flirting with him even if it’s a bit of a rebound for him. The end of the world is approaching, right?

“The end of the world?” You prod at him, and he sighs, leaning against your shoulder.

“It’s fucking ridiculous, what it is… probably never going to happen anytime soon.” Cooper’s tone of voice is hazy as he examines his last sip of whisky in the glass. “No, no. Just something those fucking commies put in my head. I guess they’re not really commies, are they?”

“Unless you elaborate, I can’t say.” You utter back at him, and he pushes down a smile.

“Alright. Vault-Tec’s been selling this nuclear protective stuff, right?” He says, and you nod, your cheek brushing against the top of his hair. “All I can say is that a few… radicals, if you will, think that Vault-Tec might actually be more involved with it than they say. Like, they might be…”

“Not just protective, huh? More offensive? Everyone’s got that feeling, Mr. Howard. And that doesn't sound like a particularly commie-train-of-thought to me.” You hear the sorrow in his tone, even if he’s trying to make it sound like a rumour. “Did you hear this from your ex-wife?”

Cooper winces here. He still feels slightly guilty about spying on her. A part of him thinks they might’ve not divorced if he hadn’t found out– but he knows he was bound to find out eventually, and he would’ve just delayed the inevitable.

“Maybe, Cola. Maybe you’re just sharp.” He whispers, and you smile and he feels it– your skin is intoxicatingly close right now.

“So, odds are?” You ask, just curious, and he exhales.

“Bad. I have to agree with them.” He admits, and it feels exhilarating to admit this– that Vault-Tec is gonna nuke the world at some point, that the radicals are more like minded to him than he’s wanted to believe in the past. “Even if it didn’t cost my movies, I regret partaking in what they were selling.”

That’s a big thing for him to say– you know Cooper loves acting, he absolutely adores playing a hardened sheriff, the last vestige of goodness in the wild, wild west. All the times you’ve visited him on his set– probably during his last contractual movie, now that you think about it– and he was always so excited to show off the architecture and intricacies of the fictional western town they’d set up, share script details and little character quirks so you could have an insider’s viewpoint. He even donned his cowboy hat on you, saying you wore it like a natural.

He loved being the hero, really.

He lights a cigarette, and takes a puff.

“Most big-name connections refuse to talk to me because of this stuff– I’ve basically been dropped out of phonebooks all together. They think I’m still in on it, they think I’ve only stopped because of backlash–” He stops as you begin to scratch his scalp, still leaning against your shoulder, but getting progressively into your neck area.

Jesus, that feels good. He thinks. He hasn’t been intimate in a while– Barb became increasingly more cold to him over the last few months, as their marriage kept falling apart.

“Backlash, really?” You whisper.

“Yeah.” He stutters for just a moment, because your eyes are peering into his, and for a moment he thinks you could really make it as just a bombshell if you wanted to– then he takes another puff. “When really, I was just backing out of what I thought was really a massive crime against humanity.”

“Are you only telling me this to validate your poor conscience? Remedy that reputation a little?” You ask, and he presses his lips together.

“Well, I'll be honest, yeah. Of fucking course I'd tell the one woman who seems to be like me on this.” He sounds so certain of you, sounds so sure that you're on his side.

And you absolutely are.

“The world’s about to end, Mr. Howard. You're not a bad man for not wanting to support it. I'm inclined to agree.” You inhale deeply, and Cooper stares at you– something stirs inside him as he does.

“Kiss me, then. Humour me– since none of this will matter soon.” Cooper murmurs, lying on top of your chest now, the smoke from his cigarette enveloping your face.

He’s so close you barely have to move to oblige to what he’s said– you're second guessing yourself for just a moment, because it feels like a dream that he'd ask you to do this, so out of the blue, such a picture perfect fantasy that you almost don't care about the impending doom, and you press your lips gently to his in an upside-down kiss, his hair brushing against your open cleavage, but Cooper is insistent and leans upward, kissing you with such intensity that your head is spinning afterwards.

God, now that's a movie star kiss. You think.

He kisses you again as Sebastian returns, drink in hand.

“Oi! You two. Jesus Christ, can't keep your hands off each other, can you?” Sebastian pretends to vomit. “C’mon, if I want to talk to you at my party, I should have that right.”

You attempt to pull away– but Cooper, being a little mischevious, perhaps wanting to show off in a way he hasn’t been able to, sits up right and kisses you again, this time normally, just very slowly and passionately though, slithering an arm around your waist in a way that has Sebastian rolling his eyes.

“Okay, present.” He says, not pulling his arm off your waist.

“Thanks.” Sebastian shakes his head. “I was thinking we should take the mood off with some party games…”

It's about 2 AM when you've finally left the party. Cooper didn't want to let you go– he's crashing at an apartment for the time being, but you really don't want to waste yourself on being his rebound, if he really likes you.

You tell him as much, and he likes that– you really are rather sharp about things.

“Well. Gimme a call when you realize I'm not kidding around with you.” He says unabashedly, holding your hand, kissing it as you leave.

You’re absolutely sure he's drunk, and he's being a little too clingy– but you want to believe him anyways.

You walk back to your car, alone. Thinking about if Cooper is worth the damage it could have on your potential career. But then again– the end of the world is coming, right?

So maybe it won’t matter. And you find that you like this, the secret potential of this option, just hanging out with Cooper in a place that used to be America, no more expectations on you both. There’s also the chance you just both die, though.

You shudder.

You don't notice that there's a man in the backseat of your car when you get in, brandishing a chloroform stained cloth.

The Ghoul prods at the body that's just fallen out of the cryo pod.

Oh fuck.

It's starting to stir, whoever it is, and Coop knows he's ready, if this is really some synthetic android-clone thing, to make their life hell. Get some of his anger out on something that doesn’t matter.

Wait– he recognizes that cherry red fabric. That coiffed hair, frosty after being inside the pod. Oh, Jesus… even the makeup is the same as when he last saw you.

“Ah… shit.” He chuckles to himself in exasperation, because this is beyond belief. “Nuka-Cola, is that you?”

You tilt yourself to the side, eyes bleary, unable to see clearly. Everything’s dark. But you know that voice, you just heard it a couple of days ago.

“Mr. Howard?” You croak out, and he hisses inwards– nobody has called him that in centuries. Nobody knows who he is… except for you, of course.

“The one and the same, baby.” He licks the side of his gums, deciding to stick with his identity for now. “Well, maybe a little different. You wouldn't happen to know what a Ghoul is, huh?”

“What?” You don't know how long your vision is going to stay black for, but you don't like the sound of that. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Eyes haven't been opened for… two hundred years. I'll give you some time, Cola.” He sighs; cracks his neck, while you sink back into the floor. “Just imagine the ugliest horror-picture monster you can imagine. Zombie, no nose. That paint a picture for you?”

“...”

“What was that?” Coop can't hear you when your voice is muffled into the tiles of this secret room. He grasps your hair gently, from the root, pulling your head upwards so you'll speak– clearly you don't have the strength to lift up your body.

“I said, how is that any different from before?”

“Oh, she's still a jokester.” Coop scoffs– despite himself he snorts– and he lets go of your hair so you land back on the floor with a thump.

“–Ow!” You flinch, and then turn over so you’re on your back. “Still an asshole, huh?”

“Me?” He grins maliciously. Ooh, maybe he can use some misplaced anger on you. “You're the one who didn't call back for several weeks.”

“How could I? You can see I've been trapped in a cryo thing for… however long. Did you say two hundred years?” You flatly ask, and Coop still thinks you're lying.

“Yes, and bullshit. You probably had a couple weeks since I last saw you to call me.” He states, and he doesn’t actually hold a grudge, at least not that much of it in comparison to all the other horrid shit that’s happened to him– he just thinks it's funny to push your buttons after all of that, like looking into a mirror of the past– and you groan.

“No, I didn't. I got in my car after Sebastian's party, and some goon sprayed something in my face, I passed out, and he drove me here.” You start, and you begin frowning in such a way that Coop almost feels bad.

“Why you, sweetheart?” He shakes his head. “You weren't exactly high up in popularity yet.”

“Exactly. No one would miss me.” You spit out bitterly, remember the end to that night, where you were so unaware of your surroundings, and terrified of being assaulted as you were pushed around into this room, blindfolded.

“Adrian fucking Amos, the fucking Second, thought it would be great if I just became his permanent doll during the apocalypse.” You swallow, and Coop sits down next to you, to listen more clearly. You shift towards his body heat– and to his surprise, he still likes that. “See, his daddy has shares in Vault-Tec, so he decided before nuclear fallout happened, he wanted a guaranteed sex slave from his favourite advertisements.”

“Nuka-Cola.” Coop utters with the slowest drawl, concluding your statement– and you like that.

“Yeah, Nuka fucking Cola.” You grimace. “Then he undressed me, put me in this little number, and threw me in the pod. I barely remember this shit because I was so out of it.”

“Shame. I always wondered why you never called me back.” Coop circles back to his little grudge– but he also feels bad, feels some level of guilt that neither he nor Sebastian had the sense to look out for you back then, and you were practically assaulted (maybe actually so if you didn't remember).

“Yeah, because I wanted to miss out on that piece of ass. Sure.” You joke feebly, and Coop laughs despite himself.

“Honey, you're gonna run away screaming when you finally see me. Don't worry about it.” He shakes his head. “The real world's a lot more fucking difficult than would'ves and could'ves.”

“Okay, explain. If you're willing to owe me that much.” You start, and Coop gets reminded of that fateful night a couple hundred years ago, where he was the one to clue you into the impending nuclear war.

Not even three months later, it was all over, and you were nowhere in sight– if his mind ever did drift to you, the what-ifs and who-knows that still persisted– he would always assume you were dead.

Now he thinks you're just unfinished business.

“Fine.” He taps your shoulder, and you lean a little closer towards him– you touch his hand, and instead of flinching as many people have in the past– you trace the tough, callused skin there.

He thinks there’s something wrong with you. Why do you seem drawn to him anyways? You’re completely fucking up his tough guy, lone-wolf persona by being here, and he wants you gone. He pulls away his hand, ignoring how your face falls for a moment.

Coop inhales, and then starts. “In October 2077, they nuked America, bombed it all to hell. By they, I think we both know what I’m implying.”

“It wasn’t the Chinese.” You interrupt, and he shushes you.

“Yeah, Cola.” He starts playing with his fingers, feeling like you don’t deserve to be here right now. That you should’ve just stayed dead. “Vault-Tec destroyed it all.”

It’s no good. He’s an old man, and you’re still as soft and young as ever. He’s always haunted by his past, like with Barb and Janey, and then Sebastian’s voice in every single Mr. Handy robot he comes by, and then finally, his last couple memories with you.

“The last two hundred something years have been filled with carnage, death, unspeakable horrors that your pretty little mind could never comprehend.” He grits out, pushing past the past and remembering that this is who he is now– a killer– and you stare at him vacantly, because his tone is so much more serious suddenly. “Nothing is the same. Everyone has blood on their hands, water is a fucking commodity, if you’re not watching out for humans to betray you, hideous creatures like me roam the ground, and that ground? Sands, deserts, barely a hint of green. It’s nothing worth coming back to.”

“So you’re saying I’m in hell.” You suddenly inhale harshly, and Coop ignores the urge to check on you.

The last thing he needs is an extra person to take care of– especially someone who doesn’t know the Wasteland. So it’s better now that he just weans you off and leaves you here.

“Yeah, sweetheart. And I'm the devil.” Coop sucks on his teeth again. “If you had any sense, you’d go back into that fucking freezer until some utopia is born four hundred years from–”

You flinch, and he stops.

“Oh, God, my eyes–”

The sight comes back slowly then all at once. Light everywhere, overwhelming your senses.

You blink, tears rolling down your face.

“Maybe it would’ve been better if you stayed blind, Cola.” He stares at you as you rub your eyes, taking in the state of the room.

It’s a warning, but you look up at him again anyways. And Coop waits for the utter horror, for the sign that he really has transformed into a monster, so he can hurry up and leave– this entire conversation with you is just him finishing Cooper Howard’s past with a bow. A shiny, Nuka-Cola-red bow.

“...” You swallow, and then bite your lip, tilting your head up at him. “Couldn’t let go of the cowboy identity, huh?”

Coop furrows his non-existent eyebrows, disliking how hard you’re making this, how clever you still seem to be– you also seem way too relaxed with him. He has half a mind to fire a warning shot at you. “Yeah, okay, darlin’. You’re just avoiding facing that horrific, bile-inducing sensation in your throat, aren’t you?”

You shake your head, disagreeing immediately. “You might look– a little less like how I remember you, I guess… but you’re still you. I see it, and apparently so do you.”

How dare you? Coop thinks, how dare you intertwine his two images together so easily when he could never be the same man again, when just seeing an old VHS tape of one of his movies pains him?

“Yeah, no thanks. If this is your way to get me to valet you around, I’m not that man anymore, Nuka-Cola.” He resents the way you think he could still be good– just because his western image brings him a little comfort nowadays. “Not a sheriff anymore.”

Your face drops, but you seem to take that information readily. “Yeah, I figured that based on your outfit, the little blood splatters on your pants… if that’s how the world is, then so be it.”

You’re saying things that on paper should be right– but Coop is getting more and more disgruntled with you, and you feel like you need to separate yourself from him. Yes, tough, because to you it’s been all of forty-eight hours since you kissed him– but you can see, no matter how deep the original Cooper Howard is inside this new Ghoul, you’re not going to be able to bring him out.

You stand up, on shaky, bare feet, and motion for Coop to move out of the way. Independent woman to the end, you are, and you want to get your bearings without him.

Coop internally sighs. He doesn’t believe for one second you’ll survive out there– and he really doesn’t need to spend the time seeing you die, so he turns around, and leaves you here.

He never did find Leopold St. West, much to his chagrin– you really, really messed up his day.

It happens. Sometimes he’ll see Janey in another person’s eyes and freak out, and have to boil it down by murdering random raiders.

But now Coop is just spiteful. He’s always figured that a lot of what happened to the world was just a bunch of rich people picking and choosing a destiny for themselves to the detriment of everyone else, and now he’s aware that included you, too. To casually be grabbed away by some man, just because he was rich… Coop isn’t unsympathetic to how you ended up, even if he treated you quite poorly. It’s sickening.

Two hundred years of quiet, always-dwelling agony, the first few years out of fear for being alone, and the next few years spent conspiring about what could’ve happened to his family– and then here you are as confirmation of his worst theories.

No wonder he enjoys his casket time.

Coop sighs.

Vaultie is hard to keep track of. She got away with murder this time at the organ harvesting clinic– so Coop finds it easier to stop working with her, to move when he wants to.

The Govermint (really just Booker’s shitty gang) was rather easy to dismantle. The two sheriffs that he killed required no expertise on his part.

He’s thinking about the fact that since Moldaver is still alive, and apparently that fucker Hank MacLean, then that means there’s a good chance Barb and Janey are too– perhaps he could go and find them.

It’s an odd urge, though. Everytime he thinks about it, he wonders how he’s actually supposed to connect with them again– they’ve been fractured for so long, and he’s changed, and there’s a good chance neither of them would accept him like this.

But you did, didn’t you? You were on the verge of saying yes, you’d accept him– as if nothing had changed.

Coop grumbles. The big, significant difference is that you were infatuated with him, but Barb divorced him, and Janey was too young to make that choice. He considers that it could be a pipe dream, but he still has hope– for Janey, at least.

He thinks you’re probably dead anyways. He hasn’t seen you in several months, since that day where he unceremoniously woke you up– and he hopes it stays that way.

He's chilling in another small, scrappy area of the wasteland. Nobody bothers the Ghoul, not when he's casually fiddling with his gun and and chewing on a toothpick.

A man runs past him, holding a significantly valuable piece of Brotherhood equipment. Maybe worth thousands of caps if he knows his shit, and he does. That’s a fusion core, and they’re not exactly mass producing those anymore during the apocalypse.

Coop points his gun at him, finger on the trigger, seconds away from creating a bloody mess–

A blade thwacks into the guy’s neck, blood spurting as he falls and chokes. A person– a woman– jumps on his back, her face obscured by a deep green bandana . She yanks out the knife, stabs a few more times for good measure– and Coop knows the game, he’s not surprised he’s not the only one to go after this guy.

He’s pretty good at killing casually, and he barely even moves from where he’s standing, aiming the gun at her.

No way is he letting easy money pass by him.

He’s about to pull the trigger extra-quick when she yanks the bandana down, taking a deep breath as she sweats, and Coop actually misses.

It’s you. You stare up at him from where you’re squatting over the body, and your gaze hardens, furrowed brows, dark lashes, intensely dark pupils. You purse your lips, press them together, jaw set in a stern fashion, recognizing him but refusing to hear him out– and Coop doesn’t know why he’s not firing, but he’s almost… enamoured with how you are now, almost taken aback by your new nature.

Not so taken aback that he doesn’t immediately start firing when you take the fusion core and start running.

And Coop doesn’t want to actually kill you, he just wants to incite some damage. See how far you can take it.

You interweave through random gaps in the metal scraps of this little abode, seeking shelter as you do so, and Coop’s gunfire only ricochets off them with cartoony sounding “pings!”

He manages to graze your left thigh through a small window, and you inhale sharply, stopping as you grit through the pain.

Coop grins to himself. This little cat and mouse chase is what he expected, what was predictable from you– you’re smart enough to stay on the defense, but you would probably never attack him, avoiding him because of your sad feelings of the old times, never resort to carnage unless you needed to–

You shove past the walls where you’ve been roaming, and manage one kick against his stomach and he manages to grab you and restrain you, your back against his front.

You grab his own jacket for purchase, and instead of pulling forward– you push back, landing on top of him with a thud that surely hurts him. Coop clenches his teeth, back against the ground now, but you scramble, straddling him. Hands around his throat, knife pressed against one of his tendons. Not outright strangling him, but just enough pressure that he knows you’re seriously threatening him.

Holy fuck, have you changed. Just like Vaultie, maybe you’re showing your honest self– and Coop supposes it may have been his mistake to underestimate you.

“Got a whole new outfit… I like it.” He admires your new leather jacket, cargo pants around your thighs pushing his arms down, a blouse fashioned out of your old Nuka-Cola dress. Tough combat boots dig into his thighs as you push against him. “Don’t fucking start–” You squeeze a little harder and he groans, the tip of the knife pushing in. “With your on and off, hot and cold bullshit.”

Ooh, it sounds like you have a little bit of a grudge over how you were treated.

“Get over it, Cola. It was centuries ago, whatever we had.” He spits out, and you have a glint of sadness in your eyes.

He knew you were a little too gushy for your own good– not even he adapted that quickly to the wilderness of the Wasteland. He waits for you to make the mistake, apologize, break down– and then he can take the core and get out of here.

But you’re still firm in your grasp of him, your weight pushing him down, blade against him.

You’re not angry about back then. You’ve come to terms with that.

You’re angry at the state of the world.

“You know what I fucking hate, Ghoul?” You spit in his face, and he blinks, spittle now on his chin. “You are all so selfish. I got left behind, likely for dead, right, and nobody gives a shit, whatever. But instead of me hoping that the leftover crumbs of society would at least try to be, I don’t fucking know, more hopeful and kind, or at the very least, not be so fucking greedy and transparently trying to be the new party in charge.”

“You’re living in a dream world.” Coop interrupts, and he’s rewarded with you carving a small, little cut on his cheek, a rapid movement you hardly think about, and it causes him to inhale sharply, a drop of blood smearing across his face.

“Oh, no. I’m not asking for everyone to hold hands and play family.” You laugh suddenly, and then somehow lean in closer, and Coop finds that in some fucked up way he enjoys the pressure against him. “It’s bullshit, that kind of image making– you and I both know that. But for all this supposed talk against the rich billionaires who ruined our lives, how are we not just emulating them?”

Coop is actually drawn to silence.

“Maybe you actually got fooled by self-image, Cola.” He murmurs. “Or maybe that’s just people’s true nature.”

You don’t like that answer. You don’t actually want to believe that, but the more you think about it, the more it’s probably true. People lie all the time, but the amount of outrage you’ve heard from people the last few months, bemoaning Vault-Tec and all those rich fuckers, you were inclined to believe they wouldn’t act the exact same way.

Just at a different level. Power corrupts all, you guess.

You loosen your grasp a little. “Thank you.”

It’s honest, and Coop doesn’t like how much he does like your nature of trusting him– how even as this new, terrible version of yourself, you still trust him, and you still ask for his advice.

He doesn’t know what to make of this, but he thinks maybe he can get some use out of you yet.

Coop wrangles his arm from out under your thigh, where you’ve accidentally let a gap through, and shoves you over.

You fall with a gasp, hitting the ground, and he stands up and kicks you for good measure, while you screech in pain.

Coop picks you up by your throat, and you instantly move to fighting– your blade against his stomach, teeth gritted in resolute urge to kill– but he’s got his pistol at your neck, and the way he brushes it against you is almost like a lover’s embrace.

“One thing I hate is a fucking liar, Cola.” He grumbles, and you glare at him. “You’re not some innocent– why else do you got a fusion core in your pocket?”

“I never claimed I was a good woman.” You shake your head. “I just wonder why the Brotherhood, the Enclave, hell, even some of the Raiders… everyone wants the ultimate piece of the pie.”

