#and then hes just a morally gray friend <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[fiendishartist2]

web jon is so sillay

[puhpandas]

the fact that the interview implied that ruin is the actual ending for the glamrocks as we know them and they're just going to be stuck there to rot and degrade until their happy ending is finally shutting down and being free of suffering like good god😭

[salingers]

hayride.

[joel miller x f!reader]. summary: visiting home depot with your dad's best friend, joel miller. [and, him eating and fucking you, in the hay field located behind the store]. warnings: 18+ mdni. age gap. agoraphilia. anal fingering. au. begging. brat!reader. cream pie. daddy!joel. daddy!kink. dirty talk. dom!joel. jealous!joel. language. no outbreak. oral sex. no use of 'y/n'. praising. smut. unprotected piv. use of 'good girl'. use of 'slut'. word count: [about] 2,600. a/n: hi, more october-set smut, before the month's over. thank you for welcoming me into the fandom, by supporting my debut, october's end. cover by me, divider by @saradika. @saradika-graphics. <3

A decade’s fleeted, since the last time that Joel Miller’s arcing, bedroom window’s framed your body; You’re nearly an apparition.

Your mere silhouette’s evoking long-neglected memories for Joel; Your private school’s fussy graduation. Whistling, from the bleacher’s humid, metallic plank. Joel’s abruptly blinking away his proud reverie.

Your haphazard, gauzy curtains aren’t proffering any privacy. Your dresser’s girlish; A dust-ladened and weathered wicker. You’re scrounging the half-dozen drawers, sorting teenaged remnants, Joel’s guessing.

It’s arguably morally awry, that he’s guessing at all. You’ve unearthed an ivory-colored pair of panties. You’re sampling the garment’s width, against your clothed waist; Your index finger’s hooking the pliant underwear and slowly stretching. Joel curses, “Fuck’s sake.”

Joel’s denim-clad groin’s growing taut; You’re unbuttoning your pants. His conscience’s hollering, QuitWatchingQuitWatching. Then, Joel’s belatedly swiping his curtain’s panel shut. The plaid, trembling fabric’s punishing him. You’re right there.

Your peripheral’s revealing that brown, tartan material’s now obscuring Joel Miller’s looming, perusing shadow.

Your phone’s deeply droning, near plummeting from your nightstand’s uneven, wickered top. You answer, “Hi.”

Dad’s beginning, “Hi, you.” Before, “Room ‘lright?” 

You aimlessly nod, “Yeah. Need ‘t paint it, though.”

The flat, stark white’s reminiscent of an operating room. A scalpel amid your dominant, gloved hand; Your abandoned internship. You’re certainly color-drenching this bland, interim room.

Dad’s conveniently chirping, “Y’know, Joel’s headin’ over ‘t The Home Depot. ‘Jus asked if I needed anythin’ for work.”

You humorously say, “The Home Depot?”

Dad amusedly huffs, “The one ‘n only.” Then, “I’ll dial ‘im back. Tell ‘im ‘t bring ‘ya.”

You’re nervously inquiring, “He won’t mind?”

Dad’s chuckling, “Kid, seriously? ‘S just Joel.”

He hasn’t been just Joel, since his absurdly sexy appearance in Dad’s FaceBook album, dorkily titled, ‘Fishin’ Missions’. Dad’s askew lens, recording Joel’s roughened, veiny hand, sizably surpassing his fish’s ample breadth; His arm’s rind, rugged and sun-freckled.

 That heathered-gray muscle-tee; Hued identically to Joel’s own silvery threads. Accentuating. Your horny musing’s interrupted, when the doorbell’s nostalgic ding’s reverberated. A leadened, salacious feeling’s pin-balling your rib’s conical-shaped cage.

You’re descending the stairway’s carpeted tread. A once-over’s rushedly ensuing, amid the entry way’s gritty mirror. You’re timidly turning the front door’s bulbous knob; Your skin’s avidly warming.

Joel’s gruffing, “Waitin’ on an invitation?”

You’re feignedly snark, “Go ‘head, Miller.” 

Joel’s arousingly large. His belt’s leathered and suppled; Tapering his tender waist. You’re deliriously visualizing biting it. Your teeth’s individualized grooving, engraving Joel’s every-day accessory.

He’s beckoning, “C’mere. Settlin’ in okay?”

Your pulse’s embarrassingly hurried, as Joel’s hugging you. Your nose’s upturned, against his collar’s corduroy lapel; His inherent aroma’s autumnal. A heady medley of burnt cinnamon, earthy hay.

You breathlessly retort, “Y–Yes. ‘Jus fine.”

His beard’s deliciously graying and scruffy; Bristling you. Joel’s inching away; A hand’s kneading your elbow’s point, “Grown. Ain’t ‘ya?”

You’re muttering, “Think anythin’ in my ‘ol dresser’ll fit?”

Joel rasps, “Be fittin’ somethin’ ‘a mine. Talkin’ like that.”

You teasingly tut, “Oh? Promise?”

His jaw’s tightening, “G–Get in my fuckin’ truck, ‘lready.”

The retail store’s unmistakingly orange and tan exterior’s materializing onward. Joel’s hushedly threatening, “Got ‘t behave.”

You’re amusedly assuring him, “Me? ‘Course.”

He’s backwardly parking. His arm’s generously imposing against your seat’s cushiony spine, “Lot ‘a clients ‘a mine, in ‘ere.”

His chin’s abutting along his broad, reaching shoulder’s top. Joel’s delectable, lofting nose’s leading his prominent side-profile; His pursed, upper lip’s capped under an impressive, stiff mustache. Your cunt’s pulsating. You need to rabidly rut against Joel Miller’s aging, sun-tinged face.

You’re resignedly sighing, “Fine.”

Joel replies, “Bratty fuckin’ girl.”

His accent’s aggressively Texan; Languid. Syrupy. You’re involuntarily leaking, beyond your underwear’s cottony corral. The archaic radio’s uttering early-seventies Linda Ronstadt, until Joel’s halting the ignition.

You murmur, “Any cute clients?”

Joel’s apparently unimpressed; He’s agitatedly rolling his coffee-shaded eyes. Tutting, “Best be ‘lone, when I find ‘ya.”

You’re unpromisingly shrugging, before evacuating his Ford’s heated interior. Whispering, “See ‘bout that, Miller.”

Your skin’s momentarily rasped, from the atypically frigid, October wind. The store-front’s decorated seasonally. There’s pallets, upon pallets, of pumpkins; A uniformed variety of classic orange and creamy white.

You’re distractedly mulling around carving or painting pumpkins, while Joel’s unexpectedly wrapping his freshly-shedded, heavy chore-coat against you; His hand’s comfortingly scrubbing your shoulder’s taut blade.

Joel’s deeply humming, “Better, darlin’? Hm?”

You’re instantaneously arming the clothing item’s perfectly tenderized sleeves, “M–Much, Joel.”

You’re leaning, subsequently touching his torso’s muscular crest. Joel’s thumbing your collar’s curving bone, “Warm, here?”

You whine, “Yes.”

Joel’s beginning to crane downard, until he’s chinning your shoulder’s trembling shelf. You’re gasping, as he’s fingering your loaner, Carhartt jacket’s bottom button, from behind. His arm’s caging you.

His calloused pinky’s reaching, before flitting your pant’s folded fly, “And, here?” He’s wagering, “Warmer?”

You’re groaning, “Ngh. Y–Yeah.”

Joel carnally scolds, “Filthy fuckin’ girl. A–Askin’ me ‘bout other men? While your pussy’s pre-heatin’ ‘f me?”

His finger nail’s raking your zipper’s aluminum teeth. Joel’s tauntingly whispering, “Ain’t brattin’ much, now.”

You’re begging, “L–Let’s leave.”

He’s instantly moving. You’re incoherently stunned, as Joel’s adopting an orange-colored cart, “Find ‘ya in the paintin’ section?”

You’re spluttering, “J–Joel. ‘S not what I meant.”

Joel’s winking, “Darlin’, I know what ‘ya meant.”

He’s ambling ahead, bypassing the automatic door’s yawning jaw. Your dominant hand’s flexing, electrocuted in palpable pleasure; It’s reminiscent of Mr. Darcy. You’re involuntarily summoning an image of Joel, dressed as the aforementioned aristocrat, participating in Halloween.

Joel’s robust shoulders, heaving against an incompletely unbuttoned, wispy shirt. His chest’s foggy-toned, furling hair. His head’s rain-rustled, curly strands. A high-waisted trouser; Ascending his belly’s delectable slope, whilst canopying his cock’s dilating weight. You know it’s big.

You’re unfocused; Footing the hardware store’s threshold. There’s an assortment of motion-triggered, Halloween decorations erected nearby. You’re curiously setting one, an animatronic ‘Boogeyman’. The creepy distraction’s festively futile. Joel Miller’s still permeating your skull.

The paint attendant’s named ‘Ruger’. A gun manufacturer namesake’s befitting, given Ruger’s camouflaged, distressed t-shirt. He’s an Austin, Texas quintessential, twenty-something male; A ‘modernized’ mullet-and-mustache duet? Check. A smothering of ‘patchworked’ tattoos? Check.

He’s flirtatiously greeting, “Sugar. How can I do ‘ya?”

You’re brandishing an array of complimentary paint-swatches, against his counter’s crest, “Do color-matchin’?”

Ruger’s endorsing, “Best ‘round.”

You’re inwardly wincing, but Joel’s abruptly approaching. So, “Ain’t doubt it. Clothes shouldn’t be an issue?”

Your palm’s routing your breast’s pocket; Ruger’s murmuring, “T–That jacket? ‘Moss’ by Carhartt. Got codin’.”

You’re falsely enthusiastic, “Really? You’re the best.”

Ruger tosses an isolated thumb, signaling to his computerized, machine mixer, “Told ‘ya.” Asking, “Color’s goin’ in your bedroom?”

You’re agreeably nodding, “Yep.”

Ruger’s grinning, “Lucky paint.”

You begin, “You? Feelin’ lucky?”

Joel’s reprimanding, “Lucky that I ain’t kill ‘im.” Before, “Passin’ at my girl. Gettin’ paid ‘t do that?”

Ruger’s answering, “N–No, Sir.”

Joel’s deeply repeating, “No.” Then, “Two gallons ‘a Sherwin-Williams. Emerald. Matte finishin’, both of ‘em.”

You’re second-handedly embarrassed and incapable of meeting Ruger’s apologetic, parting peer. Joel’s efficiently emptying his cart’s plastic-composed basin, before rehoming his kindred supplies, upon the check-stand’s laminate surface. You muse, “Emerald’s two-hundred dollars ‘a paint?”

Joel’s genuinely offended, “Ain’t payin’. I’m gettin’ it.”

You’re avidly insisting, “Don’t have ‘t do that, Miller.”

Then, Joel’s rapidly reaching outward; Yanking your belt’s fraying loop. You’re firmly tugged against him. He drawls, “Want ‘t do it.”

His breath’s cinnamony and smoky; An inebriating merging of gum and cigarettes. You dizzyingly respond, “Y–Yeah?”

Joel’s languidly leaning, before brushing his nose’s point against your ear’s lobe, “Yeah.” Whispering, “Paintin’ your bedroom the color ‘a my jacket? What’s that ‘bout, darlin’ girl?”

You’re shyly stammering, “D–‘Dunno.” Accusing, “Sayin’ aloud, ‘my girl’? What’s that ‘bout, Joel?”

Joel’s grinning, “That? Want ‘t find out?”

You’re panting, “Oh?”

His palm’s barreling behind; Stuffing his pant’s pocket. You’re savoring the rattling sound of his key-ring’s recovery. Then, Joel’s rapidly shoving the mixed-metal wad inside your rear-pocket. His bulky hand’s harshly kneading your bottom’s fleshy heft; Your cunt’s thumping.

He demands, “Go ‘head. Right behind ‘ya.”

You’re ocularly rummaging around Joel’s unkempt vehicle. American Spirits. Matches. A thrifted, Patsy Cline cassette. Big Red. Coins. A dog-eared, John Steinbeck novel. The sexual suspense’s dampening your sternum; Sticky. Sweaty. You’re beginning to desperately undress.

The Carhartt coat’s discarded. Your flimsy henley’s unbuttoned. Joel’s egressing from Home Depot’s aromatic interior, before pausing at the Garden Center’s check-stand. No way. A hundred-dollar note’s being thrusted, from Joel’s girthy hand, unto the cashier’s gloved palm.

This broad, burly man’s buying you fucking pumpkins. He’s pensively plucking them. His brow’s furrowing; His forehead’s wrinkling. Joel’s literally examining them, heeding any blemished gourds. You’re bewilderedly blinking, as Joel’s palming them, like they’re… Basketballs.

Your waist’s winding, impatiently rutting against his truck’s benched seat; Your pant’s denimed seam, slotting your cunt’s drooly entry.

Then, Joel’s jerking the back-seat’s door ajar. Asking, “Pick ‘em ‘lright? Did ‘ya see?” His scruffy chin’s jutting, at his quartet of pumpkins.

You’re swallowing, “Y–Yep. Thanks, Miller.”

Joel’s gruffing, “C’mon. ‘Course, pretty girl.”

His arm’s effortlessly flexing, tanned and veined, amid transferring his plastic-bagged supplies. Joel’s guessing, “Need ‘t be fucked, in ‘ere?”

You shamelessly moan, “Mhm.”

He’s teasingly whistling, “Yeah? Ain’t far from home, baby.”

You’re grumbling, “T–Too far.”

Joel’s patronizing, “Gettin’ cocked, in ‘ere? ‘S really slutty.”

You sigh, “Don’t care. C’mere.”

The shopping cart’s rapidly returned, before the driver-seat’s groaning under Joel’s jeaned ass, “Needy pussy.” His construction boot’s tamping the brake’s pedal, “Ain’t it? Get ‘t fingerin’. Feed me somethin’ warm.”

Your brassy button’s unhitching; Your toothy zipper’s buzzing. You’re hurriedly shrugging the denimed material downward; Ankling it. His mouth’s prematurely parting. Your underwear’s transparent, flooding in arousal. Joel’s dangerously speeding, departing the feebly-populated parking lot.

He’s feverishly warning, “There’s an empty hay field, ‘round back. Bit ‘a off-roadin’. Yeah?” Directing, “Give ‘em.”

Then, Joel’s toughly tugging your panty’s waist-line. You’re shamelessly obedient; Your fabric restraint’s promptly removed. His beefy, index finger’s impatiently suspended; Pumping. Your pussy’s watering his passenger-seat’s cushioning; Your underwear’s encircling Joel’s commanding digit.

The all-terrain truck’s bumpily impeling, devouring the barren field’s acreage. Eyes involuntarily shutting, Joel’s blindly steering, inbreathing your underwear’s deluged gusset. His nostril’s flaring. His cock’s pitching, prodding below his crotch’s denimed rein; You’re stuffing your pussy’s well.

Joel’s harshly moaning, “Listen ‘t that. Cryin’ fuckin’ hole.”

You’re whimpering, “M–Mm. Ngh.”

He’s greedily ringing your plunging wrist; Yanking. The rapid removal’s obscenely squelchy. Then, Joel’s immediately slurping your index and middle finger’s balmy glaze; Your thumb’s pinning upon his chin’s graying, scratchy underside. The truck’s recklessly slowing.

Joel’s haphazardly parking. The halting, howling tires begin spewing an autumnal confetti; A misting of dry hay and auburn leaves. You’re suddenly hoisting against Joel’s bulging lap; He’s instantaneously hammering, before spitting out your moistened finger’s duet.

And, Joel Miller’s finally kissing you. His groan’s pouring, beyond your esophagus. Licking your mouth’s rippled roof; Siphoning your tongue’s humid pad. Your naked pussy’s pouncing upon Joel’s clad cock. He’s thumbing your cheek-bone’s divot and cupping your jaw-line’s hind; Whimpering.

He’s arousingly exhaling, “Ngh. ‘S fuckin’ tasty.” Then, Joel’s dropping horizontally. Laying, “Fixin’ ‘t guzzle ‘ya.”

His head’s hedging the passenger-side’s door; His boot’s budging the driver-side’s door. You’re drawing upward, as Joel’s guiding you. Your dewy hole’s ramming against Joel’s awaiting face; He’s nosing your clit’s distended mound. Your innard thigh’s twitching, “G–God. Feel fuckin’ good.”