“Besides, you’re the one who kept saying to survive out here I’d have to be a killer.” You remind him, and he looks down at you, thinking. “The world’s grieving– I don’t blame it for that, I feel the same way.”

You’ve still got a way with words, he thinks, and he was right. He can use you for his benefit.

“Say, Nuka-Cola. Why don’t we take some of those fuckers down?” He stills. “Not randoms. The power-hungry pie-eaters, like how you so eloquently put it.”

You don’t fully trust him again, but you’re into the prospect. You don’t want power, and you know he doesn’t either, but it’s not just looting. No, no, this is something akin to revenge.

“Alright.” You whisper.

“Alright. Okay, I won’t shoot if you don’t cut me.” He speaks softly, slowly, trying to cajole you out of attacking– and you move as he does.

The threatening air of before is gone now, and the Ghoul has only a odd stare for you, something that makes you feel watched, almost reminding you of two centuries ago. It could be that he doesn’t trust you either– and so you walk onward with a gap between you two, heading to wherever a faction that needs fucking up could be.

Coop strolls inside the makeshift bar as you make conversation, staying within the shadows. It’s not on official Enclave grounds, it’s simply a nearby bar where members have been known to hang out.

He doesn’t exactly mind being the one to pick up the slack of killing people– he can tell you’re good at charming people what with your former bombshell acting techniques, your silly, soft blinks, the way how your skin still looks smooth and untouched.

Was it all a lie with him? Aw, shit, why does he care? He really doesn’t have time to wonder if he’s been manipulated by you– he won’t be manipulated by you now, when he gets rid of many the people who represents obstacles in his way to finding still-existing Vault-Tec members.

Yes, that’s all this is to him. Another step to finding Moldaver, Henry MacLean, then his family if he’s lucky. And you’ll get some rage out of it, so he doesn’t even consider this to be that bad of an evasion of his.

You laugh at something the guy next to you says. Coop catches a bit of it, of him asking how you look under that big jacket– and you mentioning you’d like to see him without that government get-up, too.

He grits his teeth. He’s not fucking in love with you, or anything stupidly juvenile like that– but he definitely felt something before when the two of you were fighting, or when you had conversations during the long, arduous talk here– you bit into a piece of his jerky when he offered it, and he laughed in surprise that you didn’t spit it out after he revealed it was feral ghoul ass jerky.

He also found that his gaze kept being drawn to you, too. You kept up with him, you were capable of hunting and searching on your own, you took lives when the need arose, and you had his back, even if he didn’t ask for it.

You made him subconsciously draw from the past, reminiscing about a time with you and a future he never thought he’d revisit. And now he can’t ignore that, so he needs to let off some steam.

There’s a splatter of blood across your face as the guy in front of you splutters, a bullet hole shot through his forehead. Little pieces of flesh hit the bar counter as he falls, and you gasp.

Coop is kind of quick with it now– he fires off, and because these “politicians” are unprepared, he’s able to kill off more than half.

You get over your shock quickly and fire your own tiny pistol at random, managing a few kills, but the Ghoul takes the last one and looks back at you, with an intrepid glance that you can’t figure out.

“What the hell was that?” You call out, and he doesn’t respond, instead beginning to pilfer the bodies, looking for shit to take. “Hey, Ghoul…”

“We came here to kill off those guys.” He answers you, but it’s not really an answer.

“Yeah, but I thought we agreed on discussing this shit as we were doing it. What happened to signalling?” You approach him, and as you get close enough, he turns around and stares unnervingly into your eyes.

“I did signal, sweetheart.” He clicks his tongue, lying through his teeth.

“Bullshit.”

“No, I did.” He points at you. “It’s not my fault that you were too busy schmoozing and flirting to notice.”

“Wow.” You laugh exasperatedly at his antics, while he tilts his head. “You’re really obtuse, you know?”

“Nah. I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You’re gonna say you’re not jealous–” At that word, the Ghoul snarls, ready to tell you exactly how little he cares for you, and you motion for him to zip it. “But at the very instance of seeing me flirt, mind you, in the most fake way possible, you lost it. You can’t even tell the difference between my genuine flirting and the fakest, schlockiest shit?”

“...” Coop frowns, because you’re right– he did kind of let his mind go wild over nothing in particular.

Even worse, it means he’s made it apparent to you that he still harbours some feelings for your long-ago relationship. And that’s definitely a potential weakness– he does not want you to believe you can just work him around.

“Fuck you.” He spits, and instead of your face flinching in hurt, you stay neutral.

“I know you think you can come close and then shove me off every once in a while, because you’re fucking terrified of what it means that you’re not as hard as you pretended to be, that you still have a bit of human emotion inside you.” You tiptoe up to his face so he can’t avoid you. “I don’t care. That’s your problem.”

You turn to leave, to continue looting the bodies– and Coop’s hand wraps around your wrist.

He hates what you’ve said, because it’s absolutely provoking the worst issue he has– he can never just let go. Two hundred years of this has made him a different creature altogether, spiteful; evil, but Coop knows as well as anyone that his transformation doesn’t negate his original nature, buried deep down.

It was a lie on his part– people are not as evil as he made them out to be, it’s the cycle of this situation that perpetuates that shit. Violence begets violence and all that. He can’t seem to say this to you, though, because he can tell you already probably knew that.

What is this fuckery, that you’re able to generate such a sense of guilt in him?

“Show it to me again. Genuine flirting.” he says instead, and he knows it’s stupid as hell to say something like this. “It’s been hundreds of years, you can’t expect me to fuckin’ remem…”

You grasp his arm back, making him quiet.

He’s half expecting you to punch him, but you see something you like– something that finally satisfies you, and you kiss his cheek, where you cut him much earlier in the day. It’s a soft bruise, mostly healed over in the way ghouls heal– but it’s overwhelmingly, embarrassingly hot there now as you pull away.

“I won’t forget the difference next time, Nuka-Cola.” He tips his hat at you in a mockery of his acting as a dashing cowboy once upon a time.

“Won’t be a next time.” You shrug. “I would hate to have to flirt with someone again just to get you to notice me.”

This severely bothers him, like you haven’t been an annoyance in his mind this whole time. And then he wonders if you’re an idiot, like you have no idea the effect you had on him back then, and even now. Hell, even that overly-chaste kiss has him remembering how he felt at Sebastian’s party when you humoured him the first time.

Do you think the only thing he’s burying is some empathy for the human race?

He can’t just let you be this wrong about this, no fucking way. And it’s with this in mind that the Ghoul feels his reserve melt as he tightly grabs your face and kisses you. Not a soft, movie-star kiss of the past, but one more hungry, his lips swallowing yours, pressed sternly, firmly, like he’s not gonna let you go. He parts his mouth ever so slightly, trying to catch a reaction from you.

You’re caught off guard, and he’s glad. He likes that you don’t know what to do with yourself, that for once you’re floundering rather than him, and you barely remember to kiss back until a couple seconds later when your hands grasp the base of his skull. You’re tracing grooves, calluses, skin that’s been eroded by his ghoulishness. You feel like he tastes ever so acidic– perhaps from the radiation emitting from his body– but some weird part of you loves it, and you part your lips as you kiss him harder, wanting to feel his tongue.

Your lips are just as soft as he remembers– but there’s more excitement now, more of an urgency as you kiss him, so he takes your invitation and swirls his tongue around on yours, disgustingly vulgar and perversely fast, yet lingering to enjoy the sensation, and he kinda loves being a corrupting force, being the ghoul who eats up this sweet human girl, and he tightens his grip– it almost hurts you, how tightly his hands weave around your waist suddenly– and then before you know it, he pulls away.

He wipes his mouth, never taking his eyes off of you.

“So. Did I taste like Nuka-Cola?” You joke, and he laughs in your face.

“Nope. Darlin, you haven’t been the Nuka-Cola girl for hundreds of years. They replaced you not long after you vanished.” He smiles widely at how your face drops. “I can show you some of the new girl’s billboards, if you’d like.”

“That would explain the lack of revenue.” You raise your eyebrows. “Then why do you still call me Nuka-Cola, Cola, etcetera?”

“That’s how I remember you.” It sounds too sweet, too nice that he keeps your nickname on tabs, so he twists his lips in a sneer. “Plus I don’t remember your name.”

“Oh.” You bite your lip, finding his insult more funny than anything else, and turn around to take items from the bodies around you. “Okay, Mr. Howard.”

It was the optimal moment for you to joke back, calling him the Ghoul, but in classic you-fashion, you decided to extend an olive branch to him– reminding him that he’ll never just be the Ghoul to you. And even if Coop knows he’ll always remember you by Nuka-Cola, he has a fondness for you that he doesn’t neglect anymore– and he murmurs your name so softly, but just enough that you turn back and look at him, and smile with pleased recognition.

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sugurouge · 1 month ago

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— flame of despair : soulmate! sukuna ryōmen x rebirthed! f!reader

content warnings! DARK CONTENT, historical au, noncon, monsterfucking, aggressive hair pulling, dacryphilia, hurtful pet names (whore & pet), yandere themes, reader is viewed as sukuna’s property, deep throating, cunnilingus, blood, mindbreak, misogyny (he makes a nasty remark about the role of a woman), degradation

summary: Each and every life of yours will always belong to Sukuna. He will remind you of that promise with every new life, no matter the methods used. The idea of romance and being bound to your partner by soul, the thing you always dreamt of, becomes ruined and reality turns out to be a living nightmare once your soulmate claims you.

wordcount: 2.5k | my kinktober masterlist

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"No, no, let's try that again, pet."

The monster looming above you muses, mischief gleams deep in those dreadful red eyes as Sukuna watches your trembling form at his feet. You're exposed to him, the white fabric of your drape drenched with blood and water from the unfortunate weather of the recent weeks; almost as if some higher being has been angered by your reunion.

Your hair is a tangled mess from where Sukuna's claws dragged you to kneel in front of him, and your lips are bruised thanks to a previous blow to your once-pretty face. The bitter taste of iron taints your tongue, yet the flavours pale in comparison to the horror that awaits every time Sukuna decides to let you out of your cage to 'play'.

"I—"

"Who do you belong to?" Sukuna interrupts, shattering the last fragments of your dignity.

"N-no—"

No one. No one, you were trying to say. You’ve tried to tell him that for weeks, ever since he found you and claimed you, spouting wild fantasies of past lives and how, in every new one, he would always come to find you again.

But you can’t even force those two small words past your lips before a harsh slap to your cheekbone sends fresh tears streaming down your face, sobs erupting from your throat. The claws digging into your cheeks sting, they tear at your skin as sharply as his words pierce your soul. "You belong to me. You’re mine. My property, understand?"

He makes you nod, grinning as your tears glisten under the dim light of the fires dancing around his hall. "Repeat it for me." His deep voice rumbles ominously, the tip of his nose brushing almost affectionately against your tear-streaked cheek.

"I'm... I'm," you falter as your brows crease in disgust over the words about to escape your lips. You’d rather die than give him the satisfaction, the defiant glare in your eyes stating as much as you meet his gaze.

"Say it," he drawls, his voice is sending shivers down your spine. Four eyes bore into you as Sukuna seems to grow larger with each passing second, his presence is suffocating.

Yet here you are, as helpless as an infant, yet as brave as a tiger whilst you shake your head in his iron grip. You don’t even have time to blink before your face slams into the cold, unforgiving floor. Your cheek is pressed into a vile mixture of dried blood and water as a thunderstorm rages above, the temple trembling beneath its wrath.

You feel numb, the groan that escapes from deep within your lungs barely registering in your mind since you're fully overwhelmed by the high-pitched ringing that clouds your senses. But the violent tugging on your body snaps you back to this living nightmare as four hands tear at the flimsy fabric Sukuna dares to call a dress, leaving you naked and vulnerable under his cruel gaze.

Your tears mix with the blood running down the side of your temple as you stare up at him in horror. You wouldn’t even be able to attempt to cover yourself, your limbs feeling as though they don’t belong to you as they are pressed to the ground by two strong hands.

“Look at me.”

You comply, your eyes slowly focusing on the blurry demon as you blink the tears away. “Stop, please…” you hear your own voice, shaky and weak, yet apparently utterly entertaining to Sukuna, judging by the grin etched on his face.

He guides your nimble fingers over his muscular body, across his black markings and prominent pecs, as his lips graze your ear. “If you’d stop being so ungrateful… you could enjoy all of this,” his faint whisper tickles your neck, his hot breath contrasting with the icy cold water on your back. “Just say you’re mine. Admit it.”

“I’m not yours.” You don’t even have time to groan as a third hand snakes around your throat and applies pressure to your airways, nails tearing through the first layer of your skin and continuing to dig deeper into your flesh.

“You’re mine. You have been mine from the moment you were born, you dumb whore!” he snarls, fingers forcing their way through your tangled hair, exposing your neck to his teeth. Sukuna savours every drop of your blood, every dried tear and bead of sweat before his teeth sink into your body, eliciting a defeated whine from you. Yet it’s the fourth hand applying pressure to your hip bone that has you gasping in horror, a new set of tears welling up along your lash line as you vehemently shake your head in denial.

“You’ve been mine ever since your village offered me my soulmate, isn’t that right?” he breathes, the devilish grin returning to his lips as he leans in to kiss you harshly. His tongue invades your mouth, spreading the taste of your blood to every corner before he pulls back, leaving only a thin string of saliva connecting your bodies— as faint and delicate as your bond to this monster.

“They threw you at my feet. Offered me my toy to play with in exchange for protection.” His lips trail between your breasts, greedily pressing against your heaving chest and staining your skin as Sukuna’s journey takes him further south.

“Dumb as they are. As if I’d let anyone live who treats my property with such shame.” Sukuna traces the lines of your bondmark; the action almost seems adoring by how gentle his touch is before his nail redraws the lines in red.

“You’re mine,” his eyes snap up to your face. “You’ll forever be mine. With every reincarnation, I’ll find you, claim you, and break you until you’re my queen again.”

Your voice finds its way back to you in this moment, as you cry out from the pain Sukuna inflicts on your body, his words reminding you of the horrors you witnessed that day.

How your mother dressed you in her finest dress and let you play princess, promising you the world as soon as you found your soulmate. Only for your father to push you to your knees in front of a demon, a curse—him. Sukuna Ryomen.

And your eyes saw the lines on his side as the top of his yukata pooled around his hips. The same devious mark you had on your body ever since you were a baby.

You were cursed. The entire village treated you like a lesser being, like filth and a secret, promised to stay hidden until they could rid themselves of you—all because of legends passed down for hundreds of years about the only weakness the King of Curses holds.

They all too willingly tore the beautiful dress off your body and gave the devil not what he came for, but what he most desired.

“I don't want to be a monster’s queen,” your bold statement makes Sukuna’s face deform into a hideous mask, violent laughter erupting from deep within his chest at the fighting spirit you try to uphold. “Were you not dreaming of the day your soulmate would find you like all those other pathetic little mortals do?” The words are nothing but a murmur; Sukuna doesn’t even make it sound like a question, and he leaves no room for your reply either—not when black nails dig into the fat of your thighs or strong hands pin down your wrists to the floor. “I understand, you must be claimed, to learn to appreciate your life at my feet, pet.”

The most disgusting part of this moment is not the grimace looming above you, or the horror in Sukuna’s eyes, no, it's the feeling of a wet, hot tongue lapping at your cunt while this abnormality holds you spread open like you’re on a serving plate.

Sukuna sees the aversion on your face, the way your eyes squint before you have to look away once the pleasure starts to feel undeniable as he fucks you open on his tongue. The squelching is so lewd, you can only cry over yourself.

“Stop your miserable act, whore,” Sukuna punctuates his words with a deep thrust of the thick tongue from his stomach, forcing a moan from you whether you like it or not.

The hand around your small wrists hurts, feeling as if Sukuna wants to actively burn his fingerprints into your skin as his eyes stare into the depths of your soul. You know where his tugging leads, know what you feel when the hot, sticky sensation meets the palm of your hand. Encased between your much smaller and Sukuna’s own large palm are his cocks. Your whimpers are unending as he forces your hand to drag over their shafts, his maniacal stare into your disgusted face unwavering. How dare you continue to insult him like that? You should feel grateful for his attraction towards you.

You whine the moment your head hits the floor once more, Sukuna easily pressing your form against the stone-cold ground, finally forcing your eyes to snap up to look directly into his red gaze.

There is no such thing as tenderness to be found in them, no love, no sympathy. The concept of soulmates is nothing but a nightmare for you.

“You’re hurting me…” you whisper in desperation, yet Sukuna only basks in this newfound tenderness in your eyes as fat tears stream down your cheeks.

“Then stop denying me!” Sukuna growls right next to your ear. His dominance and your own fear send shivers down your spine, rendering you limp beneath him.

The rough pads of his fingers squish your face beneath his grip—disabling you from facing anything but him. “You could have another fulfilled life…” Is this tenderness you see in his eyes? Love he held for the yous from the past? It can't be. Not him. “But you leave me no choice.” In one fell swoop, you find yourself back on your knees, your face brought up right in front of the tips of his cocks.

The cold flooring hurts your joints, making you wince once more, but your sounds are all the same to Sukuna—simply confirmation of his influence on your body. In pleasure or pain? Who cares.

However, he notices the slight shake of your head. It's causing his grip on your hair to tighten, eliciting another loud whine from you.

Your dainty fingers try to ease his grip to no avail. “Please, I don't de—” but the loud gulp of your throat cuts off any protest. The thick tip of Sukuna’s shaft spreads your mouth beyond your imagination, the salty flavour of his pre-cum coating your tongue and messing with your taste buds before he prods at the entrance to your throat, muscles trembling around his infiltration. You struggle to keep the choking at bay, swallowing back any disgusting liquids threatening to crawl back up.

Sukuna groans in satisfaction. His darkened eyes stare down at your weak figure, admiring your hollowed cheeks and stretched lips. His thumb sweetly swipes over your cheekbone, followed by a slap to the same area. When he pulls back, you choke up a mixture of nasty fluids, but there is no time to recover due to the way he forces your head to stay in place. Once more, you are overwhelmed by his length, his second needy cock now taking the spot inside your mouth. “Silence and a breedable womb are the best presents a woman can give.” As if to highlight his words, Sukuna pushes in deeper, the choked squeal of your panic drowned by his girthy cock as he holds your head in place, nails harshly digging into your scalp as he bottoms out.

His pelvis presses against your mouth and nose to further restrict your breathing. Every attempt at swallowing your saliva makes you feel his cock even more, it's almost impossible to stay conscious as Sukuna opts to abuse your throat only seconds after he enters you.

It hurts—the pistoning of his hips, the repetitive assault on your throat by his thick member, and the hateful words hitting your skin with no form of defence.

Demands to take it, to stop being weak and disgusting, are just a few of the many insults you have to endure. By now, your nails have left nasty scratches on his thighs as you desperately try to relieve some of the pain he forces on your body, while your mind isn’t sure if passing out would be the safer option for your sanity.

Tears won’t stop running down your face. The mixture of your spit, tears, and his arousal creates a nearly disgusting flavour in your mouth, causing you to gag further on his cock.

“Get your act together,” Sukuna bites. At this point, it actually feels like he is ripping strands of your hair out due to his harshness.

But you can’t—it’s impossible, especially once you feel him twitch at the back of your throat, prodding against the muscles of your pharynx. The second your tongue can nearly trace the load of cum being pumped through his shaft, Sukuna pulls out. You didn’t have time to notice him stroking his second cock, couldn’t register fast enough the fate you were about to meet as one of his hands holds your head in place.

Sukuna’s deep moan rings through the echoing hall and sears into your memory while the white-hot seed lands on your face and chest, tainting your figure with his cum.

It’s the most humiliating way of claiming you.

Sukuna kneels down to be at eye level with you, proudly taking in his all-white masterpiece before his thumb swipes part of his load off your cheek and holds it in front of your lips.

You glare at him, the hatred in your eyes a challenge he will fuck out of you. “Dumb little bird,” he murmurs while smearing his cum over your tightly sealed lips before hoisting you up and over his shoulder in an instant.

Sometimes it is best to show patience. Most of the time, it is better to teach through pain. Your fate for the night shall be to learn to love your throne, positioned on top of Sukuna’s lap, stuffed beyond your capabilities until either your mind or your body gives out first.

dividers by @/cafekitsune

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jam3sacaster · 12 days ago

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“You just don’t see it, do you?”

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Reader

Suggestion by a sweet anon 🫶🏽 / You are convinced you are utterly unlovable. Rupert, however, is convinced otherwise ..

18+ FANFIC / A lil soft one for you guys to break up the brain rot I’m inflicting upon our fandom 😅 Reader character aged 21.

Growing up, there were many ways you envisaged your 21st birthday playing out. Copious mounds of presents among constantly refilled glasses of ridiculously expensive champagne. One of the ways you didn’t imagine your 21st, however, was sitting on your living room sofa, sobbing silently. Not a single living soul in Rutshire had been to visit you. The only friend you’d made in this wretched village, Caitlin O’Hara was still holed up at her boarding school, but had sent you the most charming birthday card she could muster— fangirling over Rupert Campbell-Black, as usual. Talk of the devil, the aforementioned man that you had spent many a night with in recent weeks hadn’t even bothered to send so much as a card. Some birthday, you think to yourself.

What is wrong with me, you ask yourself. You’re young, you’re beautiful, you have a sparkling personality. Yet the man frequenting your bed so often couldn’t even grace you with a brief appearance on such a significant birthday? Hoisting yourself from the sofa to let your charming your charming mongrel, Bertha, outside, you hear a soft, rapping knock at the door. Huffing, you shuffle to the front door and open it just a slither. “Hello?” You ask, before clocking Rupert stood, puffing a cigarette whilst grinning widely, arms clutching large, intricately wrapped gift. “Oh, it’s you.” You roll your eyes, feeling them sting with salted tears. “You could sound more overjoyed.” He huffed jokingly, and pushed his way inside.

“I’m not in the mood tonight, Rupert. I’ve had the most awful day.” You groan, following the overly enthusiastic man into your living room. You throw yourself onto the sofa and curl your legs into yourself, watching him as he stands in the centre of your sheepskin rugs, muddied boots leaving the most unforgiving stain. He outstretches the present into your eyeline again, and shoots you that intoxicating grin. “Happy birthday, angel!”

“What is it?” You ask. Unsurprisingly, you’re not in the mood for his foolishness. “Open it and see.” He rolls his eyes. “As I said, Rupert, I have been on my own all day so I find it wildly inappropriate that you arrive nearing on,” you stop to check your watch, “10pm with a gift.”

“Good things seldom come to those who wait.” He replies, grinning. This wasn’t about you— he was wholly referring to the gift you would undoubtedly give him later. Suppressing your 12th huff of this conversation, you snatch the present from his grip and unwrap it. Between the gold-lined wrapping paper sat a red, leather box. Inside the box sat the most beautiful, delicate necklace. Silver links — each one adorned in the most intricate diamond. A thing of pure royalty. “For me?” You ask, gently pulling the jewellery from its carefully engraved indent in the box. Without responding, Rupert pulled you up and grabbed a handful of your hair, tossing it over your shoulder to tie the necklace to your body. His gentle touch sent shivers down your spine. After a few minutes of him grunting at the perplexing intricacy of the links, he spun you round to admire the eye-watering expensive gift he had bought you. “A special birthday gift for a special lady.” He remarked, taking a seat on the sofa and waiting for you to follow.

As you sat down, the sincerity of his gesture and the absolute misery of your day just got to you. Starting as quiet sniffles at first but working it’s way to inconsolable sobs, you absolutely broke down, prompting a rather shocked look from Rupert. “Hey, angel. What’s wrong?” He asked, wrapping a muscular arm around your shoulder and pulling you tight to his chest. “I just wanted to feel special, but all today has done is remind me of how brutally and honestly alone I am. I wake up every day to nobody but Bertha, and I fall asleep the same way. I look in the mirror everyday and my reflection gets more and more alien. I’m starting to have the utterly terrible feeling that I’m going to be this way forever,” you breathe deeply through your tears before continuing, “I am going to be alone forever. Unlovable and alone.” Rupert could only exhale— astonished at your heartfelt confession.

However, there was a touch of something deeper than astonishment in his sigh. “You just don’t see it, do you?” He shook his head as he spoke. You looked up at him now, eyes glassy and mottled cheeks stained with tears. “What?” You prompt.

“I have been to five different jewellers today. Granted, I should’ve come earlier but I travelled two hours outside of Rutshire, to a diamond specialist, to find your necklace. Have you read the note?” He sighed once more, motioning towards the jewellery box. You lifted the box open, and brought the small carded note to your eyeline. It read:

‘To my darling angel on your birthday, I hope you have the most special day, and I hope this gift makes you see yourself in the astonishingly beautiful way that I see you. With love - R’

Wiping away a falling tear, you sniffle. You felt incredibly guilty for being so coarse with him, but his heartfelt gift had warmed your heart — only very slightly. Rupert brushed his palm gently across your cheek, prompting you to maintain the most devilishly intimate eye contact.

“You don’t seem to understand angel, you absolutely terrify me. I am so wildly in love with you that I am afraid of my own reflection.. I look at myself and I only see a man that loves you. Ever since I met you, I have been restricted to being a man that loves you. It terrifies me, yes, but I couldn’t wish to be anything else.”

‘Doubt thou the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move. Doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love.’ - Shakespeare

#rivals #rivals fanfic #rivals fanfiction #rupert campbell black #rupert campbell-black #ily rupert #requests <3

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lipstickmarks · 3 months ago

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beauty is a beast that roars, down on all fours, demanding Mor. 💋🍷🍒🥧

Pairing: Mor x fem!reader, former Azriel x fem!reader (mentioned)

Summary: "They've both taken lovers over the years..." // Azriel and Mor have both taken lovers over the years but what happens when Mor discovers they both have had you? Your "fling" with Mor that is growing more serious by the day and your history with Ariel becomes the catalyst for Mor finally admitting the truth to Azriel.

Word Count: 4.9K

Warnings: violence (not toward reader or Mor), blood, alcohol, coming out, internalized homophobia?, mentions of death (in the past), nipple play, scissoring, tribbing, food play, teasing, overstimulation, oral (f receiving), fingering, hickeys, biting, fluff, mean Mor lowkey 🤭

Author's note: title has nothing to do with anything except the fact that it always reminds me of Mor and I felt like "she's my cherry pie" was too cheesy | if I missed any tags, pls lmk! I don't know all the fancy terms for this shit nowadays 🫶🏻

It was a stupid, idiotic game suggested by stupid idiotic males.

Mor was nursing a glass of red wine, sat at a round moonstone table at the river estate. The inner circle’s usual night of reverie at Rita’s culminated in everyone slumping back to the estate half-dead with 90% liquor in their veins. The night started out fun with good food and good-natured ribbing amongst her family but it had devolved into a headache. Truly, a nuisance was building at the back of her head, thumping uncomfortably. The alcohol certainly didn’t help but she wasn’t about to endure a drunk Cassian and Azriel without a buzz going.

Feyre and Rhys had absconded to their room long ago and Amren had disappeared with no notice and no indication as to where she had gone (typical). Elain and Lucien went on a moonlit walk and Nesta had deemed the night over and stomped up to her room the moment Cassian started quoting a dirty passage from the novel she was currently reading.

Leaving Mor with Cassian and Azriel and a stupid, idiotic game.

They had somehow gotten on the topic of lovers and Cassian being Cassian, was eager to pry into everyone’s intimate business.

Mor was planning to call it a night soon anyway. This game didn’t interest her and she’d rather be with you. In your arms, in your bed. You’d known each other loosely for a while ever since you worked as a lounge singer at Rita’s but one night, Mor was one of the only people left in the place after your set. You two got to talking and the chemistry was un-fucking-deniable. Your chance meeting quickly blossomed into a fling.

Except something deeply wounded Mor to call it a fling. It made it sound so… cheap and flimsy. Yes, you were phenomenal in bed. Yes, she could cum just from the mental image of you with your head thrown back and her fingers plunged inside you. But you were also talented and ambitious and witty and matched her tit for tat when it came to her silver tongue. There was still some anxiety she felt when she was with females. It never allowed her to fully relax or lose herself in a moment. But you…

You excited her.

“Okay, okay. Azriel’s turn. Name the best lover you’ve ever had.” Cassian smirked.

“I don’t kiss and tell.” Azriel said.

“Come on, Az! I told you mine!”

Azriel snorted.

“You’re mated. You wouldn’t have said any name except Nesta’s. And if you had, she would have ran down here and kicked you in the balls.”

“And it would have been a major turn on because everything Nesta does turns me on because Nesta is the best lover I’ve ever had now DISH!” Cassian screamed, pointing his wine glass at Azriel and making the wine spill everywhere.

Normally, Azriel didn’t partake in such games. He didn’t kiss and tell. He was respectful and likely got a kick out of being so stoic and mysterious. But they had been drinking so heavily for so long. The shadowsinger’s hazel eyes were swimming with mischief.

“Alright. It was fairly recent. About 10 years ago.” Azriel began to loosely describe this female he had a fling with over the winter that he met while shopping for Solstice presents. The smirk on his face deepened as he described their love making. “She had a phenomenal body and I swear, I didn’t think it was possible for my dick to go so deep inside someone. She was a great cook, too. She always baked me a pie afterward. ” Mor was barely listening. She was about to dump her wine into the plant in the corner and winnow to your apartment when something turned her blood to ice.

Your name.

Your name coming from Azriel’s lips.

It happened in less than a span of a heartbeat. Less than the flutter of an eye closing than it took for Mor to sail across the table and connect her fist with Azriel’s jaw.

She could barely register Azrie’s weight beneath her, Cassian’s cackle that turned into a worried shout was muffled as she began punching Azriel over and over. Mor roared and gripped the lapels of Azriel’s shirt, readying to bash his head into the floor when a force stronger than drunken Mor pulled her away.

Azriel’s shadows.

Azriel groaned, blood trickling out of his nose mixing with the spilt wine on the floor. He wriggled his nose and winced. Not broken but Mor gotten in a hell of a punch.

“What the hell, Mor?!” Cassian shouted.

Mor was held back by Azriel’s shadows, tears streaming down her face. So many emotions were washing over her at once, spawning in the pit of her stomach and trailing to the center of her chest. Jealousy and rage flowed to the top.

Azriel had been with you. The two of you had made love. Azriel had known your body, tasted you, gazed upon you in your naked form. He’d known the pleasure only you can provide.

And she wanted to fucking kill him for it.

Azriel just stared at Mor while Cassian berated her, screaming some nonsense about how they’re a family and hitting is only okay if they did something to provoke it.

“Cassian.” Azriel’s sharp voice cut in. “Leave us.”

Cassian complied. Even this drunk, he could tell when his brother truly needed something. He murmured something about going to get ice and a healing tonic and left the two of them alone.

Azriel stood up and slowly walked to where Mor was restrained by his shadows. Another feeling started to mix in with the others. Shame. She’d hit Azriel. She’d hurt Azriel. She’d hurt her family. And now there was no hiding anymore.

Azriel leveled his gaze at her and Mor shivered. He’d never looked at her that way. Never as the feared, icy, ruthless Shadowsinger of the Night Court.

“Is there something you need to tell me, Morrigan?”

***

Mor insisted on talking in Azriel’s room. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted anyone else to hear and his was the only one she trusted to be thoroughly soundproof.

She sat on Azriel’s bed, clutching a pillow in her lap while Azriel stood over her. A blush crept onto her cheeks.

“Don’t stand there, Azriel, like I’m a teenager in trouble. Sit.”

It was his room and his nose and jaw that she’d tried to break but still, he sat.

Mor took several steadying breaths and begged herself not to cry. She wouldn’t be able to get out the words if she cried. But still, her cheeks and eyes warmed as fat tears began to pool in her eyes. One of Azriel’s shadows came up to wipe them away.

And Azriel’s scarred hand gently placed atop hers.

“Mor…” His voice was tight. He’d only seen her cry on a few occasions: when Rhys was captured by Amarantha, when Rhys returned, when Nyx was born and he and his parents almost died… It wasn’t a sight he enjoyed.

“I just–” She heaved a sob. “I need a minute, okay?”

Azriel squeezed her hand.

“I’ll wait.”

Azriel had waited. He’d waited 500 years for something to happen between them. Something that would never happen. Something that Mor had communicated in a roundabout, cruel way. Gods, she hated herself for it. But who could blame her for being skittish? For being so scared that she’d kept this part of herself hidden from even her family?

…Azriel wouldn’t.

Mor took another breath. And another. And another after Azriel had conjured up a glass of water for her.

They sat there for close to 20 minutes before she finally spoke.

“The first fae I ever loved…” Mor sighed. “Was a female named Andromeda.”

She weaved the tale over an hour and a half, detailing the first flicker of confusing affection she felt for females, twined with the lesser but still present affection for males. The sexual politics of her taking Cassian as her first lover. Andromeda. Their love story that culminated in the loneliest sadness Mor had ever felt. Loving and losing and her heart caving in all while her family was unaware. The lingering fear and panic she felt regarding her father and Beron and Eris. How she’d avoided Azriel by sleeping around with other males. All leading up to you. How the two of you met at Rita’s one late night after you’d finished a set. How she bought you a drink. How she bought you a second drink. How you became quick friends. How your friendship spiraled into something steamy and undeniable. How Azriel saying your name had unlocked a river of white-hot rage buried so deep inside her that she didn’t even feel like herself when she’d launched herself across the table at him.

Her throat was dry and raspy by the time she was done talking. She’d cried through a lot of it, especially when talking about Andromeda. She braced herself for Azriel’s reaction.

“I am sorry that you have been hurting, Mor. But I am also hurt that you thought–” Azriel’s head whipped to the side like he’d been phantom-smacked. His tongue darted out to lick his lips. “I am hurt that you thought I would… what? Berate you? Drag you kicking and screaming into the Court of Nightmares and drop you at Kier’s feet? Be so heartbroken that I would resent you?”

Mor shuddered.

“Don’t you?”

Azriel sighed.

“Mor, you are… dazzling. Beauty and wits and heart is what you’re made of. It’s no mystery why I fell for you. It’s no mystery why anyone would fall for you. You’re also kind, and caring, and family.”

Azriel’s hazel eyes burned into hers and she shifted slightly on the bed, unnerved by the intensity of it.

“You were always going to be one of the most important people in my life. And no, our relationship didn’t fall into place the way I desired it to and yes, it hurts but what I can’t get over is that you didn’t trust me. You didn’t trust any of us.”

Mor pulled on the end of her dress, just to have something to do with her body aside from sit here in this uncomfortable conversation.

“Um, actually… Feyre knows.”

Another deep sigh from Azriel. Mor has never felt so small. So unguarded. Her secrecy was the only armor she had and now it was dust in the wind. No going back.

“Do you hate me?” She whispered.

Azriel scoffed.

“By the Cauldron, Mor, have you been listening to me?” Azriel reached for her hands. “I could never hate you. I don’t care if you like females or males or both or neither. I don’t give a shit about any of it. You are my family. In 500 years, I have never felt safer than I have with all of you.”

She sniffled, tears welling in her eyes once more.

“Really?”

“Of course.” Azriel said, his voice softer than it had been all night. “Look, I’m not saying I’m happy with you for toying with my feelings and this might take a while for me to process the fact that it’s never going to be us but… I love you, Mor. I’m happy when I’m around you and it kills me to know that you haven’t been completely happy around all of us.”

Mor felt a swell of relief in her chest. She slipped her arms around his neck and hugged Azriel and hugged him and hugged him until she felt like crying again. This time, she let the tears fall until she was sobbing into his chest.

They spent two more hours talking, ironing out their feelings, and crying. Well, mostly Mor cried. Azriel conjured up more water for her and some food as well. It was practically dawn anyway with the dark blue sky conceding to a blushing, orange sunrise.

“How do you feel now?” Azriel asked over a strawberry flake strudel. He was now sitting at the foot of his bed, his back leaning against one of the four posters as his wings draped lazily on the ground.

Mor loosed a long sigh and pulled the straw in and out of the plastic coffee cup she had long since drained until Azriel told her to stop because the sound was annoying.

“I feel like… I want to go see my girlfriend.” She was spent. Her emotions had all spilled out of her like nightmare vomit and she was utterly empty. She craved nothing more than to curl up in your warm bed and stroke your soft hair until she fell asleep.

Azriel barked out a laugh.

Mor’s brows knit into a line. She kicked at Azriel’s foot but he quickly dodged.

“What?” She bit.

“That’s a funny word.” Azriel said, smirking as he finished off his breakfast treat.

Mor sat her cup on his nightstand and sat up.

“What do you mean?” Sure, you two didn’t have a label yet. But you were basically girlfriends, right? You spent most nights together, you slept together, went shopping in Velaris together, had lunch dates all the time. At least, she hoped you’d want to be her girlfriend.

Azriel rolled his eyes at her.

“Morrigan. You flew across a ten-foot long table and beat the shit out of me just because one time, a decade ago, I slept with–”

Mor growled. That same feeling she got when Azriel first said your name last night was building up again. She felt it from her navel all the way up to her chest. A dark, swirling vortex of negative emotions and yet, somewhere within was a bright white light.

No, not white.

Golden.

Mor’s entire world cracked open. Every scar. Every ounce of pain and trauma that she’d collected split open and filled with a shimmering golden liquid that came from the reservoir of your soul and bled into hers.

“...mate.”

Azriel said it the moment Mor realized it. Everything aligned for her in that moment. The seas were bluer, the birds chirped a perfect melody, and everything made sense. It had all been for this. All been for you. Every awful horror, every fitful night of sleep, everything… it was all aligning for Mor to find you.

She scrambled to get up, all the while Azriel was laughing. She couldn’t find her shoes. Where were her godsdamned shoes?

Mor decided to forgo the accessories and just go straight to you. Barefoot and in love. And although the bond was pulling at her, willing her to find you, she turned back to Azriel.

“Az? Are we… are we going to be okay?” She was scared to ask, but it was high time to stop being afraid. To stop keeping Azriel–her entire family, really– at an arm’s length. They all loved her and she needed to embrace that, or else she’d never be truly happy.

Azriel leaned his head against his four-poster.

“Of course we will, Mor. Maybe not today, but we will be.”

Mor nodded slowly and headed for the door. She looked back one last time at Azriel. At her family. She knows she hurt him and she would have to do some serious groveling to earn his forgiveness. Even though he was a good male and would likely not accept any gifts or excessive sweetness, she would do it anyway. Mor would win back his trust and help heal the scars she inflicted. But the cage she had trapped herself in had suddenly combusted. The world was wide open. And she liked it. And so Mor said, for perhaps the first time in her life, but meaning it fully:

“I love you, Azriel.”

***

Rushed knocks were all she could manage. Feeling a mating bond that had yet to be reciprocated was suffocating and intoxicating all at once. She was shaking and bouncing on her feet like she’d had 300 coffees. If you didn’t open the door in three seconds, Mor didn’t know if she could keep herself from knocking it down.

Mercifully, it swung open. And there you stood.

Her mate.

Her perfect, beautiful mate.

You wore a pair of tiny shorts and a very thin, very see-through white tank top underneath a red kimono robe that Mor was almost certain had once been at home in her closet.

Despite dawn just rising up to wish Velaris a good morning, you didn’t seem perturbed at Mor’s early intrusion. You gave her a lazy feline smile.

“Hey, good looking—”

You never even had a chance. Mor pounced on you like a jungle cat, claiming your mouth with hers and grabbing at whatever skin she could get her hands on. Although surprised, you didn’t waver for even a moment. You slid your hands up through the fae’s hair and walked her backwards into your apartment.

Mor’s heart sang a golden chorus that blended in with chirping birds and distant water fountains.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

Happy. Happy. Happy.

You pulled Mor off of you for only a moment, but she chased after your lips, her hands practically pawing at your chest like a needy housecat.

“What’s gotten into you?” You asked, giggling. But the second Mor’s wide eyes looked into yours. You saw it. You felt it. That golden tether tying you to Mor.

The noise you let out was something between a happy gasp and a squeal.

You surged up and kissed her again, parting and letting her claim your mouth and claim you. She tugged the kimono down, shoving it off your perfect shoulders. You tried to do the same with her dress but she insisted on wearing those cross-back ones and intricate tit chains and it was so complicated to get off in a rush.

But eventually you both worked all the offending garments off and onto the floor. Mor lifted you up and carried you to your kitchen table, her mouth never leaving your neck as she did so.

She laid you out on your back and attacked your neck with kisses, nipping and biting at your jaw, your ear, anywhere she could reach. Her fingers went down to trace the insides of your thighs, drawing a shudder of pleasure from you.

Her hand dipped even further, her middle finger tracing the outside of your entrance, barely ghosting over your skin, playing in the wetness that was already there.

“Wait!” You shouted, just before Mor could get her fingers inside of you.

Her brows knit together in concern and her perfect lips formed a pout, but the distress melted when she saw you reach across the kitchen table grabbing at a tin of cherry pie you had made. You pulled it toward you and grabbed a sloppy handful from the middle. You held it out to Mor, your eyes wide from both love and lust.

“Eat.” You gently nudged the pie up onto her lips.

Mor watched a stream of cherry juice drip down your hand and wrist. She leaned in and traced it with her tongue, collecting it off your skin. She dragged her tongue down your arm and back up until she took your entire pinky in her mouth, sucking on the digit. Then she did the same with your ring finger and your middle finger and so on. Her teasing was utterly unfair and you pouted as she took her sweet time sucking on your fingers until she finally ate the handful of pie you’d extended out to her.

A pang of jealousy sang in her chest, remembering that you baked pies for Azriel after every time you did it but the solidification of the bond quickly stamped that out.

Mor ate every bit of pie you offered her and licked the palm of your hand clean. Her lips were stained red from the cherries and the sweetness rested pleasantly on her tongue.

“I love you.” She murmured, placing kisses along your bare chest and over your boobs. She wrapped her mouth around a nipple and sucked and nipped at it, drawing precious little “ah!”s and moans from you.

“Mm… I love you too, Mor.” You said, twining your fingers in her hair, not caring that you were getting pie crumbs all in your lover’s blonde hair. Because she wasn’t just your lover anymore. She was your mate.

She fixed her attention on your other nipple and her fingers found her way back to your entrance, teasing, grazing.

Your mate sat up, eye-fucking you as she took in your form. It didn’t make you shy. You were never shy with Mor, or at Rita’s when you were belting out a song. It was one of the things she loved about you. One of the reasons you were perfectly matched to her. The Mother did a good fucking job.