 Arousal’s rigorously sopping Joel’s beard. His mustache’s coated and creamy. Your behind’s leveraging; Ass firmly spreading. Joel’s maneuvering and manhandling you. He’s lapping, nearly pornographically swigging. You’re internally levitating; Your spine’s liquefied, “A–Ahhhh. Joel, Joel.”

Joel’s innocently whispering, “What?” Then, “Asshole’s puckerin’. Need pluggin’?”

You’re deliriously nodding, Yes. His center digit’s tantalizingly traveling below. Brushing your clit’s crest; Scooping your cunt’s slick. Your fluttering, furthest hole’s aching, against Joel’s circling, finger’s pad. He’s beginning to tandemly traverse; Eating. Fingering.

Your stomach’s tightening, as Joel’s knuckling you. His head’s nuzzling; Shaking. His beard’s rigidly whiskering, across your core’s folding, before he’s relentlessly sucking. Your clit’s flickering; You’re blindingly cumming. Joel’s airily humping; His cock’s englarging.

He’s hoarsely speaking, “A–‘Atta girl.” Praising, “Drippin’ inside ‘a my fuckin’ ear?” Sniffling, “Up my fuckin’ nose? Good, wet girl.”

You’re dizzyingly horny, “Miller. PleasePleasePlease.”

Joel’s grinning, “Please?” 

Your puffy pussy’s eagerly lowering, “Yes.” You’re gyrating, against his lap’s ridge, “Fuck. F–Fuck me.”

He’s grunting, “Fuck ‘ya? Fuckin’ slut. Keep beggin’.”

Joel’s leaning upright and sitting upward. Your disoriented shirt’s being tossed away. Licking your throat’s trail; Skimming your nipple’s peak. You’re nakedly stamping atop his torso’s towering mass. Your skin’s goose-bumping, “Ngh. P–Please, Daddy.”

His brow’s amusedly arching, “Y–Yeah?” Demanding, “Who’s.” Thrust. “Your.” Thrust. “Daddy?”

Promising, “You.”

Joel’s approvingly nodding; His driver-side door’s thudding open. His arm’s muscularly solid, whilst effortlessly upholding you. You’re burrowing, at his throat’s protruding, pulsing vein, as he’s regressing vertical. His anterior boot’s pressing upon decaying hay; A gelid gust of wind’s wreathing.

He’s attentively mumbling, “Shiverin’? Let’s warm ‘ya. Hm?”

His beard’s balmy and cunt-scented. You’re being settled, amongst his driver-seat’s aged upholstering. You’re amorously fidgeting, as Joel’s flitting his belt’s metallic prong. The accessory’s yanked from his fading Wranglers, as Joel’s abutting the cushion’s edge; His zipper’s deliciously drawing.

The belt’s noisily plummeting; A leathery slap, against the floor-mat’s rubbery surface. Your waist-line’s eagerly grasped, whilst Joel’s positioning your pussy’s twingeing hole. He’s hissing, during an arousing upheaval, of his cock’s entirety; The seeping tip’s bypassing his belly-button’s nook.

His t-shirt’s becoming translucent, as pre-cum’s dampening it. You’re following the ample shaft’s terse twitching. Blurting, “Need. That.”

Joel’s attractively smug, “This?” He’s robustly swatting his cock, across your clit’s cummy summit, “Think it’ll fit?”

You whimper, “F–Fuckin’ make it.”

He’s lowly whispering, “Dirty fuckin’ mouth.” Then, Joel’s abruptly and aggressively entering, “Go ‘head. Keep mouthin’ off.”

The truck’s boisterously creaking, as Joel’s ruggedly rutting. Your cervix wall’s convulsing, crowning his cock’s head. Your shiny spend’s glossing Joel’s graying, pubic tuft. His groin’s angrily clobbering, striking your cunt’s doused expanse. You’re incoherently stammering, “N–Ngh.”

Joel’s responding, “Can’t hear ‘ya, bratty girl.”

You’re painfully stretching, inside-and-out. His jeaned, lower-portion’s gloriously grating your thigh’s rear. Your right-side leg’s hooking through the steering wheel’s median; Your left-side leg’s perching, against Joel’s widening shoulder’s tier, as he’s weightily falling forward, “Say somethin’?”

Your limb’s achingly pinned vertically; Your body’s contorting, creating an indecent, ninety-degree angle. His focused, sun-wrinkled forehead’s grown moist. His furling, silver-tinged strands begin cascading. The benched seat’s dilapidated stitching’s imprinting, decorating your back’s extent.

Your taint’s repeatedly thwacked, by Joel’s brimming balls. His angle’s hitching, hitting that spot. You’re shrieking, “A–Ah.”

Joel’s accordingly bottoming-out, “Doin’ good. Stretchin’ well. Ain’t it?” His hip’s briskly oscillating, “Good girl. Good pussy.”

You’re shuddering, “D–DaddyDaddyDaddy.”

The pleasure’s pouring. Your cunt’s palpitating; Your spine’s taut. Joel’s resultantly stroking, maintaining his pacing, but drilling harder. He’s licking, crossing your hung jaw-line’s road. His tenderized t-shirt’s feathering, against your exposed nipples, over-sensitively tapering them.

Joel’s rasping, “C’mon. Flood my fuckin’ truck.”

His tone’s arousingly languid. That’s it. You’re breathlessly cumming. Every extremity’s tightening, before blissfully dissolving. Your vision’s brightly impaired. Your climaxing moan’s fractured, as Joel’s ingesting it. His mouth’s restorative, whilst being ruining. You’re whispering, “Flood me.”

He’s whimpering, “Y–Yeah?” A prominent vein’s materializing, against his throat’s girthy rind, “Ain’t wet ‘nough, ‘lready? Greedy hole.”

Then, Joel Miller’s hotly erupting. His length’s flinching. Your fatigued, flittering hole’s wringing him. His aging brow’s bunching; You’re caressing his cinched expression. Your right-side leg’s being removed, amidst the steering wheel’s medial opening. Joel’s comforting, “Hurtin’?”

You’re indifferently shrugging; Joel’s unconvinced. His palm’s expertly massaging your leg’s weary ligament. You’re pathetically sighing, making Joel laugh. He’s kneading your knee-cap’s exhausted muscle, before fingering your calf-tendon’s aspiring knot. You stammer, “T–Thanks, Miller.”

Joel’s questioning, “How ‘bout Lowe’s, ‘morrow?”

You’re grinning, “Sure. If ‘ya sleep-over, tonight.”

[motherlvr]

3+1 times Prowler! Miles Morales x Spider-woman! reader

SPOILERS FOR ATSV

read part 2 here!

3 times Miles tried to confess, + 1 time he did.

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: Instead of the radioactive spider biting Miles, it bit you. You turned into Brooklyn's one and only Spider-woman, while Miles turned into the prowler. Miles also helps you with Spanish.

Warnings: friends to lovers, lots of cursing, most definitely not canon, kind of slow-burn?, jealousy, morally gray reader, he's lowkey toxic, no smut, heated make-out session, im feasting on crumbs (his 2 minutes of screen time), this is not ATSV plot heavy, the whole prowler x spidey thing isn't really until the end (enemies to lovers)

A/N: for the sake of the plot, the reader doesn't fluently speak spanish, but can speak some. this has been rotting in my drafts ever since ATSV came out

1.

Miles glares at you two from across the room, predominantly at the guy you're laughing with. Surely he's not that fucking funny. Miles thinks as jealousy spreads within the pit of his stomach like a forest fire. However, you don't seem to notice his stare burning holes through the guy you're speaking to. The same cannot be said for him, however. Miles makes eye contact with him and sends him one glare that immediately makes the poor guy cower with fear away from you.

"I uh...gotta go." The guy squeaks out to you, his voice cracking with terror as he runs away. You raise an eyebrow as you watch him run away. What the hell was that? You think.

Miles appears next to you within the next moment and says, "Hey, ma." he gives you a slight smirk and wraps his arm around your shoulders. That smirk made you weak in your knees, you almost kissed him right then and there. You should be given an award for your amount of self-restraint.

"Hey Miles, qué pasa?" You greet him with a smile that reaches your eyes. Miles' smirk drops and he furrows his eyebrows at you as he inquires. "Who was that guy?" "He's just a friend, why?" You raise an eyebrow and question back. "Don't worry about it, you like him?" His words catch you off guard. You pause for a moment and turn your head to him with a judgmental stare as you shake his arm off you and say, "Miles. What is this? 20 questions?" You deadpan and continue, "He's not important, alright?" Seemingly satisfied with your response, he drops the subject.

After school, Miles and you head to his house. You've been struggling in Spanish class. Spanish grammar might actually be the death of me, you think. Since Miles excels in Spanish due to primarily being raised by his mother, you asked him to tutor you, which he surprisingly agreed to.

It doesn't hurt that you get to spend more time with Miles, either. Something about him never fails to send butterflies straight to your stomach, maybe it's his intense stare that makes you weak in your knees, his accent that somehow makes him ten times more attractive, or- You cut your thoughts off. You felt guilty for feeling this way about Miles. You know you shouldn't. These feelings you harbor would only cause more harm than good. After all, the people you love always seem to be in danger.

After a couple of hours of pure torture, (Spanish grammar) Miles started to speak, "Escúchame, mami. I-"

Loud, blaring police sirens cut off his sentence. Thanks, Brooklyn. Pretending to get a message from your mother, you glance at your phone's screen and look at Miles with an apologetic expression, "Shit, sorry Miles but I gotta go. My mother wants me home. She said it was urgent. But we're still on for tomorrow right?" Miles raises a skeptical eyebrow but ultimately says, "Yea. It's 'Ight, princesa. See you tomorrow" his accent lacing his words. You get up to kiss his cheek and wave him goodbye. As normal friends do, you tell yourself. Shit. You shake the thoughts away before your overthinking completely undoes your brain.

You wait until you're at least a couple blocks away from his house before you reveal the spider suit underneath your clothing and pull your mask down your face. You thwip your webs and swing away to investigate what crime was scheming tonight in Brooklyn. Leaving Miles alone in his room to regret not telling you.

2.

Honestly, you weren't paying attention to whatever Miles was saying. Instead, you were just focusing on how attractive you found his accent. You'd suffer through two more years of Spanish just to hear his voice. In fact, during most of these tutoring lessons with Miles, you weren't paying attention to the actual lesson. It doesn't help that he keeps staring at you with those eyes of his. But behind that cold exterior, you knew he had a soft spot for you. Even if he didn't outright admit it.

Miles' voice brought your attention back to the actual lesson, "Lo entiendes, princesa?" Miles asked you with a knowing smirk. You nodded your head immediately, trying to play it off. "Uhh, si." You said with a thumbs up, immediately regretting it. That was so nerdy. You shame yourself in your mind. You pretended to take notes, shamefully lowering your head down to your notebook.

While you were pretending to take notes, Miles broke the silence.

"So what's up with you and that guy from earlier?" "I told you, he's just a friend. Nothing is going on between us." Miles puts his hands up in his defense, "Alright, mami. It just didn't look like that with the way you were laughing at whatever he said. He's not Kevin Hart."

Way to completely ruin the mood. You dropped the pencil you were holding and stopped taking notes. Looking directly into his eyes, you said "Miles, I really don't know what your deal is." "You really wanna know what 'my deal is'? 'Ight. It's 'cause-"

Miles' phone beeps, interrupting him. He cursed in his mind, not being able to tell you how he felt yet again. He glances down at his screen. "Ay princesa," Miles spoke up, his words never failing to make your face go warm. His nicknames for you weren't new by any means, but they still made your heart flutter. He continued, "Uncle Aaron needs me, I gotta roll. He said it's an emergency. Don't think I'm trying to cut this short. You're still my girl, alright?" He started to leave when he turned around suddenly. He walked over to you and turned your head to him with his hand, kissing your forehead. "Hasta luego, mami." He left the room, leaving you alone in his room with only your thoughts swirling around your mind. You were sure you were about to have a heart attack. His girl? The kiss? Miles was acting oddly affectionate. And what's with him practically using the same excuse I used? It's not like he's the crime-fighting vigilante here. You rolled your eyes.

You didn't know what Miles and his uncle were so busy doing, but you had a feeling that it wasn't very morally right. That would explain how ambiguous he's been lately. More often than not, he's had to leave in the middle of tutoring to tend to whatever his Uncle needed him for. But you can't entirely blame him, you have secrets you've been hiding from him too.

You packed up your things and left his room. "Chao, Mrs. Morales. Thank you for letting me into your home!" You said to Miles' mother while leaving. "Of course, you're always welcome here." She replied to you with a warm smile. That woman was a true saint.

3.

If you had to spend any more time confined in a room alone with Miles and just your emotions, you were sure you'd fucking lose it. By losing it, I mean grabbing him by the collar of his hoodie and kissing him senseless. But you were afraid. Afraid that he would take your heart right out of your chest to shatter it and then leave you alone to pick up the pieces. So, you came up with a little white lie to get out of tutoring today.

"Is it alright with you if I skip tutoring today? My mother is sick and I have to take care of her." The lie slipped off your tongue like butter.

"Nah that's cool." He shrugs. Huh. He let me off that easy? You were two seconds away from having the dreaded 'What are we?' conversation with him after last night, until someone's arms wrap around you from behind.

"Hey, beautiful." Your friend from the other day was back. And he clearly didn't see Miles right next to you. You cringe and awkwardly take his arms off of you and turn around, "Hey, Josh." "Are you free tonight?" Miles was watching this interaction with jealousy coursing through his veins. Did this douche seriously not see him right next to you? Right before you could even open your mouth to respond, Miles responds for you. "Hell no she isn't. Get the fuck out of here, man." Miles snaps at him. Your friend's head whipped to Miles so fast you were sure he'd get whiplash. "Oh shit." He stuttered, "Sorry, man. I didn't see you...I'll leave now." He ran away as fast as his feet could take him. Poor Josh.

You glared at Miles. "What the actual fuck was that, Miles? He was just asking me a question." "He was asking you out, idiot." Miles said right back to you. "So what if he was? Honestly. What's it to you? You've been acting so possessive. May I remind you that we are not together?" You snapped at him. "Maybe I want-" He started, but this time, he was the one cutting his sentence off. He couldn't find the words to tell you just yet.

The bell rings. You look at Miles, awaiting his response. When a few silent moments pass by, you finally say, "What? What is it you want?" For once in your friendship with Miles, he didn't have a response. You, he thought. "Y'know what Miles? Until you've come to your senses, just leave me be for now." He had no right to start acting like you were bound to him. You walked to your class without him. He cursed himself in his head.

You'd been ignoring him the whole day. Yet ever the petty, he hadn't messaged you at all.

Your phone pings. "You busy with Jake?" You read. It was from Miles. That petty fucker. Your face immediately drops. That's not even his name. You left him on read and turn off your phone. For someone who thinks he's heartless and nonchalant, he sure was acting possessive.

+1

Dusk approaches Brooklyn and you're out patrolling instead of thinking about Miles. That's all you've been doing lately, and you needed a distraction.

Unfortunately, Miles had the same idea. He was out taking missions Kingpin gave him.

As you were searching the streets of Brooklyn for crime, you sensed a presence. Ahead of you was a silhouette in a dimly lit alley, their back facing you. You hid behind the wall. Finally something interesting tonight! As you climb on the walls and get closer, you recognize the figure.

Oh, great. It's the Prowler.

This wasn't your first time meeting the Prowler. No, you've fought with him in the past. He's ruthless and a cold-blooded killer. He's efficient and excruciatingly fast. That's what makes him an imminent risk to be allowed to roam the streets freely.

As Spider-woman, it's your responsibility to keep the streets of Brooklyn crime-free. So, you follow him. As you're trailing behind him, crawling on the walls, you notice the people he's meeting with. It's an arms deal, you realize. As you crawl closer, you notice that they weren't regular arms. They were abnormally high-tech for these seemingly harmless criminals.

I'll just web up the couple of amateurs and then deal with the big guy Prowler, easy. Oh how wrong you were.

"Hey, boys! Nice toy you've got there." You said as you dropped your voice down an octave, disguising your voice. You jump down from your place on the wall and thwip your webs at the unsuspecting arms dealers, binding them to the wall. They were knocked unconscious.

You thwip'd your webs at the weapon and effectively took it away from them. You'd have to drop it by the police station later with a friendly note.

The Prowler lunged at you, his steel claws missing your face by an inch.

"Hey, man! That felt a little personal." You shouted, thankful to still have your face attached to your head. You used your webs to grab onto the Prowler and strike him directly on his mask. You started to run, with the Prowler tailing right behind you.

He had you cornered, but you weren't surrendering that easily. You positioned into a defensive stance, ready to defend yourself.

His mask was cracked a bit, causing his voice modulator to reveal his unfiltered voice. "Nowhere to run, spider."

Your heart dropped as your eyes widened through your mask. Not in fear, but in recognition. You could recognize that voice anywhere. That was the voice that sent shivers down your whole body, yet made you want to strangle him the next.

"...Miles?" The words came out more of a whisper. Your voice sputtered as you dropped your fake voice. You webbed the weapon to the wall, disregarding it. Turns out, he didn't need to reject you to shatter your heart into a million pieces.

His stance immediately faltered. He could recognize your voice out of a thousand others.

Prowler, or rather Miles, stood silent.

“Miles, take off that damn mask. I know it's you.” You took off your mask, and he opened his. His eyes were unreadable. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into Miles?" You sighed. You didn't recognize him anymore. You didn't know who he was. There was no way the Miles you knew had become this.

"Fuck, princesa. I didn't want you to get involved in this shit. You're the fucking spider?" You feel as if he was seeing you for the first time again. "I'm fucking Spider-woman, you dick. And I've been involved with this 'shit' ever since I got bit by a spider. Now explain this, whatever you've turned into!" You spurted out, pointing at his suit. "I got roped into business with Kingpin after my father died. Shit, I never meant for this to happen." He exclaimed.

"What, you think you're protecting me by not telling me? Bullshit." You say, throwing your hands up in the air. "I was protecting you. I was protecting you from Kingpin. Because I fucking love you. I meant it when I said you were my girl." He proclaimed.

When you thought this night couldn't get any wilder, it just did.

Alarms blared in the back of your mind, telling you to leave. Your brain is screaming at you to think about your moral obligation to stop the Prowler, no matter who he is. But your heart is telling you otherwise. You choose the latter.

"Fuck, Miles. Shut the hell up." You threw a web at his abdomen and pulled him towards you, efficiently shutting him up by connecting your lips to his. Sliding your hands onto his braids, you pulled him in closer. He immediately reciprocated and grinned into the kiss, setting his arms on your hips.

Turning into a heated make-out session, he backed you against the wall of the alley. You felt your legs giving out on you. Miles put his knee in between your legs, supporting you. He kissed you with passion. He's pinned for you for the longest time, and he finally has you. He wasn't going to give it up for anything. Unfortunately, you needed oxygen to live, so you pulled back. A string of saliva connected your lips as you parted.

He took away all the oxygen in your body, and apparently your moral compass as well, with only one kiss. Unable to open your eyes until a few moments after, you fluttered your eyes open. "I fucking love you too, Miles" You whispered against his lips. "Oh, really? Couldn't tell." He teased with a smirk, his lips seconds away from yours as he looked down at you. He held your gaze with longing in his eyes.

Muffled screams ruined the moment. Miles and you react immediately, putting your masks back on. You got your webs ready while Miles had his steel daggers out. Lowering your guards, you realize it was the couple of guys you webbed up and forgot. "Sorry, I'll go take care of them." You said as you rubbed the back of your head awkwardly. Miles stifled a laugh as he said, "That's alright, ma. You can make it up to me later." You heard the smugness in his voice as you swung away to the police station. You made sure to fulfill his request later that night.

---------

part 2!

[moon7jay]

TEMPTATION (p.js)

best friend!jay x fem!reader

Warnings : non consensual, dubious consent, manipulation, smut, loads of masturbation, jay is a freak, anal sex, obsessive behavior, mentions of violence, Morally gray plot and characters obviously, read at your own risk. Not proofread, there might be some errors.

Wc : 8.6k

a/n : reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated so much, please, please don't hesitate to tell me your thoughts, it makes my entire day<3

Candid.

You were too candid for your own good.

Jay doesn't remember when it started to get this bad. you have always been someone who spoke their mind, but he never expected to be witnessing it first hand, and definitely not like this.

As he watches you deep throat the popsicle, your glossy lips wrapped around it so deliciously,the lustrous sheen reminiscent of morning dew on rose petals; he thinks he's in one of his wet dreams. The gloss you're wearing today is not the same as yesterday; they're both shades of dark red but Jay can tell the difference. How? Don't ask him. It's not like he spent most of his time staring at your lips or anything. He isn’t obsessive (he is). He most definitely doesn't look up the same glosses you wear online, or order them to use them for some ulterior motives. so yeah, don’t ask him why or how he can tell what the raspberry red on your lips tastes like.

Your twinkling eyes meet his, the ice pop coming out of your mouth with a loud squelch, and you smile.

"What do you think?" you ask, and Jay doesn't remember what you're asking, or what you were talking about before that pink popsicle came into the picture.

He stares at you dumbly, eyes transfixed on the allure of your saliva coated lips. Oh, he so badly wants to-

"Jay, are you even listening?" your voice interrupts the not so decent direction his thoughts were headed in.

"Huh?"

"I'm asking you, what do you think about my throat game?" your eyes shine, and Jay gulps.

This. This is exactly what he's been dealing with for the past few months.

You both have been best friends since sophomore year, and he understands that as people get closer, they start sharing all types of thoughts and secrets. Even the most intimate and inappropriate ones. Right?

Wrong.

Because jay doesn't remember sexual questions and indecency being a bonding activity among best friends. Sometimes he wonders, do you even consider him a man? Because what man is immune to these sinful thoughts, no matter how hard he tries? Were you really that unaware of the impact your words have on him or did you do it on purpose?

Jay just wasn't mentally prepared for this phase of your friendship. He blames it on his sex crazed brain.

"It-it's good" he mutters, praying that you don't notice the shakiness in his voice. or the reddening of his ears. or the sweat trickling down his neck. or the way he keeps the cushion tightly situated on his lap. Oh fuck it, there's no way you don't notice.

You giggle. You giggle, and the sound goes straight to his chubbing up cock.

"thought so, I've been practicing you know? Heeseung is so lucky, I don't even have a gag reflex" you excitedly brag about your sexual prowess, and Jay can't feel his legs. In fact, all his focus is zeroed in on one place, just like the blood rushing to his dick.

His fists clench at the familiar name and he grits his teeth to stop the throbbing in his jaw.

If Jay's life was a coming of age comedy, you were definitely the main character, and heeseung; even thinking of his name leaves a bad taste in jongseong's mouth, would be your potential love interest. Matter of fact, he seemed to be everyone's love interest.

Jay tho? He wasn't even a supporting character. You just kept him around.

You had pranced into his life in sophomore year, all wide smiles and bright eyes. When he had moved away from his home for college, he had accepted the fact that he would probably spend all of his college life alone.

Because, one, jongseong was awkward. And two, jongseong was awkward.

His awkwardness stemmed from having two friends for most of his life; they were the only two people he could talk to like a normal human being. So, when he left them behind, he left his ability to make proper conversations with them.

But you didn't need him to talk. Nope. You did all the talking for him.

He'd been minding his business, cramming up the notes for upcoming end sem exams , when the chair beside him had been pulled out and you had plopped on it in all your glory. He remembers that you had smelled like ripe cherries, and it didn't take long for jeongseong to get addicted to that fragrance.

Extrovert adopting an introvert, was the basic description of your friendship with him.

But he doesn't know where his obsession with you fits in the dynamic, doesn't know where his need to inject you in his veins stems from.

"Y-yeah, H-he's so fucking lucky" he admits, eyes shaking. He knows he sounds nervous and distressed, but if you notice, you don't mention it.

He watches as you smile proudly and go back to sucking on the popsicle, without a single care in the world. Your red tongue pokes out to lick along its length, before you start suckling on its tip.

oh, how he wishes he was that godforsaken popsicle.

It happens again on a leisure evening. Jay had rented out the movie you so desperately wanted to see, but somewhere in the middle, you got bored. Honestly,he should’ve sensed it coming; from the weary sighs leaving your lips, to the way you were reclined on the couch, it couldn’t have been more obvious.

"It's so hard being single I swear, my fingers don't do it for me and i am so fucking frustrated right now "

Jay thinks he has developed hearing impairment. If not that, then maybe brain damage, because he's sure he's making this all up in his head somehow. there's no way you're talking to him about masturbation right now. This has to be one of his lucid dreams, there's no way you're that comfortable around him.

oh but you are. Your eyes rest on his, curious, inquisitive, as if waiting for a response. But jongseong has lost his ability to formulate coherent sentences.

"Oh" he blurts.

that's it. That's all that he can come up with.

It's an essential mercy that you don't particularly seem to care for his response, just needing a signal to rant more.

"Yes. oh. and i swear Jay, sometimes I'll try to get my fingers in there, but it's so fucking tight and they only go half way in, it's so frus-"

Jay tunes the rest of the conversation out. His mind latches onto the word "Tight ". His throat becomes parched and his palms sweat profusely where they rest against his thighs. His eyes travel down your body, drinking you in. The moles on your collarbone are so fucking tempting, he wonders if someone has told you this before. The way your skirt pools around your thighs has him gasping for air, too much skin, his palms itch to grope.

He feels like a fucking creep, because the creases on your forehead and the heated movements of your hands as you emphasize your point, makes it clear that you are just rambling.

He's your best friend and you're sharing your issues with him, like normal friends do. except Jay is not normal. At least, not when it comes to you.

He knows that you've not had much experience, knows that you've never even been fucked good, and he can't stop his imagination from running wild as he pictures you under him right now. Right on the couch that you've got your pretty ass seated on.

He wonders what your cute moans sound like, wonders if you're a screamer, or do you like to deep throat on fingers to keep your voice down. Wonders what your face looks like when you're cumming. Wonders if your nails will scratch his back red while he stuffs you full of his cum, or will you beg him to pull out.

he shouldn't be having these thoughts and yet, he just can't help it.

"What about you?" you ask, disrupting his inner monologue.

"Me?" he falters, shifting a little, sneakily adjusting his aching length.

"Yeah, are you getting some? or do you just jerk off like other losers? " There's a teasing glint in your eyes as you ask him the most intimate question one can ask someone.

Jay chokes on his own saliva. Thankfully, before he can muster up the courage to stutter an embarrassing attempt of an answer, your phone rings and you're making your way out of his house. A family emergency, you tell him, and Jay can't even bring himself to ask you about it, his mind too preoccupied with the conversation you both just had.

What would you have said if he had told you about all the girls that he fucks, imagining that they were you? Would you have been disgusted, or would it turn you on?

or about all the nights he spends wanking off to your most innocent pictures on his phone; would you think he's creepy, or would you ask him to show you how?

He can't help slipping his hands inside his pants once you're gone, can't help the pathetic moans that fall from his lips while he imagines how 'tight ' you must be. Fuck. Would you clamp around his throbbing length? would your cute little pussy suck him right in?

His movements get faster, more desperate, palms getting slick with how much precum he's leaking as he jerks himself off to the thoughts of your cunt. He flicks his wrist, the friction of his rough palm against his sensitive dick driving him insane.

He needs it, he needs you.

His grasp on his leaking cock becomes firm; tighter, wetter, softer, your thoughts send him right over the edge just in a few more dreamy strokes. The act of cumming inside his boxers is so fucking filthy, the wet spot forming on the front of his pants being a testament to his perverted desires.

"fuck, fuck baby" he groans, gulping harshly while he comes down from his high, his cum covering his palms and thighs , some of it splattering onto his stomach.

God, if only you could see him right now. If only you knew what a mess you make of him.

You're drunk.

He can see it in the way you're starting to slur your words, the sentences no longer making any sense. Your eyes are glassy and droopy, almost on the verge of passing out. He should stop you. He should snatch the bottle away from your wobbly hands and yet.

He doesn't.

Maybe if he was a better man, he would have, but jay is not that man.

Jay watches you take another swing and anticipation builds up in his chest. You're unaware, blinded to the fact that he came here with a purpose tonight; multiple bottles of rum, the particular brand that gets you groggy in a few sips, the game cards, the setting, everything was planned.

When you told him that your roommate was gone for the night, he saw the perfect opportunity to set his sick scheme into motion. And like the naive little girl that you were, you didn't even question him about his odd idea of getting drunk on a weekday, or why you were the only one getting drunk while his glass sat untouched between you both.

Your head lulls to the side ,and within a few seconds, you plop onto your back, mumbling a few intangible words, spread out on your bed like a fucking feast.

Jay inhales harshly, his tongue flicking out to lick over his dry lips. He looks around frantically, as if someone can see what he's about to do. As if someone can peek into his sick and twisted mind. There's no one here though, and his patience is running thin.

Jay crawls over your limp body, his dark eyes devouring you, memorizing every feature up close. Your hairs are splayed around your head like a halo, some strands falling onto your forehead. your lashes flutter slightly, still in between the phase of being passed out and somewhat awake. Your luscious lips keep mumbling words that he's sure even you don't understand. there's a red flush on the apple of your cheeks, enhancing the contours of your face, and Jay just wants to take a bite.

His hungry eyes travel lower,drinking your beauty in like a famished man, watching in rampant awe at how your chest rises and falls, your tank top giving him an eyeful of your soft cleavage. well damn.

His throat bobs, taking in the way your tank top rides up your stomach, exposing your entire midriff to his lustful eyes. You're so, so innocent like this, so naive. How could you trust him so easily? He was a man, it didn't matter that he was your best friend,he was a man regardless.

you really have zero survival instincts.

But Jay is glad that it's him and not someone else. Jay would never harm you, Jay would never do anything wrong to you. He just wants to love you.

His hand moves instinctively, and he's groping your soft thighs, eyes flickering up instantly to watch you with a bated breath. When you don't show any signs of waking up, his movements get harsher, his hold sliding up,grabbing a handful of your ass. A groan falls from his lips at the feeling of your soft skin against his rough palms, his dick hardening inside his pants. Your shorts are too thin to leave anything to the imagination.

Before he knows, his hands are roaming and exploring your curves freely, caressing every inch of your naked skin that he can find. God you're so soft, so fucking soft. He doesn't overdo it tho, doesn't grab you as harshly as he wants to, aware that he can't leave any marks. He leans down and bites on your lower lip inadvertently, eyes closing in delight when your taste overwhelms his senses. You're sweeter than he imagined, and he automatically presses further into you. He moves his lips, tries to kiss you, but your lack of reciprocation irks him to no end. Fueled by his desperation to taste you, his hand comes up and he's cupping your plushy cheeks, making your mouth pucker up like a fish, the little peek of your red tongue from inside drives him up the fucking wall. Without thinking, he dives in, his tongue meeting yours, licking into your hot mouth messily, slurping in your saliva like a freak.

It's too much, the feeling of your body so close, your taste, the fact that this was wrong on so many levels, it all just added up to his arousal.

He trails his lips downwards,kissing and licking every inch of your tempting flesh.

As if a switch is flipped inside his head, Jay pulls back hurriedly and unzips his pants. his hands shake on the zipper, high from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. His dick throbs against his boxers, begging for some sweet relief. His breathing is deep, the fact that he is finally about to act on his perverse fantasies hitting him hard. As he pulls his leaking dick out of the confines of his boxers, shoving them unceremoniously down to his knees, he leans back over your figure again, supporting himself with one palm resting beside your head.

He hisses painfully through his teeth, the feeling of his palm wrapping around his cock being too much.

Jay wants to see your pussy, god, he wants to taste it, he wants to fuck it till you're screaming, but not yet. He knows his limits. He knows that once he gets a peek of the treasure you hide between your legs, he might not be able to stop himself from pounding your limp body into the sheets; and so he controls the itching in his loins, resists the temptation. That can wait for another day. Right now though, he just wants to cum.

He pulls down your tank top impatiently, exposing your bra clad tits to his starving eyes. Lace, of course you wear lace.

"fucking slut" he grunts. Fuck, the way your boobs spill out of the cups, your nipples peeking through the sheer fabric makes his dick twitch. Without further ado, He wraps his palm around himself and starts stroking.

"fuck baby, look at what you do to me" he groans, leaning down to kiss your plump cheek, nuzzling his nose into your warm flesh.

His bottom lips is tucked between his teeth, his grip tightening around his leaking shaft, moving his rough palm up and down languidly. As much as he wants to take his time enjoying your body, he knows he can't take a risk. On top of that, he's too pent up to be able to drag this out, he can already feel the familiar tingling in the pit of his stomach. Too good,everything feels too good.