“How much do you love me?” Mor said in a sing-song tone, dragging her knuckle up your slit.

“So much.” You gasped. You truly did love Mor. She was confident and carefree and fun. She made you feel like every day only happened so you could experience pleasure. Like mornings were made for strolls in the sun and evenings were made for lovemaking under the moonlight. There was no pain and no turmoil when you were together. There was just you and your mate and the golden love that flowed through you and around you.

“How good do I fuck you, baby?” She whispered, sliding one finger inside you.

You gasped and grabbed her wrist. Not to stop her but just to have any sort of contact with you. Mor rectified this immediately by holding one of your hands in her free one and pressing kisses to the back of it.

“So good, Mor.” You murmured as she lazily dragged her finger in and out of you. It wasn’t enough. You needed more.

Sensing your needs, knowing exactly what her sweet mate needed, she added another finger and amped up her speed ever so slightly. You moaned your affirmation.

“I know what you like.” She whispered. The minx. You could hear the smirk on her face.

She pulled you right to the edge and then retracted her fingers faster than you could comprehend. Your eyes shot open and tears quickly filled them, so close to your peak and then denied so quickly.

Mor shook her head, grinning at you the whole time.

“Sweet girl… you know how this goes. We don’t ever finish that quickly. Besides,” Mor dug her fingers into the pie you had decimated, plucking out a single cherry and holding it up to the light, admiring it like a lost artifact. “You haven’t had breakfast.”

She dragged the cherry around your lips, painting them red. Your tongue darted out to lick at the tips of her fingers and she placed the cherry on your tongue. You chewed and felt the bond growing stronger, more prominent in your chest with every little bite. The second you swallowed, Mor was on you again, kissing you desperately, licking into your mouth.

She hiked your leg up and started grinding her wet cunt against yours. The warmth was perfect and you felt your body and soul practically singing with how right it felt, how perfect you two were.

Mor’s warm, wet pussy was like a dream. You grinded against her, creating more friction and soon you were both shouting, both unable to contain your moans. Mor sped up, bouncing against you and that simply wouldn’t do. You couldn’t let her have all the fun. You broke from the kiss and took her nipple in your mouth, sucking on it as she had done to you. Except, you had a little payback in mind for her edging you. You let go of her nipple with a wet pop and started sucking a love bite onto the skin of her breast, right on top where it would be visible in those low cut dresses she wore. Everyone would know she had a mate. Everyone would know she belonged to you.

Mor moaned your name in a desperate whisper, increasing her speed. The two of you weren’t going to last long. The pressure was building up and it was already too perfect, too all-consuming.

Once you were satisfied with the darkening mark on her chest, you latched onto her neck, kissing and sucking. But that wasn’t enough for your mate. She gripped your chin in her hands and kissed you desperately. Like she needed you to breathe.

That was what sent you over the edge.

You came and Mor followed soon after. The pleasure flowed through you two freely like the love through the bond. You’d never felt so connected to someone and by the pulsating you felt at the other end, you knew Mor hadn’t either.

“I love you.” She slurred, pupils blown wide with lust. You swore they almost looked like little hearts.

You returned the sentiment, murmuring it into her skin as you kissed up her sternum and across her jaw before she finally gripped a fistful of your hair and dragged you up to her lips.

You sighed in contentment against your mate. But Mor wasn’t done with you yet.

She sunk to her knees in front of you, eye-level with your glistening wet pussy.

“So…” she drawled, licking a stripe up your slit, collecting both her and your wetness on her tongue. “When were you gonna tell me you fucked Azriel?”

At the same moment you uttered “what?” Mor plunged her tongue inside you, swirling around and suckling at your clit. You clawed at the table, wishing you had laid a tablecloth down so you’d have something to grip onto. You were still so, so sensitive but Mor was relentless as she toyed with your bundle of nerves.

“I know you fucked him…” She mumbled against your hot core.

You laid your head back in pleasure, unable to form any thoughts. Mor knew you liked a little overstimulation and the mating bond was amplifying it by one hundred.

“Was a long time ago…” You murmured. Utterly pussy-drunk.

“Don’t care.” Mor said, plunging a finger inside you. “Should’ve told me. I almost broke his nose.”

Some part of you deep down felt bad for Azriel but that part was trapped beneath an ocean of pleasure and right now, you’re not sure you could even remember what Azriel looked like.

“Mmm…” You moaned, your clit twitching as Mor sucked on it. She added two fingers, pumping in and out of you faster than she did before.

Mor brought you to the edge again and you could barely register her lifting you up and carrying you into the bathroom. You were so lost in your own pleasure and the feeling of your mate holding you that no other sensations even mattered. Your body simultaneously roared at you to fall asleep and to hop onto Mor’s lap and grind your pussy against hers over and over again.

“Sleep, my love.” Mor said.

You felt her easing the two of you into a hot bath, her keeping you tight against her chest.

“No.” You grumbled petulantly, though your eyes fluttered closed. She did wake you up awfully early and make you cum twice. Mating frenzy or no, you were exhausted. “Need to fuck you.”

Mor giggled against your ear.

“We’ll have a lifetime of that, baby.” Mor ran her fingers up and down your arm, the sensation calming you and sending tiny tingles of pleasure to your brain. She was most definitely moving you into the river house once the frenzy was over. Or she could move in here with you. Or maybe you two would build a new property. You could design your dream home together. Whatever. Permanent decisions could wait until after your mating ceremony. Because you would be having a mating ceremony. A spectacular, classy, romantic affair. Candles everywhere and her whole family in attendance. All of fucking Velaris. She would marry you in front of anyone anywhere in the world.

You nodded your affirmation and slumped against your mate as she took to washing you both with your nice smelling soaps.

When you woke up, Mor would find your vibrator and make you come two more times with it. She loved getting you worked up because once it was her turn, you were relentless. You would pull orgasm after orgasm from her until she was in tears and screaming your name so loud, the cranky neighbors pounded on your door demanding you keep it down.

“Tell me, mate.” Mor whispered as she shampooed your hair. “What flavor pie did you bake Azriel after he fucked you?”

You hummed and pinched Mor’s thigh for fixating on silly things and pulling you out of your sleep. You and Azriel had a fling that lasted less than a winter season ten years ago and had only ever been casual friends since. It was nothing compared to what you felt for Mor. How pleasure overtook every cell in your body when you were together, even if all you were doing was sharing a turkey sandwich at a bistro down by the Sidra.

If you peeked into your skull, it would be filled with images of Mor. Your lover, your best friend, your mate. She was your ending and your beginning. Nothing before or since matters.

“Blueberry.”

Mor nipped your ear and your moan signaled you liked that a little too much. Even as your eyes fluttered shut, you grabbed her hand and guided it to your center. You wanted her to make you cum one more time, just one more teeny tiny orgasm before you fall asleep.

Mor massaged your wet, soapy breast with one hand while the other lazily circled your clit. She pressed hot kisses over your neck, occasionally licking and nipping the skin there too.

“You’re only making cherry from now on.”

#morrigan #acotar #acotar smut #mor x reader #mor x you #Azriel x reader #Azriel x you #a court of thorns and roses #a court of thorns and roses smut #acosf #acomaf #acowar #morrigan x reader #morrigan x you

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jexnkookie · 4 months ago

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The Law of Attraction (Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader) [Part 9]

Story Synopsis: Throughout his life, Jung Kook has only ever loved one girl. Despite her being out of his league and of an elite class that he wasn't born into, he fell hard, keeping his feelings a closely guarded secret. When they parted ways, and Jung Kook pursued his law career, he did so with the intent of moving on. But when she unexpectedly arrives back into his life, Jung Kook finds himself once again face to face with his own insecurities, and the girl of his dreams.

Story Rating: M (18+) [Language, sex, depression, alcoholism]

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Characters/Pairings: Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader (feat. Jimin x Reader)

Chapter Word Count: 2.1k

Taglist: @cassies-cookies @crisle19 @dream-cvtcher @jimincrystal @jksusawife @jk-190811 @khadeeeeej @kooklovee @lalataegi @lallataegi @mukeovernetflix @rispwn @shellyyy177 @smoljimjim @taetaecatbo @user-190811 @whoa-jo @11thenightwemet11

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Series Masterlist

“Alright, let’s get started.”

The buzzing fluorescent lights in the closed room were annoying to Jimin’s eyes, but he sat still and focused on the woman in front of him, who introduced herself as Wendy, rather than going by Dr. Moore. Her short, red-painted nails stayed locked around a ball-point pen, ready to scribble notes on her yellow notepad. Her glasses fell to the bottom of her nose, and her black hair with grey at the roots revealed her older age. Jimin wasn’t sure why he felt so nervous. This is what he signed up for, after all; to learn whyhe has a problem, so he can stophaving a problem. He kept reminding himself that you’d be proud right now as he sat on the small sofa of her office, getting comfortable among the piles of pillows.

“Ok.” He responded. Every inch of his body revealing the reservations he had.

“Can you share a bit about why you’re here?” Wendy invited him to speak.

“I drink a lot. Sometimes.” Jimin said shyly.

“Ok,” She said warmly. “Did something happen while you were drinking that brought you here?”

“Yes.” He answered, nervously playing with the fabric of his sleeves. “I fought with my fiancé, Y/N, in our hotel room and I….”

It was a struggle for him to admit. The memories of crying, broken glass from his phone, the way you looked so scared of him all replayed in my mind, haunting him.

“It’s ok.” Wendy said. “Please, take your time.”

“Thank you. I… I threw my phone, not really at her but at the wall behind her. The screen shattered, and it scared her, so she called someone.”

“Thank you for sharing that with me.” Wendy said, appreciating his honesty. “Let’s start with getting to know you a little bit, Jimin. Can you tell me about your family?”

“My parents?” He asked, watching her nod in response. “My father was CEO of our family business, Park Tech, until he recently retired and I inherited the company, and my mother was a stay at home mother.”

“What does she do now?” Wendy asked.

“She passed away several years ago.” Jimin responded, his voice giving away his sadness at the subject.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Dr. Moore said, making genuine eye contact with Jimin. “How would you describe your emotions around that time?”

Jimin looked away from her, down to his feet, and shrugged his shoulders. The only person he had ever reallydiscussed his mother with, was you. But even then, he struggled to be truly vulnerable. It just became too difficult to muster up memories of that period of his life, let alone genuinely open up, so Jimin opted to reject it altogether. But as Wendy looked at him, and gave him space to collect himself, he wanted to try for once. For the sake of his relationship with you.

“Angry.” He responded. “I was angry.”

“Angry with her?” Dr. Moore clarified, and Jimin nodded. “May I ask why?”

“She left me.” Jimin answered, still unable to make eye contact. His arms were crossed at his chest, posture defensive and guarded. “She left me alone with my father, and I had to deal with him by myself.”

“Why do you find your father difficult to deal with?”

“He’s just…” Jimin’s words scrambled in his mind, unable to be organized in a way that could effectively explain his complicated relationship with his father. “He’s critical. Everything I do seems to be a mistake, and he believes that I can’t handle anything. I try to make him happy, but he never is.”

“Was he like that before your mother passed away?”

“A little. He’s gotten worse.”

“After your mother passed, is that when you started drinking?” She asked gently, and Jimin nodded. “A way to cope.”

“You could say that.” Jimin said.

“Is your father upset by your drinking?”

“Very.” Jimin chuckled sadly. “He says I’m an embarrassment, that I’m ruining the family reputation and the value of the company. He says that I’m lucky Y/N agreed to marry me at all, since I’m such a mess.”

Dr. Moore wrote down some notes, and took a moment to look at Jimin. He felt studied, and began uncomfortably shifting in his seat.

“I think you did a lot today.” She said with a smile. “Thank you for sharing so much with me. I think we’ll end early, but I’d like to leave you with one thought before you go.”

She took off her glasses, sitting them on the desk beside her, and then placed her notepad and pens on the same spot. She leaned forward, drawing in Jimin’s attention, and kept a warm demeanor to her, allowing him to be pulled in.

“I think that so often, when we do things to hurt others, we end up hurting ourselves the most.” She explained. “It backfires. The person we were trying to hurt with our actions, isn’t nearly as affected as we think they are. But rather, it’s us who take the hit.”

Jimin nodded, trying to make a connection to something he had said. The timer beeped, letting them know they were finished for the day.

A few hours later, you enter through the hallway of the treatment center to meet with Jimin at a private table. His eyes, and his entire world, lit up the moment he sees you. His posture becomes straighter, and his lips turn upwards into a smile.

“Hi, honey.” He stands to greet you, giving you a quick peck on the lips before noticing the bag in your hand. “You brought me something?”

“Mhm. Jungkook and I made noodles this morning for our lunches, and I made extra for you.” You explained nicely.

Jimin bit his tongue, but internally, he loathed imagining how you spent your morning cooking with Jungkook, in his kitchen, in his apartment.

“Thank you, honey.” He said softly, leaning in for another, slower, kiss. “So sweet.”

You two sat together and ate, and you asked Jimin enjoyed the noodles the best he could, as you asked him about his day so far. He gave vague answers, said that therapy was good, and that for what it’s worth, he doesn’t hate it here. Jimin asks you what you’ve been up to, and that’s when you tell him about the book store and the red pandas. The more you talked, the happier you seemed. Jimin felt incredible hatred towards himself, because he hated it, knowing he wasn’t the reason.

“Jungkook really has been so nice.” You said, taking another bite of your noodles.

“Yeah, you two seem to get along very well.” Jimin’s voice sarcastically quipped. You furrowed your brows at his tone and attitude. His face was stern, clearly upset by something you said.

“Baby, what’s the matter? You know it was just-”

You reached out to touch his hand, to console him, but when his eyes glanced down at your finger, his composure cracked completely.

“Your ring is gone.” He said, shock and panic evident. “Honey, where's your engagement ring? What’s going on?”

You knew the many answers and explanations to that question. The ring inched off your finger slowly, with every sip of alcohol he took, with every empty promise, and with every fight that ended in fresh tears. When your father voiced his concerns about your future with Jimin, the ring suddenly felt heavier than it ever had before. It felt like a wake up call, that this bad dream you had been subjected to couldbe over, despite it being painful to imagine. But you dared to imagine it, just briefly, and when you slid the ring off, it was like a breath of fresh air in your lungs. You felt free.

But, as you stared at Jimin’s gorgeous features slipping into sadness, you didn’t have the heart to explain, or to answer. So you sat there, silent. Somehow, that was all the answer that Jimin needed.

“Y/N, you can’t leave me, please.” He begged, holding on tightly to your hands with tears spilling down his face. “I’m trying. I’m really trying. I’m here, doing this for both of us. Please, angel, you have to stay with me. Please. I love you. You’re the love of my life, Y/N, you know that. Please. Please don’t go. I’m trying.”

Jimin rambled apologies and begged for you, like a scared child who had their safety blanket taken away. It was like his ccomfort, his usually stable foundation, had been shaken. He was unprepared, and for the first time in his life, Jimin was truly, deeply afraid.

“I know you’re trying.” You say, holding onto his hand as your own tears spill. “I’m trying, too.”

——————————————————————

When you arrive back to Jung Kook’s apartment, the tears hadn’t subsided. If anything, time in the backseat of the SUV gave you ample opportunity to think, which in turn, just made the tears flow more freely. You had never felt so guilty before, bruising a heart that you had learned to call home. Jimin’s sweet, whispered words, his charming laugh, his tender touches, his morning kisses. They all seemed like things that would be impossible to even imagine going without.

But his unstable nature, his unpredictability, and the seemingly never ending spinning loop that he had you on. These things seemed like things that would be impossible to even imagine spending the rest of your life with. When you took Jimin, you took all of him. But if you turn him away, you turn away all of him, too. It’s all, or it’s none. There is no in between.

Jung Kook was on a call when you entered through the front door, the iPhone pressed up to his ear as he looked out the living room window.

“Yes, I’ll have your case on my desk for review tomorrow morning.” Jung Kook spoke, not yet aware of your presence. “Yes, Mr. Kim, please feel free to stop by tomorrow morning and we can look over your options. Thank you. Have a nice night.”

He hung up the call, and turned around to see you with red cheeks and red eyes. He knew it had been your first granted meeting with Jimin today since he checked himself into treatment, and he imagined it would be a hard day. But seeing how devastated and small you looked in that moment, he could tell it was much more than a ‘hard day.’ But he didn’t want to waste time with questions, exhausting you more. Jung Kook walked over to you, and wrapped his arms around you in a comforting hug.

Feeling him around you allowed for the dam that had been holding back some of your emotions to completely shatter. You sobbed, wrapping your arms around him as well and shook as you cried. Jung Kook just held you close, hoping it would be enough to keep you together as best as he could.

“Shhh, it’s ok.” He whispered, tucking your head into his chest, his lips rested at the top of your head, letting you cry into his hoodie. “You’re ok. I’ve got you.”

“I just don’t know what I should do.” You said with words shaky through your unsteady breathing.

“You can talk to me about anything, you know that, don’t you?” Jung Kook asked. “If you need to talk about it, you can.”

You nodded, and kept your arms around him as you told him about the conversation that had happened. Jung Kook was stunned by what he heard, but there was a question that he couldn’t get off his mind, and that he knew he needed an answer to.

“Can I ask, why did you take off your engagement ring?”

“I was having doubts about… us.” You admitted, your chest bursting at the seams with guilt. “I love him, but I just don’t know…”

“Hey, shhh. I understand.” Jung Kook hushed you gently. He pulled you ever so slightly away from his chest, just enough to make eye contact as he spoke. “You know what I think? I think you’re a lot like me, in that you try to take care of the people that you love, sometimes to your own detriment. Eomma used to scold me about that, and she told me that sometimes, you have to put your needs first, so that you can be the best version of yourself when you show up for those you love.”

“I… I don’t know if I can do that.” You sniffled, wiping your years.

“It is hard. Trust me, I know.” He admitted. “But, I think you should… Because I know that you deserve to be happy.”

#jungkook fluff #jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #the law of attraction #lawyer!jungkook #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin x y/n #jimin fanfic #jimin fic

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catboyieejeno · 2 years ago

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"Let him look,"

pairings: bf! yuta x afab! reader summary: The boys invite you and Yuta on a trip for Mark's birthday, but when Jaehyun makes a few too many plays at you, Yuta reminds you that you belong to him. contents: established relationship, pining, slight fluff, angst, jealous sex, oral (m&f receiving), unprotected sex, orgasm denial, praising/praise kink, switch! yuta (i know, what a surprise, but trust me on this), minors dni count: 6.6k

"What do you think? Black or Red?" You hold up your two options for swim wear, dangling the pieces on either one of your index fingers.

Yuta looks up from his phone and at you, immediately locking it and putting it aside, suddenly very interested in the topic of your debate. He squints his eyes and furrows his brow in thought, trying to picture your body in each one. Although he has a crystal clear image in his mind paired with his choice of preference, he instead huffs, opting for a cheeky response.

"I don't know, I think you'll have to try them on," he smirks with a shrug.

"First of all, you've seen me in both of these," you scoff, giving him a playful glare as your hands fall to your hips, "and second of all, we're already running late. You're not even ready, and at this point, we'll get there after Mark does,"

Last week, a few of the boys invited the two of you on a weekend-long trip to the coast for Mark's birthday. Since they were on break from schedules and practices for the next two months, this would be the perfect getaway trip to celebrate their much needed hiatus and their friend's birthday, all in one.

Mark is one of the members you are closest to; In fact, he’s the one that introduced you to Yuta and the rest of the guys. Naturally, Johnny insisted that you had to go with them and accompany Yuta.

The two of you have your own room with an infinity pool and deck awaiting your arrival.

It had been forever since the two of you had gone on a vacation alone, with all the promotions the group had to do recently, and the mere thought had been giving you butterflies ever since the plan came to be. Sure, you have Yuta all to yourself often, for days at a time, but to have him alone in a luxurious hotel room has your mind spinning.

“Fine,” he sighs, sliding to the edge of the bed, hands pulling you in at your waist. His mouth connects to the skin of your stomach, exposed under the brim of the short top you’re wearing, while his eyes looked up at yours the whole time, “wear the black one,” he mumbles between kisses, “makes you look sexier.”

A blush creeps onto your cheeks and you run a hand through his long hair, sighing audibly. “Finish packing,” you insist.

Yuta rolls his eyes but obliges nonetheless, getting up to put the last of his clothes and toiletries in his bag. Johnny had let you both know he’d be there in the next 20 minutes, but the by the look of your bedroom and the mess of clothes that scattered every surface, he might just leave you two behind.

You and Yuta pack quickly and quietly, other than the one or two times you remind each other to take something you otherwise might’ve forgotten. When all your bags are zipped up and waiting with their owners by the door, a honk from outside paired with two or three texts to Yuta’s phone let you know your ride is here.

It’s a warm day outside, your favorite kind of day. Suddenly feeling excited, you get in the car while Yuta accommodates your belongings in the trunk. Biding hello to everyone and rambling about how highly you were anticipating the trip, you take your seat in the middle next to your boyfriend and beside Haechan.

Jaehyun sits at the passenger side, arguing with Johnny, who is driving, the whole way to the resort about which turn to make or what street to go down. Initially, it's rather amusing to watch them quarrel, but around the third time that Johnny takes the wrong exit, all of you realize you might actually never get to your destination.

This back and forth between the boys lasts until Haechan urges that they pull over, letting him direct instead, having grown far too annoyed with the bickering.