He whines as his thumb rubs over his engorged tip, the pleasure driving him insane.

"are you tight baby? fuck, I bet you're so fucking tight, would make my dick feel so good won't you?" He gasps into your skin, brows furrowing as his movements become harsher, faster. His abs flex and his hips jerk forward into his tight fist, imagining it's your pussy that he's fucking into.

“god it feels so good to finally fuck my fist” he pants, his warm breath fanning your flushed face.

His thighs tremble and he leans his body into yours, pressing himself flush against your unsuspecting figure. He slots his throbbing cock between your plush thighs and starts humping against you eagerly. He just can't help it. It's all your fucking fault.

"Mhmm, baby, baby, fuck you feel so good" He whimpers, fingers digging into the fat of your waist, nose buried inside the crook of your neck, breathing you in. You smell so fucking intoxicating, and he feels his sanity slipping away. God, how he wishes he could thrust inside of your wet heat right now. How he wishes he could jerk his cock off using your tight little cunt.

Its getting wet and messy, the squelching sounds coming from his cock moving back and forth against your flesh are downright filthy.

A strained moan slips from his throat and the knot in his stomach tightens. He's so fucking close.

Jay gathers a copious amount of saliva in his mouth and spits in his hand, rubbing it all over his dick, lubricating it for more pleasure, flicking his wrist faster.

"wish I was inside you right now, look how hard you make me baby, gonna cum so much f’ you-mhmnp-fuck-fuck" His whines become louder, groans get breathier, indicating the approach of an impending orgasm.

The heat inside his loins becomes unbearable and he needs contact. Direly.

Naked skin, soft flesh rubbing against his sweaty body while he jerks himself off, that’s exactly what he craves. He lets go of his cock momentarily and strips his shirt off, throwing it aimlessly across your room. He pants while he slides your bra down your chest, letting your boobs spill out in the open. The sight so lewd, he could come from this alone.

His pupils dilate, sweat trickling down his neck in effort and desire. he leans forward and presses his nipples against yours, hissing harshly, gasping in pleasure at feeling his naked chest rubbing against yours. Is this what sex with you would feel like? Sweaty bodies rutting against one another, chasing carnal pleasure?

Jay pants, and starts to jerk off furiously, wanking his dick like a mad man, palm moving back and forth while he thrusts his tongue inside your open mouth again. A groan escapes his lips, it really does feel like he is fucking you.

"God I wish you could see me right now baby, using your body for my pleasure, just like it's supposed to be" He grunts into your mouth, coating your lips with his saliva.

His hand picks up speed, he's so fucking close, his hips jerk into his own touch, chasing that friction like an animal in heat.

"God yeah, oh fuck yeah baby, gonna cum so hard for you" He groans, squeezing his eyes shut while he spurts long strings of cum onto your naked skin, hot pants fall from his mouth into yours. He squeezes his dick, tugging at it a few more times, cumming so much that it doesn't seem to stop.

"oh fuckk yeahhh, just like that" he moans, rolling over and falling onto his back beside you, rubbing his dick raw. He pumps himself shallowly, milking himself for all that he's worth, his breathing getting slower, sighs of contentment falling from his lips.

Fuck. That was so good.

He looks over at your mess of a body and quickly gets into action, getting dressed haphazardly and adjusting your clothes while he tries his best to clean every drop of cum from your skin and clothes.

The next morning when you whine about a headache, he pretends to be worried, and when you hiss in pain, telling him that there's a painful redness in your inner thighs, he tells you that it might be from your sheets rubbing against your soft skin, and that you should probably buy new ones.

If his dick twitches as he remembers rutting in between your flesh like an animal in heat, that's between him and God

Jay is thoroughly convinced that he's losing his goddamn mind.

With each passing moment, He can feel himself descending into madness.

Nothing feels good, nothing feels worth it, time thoroughly stops if he's not constantly touching you or moping around you.

After that night, he did not get another opportunity to have you alone, and it was promptly causing havoc in his brain. It was fucking him up from the inside.

He wonders if you notice the lack of proximity between your bodies every time you both hang out together lately. But if you do notice the small lingering touches he leaves on your skin here and there, you don't mention it.

"fuck, j-just shut the fuck up" he growls, pushing the woman's head further into the pillows while he continues to plow her from behind.

Ever since he got a taste of you, Jay has found it harder and harder to find pleasure in anything or anyone else. He fucks and fucks but deep down, he knows that no pussy can ever feel like yours.

The cunt wrapped around him is warm and wet, it feels good, making hot pleasure run across his abdomen, but every time he feels his high approaching, the glaring realization that this isn't you underneath him, hits him hard. Fuck.

Jay grits his teeth and closes his eyes, remembering the taste of your soft lips on his, reminiscing the addicting feel of your nipples pressing into his hard chest; his hips pick up pace. He's fucking the woman underneath him brutally, her screams echo in the entire room, her body flailing to get out of his grasp; but Jay can't seem to stop.

"G-gah God just-take it" He groans, hissing in relief when the knot in his stomach snaps, his hips plowing at an animalistic pace, riding his high against the warm pussy in which he's buried.

"fuck fuck fuck" He chants, sighing in hot pleasure, eventually loosening his grip on the slut's body. As soon as he does tho, she pushes him off of herself, turning to him with tears streaming down her red face.

"You're a fucking animal you know?" She spits, sniffing and sobbing as she limps to her feet, his cum running down one of her legs. She collects her clothes and throws a dirty look over her shoulder towards him before she leaves.

Jay scoffs and runs an exasperated hand over his sweaty face. Refusing to acknowledge the elephant in the room. All that talk and she didn’t even satisfy his dick.

What the fuck is happening to him? This type of aggression isn't typical of him and yet, he can't seem to control his emotions in the heat of the moment.

Before he can get immersed too deep into his self reflection, his phone rings, your face glowing like an angel on his lock screen.

You. The bane of his existence.

His dick twitches as he swipes right.

"Jongieee" you squeal, going on a tangent about your eye contact with heeseung across the hallway. The visible vein in jay's forehead throbs, as if all the blood's being pumped through that one particular artery in order to give him the strength to cope.

He's going to fuck heeseung's pretty face up. The rage that fills him up at the thought of another man touching you is insurmountable. It wasn't always like this. But somewhere in the middle of your budding friendship, the dynamic shifted drastically.

At first it was a stupid crush, he thought he was in love with you. But he isn't so sure now. This isn't love, no. This is beyond love. A vile, dark version of it. This is an obscene obsession. Jay is fucking obsessed with you. The need to attain you weighs heavy on his conscience.

As he hears your voice, he focuses on the sweet melody and drowns out the words. This makes the throbbing in his dick return ten fold.

He wraps a shaky hand around his slick shaft and starts to stroke it. Real nice and slow. Just how he likes it. Just like he knows your small hands will do to him.

He bites on his lower lip to prevent any sounds from escaping, and he continues to jerk off to your voice. The veins running along his cock throb in his tight grip, the swollen tip squirting precum onto his moving palm.

"Hmm yeah? Tell me more" he whispers, hoping that you don't notice how breathy his voice sounds, or how pure lust drips from his panting breaths.

The slick squelchy sounds from his palm moving up and down his leaking length echo loudly in the room. A part of him wishes that you catch him in this filthy act, relishing in the surprised and scandalized gasp that would leave your lips when you realize what he is doing.

Fuck.

His hand picks up pace, his second orgasm getting closer and closer the more that your sweet voice rings in his ears.

"Jay?" you ask, obviously confused as to why he hasn't said a single thing yet.

Jay, on the other hand, mutes his side of the mic and groans loudly.

"fuck yeah baby, say my name" He whimpers, his hips thrusting up into his tight fist.

He's jerking himself furiously now, closer, closer, he can taste the sweet release at the tip of his tongue,

"Yeah, shit y/n, make me fucking cum" his mewl fades into a high pitched moan as he shoots thick strands of cum after cum into his own fist, watching with hooded eyes , how it spurts everywhere, his abs contracting at the immense force.

God you drive him batshit crazy.

He hangs up on you, ignoring your voice calling out to him, not trusting his own voice enough to talk to you like a normal person, right after he wanked off to you like a perverted freak.

He shoots a quick message to you in explanation tho, getting his cum all over his screen in the process.

"can't hear you, network issue I think. Call u later?"

Later when Jay lets the hot water of the shower run all over his spent body, his mind drifts off to you and the events of the last few months.

He needs to fuck this madness out of his system, he decides.

Maybe once he gets his dick inside of you, he might be able to get you out of his mind.

You look beautiful.

You always look beautiful, but something about the way that tight little red dress hugs your curves tonight has every man in the room salivating. You're like a piece of meat that's dangling in front of a pack of hungry wolves. And Jay is sure that he's the hungriest of them all.

When you had called him that afternoon, your voice sweet and pleading, begging him to accompany you to yeonjun's party, he didn't know what it would entail.

"Please, please come with me Jay, you know it's my best chance at getting heeseung to notice me" your words had been whiny, travelling straight between his legs.

He had clenched his jaw and hummed in response, not having it in him to refuse your offer. As much as it enraged him that you would take another man's name when he was right there, he also knew that his time would come.

"I love youuu, you're the best" you had squealed, making his heart do weird flips inside his chest. Yeah, he was the best. And he was going to make sure that you knew it too by the end of the night.

He's sure he's drooling, eyes tethered to the way you grind your hips on the dance floor.

It's sexy, you're so fucking sexy. Your lips are stretched into a small smile, as if you know that all eyes are feasting on you. He loves how you thrive in it, loves how you're eating up all the attention.

What he doesn't appreciate tho, is the sight of heeseung's figure making his way towards you on the dance floor. Jay's body works faster than his brain, his nostrils flaring as he makes his way towards heeseung, red hot rage propelling him forward.

Sweat trickles down the valley of your breasts and the air feels stuffy. You need a drink. Right now.

You're mildly disappointed when you don't find heeseung anywhere in sight, all that show that you put on, and for nothing?

You sigh dramatically and make your way to the kitchen, recognizing jay's hunched over figure in the corner, doing God knows what.

"Jay? " you call out to him. His figure freezes upon hearing your voice, he turns his head to meet your eyes and shoves his hand inside his pocket without a second's delay. His behavior makes you furrow your brows "what?" you ask him incredulously. Why was he behaving like a child who'd been caught sneaking where he shouldn't be sneaking.

He shrugs his shoulders and turns fully to face your approaching form.

Jay knows that he's staring, but he just can't help it. Not tonight.

You pick up the drink from the counter and swirl it, looking around the kitchen, scrunching up your nose adorably at the intense make out session near the sink.

Jay follows your line of vision and almost groans. Did you have any idea, how badly he wanted to recreate that scene with you.

"Where's heeseung?" you question, your curious eyes looking back at him.

Jay hopes you don't notice the way his jaw immediately locks up, his mood dampening at another man’s name. Jay likes you best when you’re calling his name, he decides.

"He left" He quips, reaching for a drink with his free hand that isn't buried inside his pocket in a meticulous manner.

You look at him heatedly, and Jay sighs.

"He left, or you made him?" your voice is angry, irritated when you ask him that, and Jay feels his own anger flare up at your tone.

Not wanting to cause a scene, he grabs your hand and drags you inside the bathroom instead, grateful when you don't resist.

The way you free your wrist from his grasp to create some distance between you two, is what he doesn't like.

"What did you do?" You demand, folding your hands across your chest, pushing your boobs up in the process. Jay's eyes flicker down to your beauties and the heat in his head travels all the way down to his groin. He needs to have you, now.

You watch in horror as Jay retrieves his hand from the pocket of his pants. The cuts and bruises all over his knuckles make you gasp. Your hands fall to your sides and you look up into his eyes disbelievingly.

"I-w-why? Jay? What the fuck is wrong with you?" you ask, disbelief and anger making way for concern.

"You! you are what's fucking wrong with me!" Jay bellows and it makes you flinch, terror filling up your viens , because this isn't your Jay. Your Jay was calm, and so, so quiet.

Raging eyes look into yours as he stalks towards you. You don't see it coming when he cups your cheek in his hands and thrusts his tongue inside your mouth. Your hands come up to bang against his chest but it only propels him to pull you further into his chest. Fuck, it feels so fucking good when you move against him.

You whine while his tongue tastes your hot mouth hungrily, forcing it deep inside the crevices of your cavity.

Mustering up all the strength that's left in your body, you push him away, heaving heavy breaths as he stumbles back by a few steps.

Your watery eyes look at him in horror and disbelief, refusing to believe that your best friend just forced himself upon you.

"You're insane" you whisper, your voice hauntingly quiet.

He pulls your body closer to himself and kisses you again, diving into your taste desperately "for you, so fucking crazy for you" he murmurs between kisses, continuing to make out with you, making a mess at how forcefully he sucks your tongue into his mouth.

You hit against his chest, thrashing your body in his hold. He pulls back a little and rests his forehead against yours, his eyes are crazed as they look into yours. A string of saliva connects your mouth to his famished one.

"Let me fuck you" He pants.

His words hit you like a slap across the face. What the fuck.

Your head feels dizzy, too much was happening for you to process. Using all the force you could, you push him away from you again.

"Stop acting like this jay!" you cry, just wanting your best friend back. But from the looks of it, he's nowhere in sight.

No, no, no. This can't be happening to you

"Come on, you know you want this" Jay hisses, malice dripping from his eyes.

Your lips wobble and you can do nothing but shake your head, it lolls on your neck lifelessly. You want to say something, but words feel foreign, as if not knowing how to bend your tongue to make the syllables sound quite right.

The bathroom is a tight space, not much expanse for you to run or hide. You see the door from your peripheral and it gives you some hope. If you can get the door to open up in time, you can scream. Maybe someone might hear you through the bass boosted music thrumming in the house.

You stumble back a few more steps but before you can stretch your hand towards the bathroom door, he pounces on you, a sharp whoosh leaving your mouth as your back thumps against the wall behind. He buries his nose inside the crook of your neck, gliding it's slope across the expanse of your soft skin, humming in desire.

His hands run all over your body, cupping your boobs through your dress, making you mewl as he twists your nipples painfully.

"it's about time we had sex baby" he whispers in your ear, biting and nibbling on your earlobe sensually.

"J-jay p-please think about this" you plead, your voice small and frightened, tremors covering your entire figure when he starts to unbuckle his jeans impatiently.

"Think? Oh sweetheart, you have no idea how much I've thought about this do you? " His eyes stay on yours, maintaining eye contact while his fingers unzip his pants. Jay had forgone boxers, too impatient to take his time undressing. His sole purpose was to get his dick inside your stomach tonight.

"This is all I've been thinking about for the past year baby, your cute little cunt is all i fucking think about" He grits.

His dick plops out of his pants, hitting his abdomen, smearing a blob of precum on his happy trail. Your eyes widen and water further, little sobs start to wrack your body. Your eyes take in the view of his uncut cock, curving upwards in sexual need.

"Too big?” he asks, tone mocking your deer caught in the headlights expression, his body presses closer to yours while he works to slide your tight little dress up your thighs, exposing your panty clad pussy to his eyes , fuck yeah.

“I'll make it fit" he groans, running his fingers over your vulva, pinching your clit in the process. You sob and start flailing in his hold, your fists coming up to hit against his chest.

"Jay please, please,no" your voice shakes urgently when he tears your sheer panties apart in pieces, his tongue coming out to lick over his dry lips.his eyes are wide and unseeing, they terrify you.

"Fuck, this pussy has been driving me fucking crazy" he pants, taking a hold of his dick and running it's bulbous head along your slit, coating it in his precum. His eyes come up to momentarily look in your terrified ones and he bites his lower lip, gaze famished and hungry, drinking up all your reactions.

He pops his head in between your silky folds and his knees buckle at the delicious feeling, his free hand coming up to rest against the wall behind you, as he cages you against it.

"fuck, you're tight, gonna have a field day forcing myself inside" he tuts, amused.

His words make you sob, an inexplicable heat spreading across your pelvis when he bullies more of his throbbing shaft inside, satisfied moans leaving his mouth in stuttering gasps.

He wraps your leg around his waist and without warning, buries himself inside your cunt in one harsh thrust, doubling over in pleasure.

"Oh fuck yeah baby, shit" He growls, resting his forehead against yours, his hot breaths falling on your wet cheeks.

You wail and scream but Jay doesn't stop moving, your small fists do nothing to deter his movements, his hips starting to pick up pace instead. His brows furrow in pleasure and he moans into your mouth, urging you to cry more as his cock pumps deep inside your guts.

"Tight little slut, this is what you fucking wanted didn't you? Fucking cock tease" he hisses, throwing his head back in extreme ecstasy, pounding his hips rapidly into yours. The feeling of your nails scratching the skin of his neck makes him groan in pleasure.

"Yeah baby, you wanna fight? let's fucking fight like this" He whispers silkily, grabbing your ass in his big palms, groping your soft flesh painfully, digging his own nails into it.

"h-hurts so much Jay, stop please, p-please" you sob, tears blurring your vision, the stretch from his cock being too much for your tiny little pussy. The way your nails dig into his shoulders, you're sure that if he was naked, you would break his skin.

Jay scoffs and presses your body further into the wall, snapping his hips faster into yours, fucking desperately into your wet, hot cunt.

"Yeah? But your cunt is sucking me in baby, looks like you like what we're doing"

You throw your head back at his words, unable to stop your hips from gyrating against his thrusts. Pleasure was starting to cloud your mind.

"fucking finally, feels so good to be buried in this pussy, should have forced myself in it a long time ago" He pants, taking your lower lip in his mouth while he increases the intensity of his rut. You moan into his mouth when he digs his teeth in your plump flesh, his actions barbaric.

The squelching sounds start filling up the small cubicle, the filthiness of the whole act only working to fuel your desire more.

Before you can get submerged in pleasure tho, Jay pulls out of you with an embarrassing ‘plop’ and forces you to your knees instead; ignoring how you hiss in pain at the feeling of the rough tiles scraping against your bare knees.

He penetrates your mouth with his cock and starts fucking, plowing it like it's your cunt, moaning and groaning in pure pleasure.

You dig your nails into his thighs but he ignores your pleas to breathe, pushing your head further against the wall instead. He digs his fingers in your hairs and grinds his hips into your plump mouth, his dick hitting the back of your throat mercilessly.

"God yeah, just like that, jerked off so much to you baby, suck my dick like you fucking mean it" His whiny voice travels straight between your legs and you moan. The vibrations of your throat make his dick twitch inside your mouth and he pulls out with a groan.

He rubs his cock head against your lips and buries himself to the hilt inside your throat again, pressing your nose against his pubes while his cum filled balls slap against your chin.

The lack of gagging makes him chuckle in disbelief “no fucking gag reflex, god your throat is just like a fucking cunt”.you mewl and rub your thighs together at his words.

"Fucking hell, should have done this before, we could have been fucking so much" he grouches, kneeling down and forcing your body onto the floor. It's a tight fit, but jay doesn't seem to care. He folds your body in half and thrusts inside your pussy again. His movements are so impatient and hurried, you aren't used to being desired this way.

"mhmnm yeah, pussy feels so good" He growls, his hold tightening further around your legs that rest against his shoulders and he starts to rut into your tight heat again. This time it's more desperate, downright filthy. He's panting on your face, letting a string of saliva drip from his mouth into yours when he sees your mouth open in a silent scream. You choke on it and he laughs, condescending, hissing through gritted teeth.

"Get used to this baby, we're gonna be fucking so much after tonight, gonna keep my cock buried in your fuck hole" he groans, bullying his cock into your hole over and over again.

You wrap your arms around his neck and start grinding into him, staring back into his eyes to let him know that you want this.

His eyes widen upon feeling your hips thrusting upwards, humping his cock, hot pleasure running down his spine.

"Yeah baby? fuck, you like this? fucking slut, you did all of that on purpose didn't you? wanted to drive me fucking crazy for this pussy?"

You nod in pleasure, all rational thoughts leaving your mind. All you know is, that his dick feels a little too good when it rams against your cervix.

You are close, way too close, your body convulsing in carnal lust as your orgasm washes over you all of a sudden.

Moan after moan of his name falling from your red bitten lips.

He laughs as he feels your cum trickle down his thighs, drenching his balls in your juices.

"fucking slut" He moans, throwing his head back as he enjoys the clenching of your throbbing cunt on his leaking shaft.

He feels himself close to his high, but he doesn't want this to end. Not yet.

Jay pulls out and rests his back against the wall, patting his thigh for your spent figure as you lie on the floor.

"Come sit on it " He breaths, his voice strained due to how much effort it takes for him to not start jerking off to the sight of your sticky cum running between your pussy lips.

So fucking hot. He wants to obliterate your pussy.

He watches with hooded eyes as you get up on your knees and crawl towards him, eyes trailing down to his hard dick. Jay groans at your hungry gaze, fuck yeah. You want him. You want his dick.

This singular thought forces him to wrap his palm around his leaking prick. Your eyes widen and a small mewl escapes your lips as you watch him stroke his length slowly, wet sounds resonating between the space between your hot bodies.

Jay bites on his lower lip and starts to stroke faster "yeah you like this? This is how I jerked off to your thoughts baby, rubbed my dick raw every night, imagining it was your pussy instead of my fucking hand" He pants, cupping his balls with his other hand, the double stimulation driving him insane.

The sight in front of you is so lewd, it makes your pussy drip. The way his pants are not all the way off, resting against his ankles, hanging on him unceremoniously is so hot, your cunt clenches around nothing.

Without a single thought, you close the gap between your bodies, straddling his lap while you maintain a hungry eye contact with him. He looks famished as he watches you replace his palms with yours, tugging on his throbbing cock a few more times before you guide it to your wet hole.

"Yeah baby put it in, come on, put my dick inside" He groans, his hands coming up to wrap around your waist, pulling you down onto his length impatiently. You both let out gasps of pleasure when his dick slips inside, buried in you balls deep.

"f-fuck" you moan and he hums, throwing his head back in pleasure. The itch in your pussy starts to intensify and your hips start moving on their own, looking a way to satisfy it.

"Yeah, ride it, ride it like you fucking want it" he moans, thrusting up into your hole. You gasp and hold onto his shoulders, slamming yourself up and down on his shaft. The sex feels too good. So hot and so messy. It makes you wonder why you were resisting it in the first place.

Your hot, sweaty bodies rutt against one another desperately, feeling your highs approaching at a rapid pace.

"Bounce on it baby, come on, make me cum, wanna fill this pussy up" He pants, digging his nails into your thighs as he begins thrusting up at a rapid pace. You squeal at the sudden action but bury your face inside the crook of his neck in pleasure. Too good. Fuck it's starting to get too hot.

Desperate gasps escape his lips when your cunt starts clenching around him again, he's close, so close. Fuck yeah. He can’t believe he is finally gonna cum in your cunt, and just the thought of it was enough to make the knot in his stomach snap.

"Just like that, oh yeah, oh fuckkkkkk" he growls, humping upwards as he holds your body down and squirts his cum into your womb, thrusting rapidly into your swollen pussy, making you cum again.

You moan and whine when he doesn't stop moving, his hips pick up pace without break and your head gets dizzy. The over-stimulation getting to your head.

"can't stop fucking, let's do it again yeah? let me pound this cunt again I'm so fucking hard"

Before you can protest, he is flipping you around, pressing your body against the bathroom floor, your boobs squished against the cold tiles. The tiles were so dirty, probably because of the number of couples before you both, who couldn't wait to get down and dirty. You wonder, how many people fucked in this cubicle before you, and your back arches on its own. You feel his body mounting you and he envelops your sweaty body with his meaty arms.

You gasp upon feeling his thumb prodding at your asshole, dipping in and out experimentally.

"Jay not there please please I've never-" your begging gets cut off with a shrill scream as his entire head bullies inside your sphincter.

Jay's eyes roll back in pleasure and he moans, the sound so pornographic that it makes hot lust run through your womb.

"fucking hell baby, it's tighter than your pussy, gonna fuck it so hard"

Your legs flail but Jay doesn’t stop dicking you down, he thrusts his entire length inside your virgin hole and groans in ecstasy, it is the tightest hole he's ever been buried in. His hips start moving, plowing into you at a rapid pace. He puffs and huffs like a dog in heat, the stimulation around his dick pushing him closer to the edge again. Your hole stays tight as a clamp around his meat.

You, on the other hand, wail in pleasure mixed with pain. It hurts, it hurts but God does it hurt so good. His balls slap against your ass cheeks painfully.

Skin slapping sounds fill up the bathroom and you push your ass back against his dick, moaning and bucking back, needing it deeper inside your stomach.

"That's right baby, fuck back on me, gonna cum so hard again" His plaintive groans indicate his arousal, lust drips from the frantic movements of his hips.

He thrusts inside you wantonly, his desire to nut overpowering all other senses.

The desperate rut and stimulation of your hole sends you tumbling over another orgasm, your legs quivering as you come with a pleasured moan, chanting his name in a prayer.

The tight clamping of your two sphincter muscles on his fully engorge cock send jay over the line. He bellows loudly, cursing and grunting as spurt after spurt of his pent-up sperm paint the inside of your fuck hole

Finally satiated, Jay falls onto your limp body, kissing your earlobe, mumbling lazily about how he's gonna fuck you again and again till he erases heeseung's name from the forefront of your mind.

You don't tell him that there is no heeseung anymore. You don't tell him how every cell of your body only craves his touch now, aching to be plowed by his dick alone.

[cheoliehansolie]

The Hoodie

Summary: Wonwoo learns something interesting about you wearing his hoodies.

Word Count: ~2.8 k

Pairing: fem reader x Wonwoo

Warnings: Implied smut and a bit suggestive

an: I'm finally back after accidentally taking a break for a month. Thank you guys for waiting patiently <3. As always, if you liked reading this, please reblog or leave a comment. If you have any suggestions or you just want to talk, send me an ask and we can be friends 💕

To read more, check out my masterlist.

---

You woke up to the soft rays of sunlight filtering into your room through your blinds. Waking up to the warmth of sunlight on your cheeks had to be your favorite part of spring. Glancing at the clock on your bedside table, you shock yourself with how early you’ve woken up on a Saturday.

Normally you’re one to sleep until you absolutely need to get out of bed on the weekends, but today you’ve somehow managed to wake up at 7:30. Feeling proud of yourself, you decide to take this as your sign to be productive and to spend the day finally cleaning your apartment.

This past week had been hectic with work and the semester coming to an end that you barely had time to sleep, let alone clean your space. So, your apartment had been looking like a tornado blew through it for a while now and it definitely was not helping your mental state.

Deciding to bite the bullet, you shove your blanket from off your figure and force yourself out of bed. What? Just because you woke up early and decided to be productive in your head doesn’t mean that it’s not hard to get out of bed, especially when the mornings are still cold.

You rush into the bathroom to quickly brush your teeth and shower to warm yourself up. Once you’re done with your shower, you put on a pair of leggings and your hoodie (yeah, definitely yours and not your boyfriend’s).

As you’re tying your hair up into a ponytail, you make your way out of your room and into the living room. You immediately groan seeing all your college papers on your dining table which is serving as your makeshift desk, the trash on your kitchen counters, and the pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

Seeing the amount of overall filth in your living space, you were extremely tempted to just go back to bed and pretend you never had plans of cleaning, but you knew that if you didn’t clean your apartment now, you never would. So, you grab your phone, blast your cleaning playlist, and get to work.

—

It took you basically all morning just to clean your kitchen and it’s safe to say that morale was at an all time low. You collapsed onto your couch out of exhaustion and hunger. You hadn’t expected it to take so long to clean so you thought you could just eat breakfast after cleaning.

The second your body began relaxing on the couch, you heard a knock at your door. You laid there silently hoping that the person at your door would leave, but less than a minute later the knocking continued.

You let out a groan of frustration as you force yourself off the couch and make the trek to the front door less than a few feet away.

You swing open your front door, a frown still on your face. It takes you a second to register who’s at your door, but when you do, you’re left confused.

Wonwoo stands in front of you dressed casually a pair of gray sweatpants and a black tee shirt. You notice in one hand he’s holding a white plastic bag, which you can only assume contains take out.

“Wonwoo? What are you doing here?” you ask as you wrack your brain trying to remember if you had plans to see each other today.

“You weren’t answering any of my texts so I decided to stop by and make sure everything was okay.” he explains as you step aside letting him into your apartment.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I spent the past few hours cleaning. I haven’t been on my phone since I got up. I didn’t mean to worry you.” you say with your lips slightly down turned and eyebrows furrowed.

You felt bad for making him worry to the point that he felt the need to come to your apartment.

“Hey, it’s fine.” he says softly, noticing how upset you looked at yourself. “I wanted to see you anyways, so you not answering gave me an excuse to see you.”

Once Wonwoo took his shoes off, he finally registered what you looked like. His lips almost immediately turned up into a small smile as he realized that the hoodie you were wearing was none other than his own. He noticed the subtle flush in your cheeks, the thin sheen of sweat creating a film over your skin, and the way strands of hair were falling out of your ponytail. 

Noticing the fact that Wonwoo was just silently standing in your entryway, you ushered him deeper into your apartment. Honestly, you had noticed his eyes wandering over your figure and you couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed by the current state of your appearance. You and Wonwoo had been dating for about a year, but something about the way he looks at you makes you feel the same way you did during your first date.

“So, whatcha got in the bag?” you asked, looking pointedly at the plastic bag in his right hand.

“Oh, this? I picked up lunch from your favorite place. I thought you might’ve been sleeping or something when I texted you so I thought it would be nice to bring you some food.”

“Aww, thank you so much babe!” you exclaim in excitement. “Why don’t you go sit on the couch and I’ll just grab us some plates from the kitchen?”

Wonwoo gives you a nod as he makes his way to the couch. He places the bag of food on the table in front of him and he watches as you walk around the kitchen grabbing plates, utensils, and glasses of water for the two of you. He can’t help but coo every time you tug at the sleeves of his too large hoodie to grab everything.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” you ask once you’ve joined your boyfriend on the couch.

“No reason. You just look cute in my hoodie, that’s all.” he says, a small smile of endearment grazing his lips.

You feel yourself flush at his statement and pull your hair out of your lopsided ponytail as an attempt to distract yourself from how flustered Wonwoo still makes you even after how long you’ve been dating.

“Let’s eat, shall we?” you ask, trying to steer the conversation to more neutral territory. 

Wonwoo can’t keep himself from smiling a little wider at your flustered state, but he decides to take pity on you and drops the subject. Just this once, though.

Soon enough, conversation flows easily between the two of you as you share your meal together. Before you know it, the plates in front of you are empty and there lies another thing left for you to clean. Just as you’re about to get up to clean the small mess in front of you (it merely is a drop of water in the ocean of a mess your apartment is), Wonwoo beats you to it and is stacking the dirty utensils in his hands.

“Wonwoo, I can clean it.” you whine when he motions for you to stay seated as he continues cleaning.

“You can rest on the couch. Didn’t you say that you spent the entire morning cleaning?” he asks.

“Yeah, but I -” before you can finish your sentence, Wonwoo cuts you off.

“No buts! You looked exhausted when I got here. The least I can do is clean up the mess I helped make. Besides, I’m not called the dishwashing fairy for nothing.” he says with a smile.

Before you can protest, Wonwoo gives you a pointed look and you realize there’s no way that you can change his mind so you collapse backwards onto your couch letting him do whatever he wants.

You’re left alone with your thoughts for the first time today with the soft clattering of dishes coming from the kitchen serving as white noise. You’re suddenly aware of how warm you feel and you feel as though you are overheating. 

You had spent the day either distracted by cleaning or distracted by Wonwoo that you didn’t realize the rise in temperature in your apartment. It was finally spring time and as much as you loved it, you despised how it would be so cold in the mornings and evenings but warm in the afternoons making it almost impossible to dress appropriately without freezing in the morning or melting in the afternoon.

Feeling sweat prickle on your skin, you decide the only thing you can do is change out of Wonwoo’s thick hoodie into a thin, flowy tee shirt.

When you get up to go change, Wonwoo can see you from your kitchen sink a few feet away and he’s instantly curious as to what you’re up to.

“Where’re you going, love?” he asks from the sink as he continues to scrub the plate in front of him.

“I’m gonna change into something thinner. It’s too warm to be wearing a hoodie right now.” you say as you stop at the entryway of your kitchen to respond to him.

“Why do you need to change for that, though?” he asks, taking his eyes off the plate in front of him to glance at you with his confused eyes.