“Taeyong, Jungwoo, Doyoung, Taeil and Mark will have all turned 40 by the time we get there if we’re going at this pace,” Haechan snaps, tapping Jaehyun’s shoulder, “switch with me.”

Johnny laughs, turning the wheel and parking the car on the side of the road. There, the two boys switch, Jaehyun taking Haechan’s old spot beside you. As he sits, he offers you a warm, dimpled smile.

—

After a much smoother navigation (thank you, Haechan), the five of you manage to make it to the hotel, somehow beating the other boys which earns your group time to set up and settle in.

Everyone splits into their rooms, agreeing to meet up by the private pool after dropping off all the luggage and changing, at which time Mark would have arrived and the birthday shenanigans could commence.

The hotel is large, walls painted in a bone color with a blue trim. It’s clean and filled with plants and fountains, giving the impression of an outdoor space.

Yuta leads you through the lobby and up into your suite by the hand, tapping in the key card. As soon as the door shuts with a click, he drops the stuff on the bed and turns around to face you.

“Come ‘ere” he whispers, opening his arms.

You tilt your head defiantly and walk over to him at a torturously slow pace, which you know well enough that Yuta has no patience for. It takes him no more than a second before he reaches out for you and pulls you close until the two of you are chest to chest. His lips press against yours, gently at first, hands finding their way to your hair, then down your arms until they happily situate themselves at your hips.

The kiss quickly becomes a little more feverish, eager. You wrap your arms around his shoulders to keep steady, unable to resist mewling into his mouth as he breaths into yours.

"Mmph, baby," you mumble against his lips, "We have to-"

"I know, I know," he nods, pulling away for a second to look at your face, "But we're on vacation," he reminds you, "Mark isn't here yet, we can spare a few minutes,"

Deciding he's right, you use one hand to push him back and onto the edge of the king-sized bed, taking a seat on his lap. He grins at the prospect of you finally giving in, and leans back momentarily to look you up and down. He takes in your figure as if he’s never seen it before.

A groan rumbles in his throat at the sight of your breasts that sit tightly underneath the material of your shirt and he desperately dives for your neck, leaving slow, wet kisses along your sensitive skin. He stalls there for a moment, then trails his lips to your shoulder blades and back down toward your chest. His hands slide up your stomach and under your shirt until they each grab one of your boobs.

"I can't believe I have you all to myself in this huge room. God," he pauses, "the things I'm gonna do to you,"

You smirk, but it doesn't distract him from catching the redness that appears on your face at the direct nature of his statement.

Immediately, his pants feel significantly tighter; Yuta knows how bold and shamelessly needy you are in bed, never afraid to tell him how good he makes you feel or what you want him to do next. Nevertheless, it is always a turn on for him to see you crumble at just his words.

Reaching a hand up to hold his jaw, you bring his face closer to yours and your lips make contact again. He hums against your mouth, bucking his hips up subconsciously. In response, you roll your own down to meet him halfway, relishing in the much needed friction between your legs. The smacking sound of your open mouthed kisses and the panting that came with it were the only sounds in the room, with the exception of a few moans that couldn't be suppressed by either of you.

Until now; a knock on the door makes the two of you break apart, a very annoyed expression replacing the previously lustful one on your boyfriend's face.

"What?" He calls.

"Mark's here, Taeyong just told me they're parking," Johnny responds, voice slightly muffled behind the door.

You and Yuta look at each other and you laugh at his flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

“Alright, going!” he grumbles.

"We'll continue this later, baby boy," you move to get off of him, but not without letting your hand brush along his semi-hard crotch, "you’re lucky those swim trunks are loose,"

"Very funny," He scoffs, pressing a light smack to your ass as you turn around and head for your bag, pulling out the black bikini he had picked out for you at home.

You begin to slide off your shorts, taking your precious time since you know he's still watching. Through the reflection of the mirror, your vision follows his right hand as it squeezes his clothed dick, lip caught between his teeth and eyes narrowed, anticipating your every move. Your shirt is soon discarded too, leaving you in nothing but your undergarments.

Now, you can take your bra off on your own, but it’s just too easy to tease him.

"Help me?" You mumble with a pout, walking over and turning your back to him, letting your left hand brush your hair over your shoulder, exposing the clasp of your bra to him. As if that wasn’t enough, you sit between his legs, pressing the curve of your ass right on his lap, making him grunt.

He easily undoes your bra, fighting the urge to flip you over and fuck you right here as he presses your face into the pillows, not caring that everyone else is waiting for the two of you downstairs. But instead, he decides he’d rather wait. If you want to to keep being a tease, that’s fine by him.

He knows you have plenty of self control, but he also knows he has more; and so, he’ll let you continue your little game, knowing that at the end of the night, you’ll be begging and crying for him to fuck you.

Newly encouraged and eager to see his plan play out, Yuta slides out from behind you and walks over to the bathroom, leaving you alone, practically naked in the main room and unable to torture him further. As you huff and slip on your bikini in defeat, Yuta rests his arm against the closed bathroom door, readjusting his bulge so that it’s less visible. He does this only after pumping himself into his hand a few times pretending it was you, unable to resist the vividness of his imagination; however, he quickly stops for two reasons: if he keeps going, he’d be fully hard and unable to hide his erection from his friends. That, and Mark had actually gotten here now, and there was more than just sex planned for this weekend.

When he comes back out, you’re sitting pretty on a chair out in the deck, shades on your eyes, your black bikini hidden under a matching black cover up.

“You look beautiful,” he compliments, a beaming smile appearing on your face as you see him approaching, “Let’s go downstairs, yeah?”

You eagerly nod, and the two of you go downstairs to meet up with the rest of the boys.

The private pool they rented out was full of inflatables and water guns, and you almost forgot you were at an adult’s birthday party until you saw the nearby bar full of drinks of all colors being served by two bartenders.

All of the members are already gathered around the pool. The boys that had ridden in the car with you had already gotten in it seems, an obvious tell being their wet hair that sticks to their foreheads.

Mark, who still seems to be taking in the surprise, gets a bright blue drink shoved in his hand, “Yo, what is all this?”

“Start drinking, birthday boy, you have a long way to go before you catch up to us,” Johnny laughs, turning to face you and Yuta, “You two grab a drink, too, It’s about time you made it down here,”

Mark notices your presence and immediately pulls his drink away from his lips, almost choking in the process, “You came?”

“Of course I came, Mark Lee. You thought I’d miss your birthday?” The boy laughed and gave you a side hug, other hand grabbing Yuta’s to clap him up, “Let me get a drink, I can’t let you sip alone,” you insist.

“I’m gonna go set this down, yeah?” Yuta gestures at the tote bag slung over his shoulder that you packed with sunscreen and towels. You nod in acknowledgement and walk over to the bar where a bright pink drink catches your eye. From his seat on a lounge chair, Yuta takes off his tank top and starts applying sunscreen. To his right is a table where Haechan, Jungwoo and Jaehyun were setting up beer pong.

“You wanna get in with me?” Yuta asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You shake your head.

“I’m not hot enough yet,” you explain, “In a little,”

He nods and leaves one more kiss on your cheek, then disappears behind you and toward the pool.

“We’re gonna play beer pong, you wanna join?” You look up at Jaehyun, debating your options. He furrows his brows at the hesitance on your features, “Come on, I don’t have a partner,”

Sighing in defeat, you hold out a finger at the red solo cups Jungwoo was filling with the fizzy yellow liquid, “Alright, fine. But I don’t like beer. If they score, I’ll sip from my drink,”

“Don’t worry,” Jaehyun smiles, “I’ll drink for you,”

“It’s me and Jungwoo versus you and Jaehyun,” Haechan nods.

“Alright, alright. Give me a second.” Placing your drink down on the table by the rest of your things, you slip off your cover up and sandals, pulling your sunglasses down to your eyes from where they sit on your head. Reclaiming your drink and taking a generous sip, you walk back over.

It’s your turn first. You lean down, lining up the little white ball encased in your fingers with the cups on the other side of the table.

You’re too concentrated on your shot to notice, but Yuta, stood in the fresh, cool water of the pool, had been watching you ever since you took off the sheer cover up. His eyes trail your body, studying the way the impossibly small triangles of fabric hug your breasts and push them together, or the way your ass perks up, thanks to the way you’re arching your back trying to play.

He watches, amused, until he notices one small detail: he isn’t the only one checking you out.

With his hands on his waist, tongue poking the inside of his cheek, Jaehyun’s eyes look you up and down watching as you make your shot and score.

Instantly, Yuta’s jaw clenches tightly, but something Taeyong says momentarily takes his attention off of what he’s witnessing. As soon as he answers his friend though, his eyes are right back on you, warily watching your interaction.

Your ball lands into one of the cups at the front row, earning you a high-five from your partner.

Jaehyun’s turn is next. “Blow on it for good luck,” he whispers, holding the ball up to your lips. You blow softly, breaking into laughter halfway through, “if I make this, it’s all thanks to you,”

“Hurry up and throw it already,” Haechan whines, waving his arm around.

Jaehyun gives you a playful wink and tosses the ball. It lands in a cup.

“Dude, no way you guys are beating us,” you gloat. You rest your elbow on Jaehyun’s shoulder, putting on a cocky look as you watch the boys on the other side grab the cups and down their drinks.

“Yeah, yeah, watch this.” Jungwoo shoots and makes it, but Haechan misses, taking a few seconds to wallow and recover his pride.

You pick up the cup, about to drink the disgusting beer inside, when Jaehyun stops you, taking the solo cup from your hand. “Sip from your drink, I promised you I’d have the beer.”

And so, the game continues: you and Jaehyun score mercilessly, leaving the two other boys trying to negotiate a rule change or argue about who has drank more between the two of them. Before every toss of his ball, Jaehyun would insist you blow on it, claiming you were his good luck charm. This didn’t sit well with Yuta, who had started making his way over to you. There was only one cup left on Jungwoo and Haechan’s side and it was your turn.

“Baby,” Yuta calls. You turn around, pulling your shades up to see him better. “Let me put some sunscreen on you,” he suggests, “Your cheeks are getting red,”

“We’re about to win-“ Jaehyun tries, but you hand him the ball.

“It’s alright, you got this. Take my shot for me.” You toss him the ball and he holds it up like he's done for the previous rounds.

“Let’s make sure this goes in, yeah?” As he waits for you to blow, Yuta’s annoyance gets the better of him and he grabs the ball, throwing and making it in from where he stood behind you to finish the game. The two losers start going on about how that was cheating, but Jaehyun doesn’t bat an eye, not truly catching on to Yuta’s hidden distaste for the way he was interacting with his girlfriend.

“Princess, come here,” he straddles the lounge chair, grabbing the bottle of sunscreen and gesturing for you to sit, which you do, crisscross between his legs with your back facing his chest. His hands rub the lotion onto your neck, shoulders and thighs, massaging your muscles in the process. Your head falls back on his shoulder.

“That feels nice,” you mumble lazily, turning your face to leave some kisses on his neck. His skin felt cold, no doubt reflecting the temperature of the water.

“Mmm.” He hums, “How much have you drank?”

“Just the one. I’m gonna grab another now,” you reply. Your hands overlap his, helping him spread the sunblock along your thighs. You felt him squeeze every so often, making you chuckle to yourself.

“Don’t play beer pong anymore,” he mumbles, “Get in the water with me,”

“I will, as soon as this soaks in. I’ll put my feet in for now,”

“Okay,” he agrees.

“Yuta!” Mark shouts, waving him down from the pool, “Volleyball!”

“Maybe later, Mark-“

“You can’t say no! It’s my birthday.”

"Your birthday's tomorrow." He argues back.

You laugh at them, nudging your boyfriend, “Go, make him happy. I can finish applying it on my face.”

“Alright, baby.” He leaves you with a peck on the lips, going over to the water and immediately splashing Mark as soon he gets in.

You put some sunscreen on your hands, rubbing it together and spreading it across your chest and stomach. The sun felt warm on your skin, and you could tell Yuta was right about your cheeks being red because they were hot under the pads of your fingers. You covered your face in the protectant, then opened your eyes as you notice the darkness behind your lid. A tall figure stands in front of you, blocking the sun.

“I noticed you drank all of your drink during the game so, I got you another,” Jaehyun extends his arm, holding out a yellow drink with a pineapple wedge on it. You thank him, wiping your hands on the towel to get rid of the extra product and taking it. He presses his own glass against yours as a cheers and the two of you take a sip.

“Mm, this one’s really good,” You claim, “I think I like it more than the pink one,”

“Mine’s good, too. You wanna try it?”

You and Jaehyun switch drinks and try each other’s. As soon as the sour taste of the kiwi hits your tongue, you huff.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Yours is better.”

“Have it,” he grins. You immediately shake your head, handing it back to him.

“No, no. It’s yours, here,”

“Seriously, it’s okay. I like the pineapple one more.”

“You’re just saying that,” you shake your head again.

“I promise,”

Giving him a doubtful look, you sigh, “Fine.”

“You gonna get in?” He asks you, tilting his head toward the pool.

“Oh, yeah,” You nod, getting up as you remember you promised Yuta that you’d join him in the water. Your sunscreen has to have absorbed by now, so it should be fine to get in. You leave your shades on the chair, standing up fully. As you’re about to walk past Jaehyun, he stops you by grabbing your forearm softly.

“Wait, you have, uhm-“ His hand comes up, “Here,” he uses his thumb to swipe away a streak of white sunscreen on your cheek, “There you go,”

“Oh, um… Thank you.”

You sit by the edge of the pool, slipping your feet in and shuddering at the temperature of the water. Your eyes search for Yuta among the members playing volleyball but you don’t find him there. Instead, he’s leaning against the side of the pool. You wave him over, oblivious to the daggers he’s glaring your way, but he doesn’t budge.

Jaehyun sits beside you, reaching down and scooping up some water with his hand, splashing you.

“It’s cold!” You complain, squeezing your eyes shut.

“It feels better once you go in, come on.” He encourages, jumping in so the water is at his waist. It splashes you and you shriek, holding an arm up. He grabs your drink from your grip, setting it down beside you, then pulls you into the pool.

“Oh, my god. It’s freezing,” You gasp, “holy shit.”

“But it feels good, right?” He laughs.

Unbeknownst to you and Jaehyun, Yuta had been watching your entire conversation from a distance. He scoffs, beyond tired of all the drink-sharing, giggling, and skin ship going on between the two of you. His face is growing hotter by the second as he watches the way Jaehyun keeps glancing down at your exposed chest, breasts glistening and bouncing on the surface of the water. His teeth are starting to hurt from the way he’s been gritting them together.

“Fuck this,” he mutters to himself.

He pulls himself out of the water, walking past the two of you and towards his towel to dry off. This catches your attention and your head spins around as you call for him.

“Babe?”

He doesn’t answer.

“He probably just went to get a drink-“ You ignore Jaehyun, knowing that something was wrong and pull yourself out of the water, too.

“Yuta, stop.” You try again.

When you’re both out of sight from the rest of the members, he finally turns around, seething.

“Yuta-“

“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you having fun?”

“What?”

“Forget it,” he scoffs. “If you wanna talk, we can talk in the room, not here,” He snaps, glancing behind you at Taeil who was approaching, fetching the volleyball that had flown out of the water, completely unaware of the conversation happening between you and Yuta.

“Okay,” you breathe, “yeah.”

You follow him up to the suite in silence; the air is tense and heavy, almost radiating with the anger Yuta is feeling. He opens the door and throws his towel to the side, running a hand through his hair. Still, he doesn’t say anything until you speak first.

“Yuta,”

“What the fuck was that, huh?” He spits, arm gesturing toward the pool.

“What was what? What are you talking about?” You ask, genuinely bewildered.

“God, you’re fucking dense.”

“Excuse me?” You snap, eyes narrowing.

“You mean to tell me that you didn’t notice the way Jaehyun was eye-fucking you the whole day?”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Yuta? He wasn’t eye-fucking me, he was just-“

“What? Being nice? Grabbing you a drink is being nice? Caressing your cheek and pulling you into the water by your waist so he can stare at your chest is being nice?” He rambles, raising his voice, “Insisting you blow on the ping-pong ball as if that has any fucking effect whatsoever on how-“

“First of all,” you snap, holding a finger up. “You don’t have to yell. Ever.” You take a breath, trying to keep your voice steady, “and you don’t get to call me dense.”

His eyes soften slightly, but you can still see the anger tainting his features. His voice, however, is now significantly lower, in both volume and tone, “I spent the whole day trying to get you to go in the water with me and spend time with me and where were you? Playing beer pong with Jaehyun. Lounging and sharing drinks with Jaehyun. The only reason you went in at all was because Jaehyun carried you in. He was flirting with you in front of my face.”

“I’m sorry,” you shook your head, “It didn’t seem like that was his intention and if it was, then I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I hope you know,” you reach for his hand and he lets you, “that if I even suspected it was like that, I would’ve put a stop to it.”

He sighs begrudgingly.

“Do you not believe me? You don’t trust that I would?”

“I trust you, I do.” he admits, “But it’s hard to believe that you didn’t notice the way he was looking you.”

“Let him look,” you grab both of Yuta’s hands, wrapping them around yourself, “He’s only fooling himself.”

You can tell he’s still very upset by the way he casts his eyes at the ground, but his arms pull you in anyway, shoulders relaxing under your hands as you rub them.

“I love you, okay?" He finally looks up at you, "I’m sorry I didn’t catch on. And in all fairness, if that was you and another girl, I’d be fucking mad, too,” His eyes look between yours, and he sees the genuineness of your words and your apology.

“I’m all yours, baby." you continue, "He can look all he wants; that doesn’t change the fact that you’re the only person that I want to touch me and look at me that way," You bring his hand down to your ass and his hand squeezes the skin instinctively.

“I’m still kinda mad,” he warns.

“That’s okay.”

“I should be fucking furious,”

“Mhm,” you hum against his neck, teeth grazing the skin there.

He lets out a hiss at the feeling, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he swallows thickly, “You do look good in that bathing suit,”

“What, this?” You ask, leaning back so he can look at you. Your hands hold your breasts, squeezing them, “Is this what he was staring at?”

He gives you a slight look of warning that tells you not to push it, but you know very well what you’re doing and just how far to take it.

You shake your head, “That’s too bad,”

“What is?” Yuta asks.

“That he can’t ever see them like this,” you single-handedly reach behind you and pull at the string tied around your neck, letting the material fall and expose your breasts, full and round and perfect, displayed for your boyfriend's hungry eyes.

“Fuck,”

“Sit back, baby,”

He scoots onto the edge of the bed, hands at your waist as you straddle him, giving him a perfect view of your boobs. One of his thumbs brushes over your nipple, the other hand going behind his head for support.

You take your time, leaning down and peppering open mouthed kisses on his torso, tongue dragging down his stomach until you reach his belly button ring where you stop and look up, watching his expression twist into lust through your lashes. His dick twitches at the sight before him, mouth hanging open.

“This is the best decision you’ve ever made,” You joke, kissing around the piercing. You tug at it with your teeth until he hisses, free hand grabbing at your hair to pull you up.

“Stop fucking teasing me, it’s all you’ve done all day.”

“Since you’re so mad, why don’t you show me? Show me how mad you get when your friends stare at me,”

In a mere second, Yuta flips you over, using your hair that twists around his right hand as leverage.

“You think you’re funny, huh?”

Even with your voice strained from the pain of your hair being tugged, you muster up a smart-ass reply, “Yeah, you know, I’d say I am rather funny somet-“

His left hand grabs your throat harshly, lips attaching themselves to yours to shut you up. “Take off your fucking bottom piece,” He says into your mouth, breath mixing with yours as you let out a strangled moan. Your hands work quickly to untie the remaining bikini piece, hips lifting to pull it off of yourself and toss it to the side. As soon as you do, he settles comfortably between your legs, grinding himself down into you.

“Oh, my God,” you breathe out, eyes rolling back at the direct friction against you.

“I’m gonna eat you out baby,” He tells you, “But you’re not gonna come,”

A whimper escapes your lips, but you don’t dare say anything or attempt to argue this time. You watch as he slides down your body, kissing every spot on the way down like you’d done to him just moments ago, leaving wet marks and streaks along your skin.

When his face is finally between your legs, you hike them up, resting your thighs on his shoulders. Mouth agape and eyes half open, you watch as he brings his thumb up to touch you, rubbing slowly.

“Mmm, Yuta,”

“I know, baby, I know.”

He licks up your folds, once, twice, then three times, lapping you up as many times as he deems necessary before finally attaching his mouth to your clit, sucking and licking at your sensitive bud. At the overwhelming sensation, your eyes roll back.

You try to reach for his hair but he grabs your hands and intertwines your fingers with his, holding them at your side. Unable to help yourself, you roll your hips, grinding yourself against his tongue.

At your desperation, Yuta moans, the sound vibrating through your core. Every so often, he presses a kiss to you, then leans back to take in the sight of your glistening core. He looks at it as if he's been starved, and maybe he has with all your teasing earlier in the day. He's ravenous, mouth and tongue working against you wonderfully, leaving you a writhing mess beneath him.

"Yuta, oh, I'm gonna-"

"No," He interrupts, but doesn't stop what he's doing. He lets go of one of your hands, his index and middle finger slipping into you.