“I just told you, I’m overheating.” you say, confused as to why he’s confused.

“Can’t you just take it off here?”

You feel heat rush to your face, and you’re now feeling warm from embarrassment.

“Well… I would but…” you trailed off, hoping that you would just disappear or he would drop the subject.

“But…?” Wonwoo asks, having finished washing the dishes and giving you his full attention.

You take a deep breath to steady yourself. Just say it quickly, it’s like ripping a bandaid off. you think to yourself.

In one breath, as quickly as you can, you say, “I would but I’m not wearing anything underneath.”

It takes Wonwoo a second to understand what you said, but when he does, less than ten seconds after the words left your mouth, you’re already in your room with the door closed behind you.

Wonwoo feels his cheeks heat up as he realizes that this entire day, including the past hour plus that the two of you spent together, the only thing separating your top half from the rest of the world was his hoodie. He originally thought you looked so cute drowning in his hoodie and while he still does, this new information changes his entire perception of the time you’ve spent together.

Meanwhile, you were pacing around your room silently screaming at yourself. I can’t believe I just told him that I was both shirtless and braless under his hoodie. Why would I do that? What if he thinks I’m weird? Or worse, what if I made him uncomfortable? 

Letting out a defeated groan, you force yourself to push all these worries out of your head. You decide that you can’t hide in your room forever, mainly because you know Wonwoo would come looking for you at some point. So, you change into a loose fitting shirt, take a deep breath, and step out of your room.

Your eyes immediately search the kitchen to see if Wonwoo is where you left him, but he’s not there anymore. You wander deeper into your apartment and you find Wonwoo sitting on your couch, casually scrolling on his phone. 

You don’t think he notices your presence and based on how calm he looks, you feel hopeful that he either a) forgot the conversation happened or b) didn’t think it was as much of a big deal as you made it out to be in your head. But when you sit on the other end of the couch and Wonwoo drops his phone to the side to look at you with a knowing smirk on his face, you realize that you were so, so, so wrong.

“So, you wanna talk about it?” Wonwoo asks with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you respond, feigning innocence and looking anywhere but your boyfriend sitting a few inches away from you.

“Really? Because I seem to recall you saying that you weren’t wearing anything under my hoodie today.”

Your face flushes for the thousandth time today and you can’t help but feel a little guilty.

“Listen Wonwoo, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier. That wasn’t my intention.” you say, looking into his eyes earnestly.

“Wait, why are you apologizing?” he asks you confused.

“Because it’s obvious that I made you uncomfortable earlier.” 

“Babe, I don’t know why you would think I would feel uncomfortable by it. The only reason I didn’t respond was because I was just a little shocked, that’s all. If anything, it’s kinda hot now that I know that you’ve been walking around with nothing underneath my hoodie.”

Feeling embarrassed by assuming that Wonwoo was uncomfortable and by hearing his true feelings, you grab a throw pillow from your couch and bury your face into it.

“I can’t believe I embarrassed myself in front of you twice in one day.” you mumble into the pillow.

“Hey, this can’t be as embarrassing as when you tripped over Vernon’s bag and ended up spilling your drink on Mingyu’s lap.” Wonwoo says.

“I thought we all agreed to not bring that up anymore.” you whine as you hit him with the pillow in your hands.

“I’m just saying, you’ve done more embarrassing things in your life than telling me you're naked under my hoodie.”

“Wow, thank you so much Wonwoo. I feel so much better about myself.” you say sarcastically.

“Aww, babe I’m sorry.” he says as he reaches for your hands.

“Forget it.” you say, faking annoyance as you get up to go clean off your dining table turned desk.

“Babe.” Wonwoo whines as he rushes behind you and grabs your wrist.

Before you know it, Wonwoo tugs at your wrist pulling you close into his chest. Your breath hitches at the boldness of his actions and you peer up at him through your lashes to see what his next move is.

He removes his hand from your wrist and gently raises your chin so he can look into your eyes.

“I’m sorry babe.” he says.

When you’re about to open your mouth to tell him it’s fine, you’re silenced by his lips on yours. Deciding that you actually had nothing to say, you choose to melt into the kiss instead. 

Once the two of you part for air, you say “I guess you’re forgiven.”

“You don’t sound too confident about your answer.” he says, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Maybe I’m not confident in my answer. What’re you gonna do about it?” you challenge.

“Then let me make it up to you in a different way.” he says as he pulls you into another kiss.

It’s safe to say that you didn’t get any cleaning done for the rest of the day.

—

When you go over to Wonwoo’s place for movie night a few weeks later, Wonwoo is more than happy to see you wearing one of his hoodies you’ve taken from him.

While the two of you are cuddling together on the couch, Wonwoo can’t help but let his curiosity get the best of him. When you’re engrossed in the movie, Wonwoo takes his hand that was resting on your thigh and brings it up to the hem of hoodie loosely covering your frame.

This grabs your attention and you turn to him to look at him with your eyebrows furrowed. But Wonwoo’s eyes are fixed on the screen in front of you and it makes you wonder if you were just imagining things. Deciding that you were just being weird, you turn your attention back to the screen.

When Wonwoo notices that your attention is on the movie again, he takes that as his sign to move his hand again. He slips his hand under the hem of the hoodie and he slowly inches closer and closer to your chest.

Although your eyes were trained on the movie playing in front of you, all of your attention was on Wonwoo’s hand slowly grazing your skin as he made his way up your body. Your breath hitched when you felt his cold hand gently graze your bare breast and you turned to face Wonwoo.

He looked at you with a smirk on his lips and a mischievous glint in his eyes. Something told you that you wouldn’t know how the movie would end.

[milkloafy]

THIS BEAUTIFUL MELODY — WRIOTHESLEY

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: you notice a beautiful ship and are excited to see what human you can lure out. surprisingly for you, it’s not an entranced sailor, but rather a man who jumped off the ship to chastise you. ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 3.2k ⋆｡˚ ❀ genre: mermaid!reader; suggestive, 16+? ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: fyi reader is kind of morally gray just like the slightest bit LOL like they don’t wanna gravely harm anyone yk but they get in a silly goofy mood sometimes -3- happy somewhat-unhinged mermay! xo

There was always a slight thrill that accompanied the satisfaction of seducing a human. 

The way they looked at you with such enamorment, as if they would follow you off the face of the earth; the clumsy way they would leap off their boat just for the chance of being in your presence… 

It was one of your favorite pastimes, to be honest. 

Now, it wasn’t something you participated in a lot, but the days when you and your friends had a contest of who could lure the most men at sea were certainly ones you always remembered. 

There was a line you didn’t cross, naturally. 

While you did indeed lure sailors out of the comfort of their own ships and into the waters, you didn’t leave them there. Sure, there were a few cases of people almost drowning, but you were certain you hauled most of them onto a rock or island to be found. Hopefully. 

You just found humans so fascinating, with their helpless little legs and inability to breathe underwater. How easily they became entranced by your alluring song. 

None of the merpeople you have met reacted to you in such a way. In fact, you found most of the mermen particularly annoying even. 

It was a nice day above the ocean today and you spotted a beautiful ship sailing by—The Wingalet it read. A ship of this beauty must have had a captain just as so. You swished your tail in excitement. 

And so your song began. 

A ringing, melancholic beauty slowly filled the air. When you closed your eyes, you could visualize the fog spiraling up from the sea, carrying your voice to the inhabitants of the ship. Could the humans envision it too? You let your mind wander as you sang. 

When you finally opened your eyes, you saw a figure emerge from inside the ship. He stood on the edge, and though you did not see his face, you could sense that he was looking right at you. 

A chill ran up your spine as you giggled in excitement, the playful wavering of your tune only adding to the appeal. You watched as the man leapt off the boat, swimming towards you. To your surprise, he was able to navigate the waves with relative ease—for better than any human you’ve lured before.

“Hey,” he called in a firm tone as he neared you, startling you to a stop. No human has ever reacted with such a tone. 

You didn’t let that phase you as you smiled coyly at him, shifting your hair to expose the skin of your neck and collarbones. With all the flattery you could muster, you greeted, “Hello, Captain.”

He nodded. If he was affected at all by your antics, you honestly couldn’t tell. “It’s ‘Your Grace,’ actually. Or simply Wriothesley is fine.”

Your brows raised, unsure if you should be impressed by the title. It certainly wasn’t as grand as ‘Your Highness.’ “Well, simply Wriothesley it is, then. What a unique and lovely name.” 

“Thank you for the compliment,” said Wriothesley, wiping a water droplet from his forehead. “But I do have to ask— Could you please stop singing your song around here?” 

You blinked. “Pardon?”

“It is beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but are you aware of how many civilians I’ve had to drag back from the rocks?”

Feeling chastised, your face heated up and you no longer felt the trance flowing from you. “Are you not grateful I dragged them to the rocks?” 

Wriothesley sighed, treading water significantly better and longer than most humans could. He wasn’t falling on his face at the sight of your beauty, nor did he seem seduced by your song. You gazed at him curiously. Just who was this man aboard the Wingalet? 

Whoever he was, he ruined your fun. 

Where was the helpless, strong sailor who bowed to your every whims—for the few moments they could last in the ocean, at least. This reaction, or lack thereof, was new and you weren’t entirely sure if you liked it. 

It had been a while since you last lured a sailor… Did you lose your touch? Your friends would have had a field day if they learned about your humiliation. 

“All things considered, I appreciate you don’t leave my people behind after toying with them, but I would appreciate even more if you didn’t toy with them altogether,” he said after moments of contemplation. 

Your mouth dropped. In all your life you have never been spoken to in such a way. Or rather, not by a human. Some mermen you knew could be just as fussy. “I would appreciate it if my hobby wasn’t judged so harshly.” 

Wriothesley shook his head. “It is not my place to judge. But as you are in the borders of Fontaine, it would only be fair if the rules of the region applied to you as well. Including not bringing harm upon others. Is that what your hobby is?”

“I’m not harming anyone!” you protested, folding your arms defensively. 

As you frowned, you couldn’t help but notice the way Wriothesley’s gaze followed the water droplets down to the curve of your breasts. A hint of mischievousness made its way back to you. Perhaps he wasn’t as unaffected by you as he tried to seem. You decided to adjust your tone to one more…appropriate for the situation. 

“Your Grace,” you said apologetically, lips slightly parted as you shyly batted your lashes. He wet the corner of his mouth but didn’t blink an eye. “I truly mean no harm to you or your people. I only wanted to sing for you all.”

Wriothesley raised a brow as you fluttered over to him. 

“The merfolk back home don’t care for my music,” you said with a sigh, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “You humans have much better taste.” 

As you drew nearer, you heard the labored breaths coming from him; his movements grew languid as well. You blinked. He had seemed so unbothered and confident, you almost believed he had no trouble keeping up on his own. Still, you reminded yourself he was a pitiful human—no matter how big and handsome he was. 

“Let me help you, Your Grace.” You offered him an arm to guide him along. “I know a cove not too far from here where you can rest.” 

Though tired, he managed, “Or, you could help me back to my ship that’s also not far from here.”

“But then how would I get on board with you?” you pouted, splashing water up with your tail. “I’m still not done with you yet.” 

Wriothesley choked out a laugh, slightly incredulous. Still he decided to humor you and nodded. “Sure, then. Lead me to your cove. Not that I have much choice, if you think about it.”

“I could also leave you on a sharp rock if you annoy me,” you offered. 

He sighed, an amused look littering his face. “Wherever you wish, darling.”

Your stomach jumped at the pet name, pleased at the sound of it. Sure, this man may be difficult compared to all the others, but maybe that would just make this more fun. 

Deciding against the large rock for today, you began to lead Wriothesley to a nearby island. It was small and quaint but the waves were calm and the vegetation was fruitful. Plus, there was a cove on the other side where you enjoyed picking shells. Perhaps you could show Wriothesley your shell collection if he kept his mouth shut for long enough. 

As you continued swimming, you noticed the grip of his hand tightened. You looked back and he was showing more signs of fatigue. 

“We’re almost there,” you murmured, not necessarily out of concern for him, but rather concern for the extra work you’d have to do if you had to haul an unconscious person onto land. “Don’t pass out yet.”

“Since when were you so sweet?”  he drawled. 

With a huff, you pulled him the final stretch of the way, not letting go until you were certain he could stand steadily on his own.

To your surprise, he did not stumble as he collected himself, even after you let him go. You hummed in delight, Wriothesley must be really strong if he could withstand all that. 

Once he was settled, you hauled yourself further along the shore. When the water become too shallow to comfortably maneuver around, you cleared your throat and looked up at him. When the two of you made eye contact, you lifted your arms, prompting him for assistance. 

Could you haul yourself to land without help? Yes, you’ve done so a million times before. But why would you do it yourself when you knew someone else was capable of doing it for you? 

Wriothesley let out a surprised laugh, voice sounding strained. “Are you asking me to carry you?”

Your eyes widened with indignation. “Of course not!” How could he possible have mistaken your gestures to mean wanting to be carried? “I’m only asking you to drag me over to the shore…”

He almost choked at your words before shaking his head. You twirled you hair around your finger. Was that strange of you to say? “Does that not hurt your scales?”

You thumped your tail down and splashed water on the both of you, displaying your tail’s capability. “My scales are strong,” you chirped.

Wriothesley hid a smile. “Allow me to be a gentlemen this once.”

“What do you mean—?”

You cut yourself off with a yelp as you felt yourself being lifted into the air. Dread filled your body at this unfamiliar feeling and you began to squirm around, wanting to get out. 

“Hey now,” he said in a soothing voice, arms tightening around you to offer a sense of security. “I’m only helping you get to the sand with me. I’ll make sure you are still close enough to the water. And I won’t drop you, if that is what you are fearful of.”

“Are you certain?” 

You heard the horror stories about humans. Some would cut off the tails of merfolk and sell the scales. Others who simply wanted to sate their morbid curiosity and know how your kind tasted… You shuddered.

“I promise no harm will come to you,” stated Wriothesley, slowly kneeling to the ground and placing you on the sand. “See, it was only a short trip. It’s over now. I’m sorry for starling you.”

You sniffled, folding your arms across your chest. “I forgive you. But I am not showing you my shell collection anymore.” 

He chuckled, placing his hand to his heart. “That wounds me.” Wriothesley took a seat beside you in the sand, letting out a sigh of relief as he stretched out his legs. “Maybe next time then.”

“Perhaps if I find you worthy enough,” you said haughtily. “Only a select few can see my collection. Or…perhaps it would be enough if you managed to get one of those orange-looking fruits from the land over there.” 

Wriothesley followed your gaze. “The bulle fruit,” he said in understanding. “You want me to get you one?”

You nodded eagerly, your mouth watering at the thought. You had never tried one yourself—to be frank, the sand was just a bit too hot for your tail and you weren’t able to stand up and reach the fruit on those rare occasions you did make it far enough. But you imagined it was juicy and delicious.

Despite how tired he must’ve been after treading the ocean water for such a long time and carrying you to shore, Wriothesley still stood up and walked over to the nearest fruit tree. Your eyes widened as he punched the trunk of the tree, catching a fruit as it fell, instead of reaching up and picking one from the leaves. 

You grumbled, wishing you had thought of that method yourself.

Wriothesley returned shortly with two fruits in hand, one for each of you. You graciously accepted the bulle fruit and the two of you munched together.

As the juices hit your tongue on your first bite, you let out a noise of satisfaction. It was both sweet and sour, the perfect balance that made you want more. While you had a preference for salty things, seeing as you lived underwater, you had to pay respect where respect was due. 

Wriothesley looked over at you with a chuckle. “Is it to your liking?” 

“Enough so that I may even show you one of my shells.”

“I’m honored.”

As you continued eating your snack, you began talking to him about whatever came to mind—what you had for breakfast the other day, the pretty seahorse you recently befriended, and the unsung horrors of trying to date your fellow merfolk.

Throughout it all, Wriothesley paid the utmost attention to you. He responded and reacted when appropriate and seemed like he was genuinely interested in what you had to say. He wasn’t even entranced by your powers, yet he acted in such a way… To say you were pleased was an understatement.

When you finally decided to take a break from talking, Wriothesley finally spoke up. “Is this the only reason why you choose to lure sailors to you? So you can sing and talk and get fruit?”

A human may have felt ashamed at his words, but you simply nodded. “And so they can pay attention to me and give me compliments.” You looked at him pointedly. “None of which I have received from you, by the way.”

He let his eyes trail down body, from the slightest protrusion of your collarbones down to the tip of your tail, then back up to your face. You squirmed against the heat of his gaze, your throat feeling dry at the intensity.

“Do you want me to begin complimenting you?”

Never once had you shied away from flattery, but the look in his eyes were different—darkened and sincere, not the glazed-over and enamored ones you had grown accustomed to.

“Maybe later,” you managed, feeling bashful under his earnest stare. 

Wriothesley smirked but he did not push further. Instead he asked, “Do you want to know what I think, darling?”

You raised your brows, wondering why it sounded like a challenge. “Why not?”

“I think you are charming and beautiful, but lonely.”

Your mouth dropped in surprised. Was he trying to insult you?

“You want someone who is obsessed with you and only you, and you think it’s fun to see just how smitten you can make someone, no matter who they are.”

Curiously, you looked up at him, staying silent as he talked. 

“But I think you find this more fun.” 

“This?” you questioned.

Wriothesley nodded. “I’m not under your little siren spell, yet here I am—hanging onto your every word like it’s the best thing I’ve heard in my life. It’s a different kind of power you have over me. Is that not thrilling to you?”

You sat in your thoughts for a few brief moments. As fun as it was to make people fall over their own feet at the sight of you, Wriothesley was right. This was a different kind of attraction. You felt it in his stare, in the way he examined your every move. It was addicting in its own right.

“I have a proposal for you,” he offered, fishing something out of his pocket. It was a necklace with a dainty, yet regal shell attached as the pendant. “Instead of enchanting some innocent civilians with your song, why don’t you call on me wherever you get the urge?”

Wriothesley softly placed the necklace on your hands and you brushed your fingers atop the smooth surface. It was a gorgeous, vibrant blue.

“Sing only for me, into the shell, and I will come to you as fast as I can.”

“And if you don’t come?” you tested. 

“I will.” 

You hummed, considering his words. Did he enjoy your presence that much? Or was this some sort of trick? How he was immune to your song was a mystery in itself. Maybe the only way you would find out is spending more time with him, to begin with.

“Something troubling you, darling?”

“Just you,” you said honestly.

He laughed, drawing circles in the sand between your body and his. “I understand your reason for skepticism. But my reasons aren’t entirely selfless. Do you find it hard to believe that I want to see you again, too?” 

Wriothesley glanced at you and grinned, bringing his hand up to wipe your plump lower lip. Your eyes widened.

“Bulle fruit juices,” he said, bringing his thumb to his mouth. You saw the pink of his tongue jut out to take in the leftover fruit.

You looked away, flustered. You were not sure how to react. Something about him felt so indecent…so daring. Had he no shame? And that was coming from a merperson! 

Yet you still craved more. 

“It also helps to know the more time you want to spend with me, the less time you’ll be seducing other men for your enjoyment.” 

“Who says I won’t do both?” you challenged. 

He had a confident look on his face as he said, “I’ll make sure it’s only me you will want to see.” 

Heat filled your face as you bit out, “Such arrogant words for a human.” 

“Such beautiful innocence for a siren.”

“Mermaid,” you corrected. 

“Mermaid,” he said. “Apologies.”

“You’re forgiven.” 

Wriothesley laughed as he stared off into the distance. You looked along with him and noticed his ship drawing closer. Frowning, you avoided his gaze. 

“You’re leaving already?”

“I have some Duke duties to head back to,” he said apologetically, patting the top of your head as he stood, “but don’t forget the necklace I gave you.”

You placed it around your neck, satisfied when Wriothesley’s gaze zeroed in on where the pendant fell between your breasts. “You better come when I sing to you, Your Grace.”

“I’ll be there, darling.” Wriothesley kissed the back of your hand before he waved goodbye. “And who knows, maybe next time I can take you back to my place for a bit. There’s someone I’d like you to meet. A Melusine nurse. She may have a few tricks up her sleeve if you’re interested in some land legs for a day.” 

Your eyes widened as you looked down at your tail. You loved it, very much so, but you were always curious about life above water. Eagerly, you nodded. “Okay! Then, you better come quick.” 

“As soon as I hear your pretty song,” he called out his promise. “Until then, farewell.”

Admiring the pretty new necklace you acquired, you waved goodbye at Wriothesley. He was handsome and you knew the both of you wanted more. But you wondered just how upset you could make him if he were to find out you sang your song for another sailor before you called on him.

You smiled to yourself, pressing a kiss to the shell once his ship sailed away. “Don’t be too mad, okay, Wriothesley? I’m just having some extra fun.” 

[lottins-only]

CROSS THE LINE | Jude Bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader, unnamed fictional RM player x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k

summary: after a fallout with your boyfriend, you find solace in a spontaneous night at the movies, where you run into his golden boy teammate. one thing leads to another and you cross the line.

A/N: first judith fic!! this was really fun to write. (very loosely) based on guilty as sin by taylor swift. let me know what yall think <3

warnings: infidelity (i don't condone it yall its just fun to write morally gray characters 🫣)

someone once told you there’s no such thing as bad thoughts – that it’s your actions that truly define you.

you wonder what they’d say if they saw you now: sitting up in bed with your boyfriend sound asleep beside you, staring at your phone with a pounding heart, silently hoping, waiting, for a message from someone else.

you wait and wait, but there’s nothing. your home screen stays empty, mocking you. you glance at your boyfriend. his shallow breathing fills the quiet room, steady and oblivious.

he has no idea you came home at 3 a.m. wearing his teammate’s jacket.

you'd stuffed it in the back of your closet as soon as you got home, a relic of a night that shouldn’t have happened. you'd scrubbed yourself thoroughly in the shower, trying to wash away the smell of jude’s cologne that clung to your skin. but it’s still there. not on your skin anymore, but in your mind, stamped into your memory to stay forever. 

the way the flickering lights from the movie theater screen cast shadows on his beautiful face, the fleeting feeling of his warm hands on yours as he handed you his jacket, the full body rumble of his laugh, the feel of his soft lips on yours.

you will never forget. how could you, when that was the first time in months you’d felt seen? desired. wanted. needed. it’s an intoxicating feeling, like stepping into the sunlight after living in the shadows for the longest time.

and now, staring at your phone, you feel it all over again. the pull. the wrongness of it all.

a buzz breaks the silence. your heart jumps into your throat as the screen lights up and a single message appears.

jude: you got home safe?

it’s innocent enough. simple. harmless.

you could ignore it. pretend you didn’t see it. block his number and put an end to whatever this is before it spirals into something else.

but instead, your fingers move on their own accord.

you: yeah. thanks for checking.

you press send before you can stop yourself. you lock your phone and put it on the bedside table before closing your eyes and willing yourself to go to sleep.

to your credit, none of this was planned. it all starts earlier that night. you and your boyfriend are supposed to have a date night, a rare opportunity to spend some alone time together. you pick out a dress he once says is his favorite and make a dinner reservation at his favorite spot.

but plans change quickly.

“babe, the guys just texted,” he says, barely looking up from his phone. “they’re hopping on fifa in a bit. you don’t mind if we raincheck, right?”

you stare at him dumbfounded as he flops down onto the couch.

“raincheck?” your voice trembles, the tears obvious, yet he doesn’t even glance at you.

“yeah. just tonight, we’ll do something soon,” he says dismissively.

it’s not the first time he’s blown you off, but tonight it stings a little more. maybe it’s the fact that he’s so indifferent to you and your feelings, he doesn’t even care to notice the relationship is teetering on the edge of a cliff. he doesn’t realize that you’re making an effort to save it while he’s unknowingly contributing to its unraveling.

you realized it too late, but you know now you’re not a partner to him, not really. you’re a glorified accessory, someone he can show off for external validation, a dependable constant in his life that’s only there to cheer him on and make him look good while he gives his attention and energy to the things he actually cares about: his friends, his family, and above all, his football.

it wasn’t like this in the beginning, but things changed quickly after he made the move to real madrid and became a bigger star. with every goal, every headline, and every paparazzi photo, you sank further into the background of his life.

you linger for a moment, waiting for him to change his mind, to look up and realize what he’s doing. but he doesn’t. so you grab your bag and leave without saying another word.

the cinema isn’t your first choice. you wander the streets for a while, debating whether to call a friend or just head home. but you need a distraction, something that can dispel all the thoughts running through your head. so before you know it, you’re buying a single ticket to whatever is playing next.

the theater is almost empty. it isn’t until you sit down and glance at your ticket that you realize you’re not seeing something new, but a re-release of a classic: Goodfellas.

halfway through the movie, you see a figure slip into a seat a few rows ahead of you. a few moments pass, and you feel a pair of eyes boring into the back of your head. it’s distracting, like an itch. you can't bear to ignore it any longer so you turn your head and look straight at the person. the figure quickly shifts his gaze, pretending to be engrossed in the screen. his features are hidden thanks to the hoodie he’s wearing, but his height and broad shoulders give him away as a man.

you hold your gaze for a second longer, just to make sure he gets the message, before turning back to the screen. but your focus is broken after that.

a few more moments pass and you notice the man stand and make his way out of his row. you let out a quiet breath of relief, assuming he’s leaving. but from the corner of your eye, you see the same figure moving toward your seat. your body stiffens immediately. why is he coming your way? maybe it was a bad idea to come to a nearly empty theater alone so late at night.

you watch as he stops in front of you and slightly crouches to not block the view of the screen.

“y/n?” he asks, voice low yet familiar.

“uh, yeah?” you respond warily.

“thought it was you.” he pulls back his hood, revealing the grinning face of jude bellingham.

a wave of embarrassment immediately washes over you. it’s bad enough that your boyfriend doesn’t love you and prefers to spend time playing video games with his friends, but now you have to run into his teammate of all people while you’re publicly wallowing in your misery—his kind, handsome teammate who always makes you flush whenever you cross paths.

this time is no different. your face grows warm as you stutter, “oh! h-hi, jude.”

you brace for the questions: why are you here alone? where’s your boyfriend? why do you have tear stains on your cheeks?

they don’t come though. instead, he gestures to the seat next to you. “mind if i join you? my seat over there was right under the AC; i was freezing.”

you nod. jude flashes you a smile as he takes a seat.

and then nothing. you watch the rest of the movie silently, the only interaction between you being an elbow nudge from him to offer his pack of candy.

he’s completely engrossed. he laughs silently at certain scenes, and in the more intense ones lets out small gasps. for someone else, it might’ve been annoying, but for you, who’s used to your boyfriend’s indifference to everything, you find his enthusiasm refreshing, maybe even a little endearing.

you spend the rest of the movie mentally going through the list of things you know about him : he's the same age as you (your boyfriend begrudgingly posted a birthday wish on his instagram story once), he can't drive (you see him being picked up by a driver whenever you visit valdebebas), he's genuinely nice (he always says hi when he sees you around, and he's politely held a door open for you once or twice), his spanish isn't the best (you once ran into him hopelessly trying to change his order at the canteen, sheepishly apologizing to the annoyed barista before you helped him out), and your boyfriend quietly holds a dislike for him because he's 'attention seeking' ( you secretly think its not his fault that he's charming and easygoing, that he has everyone he meets wrapped around his finger).

when the movie ends and the lights begin to brighten, he turns to you.

"do you wanna get ice cream?"

you hesitate for a moment.

"yeah. i’d love to," you say finally.

you exit the cinema, and when the fresh outdoor air hits you, you ask the question at the tip of your tongue.

"why and how are you here?"

"could ask the same for you," he grins.

"yeah, but—" you begin, but are immediately silenced by the sight in front of you. jude reaches into the pocket of the jacket he's layered over his hoodie and pulls out a dreadlocked toupee. with the straightest face, he carefully pulls down his hood, places the wig on his head, and adjusts it before pulling the hood back up.

you blink.

"you were saying?" the corners of his mouth twitch at your facial expression. without waiting for a reply, he starts walking, leading you away from the cinema.

you walk in tandem, still giving him a confused look. when you catch sight of his (fake) locs swinging along to the rhythm of his steps, you can’t help it; you burst out laughing.

“what’s so funny?” he turns to you, a mock hurt look on his face. “i’m part jamaican, you know.”

you pause your walking, doubling over and clutching your stomach as you laugh. he stands patiently, looking slightly amused.

after you catch your breath and fully recover, you continue walking.

“so that’s how you go places unnoticed?” you ask, still giggling.

“yup,” he says. “otherwise it’s a nightmare. need a bodyguard and stuff.”

you nod sympathetically as you stroll down the quiet street, the soft glow of streetlights casting long shadows on the concrete. jude walks with an easy confidence, his hands in his pockets while you glance over at him and his toupee every so often.

“so,” he says after a moment, glancing sideways at you, “what’s your excuse? why are you at a late night showing of Goodfellas all by yourself?”

your smile falters slightly. you look straight ahead, debating how much to share.

“just needed to get out of the house,” you say with a light tone.

jude doesn’t push, though the way he hums softly in response tells you he notices your answer is only a half-truth.

"what about you?" you ask.

"I like watching movies," he says simply.

when you give him a somewhat confused look, he pulls out his phone and opens the letterboxd app, showing you the extensive list of movies he's marked as watched. you skim through it and you’re surprised by the diversity. the list is seemingly filled with movies of all genres, from classic films to indie flicks. you didn’t expect this side of him, but somehow it makes sense.

as he enthusiastically explains the list, you can't help but feel endeared by the excited look on his face. you have the overwhelming urge to reach out and smooth over his furrowed brow with your finger. but for the first and only time that night, you don't act on that impulse.

you reach a small gelato stand located on a corner of the street, its neon sign glowing softly. jude steps forward and leans against the counter.

“pick whatever you want,” he says, winking as he passes you the menu.

“don’t mind if i do,” you say, raising an eyebrow. you ignore the way his words make you feel—warm and fluttery, like this is a first date between two single people.

after a moment of deliberation, you pick pistachio and hazelnut, watching as jude leans in to order the same for himself.

“you copying me?”

“nah,” he says with a smirk, passing your cone to you from the server. “just figured you have good taste.”

you wander away from the stand, both of you savoring your ice cream. for a while, you walk in comfortable silence. at one point, he removes the ridiculous wig from his head. it isn’t until you reach a park bench that jude breaks the silence.

"you know," he starts. "i haven’t seen you at a lot of games lately. everything good between you and your boyfriend?"

“‘your boyfriend?’” you tease. “why not call him by his name? you guys have beef or something?”

he stays silent.

you gasp half-jokingly. “oh my god! tell me everything, so i can sell the story to the tabloids.”

he lets out a laugh at that.

“you’re ridiculous,” he says, shaking his head, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“c’mon, spill,” you tease, nudging his arm lightly. “is he, like, selfish? does he refuse to pass during games?”

jude chuckles, shaking his head again. “nah, nothing like that. he’s a good player. talented, hardworking… you just start noticing things when you’re around someone all the time, you know?”

he says it carefully, almost hesitantly. you tilt your head at him. “notice things like what?”

he shrugs, his gaze dropping to his melting cone. “like… maybe he doesn’t appreciate what he’s got.”

the words hang in the air between you. you don't know how to respond, so you just gaze down at your own ice cream.

"sorry," jude says quickly. "didn't mean to overstep. i just—forget it."

"no, it's fine," you say quietly. "you're not wrong."

you sit in silence for a few moments. you feel him lean back against the bench, and the next time he speaks, his tone is lighter.

"my dad's coming to visit tomorrow," he says casually, an excited undertone in his voice.

"yeah? that's nice. does he come often?"

"not as much as i'd like," jude admits. "he's got my little brother to worry about in sunderland."

you smile softly. “what do you guys usually do when he visits?”

"usually we grab some food..."

he speaks about his bond with his dad, and also his close relationship with both his brother and mother. soon the conversation moves to childhood memories; jude tells you stories about growing up in birmingham, the football academy there, how he met his best friends at school. in return, you share stories of your own childhood, each one met with genuine curiosity from jude. you laugh, the conversation feeling effortlessly easy and natural.

it isn’t until you pull out your phone and glance at the screen to check the time that reality crashes back in. you have a boyfriend waiting for you at home. a boyfriend who hasn’t called, hasn’t texted, hasn’t even noticed that you’ve walked out of his house.

you lick the last remnants of your ice cream and are just about to crunch into the cone when jude gestures toward your chin. “you’ve got a little…” he says, trailing off as he points.

“oh,” you mumble while jude scans your surroundings for a tissue. finding none, he leans in and gently swipes at the bit of ice cream with his thumb.