"Please, please let me-"

"No," he replies, tone much sharper this time, "I better not feel you come around me or so help me God, I'll leave you here like this,"

Knowing better than to question the sincerity of his threat, you take a deep breath, trying to suppress the feeling in your stomach that begs you to let go.

Yuta removes his fingers from inside of you and pulls down his own shorts. He had become too aroused while pleasuring you, and his dick was begging for any kind of stimulation. He pumps himself into his hand, using the precum that leaked from his red tip and your left over wetness on his fingers as lubrication.

"Let me help you," you whimper, squirming, "Please, I'll be good, just let me help you. I can't," a moan escapes your lips, "I can't take it anymore,"

For a second, he looks dangerous, as if he'll continue his merciless efforts, but he ultimately slows his tongue, settling for your compromise.

You pant, attempting to recover for a brief moment as he lays beside you on the bed, pulling his shorts all the way off.

"Baby," he calls. You turn to him, getting up on all fours. Your face is right by his cock awaiting his next command, one of your hands wrapping around the base of it. Yuta sits up for a second, grabbing you by the back of your neck to bring you in for the most sensual kiss you've shared in a while. It's messy and needy, but simultaneously slow and drawn out. He's savoring you and the fact that you're his.

His tongue swipes at yours, and you can taste yourself in his mouth, moaning at the lewdness of the situation. As he pulls away, you look into his eyes, waiting for him to tell you what he wants.

"Suck me off slowly. I don't wanna come before I've been inside you."

Nodding obediently, you do just that. Your soft, swollen lips place a gentle kiss on the tip of his cock and you drag them down, taking your time as he requested. Eventually, you replace them with your tongue, making sure to get him all wet so your hand will be able to slide on his length with ease.

"You're so fucking hot," he praises, letting both of his hands rest behind his head.

Part of you wants to be good and please him the way he asked of you, but the ache between your legs reminds you of the way he left you hanging no more than five minutes ago. Even now, you feel like you're so close; like if you just used your imagination and clenched around nothing, you'd reach your orgasm.

Hence, you conclude that returning the favor wouldn't hurt, right?

You take him fully into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat. Involuntarily, you swallow around him and Yuta hisses, hips bucking up. Wasting no time, you start bobbing up and down on his dick, letting him all the way in each time. Your pretty eyes are watering but you remain, still looking at him, loving the way his face contorts into pleasure.

Your lips come off of him with a pop and a string of saliva is the only thing left behind. You use your hand to stroke him, taking extra care to squeeze at the tip.

"Mmm, don't stop,"

"Or what?" You provoke, tucking a strand of hair behind you ear as you slow the motion of your wrist.

He sucks in a sharp breath, lifting his hips to meet your speed, "Please, don't stop," he whispers, looking down at you.

"You want me to use my mouth again, baby?"

He quickly nods, reaching out to hold your jaw and draw it near his swollen tip again. You let him guide you as you wrap your lips around him, sucking and licking until he can no longer suppress his groans.

"Okay, okay," his hand goes to pull you up, but you resist, feeling him twitch, "If you-fuck, if you keep going m'gonna come,"

With a gasp, desperate to replenish the lost oxygen in your lungs, you take him out of your mouth, both of your chests heaving.

"Was that good?" You ask, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

"So fucking good."

"Good enough that you'll let me come now?"

He laughs at how direct you are, pulling you on top of him, "I'd like nothing more, beautiful."

Lining yourself up with his dick, you slowly sink down, head falling back at the way he fills you up. Yuta sits up and wraps his arms around your waist, using his hands to help you guide your hips. He moves you slowly at first, giving you time to adjust.

Even though he's being gentle, you're still so sensitive from earlier that your walls instantly clench around him. Consequently, his teeth dig into your shoulder as he tries not to come, grabbing your hips and lifting you until the only part of him that's in you is his tip.

"Yuta, stop teasing," You whine breathlessly.

"Am I in?"

You nod, "Yeah?"

"Then I ain't teasing,"

He slams you down until that he's so deep inside you that you gasp, then quickens his pace.

There were no words to describe how good and full you felt, finally getting to do what you both were looking forward to all day. He hisses every time you tighten around him, your walls so narrow that you were practically milking him.

Having you face him as he fucked you was his favorite way because like this, he could see your fucked out expression the entire time he pumped in and out of you. He could study which movement of his hips made your eyes roll back or your lips part. He could watch you fall apart, all because of him.

"That's so good, Oh, my-"

He lets out a throaty groan,"You're so fucking tight,"

When he feels your movements falter and notices your breath hitch in your throat, he knows you're close. Bucking his hips up, Yuta helps you ride out your orgasm, brushing your hair back with one hand so he can still see your features.

"Yuta, I-"

"Shh," he coos, "I know, baby. Come for me, you're doing so good,"

At the feeling of your walls fluttering around him, his head collapses onto your shoulder. He nuzzles his face there, biting his lip and praying he can hold off his own orgasm until you've finished enjoying yours.

But it's so, so hard. With the way you're panting in his ear, squeaking out little words and praises that are unintelligible, nails clawing at his back, cunt squeezing him, he can't resist anymore. He comes inside of you with a shudder.

Even when he's overstimulated he keeps going until he's entirely sure you've come down from your high. Only then, does he pull out of you.

"Holy shit," you whimper.

"I love you," he reminds you, still short of breath.

You smile down at him, brushing away a sweaty strand of hair from his eyes. Your lips press down to his for a sweet kiss.

"I love you, too. So much."

"Let's clean you up, yeah? Stay here."

You nod as Yuta gets up, grabbing a white towel from the bathroom before returning to your side, gently spreading your legs and wiping you down.

"You wanna head back down to the pool?" you ask, turning to glance outside where the sun is no longer in the sky, "It's getting dark,"

"We have a pool right here." He reminds you, gesturing toward the infinity pool on the deck, "Besides," he starts, putting the towel of your mixed fluids in the bin, "I don't think I want Jaehyun seeing you in a bathing suit for the rest of the weekend."

You laugh, sitting up on the bed, "What about Mark? It's his birthday,"

"His birthday is tomorrow, not today."

"Okay," you nod, "Let's get in our pool,"

He hums and leans in, scooping you up into his arms and walking with you toward the door.

"Wait," you pull away, looking down at both of your naked bodies.

"What? You don't need a bathing suit for this pool,"

"Oh, is that right?" You giggle. Yuta nods, giving you another kiss and stepping down the pool steps, pulling you both into the water.

+.*·

requests r open :D

+.*·

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alrawabi-imagines · 20 days ago

Text

You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

The last year and a half of your life was going rather well until one night where you ended up fighting with your girlfriend. The argument getting worse by the second until she shouted

“We need to break up.” You tried to talk her out of it,to tell her it was a stupid thing to do. But she persisted, “Stop it. I don't love you anymore.” You couldn't stand to see her cry. She asked to keep your relationship a secret and you agreed but recently you had brought up the subject of her coming out which started this fight.

"In that case,I'll leave." You knew she never would come out,you'd never force her but it would be nice to at least get to kiss your girlfriend without being scared of people seeing. You couldn't help but wonder if she truly loved you, or if you were just an experiment for her.

“You think that’ll make me change my mind? Go ahead, leave.”

"You know I don't blame you for not wanting to come out. Take your time,figure it out. But don't play with my very real feelings when you're not even sure about yours" Taylor looked at you, almost shocked that you would accuse her of that.

“I’ll have you know I'm always sure about my feelings.” She spoke with a little anger in her voice. You could tell this conversation was making both of your blood boil. “It's not my fault I struggle with expressing my feelings.” She snapped back.

"That's my point,you're not ready for a relationship like this" you grabbed a bag,stuffing a few things inside. Everything you'd left at her place. "Don't worry I won't tell anyone about this" you reassured her.

Taylor clenched her fists with frustration. She knew you were right. She wasn't ready for a serious relationship, especially one like this. She watched as you packed up some of your belongings, getting ready to leave. She wanted to tell you not to go, to just drop it, but she just couldn’t. She just silently watched you as her heart ached.

The next morning she wordlessly stepped aside, letting you into the house. Silently watching you as you picked up the boxes and walked into the house. She couldn't help but just stare at you, remembering all of the laughs, cuddles, fights and kisses you had shared. It was all gonna be over soon. You were packing up the last box,along with her last chance to say something. You turned back to her,moving closer.

"I'm not going to tell anyone about this and if you feel ready,come find me. But I'm not going to put my life on hold for you and I don't expect you to do the same. I love you,Taylor" She took a deep breath, feeling a lump forming in her throat.

"I love you too," she whispered softly. "Please be happy."

"You too,good luck,Taylor"

2 weeks later

These past 2 weeks had been hard for Taylor. She found herself missing you more and more each day. Every time she walked into her lonely house, she was reminded of you. Every time she saw something that reminded her of you, her heart ached a little more. So when she found out that you’d be performing at an upcoming music show she knew she had to be there. She debated going but thought it would be awkward if she showed up alone. She did manage to get a date and the media immediately labeled him as her new boyfriend.

She scanned the crowd, looking for you. She didn’t know if you'd seen her with her date, but part of her was hoping you were jealous. At first she didn't recognize you,you were dressed in a black dress with lace and silver. Metal looking accents lined the dress. It was completely unlike you,you usually looked like you were as she described 'a goddess of love or cupid'. You usually dressed in pink and happy colors and were always smiling but not now. Your expression was cold and lifeless,void of any emotion. She felt a pang of hurt and guilt as she looked at you, knowing that she was probably the cause of your current appearance.

Taylor watched as you walked down the red carpet in front of the cameras, your face looking completely expressionless. It was hard for her to believe that this was the same person she knew and loved.

The night continued, with both of you avoiding each other like the plague. Even though Taylor wanted to talk to you, to get near you, she didn’t know if you would even respond to her. She constantly glanced over at you, trying to find the right moment to approach, but it never came. The performances started and soon it was your turn. Your name lit up the screens. As the music started and you stepped out with a microphone. There were no back up dancers with you,unlike any of your previous performances. This one was darker,sadder. As the music started playing, Taylor immediately noticed the change in tone. This wasn’t a happy or cheerful song, it was much darker and more emotional. Suddenly she knew exactly what the song was about. You stopped in the middle of the stage.

"It's fine, it's cool You can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth" you briefly glanced at her. "And guess I'm the fool With her arms out like an angel through the car sunroof" you sang. Taylor froze when you looked in her direction while singing that first part. She knew the song was about her, about the fight, about your guys’ failed relationship. She took a shaky breath as she listened to you sing.Her heart aching at the thought of you calling yourself a fool. She couldn’t help but feel responsible for all of this."I don't wanna call it off. But you don't wanna call it love You only wanna be the one that I call "baby"" you continued singing. "You can kiss a hundred boys in bars Shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling You can say it's just the way you are Make a new excuse, another stupid reason" you glanced back at her for the next part. "Good luck, babe (well, good luck), well, good luck, babe (well, good luck) You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling Good luck, babe (well, good luck), well, good luck, babe (well, good luck) You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling" repeating the words you had said before you left. Taylor’s heart ached with each word you sang. She could see the pain and the hurt in your eyes as you looked in her direction. She knew this song was about her. Her eyes welled up with tears as you repeated the words “Good luck, babe” over and over. It was like a knife being stabbed into her heart, a brutal reminder that she messed up."I'm cliché, who cares? It's a sexually explicit kind of love affair And I cry, it's not fair I just need a little lovin', I just need a little air Think I'm gonna call it off Even if you call it love I just wanna love someone who calls me "baby"" you continued this time changing the lyrics. "You can kiss a hundred boys in bars Shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling You can say it's just the way you are Make a new excuse, another stupid reason Good luck, babe (well, good luck), well, good luck, babe (well, good luck) You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling Good luck, babe (well, good luck), well, good luck, babe (well, good luck) You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling" repeating the chorus,you could see her whispering something to the man beside her before they got up. She was getting up to leave.She stopped at the door and turned back to look at you. "When you wake up next to him in the middle of the night With your head in your hands, you're nothing more than his wife And when you think about me, all of those years ago You're standing face to face with "I told you so" You know I hate to say, "I told you so" You know I hate to say, but," you saw her run out as you shouted the last part " i told you so" You sung the last part "You can kiss a hundred boys in bars Shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling (well, I told you so) You can say it's just the way you are Make a new excuse, another stupid reason Good luck, babe"

You made your way backstage,handing over the mic before heading to your dressing room. As you touched up your make up there was a knock on the door.

"Come in" you said,not bothering to look up. You capped the mascara and reapplied your lip gloss,still looking at the mirror.Without looking at her you simply said. "I'm not telling you who the song is about,so don't even try" it was clear by the way you spoke that you thought she was a reporter or an employee.

"It's me. The song is about me," Taylor said as she watched you continue to touch up your makeup, refusing to meet her gaze. The silence in the room was deafening as she waited for your response, wondering if you would finally turn and look at her.

"If you're here to apologize or say you'll come out,don't. Like I said I'm not going to pressure you,I only sang that song for myself I won't tell someone about us" Taylor's heart felt heavy as you finally looked up at her and spoke. It was clear that you had closed yourself off from her, that you were still hurt and angry. The thought of you singing that song for yourself, without any intention of making her feel guilty, made her feel even worse. She knew she had hurt you, had pushed you away, and the last thing she wanted was for you to think that she didn't care. She took a couple more steps closer until she was standing right in front of you.You stood up to face her.

"I... I needed to tell you something."

"Okay,go ahead"

"I... I'm sorry," she began, her voice quavering with emotion. "I'm sorry for how I've treated you, for pushing you away and for not acknowledging our relationship. It was stupid and cowardly, and you didn't deserve it."

"You're right,I didn't deserve to be treated like that. I deserve someone who's willing to show me off,who'll stand with me and be proud to have me. You're at a part of your life where you're not ready to do that,and I don't hold it against you. Some people aren't ready their whole lives,and I don't deserve to be a secret especially when I'm not hiding. I want to be able to love someone out loud" You spoke again "I forgive you and I'm not mad at you. You should get back to your date." You took a few steps toward the door but before you left you said one last thing. "I love you,Taylor," you whispered. Those words hit her like a ton of bricks. Hearing you say them again, even in a whisper, sent a wave of emotions coursing through her. She wanted to say it back, to tell you that she loved you too, but the words caught in her throat. She wouldn’t even look back at you,the sound of the door clicking shut echoed in her ears, leaving her alone in the silence of the dressing room. She had let you walk away, and there was no guarantee that she would ever be able to get you back now.

#taylor swift x reader #taylor swift imagine #taylor swift fanfiction #taylor swift x reader angst #taylor x reader #taylor swift #wlw #lesbian fic #alrawabi-imagines

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utilitycaster · 1 year ago

Note

What would you say are the CR cast's individual weaknesses? I'm always trying to improve for my own games and also curious to see if I can spot them in the episodes.

Hi anon,

This is super subjective, heavily biased towards my own personal likes and dislikes, etc, so I don't think you should per se use this as your own metric, and also a lot of these are not mechanical but more broadly about structure or acting.

Travis: bias immediately begins here; I think he's one of the strongest actors and one of the strongest people mechanically at the table. He also really knows what he wants and likes to do, which, spoilers, is essentially my biggest criticism of almost anyone else; and I think as part of that he addressed what would have been my biggest criticism in the past (namely, a hesitancy towards emotional roleplay which was present in C1 and was very much part of what he proceeded to push his boundaries on with Fjord and in some ways even more so with Chetney). Anyway I think my current main critique is that I would like to see him play a character who really isn't good with melee/is a full caster and I think he's been more hesitant on that, but also, it's valid to have a strong preference for one type of build so like. he can keep doing what he's doing and I will not be mad.

Marisha: I've talked about this before but I think she really needs to do more involved backstory planning that dives into motivations more, or, failing that, simply have very goal-oriented characters. I think that even when there's been vagueness in the backstories of her other characters (basically everyone but Keyleth) their motivations were enough to carry them through, but this has been a campaign-long struggle for Laudna. I will also admit that I find her acting choices as Laudna specifically to be rather overwrought in a way that doesn't particularly, work for me but I have a really strong personal bias towards naturalistic styles. She's also capable of much subtler work, and both Bee and Patia I think showed that off.

Sam: Kind of a weird in-between situation in comparison to the above. I think Sam knows his sweet spot and capacity for humor and so he rarely goes as dark as say, Oscar Grimm, but he is absolutely killing it already over there. In general I think Sam needs to be more willing to leave his comfort zone and push himself more because he can play it a bit safe. I think he does have a sharp learning curve re: complex mechanics (this is why early FCG was rough) exacerbated by the fact that I think he really tends to assume what he can do is way more limited than it is, and I suspect the much simpler Candela system is working to his favor, but like, he does eventually get there and, should we get a campaign 4, I'm going to tape "BE PATIENT WITH SAM, HE ALWAYS GETS THERE" on my laptop to remind me.

Ashley: Bit like Sam actually! I think she can and should go harder on mechanics (and for the most part has been; I think she underestimates herself a lot), and I also think she needs to make wilder choices. Fearne has been a delight in this regard but I want to echo the cast at one of the recent convention Q&As: please push the red button more, please go absolute as hard as you want. Will say her acting is maybe my favorite in the cast.

Laura: ABSOLUTELY NEEDS TO PUSH MORE BIG RED BUTTONS. Like...man. I feel this mindset; I don't really play video games other than stupid phone games but I'm That Person who's like "I only have 100 erasers in Two Dots, I must ration them". But I think she's doing a fantastic job with Imogen and my one criticism would truly be Go Bigger And Weirder And Harder. This is why I mentioned her; she was willing to take such massive risks as Arlo, and I think part of that was because it was a short campaign and she didn't feel that need to hold back but like, please, press buttons and take more risks. Her RP is always stellar though. Like, truly, I think Laura, Ashley, and Travis often appeal to my personal taste in acting choices and themes the most, and I just want Laura and Ashley to make similarly wild choices to Travis sometimes.

Liam: This is 100% purely a very me thing; I find he acts like a stage actor (which he is!) when there is a camera like 10 feet from his face and it can at times be a bit much for me, a person who is annoying re: subtlety. When he hits, he fucking hits though. Vax sometimes got a little overwrought for me but when he went quieter it was top notch; Caleb was fantastic because I think he counteracted this tendency; and there's been a couple moments with Orym I haven't loved but so many that I have. Mechanically he is great and while I'm a noted Rogue Disliker, Wizard/Fighter/Cleric are all flawless and much as I'd like to see him play other classes he is valid for his core four choice.

Taliesin: Here is the thing. I think whereas Laura takes a somewhat hesitant, afraid to let her character die stance, Taliesin does in fact have sort of a parallel issue of taking huge risks and then being very pikachu face when his character does die. Big swing of the pendulum in the other direction. However, Taliesin tends to hit on themes I find fascinating, consistently, and has a truly impressive breadth of mechanical skill. Even when I don't like his characters (only happened once) I absolutely respect what he's doing, and perhaps most importantly, he truly does not care what I or others in the fandom think, which makes me respect him more. Like, you know what? Molly isn't for me, and that's valid! Anyway. I hesitate to suggest more caution bc episodes 3x77-78 were so good and I loved all the wild shit Percy got up to (I also loved Caduceus but he was a much more laid-back character by design) but I do think that lack of caution is his weakness.

Matt: Judging more on the basis of being a DM than a player here just for sheer quantity but I think that his two greatest weaknesses are first, communicating highly specific risks (the main ones being the Iron Shepherds and the Otohan fight; you can't do that in pitched combat my man); and for lack of a better way to put it, I do still think he needed more firmness in the character creation stage of c3 and then looser reins during the campaign itself. I've been thinking about this a lot because I think that when I have frustrations with Aabria's style it's weirdly sort of...needs slightly looser reins but in a totally different way, and like, when Matt needs to loosen up, RP moments fall by the wayside and plot is fine, whereas when Aabria needs to loosen up, RP is still stellar but plot suffers.

#answered #Anonymous #cr tag #cr spoilers #candela spoilers

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everlastingdreams · 10 months ago

Text

Weeping Monk x Fem!Oc : From Hunter To Prey

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: Father Carden accepted a Huntress to aid in the mission. Her favorite pastime is irritating the Weeping Monk. One evening, they both push past the limit of their quarreling.

Notes: Please note, this is a spicy one-shot. 🌶️ 🌶️ Also, I need to think of a better summary for this :S

Warnings: Frenemies to competitive lovers lol?. Unprotected sex. Strong Language. Slight Dub/con at first(?). Consensual.

Word count: 3,9K

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

These past few days had been nothing but obstacles and trouble. The task Father had given him had proven more difficult than he had expected. It was a failure, and to know that Father had entrusted another with the task because of it was humiliating.

The Huntress, Annora, had been given the task. The golden haired woman had been raising in ranks rather quickly since Father had chosen her to join the mission. And since that day, there had not been a single moment where this woman did not make a mockery of him. Tasks that normally would go to him, were now entrusted to her. She succeeded when he failed, she had Father’s unwavering attention and not a bad word was spoken off her among the paladins. Some of it because of her talents in battle, some of it because of her appearance. The Huntress, much like himself, stood out between the Red Paladins. Her wavy golden hair always tied up, otherwise it would run far past her shoulders and hinder her in a fight.

Those sharp eyes of her had searched the paladin camp for Father Carden, and she spotted him standing at the side of the Weeping Monk. The Huntress approached, it wasn’t necessary to wait long, Father Carden put his attention to her immediately. The Monk’s jaw tensed just enough for her to notice. She was not taller than his shoulder, he towered over her, but the determination in her eyes could bring down anyone faced with them.

“Our talented Huntress returns victorious again. This, my son, is what I ask.” Father told him.

Annora’s mouth curved into that smile that she knew the Weeping Monk hated. Oh, how amusing it was to see the Monk look at her with a bitter expression. It made her day.

“Yes, Father.” He answered, knowing very well that it was meant to point out his recent failures in catching the Wolf Blood With again without having it be said.

She was beaming with pride, a thorn to his eyes.

Father Carden put his hands on her shoulders, proud of the woman. “Rest well tonight, my dear Annora. Tomorrow you will receive your next task.”

“Yes, Father.” She politely tilted her head.

A paladin called out for Father Carden and the priest went to see what he wanted.

Annora looked up at the Monk. “You must be glad that I undid your mistake today.”

He had forgotten about a mill still storing flour. A group of Feys had stolen all of it. The Huntress had seen this happen and these Fey had not gotten far.

His jaw tensed even more, he was swirling the protests in his mouth to prevent them from being spoken.

“The plan was to starve the enemy. Have you forgotten?” She sounded far too sweet while rubbing it in his face.

Annora knew that he despised her, he dismissed her presence unlike the paladins. He avoided her like she was the plague running through the camp. Months had passed and the Monk’s envy for her achievements had only grown.

He clenched his jaw. “I have not.”

That coy smile danced on her lips, “Are you sure? I could ask Father Carden to remind you of the importance of it.”

He turned to her, staring her down, gritting out through his teeth. “Do not play your childish games with me, Annora. I know my duty, mind your own.”

Not even his icy tone could wipe that arrogant smile off her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but the Monk turned and walked away from her.

“Do not be so sensitive, my Weeping Monk. I was merely joking.” She called out after him, embarrassing him in front of the paladins.

He shook his head, continued on his path, and refused to listen to her mockery.

Later that night Annora found her favorite target just outside the paladin camp. The Monk seemed rather calm tonight, he was looking down at a small map in his hands.

She walked over to ruin his peaceful evening, “Studying the maps in the hope to prevent further mistakes?”

He let out a loud obnoxious sigh, and rolled the map up again. “Is there something important you wish to discuss, Annora?”

“No.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Or maybe… yes. I wonder why you have been performing so terribly as of late?”

He pressed his eyes and mouth shut.

She circled around him, intruding his personal space with, like a feline would. “I might begin to suspect that you are leading the paladins to those Fey camps too late on purpose. Is that what is happening?”

His tone was as sharp as cold steel, “What are you insinuating?”

She feigned a pout, her voice soft, “Is our Weeping Monk growing weak?”

He cast his eyes to the trees, clearly bothered by her.

Annora faced him, sounding more serious now. “I don’t want to have to keep fixing your mistakes. I expect better from you, I know you, you aren’t usually this…” She gestured to him, “Distracted.”

For the first time he looked down at her face, just for a second, and only because he heard some genuine concern underneath the rudeness.

He did not appreciate her derogative comment. “Your disappointment is not my concern. I only answer to Father. And as I recall, I still outrank you.”

Annora hated to hear him remind her of it. “Only because you happen to be a man! If I were born different, Father would have made me his second in command, not you!”

The Monk smirked, oddly amused to see her get angry.

It made her all the more furious, that feigned sweet smile was gone, “Soon Father will see who is truly capable of leading the paladins!”

His tone grew as venomous as hers, “You? How? Will you whisper your commands in their ears to make them listen to you?”

Annora was insulted by the blatant mockery and what he was insinuating. She gave him a shove, he barely moved. The Monk took a step back and started to leave, before this could spiral downwards further than it already had. He made the mistake of losing sight of his surroundings and pushed a branch out of the way when he wanted to storm off. A branch of an Ash tree…

The control he had over his body was slipping away, and to his dismay he felt his Fey markings rise to the surface of his skin far too fast to stop it. One look in her eyes told that she had seen them form on the back of his hands, her eyes were trained to notice these things. He had sealed his fate with this.

Annora’s eyes widened, shocked to learn that the Weeping Monk was Fey himself.

“You’re Fey.” She stated if firmly.

His jaw tensed at the tone, he knew that the line of ally to enemy had been crossed.

“Does Father know?” She demanded an answer.

The answer was quiet. “Yes.”

Annora got closer, much closer, invading his space once more.

“Why should I not kill you where you stand?” Her voice never changed, it remained light and almost sweet, it made her all the more dangerous to unsuspecting targets.

A wicked smile danced on her lips so temptingly that she saw him look down at them, “Or are you going to kill me, my Weeping Brother?”

He rolled his jaw, seeing the challenging way her eyes were glancing up at him, that coy smile on those plump lips.

“I’ll keep your secret.” She boldly brushed her palm over his chest up to his shoulder. “I will enjoy reminding you of the power I hold over you now.”

He glared down at her and took a step away. “I will not be your toy, Annora! You hold no power over me.”

Her hand dropped away. “I was only joking. I suppose Father finds your skill more important than your treacherous heritage.”

The Monk held her gaze, staring her down. “Have you forgotten, when you first joined our mission, who it was that made certain you were not butchered during the cleansings?”

Annora forced her eyes away, crossing her arms over her chest. It was true, she had not been prepared for how chaotic it could be when half a battlefield was on fire and the rest of it was filled with people fighting for their lives.

She took a step away, “Are you asking for my gratitude for doing your duty? For doing what was expected from you?” Annora scoffed, and looked at him condescending.

It did not come as a surprise that she would act ungrateful.

He turned away from her. “I want nothing from you. Not even gratitude.”

She was almost stunned to hear him speak to her in the same tone. Annora watched the Monk walk away from her, leaving her among the trees as he returned to the cluster of tents.

~~~◇~~~◇~~~◇~~~~

The next day, Father had made the decision to return to the monastery to better plan the course of the mission. It was hours upon hours of Father speaking with other priests, standing over countless maps that were acquired by both the Monk and the Huntress.

And then, early in the evening, Father had decided to choose Annora for an important task, a task he would have given to his most trusted Monk had she not been there.

Father’s trust in him was wavering. His own faith was wavering. And now this. Of course the Huntress flaunted with Father’s trust in her capabilities. Especially because Father has given her the task whilst he was standing right beside them. An objection had come from him, one that was met with Father’s cold glare, it had silenced him immediately

Now the Monk was standing outside the monastery, whilst his Brothers slept, because he could not calm his mind enough to let it rest. Perhaps some cool night air would calm the envy, soothing it until it was nothing more than disappointment in himself again.

“What are you doing out here?” The disapproving voice of Annora rang from behind him.

He shut his eyes and sighed. “Standing.”

She got right into his view, and leaned against the wall of the monastery, “I can see that. But why?”

It came out cold, and far less polite than he often forced himself to be. “Do you have no one else to bother, Annora?”

She simply shrugged her shoulders. “Everyone else here loves my company, it wouldn’t be bothering them.”

Annora leaned a little closer, grinning at him, her tone constantly bordering on how one would speak to an infant. “Come now, did I make you angry?”

He tried so hard not to roll his eyes, but they still betrayed his irritation.

The way she was leaning was almost playful, “Is this about me being given that task instead of you?”

“No.” He lied.

“No?” She echoed. “I don’t believe you. I think you’re angry that a woman is succeeding where you are failing.”

He drew a deep breath, and told her. “This has nothing to do with you being a woman, Annora.”

“I see.” Annora pushed her back against the wall, breathing in deeply. One might be tricked into thinking she was moving sensually on purpose, “You are just jealous because Father knows I serve this mission better than you ever could.”

He wondered how he had the patience to be around this woman on a daily basis. “Your haughtiness will be your downfall in battle one day, Annora.”

She sounded terribly condescending. “Oh, you wish. I will outlive you, my Weeping Brother. Run along now. Go be a good boy and fetch us the Wolf Blood Witch.”

His palm slammed loud against the wall just next to her before she could walk past the spot, it stayed there, blocking her from just walking away after that.

Annora arched her brow, then a soft chuckle came. “What? Did I hurt your feelings?”

She roughly pushed his arm out of her way. He responded in a way he never thought he would.

The Monk had grabbed her by the arms and pushed her back against the wall. The otherwise mouthy, brazen woman had a hint of fear in her eyes. A rare thing for her and a rare sight for him. Something in his own eyes changed upon seeing it.

Her she was, constantly provoking him. And now she had the look in her eyes that he had seen in others hundreds of times before. Why did it bother him to see it in hers?

Annoralet out a shocked sound when he suddenly grabbed her throat and harshly kissed her. He was loaded with all the disrespect she had shown. She hated him. She hated how good it felt. She hated that she wanted him to do more.

Annora tried to act reluctant, even when she opened her mouth for him and began to reciprocate. Then she pushed him off, at least she tried, but the shove barely got him an inch away.

“How dare you!” She sneered.

He looked back at her, unimpressed by her response.

He had felt her react and reciprocate, she was as guilty as he was. Father’s perfect little Huntress was flawed after all.

Annora glared at him, until her aroused state won from her pride. She pulled him back in and pressed her lips to his just as harshly as he had done to her. Even now she tried to get the upper-hand, to be the one in control.

He would not let her, she was kept against that wall by him no matter how much she tried to gain control over him. And for the first time since he met her, she yielded to him.

“Good girl.” He remembered how she had disrespected him earlier, and used the same sort of language on her.

She moaned when his tongue entered her mouth after her own had beckoned for his. His hand went under her shirt and groped her breast. The cold of his hand caused her to try and squirm away from it, but soon her need for him grew stronger and his hand warmed by touching her.

“Such a good girl…” He purred the praise into her ear.

He was growing hard at the feeling of her becoming so pliable in his hands. The icy huntress who had spend her days tormenting him, was now letting him take control over her.

His hand sank down between her legs, cupping her through the fabric of her trousers as he let the bottom of his palm rub against her. She had felt his cock poke her against the thigh.

“If you intend to stick your cock in me, hurry up before you bore me again.” Annora told him with that usual demanding, condescending tone he hated.

His hands flew to her hips, turned her, and pushed her front against the wall. “I will.”

She never thought he would actually do it. He pulled her trousers down to her knees. The sudden cold chill against her legs was torment. The cold was forgotten when she felt him sink two fingers into her. A surprised yelp forced it’s way out of her. The sound of her wetness as he pumped them into her made embarrassment hit.

The Monk leaned in close to tell her, “This does not sound like I bore you as you claim.”

She swallowed her pride, to desperate for the feeling of being filled. He was more generous than she anticipated, she believed he was determined to show her why she was wrong to disrespect a man who could bring her pleasure. He worked her so much that she got dangerously close to her release. The Monk must have sensed it, because he withdrew his fingers and began to undo the cords of his trousers.

He sucked at the skin of her neck and ground himself up against her rear a bit, “Still want me?”

She had lost her maidenhead long before she met him, and it had been too long since she had felt filled. “I want your cock. Not you.”

“Good.” He replied almost coldly to her.

He pushed her legs apart with his leg and inserted himself to the hilt right away. A curse flew out of her, she hated how he could surprise her in this. He was more merciful when he began to thrust, his hips rolled against her slowly. She bit back her moans, biting her lip until it was too painful to keep doing so. He did not bother to hide his vocal responses from her.

He was not rough like others before him had been with her, there was a patience with which he moved that stunned her. Her rear was being caressed much like a lover would do, it worked terribly confusing on her. Was it so bad to pretend for just one moment in time that he wasn’t someone she loved to anger everyday? To play the act of lover instead of fighter?

Annora leaned into him, taking the hand he had held on her hip and using it to move his arm around her instead.

His nose touched her ear, he heard how she had begun to moan differently. Longingly. She was as close as she could get to him, moving her hips along with his.

“Lancelot…” She moaned the name she had always been too stubborn to speak.

In return he gave all of him to her, thrusting deep and holding her hips still for just a moment to let her feel it well. Then he didn’t thrust for a moment, but moved his hips a little.

“Fuck…” She quietly slammed her hand against the wall, he filled her far too well.

He began to roll his hips again, hearing how her wetness sounded every time he thrusted into her. She shameless pushed herself back into him, too impatient to let him thrust with long strokes anymore. He matched her impatience and quickened his pace, the sound of skin meeting skin filled the air and burdened it with the sin. She bend forward just a little, causing him to hit just the right spot. She was scratching her nails into the wall, whimpering for release. He put a hand on her back, keeping her as she was now that the pressure in his groin was close to unwind. She heard him quietly curse and felt him lose the restrained he had shown. She did not complain when he bucked into her faster, chasing his own pleasure, it hit her just right.

“Keep going. Just like that.” She couldn’t manage to sound commanding, it came out like begging.

He stroked along her back, quietly praising her, “My beautiful Annora…”

She didn’t protest when he spoke of her possessively whilst he was fucking her so good. It worked to arouse her further, something he had undoubtedly noticed because his praising continued.

“You are not so cold between your legs, as you are to me otherwise.” He dragged his hand along her back, then caught a handful of her hair and pulled her close again, his teeth grazed her ear, “My good, good girl.”

Her release hit her like thunder, she quaked on her legs and he slowed his thrusts to keep her on her feet. The slow strokes of him made her cry as it increased the feeling that had taken hold on her. He fucked her through her release patiently slow, and when she had her hands on the wall to recover, he quickened again.

She knew he was close and offered him the answer to a question he might be asking himself, “Just keep going… don’t retreat.”

She swallowed the ‘please’.

The Huntress was asking him to spill his seed into her? It got him so close to the edge that he cared not for the repercussions that could follow.

She gave him the first bit of praise he must have heard in weeks, “You’re doing so good…”

He bucked into her fully, once, twice…

She felt him swell inside of her, and pushed her pride aside to offer him some more, “You deserve this.”

He throbbed and spilled, feeling how his seed shot into her. She felt the hot liquid enter her quickly and gasped at the amount he gave her.

He kept her still, letting her receive it all and relishing in the feeling it gave him to know that she had wanted him to give it to her.

They both were quiet for a moment as they regained their breaths. Annora let out a small noise when he withdrew himself from her and hid himself back into his trousers. She shut her legs, already feeling his seed starting to slowly run down from her. The Monk reached down and moved her trousers back up. She said nothing while she closed them with the cords again. Neither really knew what to say after the mutually committed sin. She batted her eyes at him, finally her voice broke through the silence.

“I was wondering when you’d finally realize you like me more than you think you do.” She sounded quite proud.

He looked off to the side, cheeks still flushed down to his neck.

Her arrogance returned. “You’d better not speak of this to anyone.”

His eyes returned to her, “You believe I would be so disrespectful?”

Annora blinked twice, taken aback by his respectful approach to this. “I never thought you would be so considerate about this.”

He spoke of it in a calm manner. “It is not my fault that you have always refused to learn who I am as a person.”

She nodded, a rare thing for her to admit that she had been prejudiced towards him. “Would you believe me if I said that I want to learn?”

The Monk looked at her in silence for a moment, studying her eyes, then nodded. “I believe it.” The hint of a smile presented itself. “I no longer bore you?”

She nearly scoffed, but her coy smile curved her lips. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He was trying not to smile.

Annora curled her fingers around the leather straps of his cloak, and stood on the tips of her toes to peck his lips. “It’s much better to like me, than to hate me. Is it not?”

That seductive tone slithered into his ears. “I never said I liked-”

“Don’t…” She stopped him from denying it, and realized that she did hope that he actually liked her.

He fell quiet immediately when he saw her smile vanish, her eyes were filled with sincerity. She took a step back, turning her head to look at the trees.

The Monk reached out for her, touching her chin and making her look at him. “You make it difficult for me to like your company, but it is even harder to go without it.”

The admission made her look at him. “I suppose that is fair.” Her smile returned. “Maybe I will make it less difficult for you from now on. Perhaps it will make you feel more inclined to seek my company.”

By the look in his eyes, she knew that he understood what she was offering. He cleared his throat.

“We shall see.” He said.

She smiled at him a little suggestive.

And after they had made themselves presentable again, they headed back into the monastery.

The Huntress remained arrogant towards him, but he did not mind. Because he often reminded her of what he had to offer in return for her yielding to him.

#weeping monk #the weeping monk #weeping monk x reader #cursed #lancelot x reader #weeping monk x you #cursed netflix #cursed lancelot #lancelot #the weeping monk x reader

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mamaskillerqueen · 2 years ago

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The First Time || Jake Seresin x Reader

Warnings: This is kinda angsty but also not... idk you tell me. I’ll add warnings y’all think are necessary because I suck at that and I’m sorry.

A/N: I randomly came across a song on TikTok one time and that is what sparked this idea. You should check it out. It’s called The First Time by Sam James

There was a faint snoring that was coming from the man beside you, a ticking of a watch that was placed on the bedside table echoed as well. Normally these sounds wouldn’t drive you as crazy as it was right now. A slight glance at the glaring red numbers on the alarm clock next to him told you it was just passed 3am. What felt like days ago when you crawled into the bed with him those numbers had only read 9pm.

As you laid awake memories ran through your head like a carefree child running through a field of daisy’s. Nights like this used to be your favourite. Here in the eerie silence with the cold black of night and the miles between you and the man next to you, that was no longer the case. It was rare that Jake was home early on a Friday night with no plans for Saturday. They used to mean early nights of movies and cuddling and talking until the sun came up. Now, you weren’t sure when the last time was that you shared something other than surface level pleasantries.

Nearly two years together was a huge accomplishment for the both of you. Neither of you had been big on long term relationships prior to each other. That was why you found yourself silently suffering in nostalgia. Things had been a little different lately. You’d both fallen into a routine and slowly started neglecting the things that made you feel so close to each other. Almost like you’d forgotten why you fell in love.

Pulling you from your musings, Jake huffed as he rolled onto his side. Watching him turn away from you, a deep ache settled into your chest. An ache like this had never happened to you before. You missed a man that was right beside you. The absence of his snoring was only slightly comforting while you allowed yourself to spiral down memory lane. You couldn’t help your own sigh while thinking about the late night walks down the beach, holding hands the whole way. Those ended a while ago.

It was almost 3:30 in the morning when you couldn’t take it anymore. You slid out of bed as slowly and quietly as possible. Nights like these, when he knew he didn’t have to worry about waking up, Jake could be a heavy sleeper. Creeping down the stairs you were glad tonight was one of those nights. Tonight, while the house was quiet and dark you would wallow and eat ice cream from the carton.

Tomorrow with the sun rise, you would pretend like you slept fine and things weren’t off between the two of you. With the sun rise, you could pretend like the little bickering that had started recently was normal. You could pretend like it didn’t bother you. With daylight you could act like you weren’t hurting because despite it all, you were so stupidly, madly, crazily in love with the man in your bed.

It would be nice to be best friends with your boyfriend again but this was uncharted territory. The waters were choppy, and the waves won’t stop coming in for their attempt to drown your love. The last thing you wanted to do was make him feel like this wasn’t good enough for you and it all to end. You would rather doggy paddle for your life to keep him in this way than risk losing him forever to the tide. So, a night of wallowing and ice cream would just have to be your coping mechanism.

The refrigerator door was hanging open, the light shining bright enough to illuminate the spoons in your silverware drawer. Your phone was quietly playing Jake’s Spotify playlist, a mix of songs he always said reminded him of you. It’s been at least two months since he’s added a song to it. You had gotten one bite of ice cream before you felt arms wrap around your waist.

“What are doin’ down here, darlin’?”

His voice was thick with sleep and the drawl of his accent sent shivers in all the right places. When you turned around in his arms you could see his hair sticking up in every direction. He looked like something the cat dragged in but you’ve never thought he looked more handsome. The spoon was still in your hand as you wrapped your arms around his neck and did your best to hide the fact that you were allowing the waters to pull you under. Even if just for a moment.

“Couldn’t sleep, so ice cream. Obviously.”

You felt the low rumble in his chest rather than heard his laugh. His arms tightened around your waist when you planted your feet firmly on the ground so you could turn back around. He had no intentions of letting you move from his view. There was an intense scrutiny happening and you hadn’t even realised it at first. His brow knitted together slowly and yours arched in response.

“You gonna tell me what’s really botherin’ you, sweets?”

The silence was different down here, mostly because of your music playing. Still the faint buzzing from the refrigerator was his only answer, aside from the slightly ashamed look that crossed your features. If the floor opened up a hole to swallow you, that would be preferable to answering that question. It was still dark. No sun on the horizon yet. Just a pale blue glow in a tiny kitchen shining on the wallowing you were allowing yourself.

Another song started up, faint guitar building into one of your favourites on the playlist. He had sung this song to you so many times, back when things weren’t so stuck. Part of you was hoping he’d just start humming, spin you in a few circles and forget about the pain in your eyes. You knew him too well, which was why you sighed.

“I really miss you.”

Confusion splashed across his face as you fought to come up for air. He clearly didn’t understand why you were drowning in the same water he was floating happily in.

“Do you know how long it’s been since we’ve talked about anything with substance? Since you’ve kissed me on the beach like we were the only two people on the planet? You’ve not sang me this song in so long…”

You hated how it sounded like your voice was cracking as if you’d swallowed too much salt water. A look flashed across his face, one you couldn’t place. The impending tide was slowly sweeping in and you were too tired to doggy paddle against it. And then it swept out, leaving nothing but sandy beach beneath your toes. You had no idea you could still touch the ground until the water was gone.

“It’s been too long,” he sighed heavily and you didn’t know it was possible but his arms tightened around you even more. “I’m so sorry, darlin’. You deserve so much better than what I’ve been givin’ you lately.”

It was startling to realise that the ground was still under your feet, and that Jake had a hold of you so tightly you couldn’t have drowned if you wanted to. As you looked up into his face you could see the weeks, the months tallying up in his head. You could see the choppy waters finally catching up to him.

The sand beneath your feet was a jolting feeling. It sunk between your toes and anchored you to the ground as the waves started to roll in again. You noticed almost immediately that you weren’t needing to doggy paddle anymore. Maybe Jake’s arms around your waist and his chest pressed to yours was the buoy you needed.

“I think I know what we need,” Jake finally muttered. The slow growing smirk on his face had the beat of your heart racing, but this time it wasn’t in fear of drowning. Now it was anticipation. You’d been together long enough to know that look in his eyes.

An arched brow gave him enough but you hummed in question still, hoping he’d elaborate a little more. Instead of words though, his arms unwrapped from you as he reached for the ice cream still sat on the counter. Ice started melting down the sides of the carton, pulling into a puddle on the counter top which was surprising because of the chill from the fridge still being open. Once Jake had replaced the lid and shoved the sweet treat into the freezer he grabbed the spoon from your hand and replaced it with his own.

“We gotta put time in to get back to normal, right? So, tonight I’m taking you back up to bed and I’m gonna fuck you like it’s the first time,” he’d tossed the spoon into the sink and had pulled you into his chest as he spoke. That smirk still prominent on his face. “And then tomorrow, we’re gonna stay in bed until noon. We’re gonna party with our friends in the evening, and then I’m gonna take you on a walk down the beach so you can fill me in on everything I’ve missed the last few months.”

A hand came up to your cheek, cupping your jaw as his eyes met yours. For the first time in so long you felt like the waters were calming, like you were no longer in water too deep to touch. You could stand here, and if the waters ever got choppy again you knew that Jake was your buoy. A smile pulled your lips up, and you didn’t have to worry about a mouthful of salt water anymore.

“I think you had me at taking me back to bed, Cowboy.”

#Jake Seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake hangman x reader #the first time #anna writes stuff

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tastybluesprite · 6 months ago

Text

Break Time

Okayyyy so I recently got super into Sakamoto Days. I really love this manga. Shin is such a sweetheart and I love him so much. Lu is an absolute legend and I love her. They remind me so much of Denji and Power from Chainsaw Man. Their platonic relationship is just so cute.

Warnings: None aside from tickling (this is a tickle fic after all, so if that’s not your thing just keep scrolling). Also some cussing too I guess. Idk what else to put here aside from tooth rotting fluff lmao. Also kept it pretty spoiler free.

Summery: Lu is bored out of her mind and really wants a break, however Shin insists that he needs to finish stocking shelves first. Lu will simply not stand for it!

Shin sighed as he busied himself in stocking up shelves. The usual bustle of people wasn’t as frequent today so things were rather slow. Today Mr. Sakamoto wasn’t around because he went out on a date with his wife Aoi. Hana was at school also, which pretty much just left Shin and Lu to the store on their own to hold the fort down.

Shin had insisted on accompanying Sakamoto as backup just in case anything went wrong. But of course Mr. Sakamoto was able to fend for himself. He insisted that he would be fine, and that it was just for only most of the day anyway.

As Shin put up more detergent bottles on its respective shelf, his partner and friend Lu sighed.

“Everything okay Lu?” Shin asked the girl with a raised eyebrow, while she sat on the cashier counter, her legs swinging around.

Lu just huffed out a breath again. “This sucks! Usually it’s fun to work, but it’s so quiet now, I’m bored!”

Ah. So that’s all it was?

Shin rolled his eyes. “Oh calm down wouldja? Just find something else to do. Help me stock more shelves.”

Lu frowned with annoyance. “I don’t wanna do that! I wish we could do something. I wish an assassin could come and keep us occupied.”

Shin frowned at her. “That’s not something we should wish for. We’re trying to keep things peaceful for Mr. Sakamoto remember?” He sighed. “Look, because we aren’t so busy today… maybe we can take a break soon… but only when I’ve finished with this round of stocking the shelves.”

Lu smiled and cheered. “You got it!!!”

But it turned out that Lu had to be patient. Very patient. There were still a lot of things that needed to be stocked up again, and yeah she could assist Shin, but she didn’t want to do something she didn’t feel obligated towards.

She decided to be annoying instead.

“Shiiinnn… hurry upppp!!!” Lu whined a bit.

Shin glared a bit as he put the items away.

“I told you we’ll have a break when I’m done…”

“But you’re taking sooo loooonggg!!!” She whined.

“Shiiinnn…”

Just ignore her… just ignore her…

“Shiiiinnn…” Lu whined again.

Now she was poking his side. Uh oh. He tried so hard to ignore the tingling sensation, but it was becoming more difficult with each touch.

‘Ignore… ignore… ignore… ignore…’

“EEH!!!”

Suddenly the room went quiet. Lu staring him down in surprise as Shins face went beet red. A grin slowly appeared on Lu’s face.

“What was that?” She asked with excitement in her voice.

Shin didn’t dare make eye contact. “N-nothing… nothing at all…” he tried to get back to stocking the shelf as if nothing happened.

But Lu knew better.

She grinned wider. “Are you ticklish?”

Shins eyes widened, the blush deepening in color, glaring at her. “N-no! I-I am not!”

Now she was smirking. She poked again. “You sureeee…?”

Shin yelped again and flinched away, scrambling to run away. “S-Stop!!!”

As soon as he made a run for it Lu followed behind and they were now playing chase around the store.

“L-Lu don’t you even dare! Stay away!!!” Shin cried as he ran. Unfortunately Lu was faster.

Soon enough he was tackled to the floor, with Lu on top of him.

Shin made to try and escape, but she had him pinned in place.

“L-Lu… d-don’t you dare… no… stAHH!!” Shin let out a short shriek when she gently kneaded her fingers into his sides. He shut his mouth tightly hoping not to let any laughter escape as she lit up his sensitive nerves.

“Come on Shinnn~ you can’t avoid it forever~” She teased, smirking down at him.

She found his sides, gently squeezing there, and Shin finally erupted into bubbly bouts of uncontrollable giggles, squirming under her.

“N-nahahohohohoho!!! DohoHohohOhohont!!!”

“Awww there’s that laughter… how cute~” Lu teased at him, making Shins face only grow more red.

His laughter intensified as she clawed at his belly. He had his hands griped around her wrists, but it didn’t help anything.

“Luhuhuhu the shehehelvesss lehehet mehehehe wohohohorkkk!!!”

Lu giggled. “Work can wait!”

“Screhehehew yohohohohu!!!” He cried out in his laughter, squirming under her.

Unfortunately that was the wrong thing to say.

“How dare you! You forget you’re at my mercy!” She cried with exaggeration. She then proceeded to gently knead at his hips.

“AIIEEEEEE!! NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEREEE!!!” Shin squealed as he bucked his hips around, failing to dislodge her tickly fingers. His legs were kicking behind her.

“P-PLEHEHEHAHASE LUHUHUHU DOHOHONT!!!”

She just grinned. “Where else are you ticklish… hmmm~?”She shoved her fingers into his armpits and dug into them.

Shin arched his back and screeched as he kicked his legs and bursted into hysterical cackles.

“LUHUHUHU NOHOHOHAHAHAHA WAHAHAHAITTT!!!”

He squirmed and thrashed but her hands stayed put.

“But Shiiinnnn my hands are stuck!” She fake pouted.

“BUHUHULLSHIHIHITTT!!!”

“No really they are!”

“LUHUHUHU IHIHIHIM SEHEHERIOHOHOUS!!!!!”

Shins laughter was starting to become more panicky and breathless, so Lu soon retracted her hands to let him breathe.

Shin hugged his torso protectively as excess giggles streamed out of his mouth.

“Y-Yohohohu’re sohoho ahanohoyihihingggg…”

Lu giggled. “Shin your face is all red!”

This just made his cheeks heat up more.

Lu giggled as she watched him slowly sit up.

Shin glared at her. “You know what. No break for you! I gotta spend more time stocking the shelves now!”

Lu pouted. “Awww sorry…”

Shin looked away for a moment, not liking to see her so upset, he sighed, blushing a bit. “Alright… um… well, for what it’s worth… I guess I kinda needed that…. So thanks…”

Lu stared at him, then her eyes brightened. She giggled more and then poked his side lightly, making him flinch and squeak a little.

He soon got back to work, but found himself ten times lighter. He figured he should repay her for that when they have a real good break. But he suppose revenge would be first.

#sprite🥤#tickling #tickle fic #shin asakura #lu xiaotang #taro sakamoto #sakamoto days #sakamoto days manga #sakamoto days tickling #ticklish!shin #lee!shin #ler!lu #sfw tickle fluff #sfw tickle blog #sfw tickling community #sfw tickle fic #anime tickling #manga tickling #manga spoilers

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odessa-castle · 8 months ago

Note

HOW is your writing so good??? Did you make a pact for unspeakable power??? (That joke might be in poor taste). Anyway Im just trying to say I really love Nothing Like The Sun and greatly appreciate you writing and sharing it. Although I cannot wait to read more, please take your time resting/recharging, especially after all this amazing writing!

My questions:

I was wondering how you’d describe Branwyn. Asking cus I love her and want to attempt drawing her. Also just any other facts about her you wish to share!

I’m also wondering if you’re willing to point out another Shakespeare reference in your fic. Im intrigued but not well read enough to spot them lol.

Oh my gosh, thank you for all your kind words! And I'd be over the moon if you decided to draw Branwyn, so let me describe her as best I can!

Branwyn is a gold dwarf -- I haven't pinned down her exact age, but she's in whatever the dwarven equivalent of early/mid-forties would be. Let me break the rest of this into bullets so it's not a total wall of text (and so I can put all this behind a cut):

Branwyn has tannish-golden skin with warm undertones, dark brown eyes with an epicanthal fold, and a broad, flat chin.

Branwyn has thick brownish-black hair -- her hair would have a bit of a wave to it, but she wears it long enough that the curl pattern's been stretched out quite a lot. She usually wears her hair in a single long braid, reaching about midway down her back. She doesn't have bangs, but shorter strands of her hair do tend to escape her braid and frame her face.

She has high cheekbones, a wideish nose with a relatively flat bridge (although it's been broken more than once), and her lower lip's noticeably fuller than her upper one.

She has plenty of scars. I described a few in chapter 11 (the vicious gnarled scar across her nose and cheek; the shining band of skin around her neck, like a burn that never quite healed right), but those aren't the only ones. She's spent most of her adult life as a mercenary, after all.

Build-wise, Branwyn is about as stocky and muscular as you'd expect a dwarven fighter to be, lol. She's broad rather than curvy. She's usually in her Flaming Fist uniform/armor when she's speaking with Wyll -- when she's out of uniform, she's probably just sticking to a simple shirt and trousers.

idk what the queer scene looks like in Faerun, but Bran is a butch, full-stop. It's very sexy of her.

Some other tidbits about Branwyn:

Bran wears her hair long as a fuck-you to Thay. In Thay, shorter hair generally means higher social status, and the most powerful Red Wizards shave their heads bald so you can see all their tattoos. Slaves, in contrast, are forbidden from cutting their hair. After Ulder helped Bran escape, she decided to keep her hair long, because she didn't want to end up associating short hair with freedom and bring that piece of Thay back with her.

Branwyn has been married twice (and divorced twice). Her most recent marriage took place frankly too soon after she joined the Fist -- she and her wife stayed together a while, though, and probably should have split up sooner than they did. Wyll was in his preteens while this was going down; he worried about her, but he didn't really know what to do, and he felt bad about that (even though, like, he was a kid, of course he doesn't know how to deal with these things).

Bran loves Wyll dearly, but she's also very mindful of the hierarchies at play between them. Ulder has always been Branwyn's commanding officer, and she doesn't think it's her place to openly challenge or confront him about how he treats his son, or to act as a parental figure to Wyll in Ulder's stead. It's part of why she's so insistent about calling Wyll "milord" -- she's trying to remind Wyll that he needs to be mindful of the social expectations at play. Ultimately, I think their relationship can best be described as a lord and retainer type of deal -- a prince and his exasperated but fond knight/bodyguard -- until the end of Part One, when Bran finally says "fuck protocol" and helps Wyll escape from Baldur's Gate.

Bran's got a huge soft spot for kids. She swears like a sailor, though, so she has to check herself around them a lot.

As for your second question, a lot of the Shakespeare references are more structural than direct! Like, you know, a messenger rushing in at the wrong moment to deliver news of an impending catastrophe, and creating a tragedy of timing. One of my personal favorites, though, is the little nod to the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet in the scene where Cazador forces Astarion to expose himself to the sun. What light through yonder window breaks indeed -- although it's anything but soft.

(Yes, I know what “but soft!” means in the context of that line, but let me make dumb jokes.)

#the ask and the answer #loonyoz #nothing like the sun

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khiphop-discussions · 3 days ago

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RAP:PUBLIC Ep.8 Part 1 Thoughts

"Bitch, I said what I said" - "Paint the Town Red" Doja Cat

Not Jtong lowkey calling Block 1 dirty lol.

At least they're (Block 1) funny

Block 4 just subtly dropping hints that Since should come back

Since said she was surprised by how dirtt Block 6 was and all I could do was laugh.

Nah, the editors should have cut parts about some blocks being dirty out cause this is embarrassing. They're too funny for this.

Damn, she called them out!

Ahhhh Joonie's so lucky getting lessons from Since! She wins.

OK back to Block Competition! No more rappers calling each other dirty haha

This is kinda another infinite challenge.

Block 3 vs 6: This reminds me that Yang Kyle and Haon have a song ("Fly You Out") they dropped recently. I'll go check that out.

I hope Block 3 wins but I think Block 6 is gonna be hilarious.

Damn Kohway so much energy. Super clear, powerful voice.

Adebayor!!!

"Fuck whatever you talking about bro. Let us talk our shit" Kyle don't give NO type of fucks lol. I would hate to face him. Thank god I'm just a viewer so I can laugh.

Kyle's husky voice makes his raps sound so gritty.

Then Haon's verse comes in perfectly.

"We Want More!" That's how I feel about Block 3 performances

"I'd rather attack than show my back" "I'd rather be alone than join a team" Get 'em Gwangil

OK Haon's lyrics are crazy but it's too much to type them all cause it's too fast. He ate Block 6 up!

"Fuck your opinion. I do my thing" Yang Kyle !!!!!!

"You should be glad to have your name next to mine. I don't plan on having brothers who are losers" SINCE

Damn, Geegooin messed up but he was doing so well.

"We never lose, we the A team" Yunha

Dommiu's got it all too. This wasn't even her best rap on the show so far and it was still solid.

KYLE! THAT'S ENOUGH!

Yeah, someone's gonna try and recruit Kyle soon but I don't think he'll be with it.

King Kohway!

Mckdaddy comes in and kills it too.

I'm sorry. Block 6 is dope as fuck. But despite that I still feel like Kyle is still the standout to me right now.

Haon is going crazy too though. I can't catch all his lyrics to write them down but bro he's going crazy!

Yunha's rap is great.

"I move smarter, LE SSERAFIM. Walk in this I'm VVIP" somebody cut off Kyle's mic off. There's no reason why ONE rapper is eating pretty much everybody on stage alive.

Haon's amazing, Yunha, all the rappers on block 6. All dope. But Kyle is just that dude in this challenge

"That's it?" Yeah, I thought Kaogaii would come harder with the disses. They hyped it up during the practice at the block.

This Yunha, Haon, and Kyle trio is fucking insane.

"You're always going backward since you keep doing rash things" Damn...

Odomar is killing it. His lyrics are so good too.

Joonie!!!

James killed it

"I'm painting my dream" - Dommiu

Okay I like the way block 6 set this up. Everyone keeps the momentum perfect.

"Goofy looking motherfuckers" Kyle square up, right now. Cause now you're just playing in their face! 😆"Step the FUCK up, Kyle!"

youtube

Kaogaii has to mock him cause his offense is too strong hahaha. He's gotta try and make him look goofy so people don't take him serious lol. Nice strategy but I don't think it will work.

The last verse was just pure diss. Block 3 ate them up round after round then ended with that. Damn.

Kyle was the MVP of this match up. Or VVIP

Yunha said it too.

Block 3 wins as expected.

4 vs 5: idk how this one is gonna go. It's a wild card for me.

#khh #khiphop #korean hip hop #rap:public #Youtube

4 notes · View notes

flaylore · 6 months ago

Text

DIRECTORY (2024)

Jan 1, 2024, Red Mecha Pilot Tries Blender To Make Goo Cat!!!!!!

As Flayon’s about to end the stream, he reminds viewers to love themselves… and for a split second, his eyes swirls, telling them to never leave him.

Jan 2, 2024

‘Can you have a late growth spurt in your 18000's???’

Jan 4, 2024

'i cant wash the black strands out of my hair so i guess i didnt dye it WEIRD'

Jan 4, 2024

imo it looks like it's spreading

Jan 6, 2024, The Roons Got Me A Place At Time Square!!! || + Granblue Fantasy

Flayon starts to pan over a fanart of X. The screen glitches as he stares at it, saying nothing. He turns the page and the glitching stops.

MINOR: Jan 8, 2024, 【debut watchalong】o . o

Flayon revisits his debut, occasionally interrupted by glitchy moments, and ends with a brief cameo of the original pilot that got his place taken by him. Please read the summary for more information.

MINOR: Jan 13, 2024, the anxiety of happiness roon

A new Machiroon asset was introduced, which warped into a scene where a figure with swirly eyes appears. Please read the summary for a more detailed information.

MAJOR: Jan 20, 2024, Content Warning|【Machiroon Appreciation+ NEW OUTFIT】AAAAAAAAA

He compares his old outfit and his recent one, lamenting how he has changed from before.

Jan 22, 2024, UNDER NIGHT IN-BIRTH II Sys:Celes] I Need To Play Kuon Immediately #sponsored #ad

Up until this point, Flayon’s height is 171cm.

Jan 30, 2024

‘there are many me and there are many you’

Feb 7, 2024

‘THE RUBIX CUBE IS BEATING MY ASS’

‘its a mirror cube its so confusing’

‘apparently pre debut i was able to solve stuff like this so effortlessly’

‘idk what happened’

‘i cant pilot things like I used to either’

‘the memory is so hazy’

‘but maybe its better it stays buried’

Feb 11, 2024

‘Sometimes it feels as if the R-TRUS is going to destroy me from the inside’

‘Oh-oh shut down rtrus sometimes maybe- wait can rtrus be shut down?’

‘yes

if i have no energy then he won't work

or if im too stressed then he wont work

sometimes when im inside, he'll move on his own a bit

it hasn't been happening often but every now and then’

Feb 12, 2024

‘I’m losing apart of me every time I pilot…’

Feb 13, 2024,【POKEMON UNITE】Duo's w/ The Regis ALTARE, Hero of Elysium & Your Heart

R-TRUS was found in Xenokuni and Flayon gets visits from scientists.

Feb 17, 2024, Experiencing The Wholesome Door 2 w/@Octavio_en in【The House in Fata Morgana】| Spoiler Alert!

Flayon does not have a reflection in the mirror.

Feb 17, 2024, Experiencing The Wholesome Door 2 w/@Octavio_en in【The House in Fata Morgana】| Spoiler Alert!

Flayon questions if the person inside your reflection is a doppelganger rather than yourself.

MINOR: Feb 20, 2024, x teaser

This video is best watched in its entirety.

March 4, 2024

‘Do you wanna know how it feels to be crushed by 100+ tons of reinforced X-metal? Just because the R-TRUS is big doesn’t mean your death will be quick You’ll feel your bones pull apart and slip out Your eyes will leave your sockets ever so slowly and if I aim right I can play’

‘around with you like food. not to mention if I choose to absorb your very life force into the R-TRUS It’s the equivalent of taking out your soil and throwing it into a sea of memories. You’ll experience all the pain of everyone who met their death to me Just when you think it’s’

‘over, the cycle will loop and I’ll use your remains as fuel which I will then have concentrated into energy that flows through my spinal cord Basically you’ll be connected to my nervous system and have to share each and every waking moment with me without being able to leave’

March 8, 2024

‘I’m getting rid of old clothes and there is a lot of oversized shirts/jackets/hoodies from school SLIGHTLY

Nostalgic but I’m bitter about something when I see it too’

‘I have one green jacket that is made out of fleece and was way too big for me

idk how I wore that and why I would wear green’

Mar 12, 2024

‘japan public transportation so cool IM STILL CONFUSED but I can feel myself getting the hang of it just slowly’

(Someone asked if he parked the R-TRUS somewhere.)

‘i have him on standby at the guild

he keeps moving on his own sometimes

just lil twitches’

April 11, 2024, 【CORPSE PARTY】Nah, I'd Live (Does He Know?) | CONTENT WARNING

Flayon loses a lot of blood when he fights with the R-TRUS overdoing it.

April 12, 2024

‘This pilot is going to go back to sleep, that is a warning from my body that I need more rest

Hard to understand it without the R-TRUS directly telling me what's wrong with me’