“got it,” he murmurs, his touch lingering just a second longer than required.

what happens next can only be described as a a lapse in thinking, or maybe something you've been holding back all night. before your brain can catch up with your actions, you grab his hand and bring his thumb to your lips. you lick the ice cream away, your eyes flicking up to meet his.

jude freezes, his breath catching, his deep brown eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race.

"i—" you start, but whatever explanation you're about to give disappears when jude leans closer, his hand hovering near your face, as if waiting for your permission.

you don’t pull away. you don’t want to.

his lips brush against yours, hesitant at first, testing the waters. when you don’t push him away or move back, when, instead, you lean into him, his kiss deepens. it’s slow and deliberate, like he has all the time in the world to memorize every inch of you.

the ice cream cone in your hand is forgotten, melting onto the pavement as your fingers tangle into his hoodie, pulling him closer. the world fades, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble.

when you finally pull apart, your breaths mingle in the night air and jude’s forehead rests against yours.

“jude…” you whisper, but you don’t know how to finish the sentence.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression serious. “tell me if I’ve crossed a line. i don’t want to make things harder for you.”

your heart flutters at the genuine care in his tone. you shake your head. “no, you didn’t.”

he doesn't keep his lips off you after that.

the next morning, you wake up feeling better than you have in months. there's a lightness in your chest, a warmth that’s been missing for what feels like forever.

you glance at your boyfriend, expecting to feel guilt or remorse. but there’s nothing. no pang of regret, no twist in your stomach. you feel... nothing at all.

you watch him roll out of bed and get ready for training. not a word passes between you as you sit down together in the kitchen to eat breakfast.

“so, what does your day look like today?” you try.

he doesn’t even look up, his attention entirely on his phone, scrolling with one hand while holding his fork with the other.

“i have a meeting at work that’s pretty—“ you start, but he cuts off.

“we’re doing penalty drills,” he mutters without looking up. “need to score more than bellingham so i can wipe that smug smile off his face. did you know he gets paid more than me?”

you just stare at him. you wonder what you even saw in him all those years ago. how had you overlooked the bitterness in his eyes, the envy? how had you missed it all along, his resentment towards anyone who seemed happier, luckier, more successful? his good looking face looks distorted to you now, forever changed to you to reflect the ugliness he holds inside. its as if you’re seeing him for who he really is for the very first time.

your phone buzzes on the table. without even checking, you know who it’s from.

jude: good morning :) sleep well?

you see it for what it is: an invitation to step into dangerous territory, to cross the line once more. a lifeline offering escape from the sinking ship that is your relationship.

you decide to take it.

you type a quick response and set the phone down. your boyfriend is grinning at an instagram reel now, completely absorbed.

you don’t speak to each other for the remainder of breakfast. this time it doesn't bother you at all.

[moonagedaydreamsofrhiannon]

IN DEFENSE OF TRAVIS MARTINEZ:

Because I’m sick and tired of seeing travis hate everywhere I go.

“Travis was sexist.”

Did he spout some sexist rhetoric in the beginning of the show? Sure. But it’s important to recognize that: A) he changed, and by season 2 he completely stopped, B) he was a teenage boy in the 1990s, and that kind of rhetoric was normal at the time, C) most of his sexist macho tough guy attitude was a complete act that he likely put on to compensate for his insecurity about his own masculinity, and internalized homophobia. (More on that later.)

(Also let’s be real, Travis is basically one of the girls anyway and I’m tired of pretending he’s not.)

2. “Travis didn’t care about Javi.”

Did we watch the same show??? Granted Travis may have had trouble expressing his feelings (also related to his insecurities about masculinity, likely learned from his father, as well as growing up in a patriarchal and homophobic society), but he cared deeply about Javi. In S1E4, Travis literally DUG UP HIS DAD’S GRAVE, through horror, tears, and vomit, in order to retrieve his ring to give to Javi. When Javi disappeared, Travis kept looking for him every day for months, and never gave up, even when logically it would have seemed impossible for him to still be alive. He comforted and reassured Javi when neither of them drew the card. He cradled Javi’s dead body and ate a bite of his raw heart (which was a metaphor for how much he loved him, and a parallel to Shauna eating Jackie’s raw ear.) Maybe Travis wasn’t always there for Javi in the way he needed, but he absolutely loved him, and it’s important to remember that Travis was also a traumatized, grieving, kid who just lost his dad.

3. “Travis slut-shamed Nat.”

As we are literally shown in the show, Travis was not trying to slut shame her, he asked how many times she had done it because he was embarrassed about the fact that he was a virgin, and worried that she would judge him, or that he wouldn’t measure up because he was more inexperienced than her. When she told him she hooked up with Bobby Farleigh, he did not get mad at her because she slept with another guy (he already knew about that, and was fine with it), he got mad because she hooked up with his bully, and then lied to him about it. I don’t blame Nat for this, she didn’t know about it at the time, and didn’t want him to get mad once she found out, but I also don’t blame Travis for being hurt and embarrassed and upset with her for lying about it.

4. “Travis was just kind of a dick.”

Sure, but so were all of them. He acted like kind of a jerk in the first season. So what? Shauna had an affair with her best friend’s boyfriend, lied to her about it for months, and refused to apologize. Misty tried to drug Coach Ben. Nat faked his brother’s death to him (yeah, she was trying to help him move on, but still not cool). All of them called him “Flex” (y’know, the nickname that was used to bully him for years). None of them are perfect or nice or likable all the time, and that’s ok; that’s the whole point. They’re realistic, complex, flawed, morally gray and sometimes unlikable people. They’ve all done bad things, but nothing Travis did is worse than what anyone else on that show has done. He was a traumatized teen whose dad literally just died. Also, me personally, if everyone around me was constantly calling me the mean nickname that was used to bully me since middle school, I would also probably act like a little bit of a dick.

5. “Travis is a straight man.”

Wrong. (Also not really a valid reason to hate someone… But most importantly, just wrong.)

Travis Martinez is clearly a bisexual.

So many of his issues: the insecurity, the bullying, the macho tough guy act, the whole weird complex about his masculinity, all of it stems (at least partly) from the fact that he’s bisexual and has internalized homophobia. The whole “Flex” thing is just thinly veiled homophobia. The main reason why he got bullied is because Bobby Farleigh spread a rumor about him getting back surgery to better suck his own dick. The unsaid implication there is that he’s a man who sucks dick, which is inherently queer, even if it is his own. If you look even slightly past the most surface level interpretation, it’s pretty obvious that Travis was bullied because of homophobia. His performance of stereotypical toxic masculinity was clearly over compensation for the fact that he doesn’t fit into the box of traditional straight masculinity, and was a reaction to the bullying from his peers, abuse from his dad, and internalized homophobia from growing up in a homophobic and patriarchal society. As the show progresses he starts to unlearn that toxic masculinity and internalized homophobia, and he allows himself to be more vulnerable, emotional, and feminine, and as a result, he becomes stronger, more confident, and more respectful of the people around him.

As for Travis being a man… Is he though???

In season 1, Travis is a man (narratively speaking); there is a clear distinction between Travis/Coach Ben and the girls. However, in season 2, we see a stark shift in how Travis is depicted. The separation between Travis and the girls pretty much ceases to exist. Narratively speaking, there is no distinction made between Travis and the other girls; they are one entity—one hive mind. Instead, the emphasis is now placed on the distinction between Coach Ben and the girls/Travis. When Coach Ben watches the Yellowjackets eat Jackie in horror and disbelief, Travis is right there with them, dressed in ancient greek robes along with the rest of them. In season 2, Coach Ben is the only real Man of the group (Travis has narratively become one of the girls, and Javi is just a boy, not a man) and he is shown staying separate from the rest of the group, and growing more and more uncomfortable with the cultish dynamics, while Travis, on the other hand, becomes more and more integrated with the group, as he falls deeper and deeper into cult beliefs, until he is a full-blown devout Lottie worshipper. Of the three males on the show, he is the only one who actually participates in cannibalism with the other Yellowjackets. Also he lost his virginity to a lesbian.

Whether or not you choose to believe that Travis is transfem (I do) you cannot deny that, at least narratively speaking, Travis is literally just a girl.

6. Travis is a victim.

I don’t know why nobody in this fandom seems to acknowledge this, but Travis is a sexual assault victim and I’m tired of people constantly overlooking and ignoring that fact. In Doomcoming, the girls (excluding Jackie, Nat, Tai, and Van) chased him down, sexually assaulted him, and then tried to kill him. That’s not something that’s up for debate or denial, that is literally canon. Stop pretending it didn’t happen. Stop pretending it wasn’t assault. Stop shaming him and making fun of him for struggling with sex, or not always being able to get it up. That’s a normal trauma response after being assaulted/raped. You guys are literally proving the point. This kind of treatment from society towards masculinity and male victims is just playing into the patriarchy and toxic masculinity, and is exactly what made him act the way he did in season 1 in the first place!

[spookwriter-xo]

Coppélia

Chapter 3 - The Figure Painter

Chapter Summary - Y/N visits a childhood friend to go over Seonghwa's odd invitation.

Series Masterlist

"And then he gave you a contract... Like from Fifty Shades of Gray?"

"I told you it's not a contract, he said it was an invitation."

"Honey, it literally gives you a place to sign at the bottom."

After Seonghwa had given me the envelope and left, I wasted no time in rushing over to my friend, Mia's, house to tell her everything. Mia and I had known each other since we were seven years old, hanging off of each other like leeches since. Her family was rich too, but unlike mine, they supported her artistic endeavors.

She was a painter, specializing in figure paintings and realism, and was also my voice of reason.

"I seriously don't know what to do," I whine, my head resting on her kitchen countertop.

"Well, what does it say? Like what does he want you to do?" She asks, her fingers twirling a teaspoon around her tea cup.

I glance down at the papers in front of me. So many rules were listed I struggled to even wrap my head around it.

"He wants me to move into their home," I say.

"Their home?" Mia clarifies. "As in other people?"

"I guess so?" I clear my throat as I continue. "I can remain as a dancer for the society as long as I don't practice for any longer than I need to be."

"Well, at least they're offering you some freedom." She mumbles sarcastically, taking a sip of her tea.

"Mia come on!" I cry out rather dramatically.

"I feel like there isn't much up for discussion here? Yes, it's weird and borderline controlling but when was the last time something exciting like this happened in your life?" She argues.

"I don't want to be controlled, Mia. This whole thing, it's just way above my pay grade. I had enough of it living with my parents, I don't need it in a romantic relationship too!" I point out. She lets out a sigh, nodding in understanding.

"You're right, I'm sorry." Mia runs a hand through her hair. "Okay, let's try a different approach. What things in there benefit you?"

"Uhm, I get to live in a big ass mansion free of charge," I say, my finger hovering over the bullet point. It sure would be better than the cheap studio apartment I live in now.

"You can never go wrong with a big ass mansion." She quips before I continue.

"It says... I have to be willing to, share myself?" I tilt my head with furrowed eyebrows.

"Oh, don't tell me they're the type to want a girl to homey hop." She seethes, leaning over the counter to read the paper. "Oh god, they are!" She exclaims.

"Just because you're monogamous doesn't mean you can judge!" I scold.

"I'm not judging, I'm cringing 'cause it's not for me." She says defensively. "If you're into that, I won't judge."

"Sure you won't."

"I might make fun of you a little, but you know I'll get over it!" She laughs. "Besides it's a bonus if they're all cute. I looked up Seonghwa and that Hongjoong guy and woo!" She whistles.

"Poor Mark." I tease, she gasps. "Listen, I don't know if I'm up for that either. I mean I don't even know who the others are, for all I know there could be a serial killer among them."

"Then call him." She states. "Call him and demand him to rewrite it on your terms."

"Would that work?" I ask, placing the papers back into a neat pile.

"He's a businessman, right? Of course, it would! Hell, you might even get to meet the others if you play your cards right." She says confidently. "You like this guy right?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Then fight for your own morals and boundaries, and if he doesn't accept that then move on." She says, moving over slightly to place her mug in the sink. "And if they try something, Mark and I will come over and beat them up for you."

"You and I both know Mark Lee is not going to beat anyone up." I laugh causing her to let out a snort.

"You're right, he could yap their ears off and give us time to escape the country though." She jokes, a wide grin spreading across her face.

I glance back down at the documents, genuinely contemplating for a moment. I hated the idea of being controlled by anyone again, let alone a bunch of men who, aside from 1, I have never had a conversation with in my life. But on top of that, it would be really nice to stay somewhere that didn't charge me almost my entire weekly pay for rent.

Plus Seonghwa was really good-looking, but was I really going to risk my freedom just because a cute guy gave me a second of his time? Mia was right, I needed to call him and set up some kind of meeting and get this document altered to my liking also, not just theirs.

"You're doing that thing again." Mia's voice cuts me out of my thoughts. "You know it's creepy when you stare off into space like that."

"Sorry, was just thinking about everything," I say softly, stuffing the document back into the envelope it came in.

"It's a lot, I know, but once you put your foot down like I know you can it'll all even out. You'll see." Mia was often right about these things, then again she was always the one to come up with the ideas that would get us into trouble growing up. I trusted her with things like this because I knew it would never leave the two of us, but trusting her to convince me to do something that could lead to me signing my life away? I was going to be a little more cautious of that.

"I should probably go, I got another show tonight," I say, hopping off of the seat I was perched on.

"Oh! I'm coming to the show next Monday! Don't mess up for me okay?" She says, skipping around the counter to give me a quick hug before I leave.

"Of course I won't, you're my lucky charm." I joke, pulling away and waving. She waves back, knowing I could find my way out.

I contemplated calling Seonghwa as I walked through the city streets. I let out an annoyed huff at the constant tug-of-war going on in my head. My finger hovered over the call button as I stared down at his contact. He'd probably show up tonight, but did I really want to decline his initial offer in person?

Without thinking I pressed call, holding my phone up to my ear as I chewed on my bottom lip nervously. I felt a sick feeling of nerves in my stomach, the same feeling I felt before I went out on stage.

It rings 4 times before he picks up.

"I thought you'd think about it a while longer." He states, his voice rough. I take a deep breath before I speak.

"I'm declining your 'invitation'," I stated, making sure my voice sounded defiant.

"What?" He asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

"You heard me. This... Contract is far too controlling for my liking and I refuse to subject myself to signing my life away for a man who only graced me with his presence last night." I say, earning some looks from passersby.

"Doll-"

"I'm not done! Look, I like you. But the only way this is happening is if we rewrite this to include my own terms. And I want whoever the hell you expect me to share myself with to be there also. No way in hell am I agreeing to something like that without even knowing what they look like." I say, rather rushed. Silence follows, and I look at my phone screen for a moment to make sure the phone call didn't end. As I placed the phone back to my ear I heard laughter.

"My, I really underestimated you didn't I?" Seonghwa chuckles. "A real firecracker you are, so unassuming up until now." I could feel his grin through the screen, and it made my blood boil.

"If you're going to waste my time-"

"Hold on a second, Doll." He says, his voice still laced with amusement. "I'll organize a dinner, how does that sound? You, me, and the others who helped write the original contract. That way you can meet everyone and get your boundaries heard."

I blinked in surprise at his offer. Was it really that easy? "You're serious?"

"Of course I am! Honestly, it's refreshing to talk to someone as pretty as you about business exchanges." He chuckles. "You have a show tonight, yes? Are you free Saturday night?"

I clear my throat. "Uhm, yeah?"

"Excellent, I'll send you the details tonight with your Gardenias." He says, hanging up before I can get another word in.

I gape at the phone, staring at it as I stand frozen in the middle of the street. I look around for a moment before continuing on my way.

I had a sinking feeling that this dinner was not going to be as easy as he made it seem. The others were most definitely businessmen also, co-owners of ATZ Corp. Me, a broke ballerina versus 8 businessmen on their own turf.

Pray for me.

[twilightkitkat]

Thinking about the role of the "love interest" in superhero media and how poolverine subverts this.

The "love interest" in most movies is just a placeholder. Boring. Tame, Predictable.

This is especially true in action media, wherein romance takes a backseat and is often seen as an add-on rather than a main plot point. Romance is either a source of conflict or motivation that serves to drive a character arc forward, but no more or less.

Take, for example, Vanessa. I love her character. Her personality and character are fascinating. However, especially in Deadpool 2 and 3, she serves more as a device to move the plot forward rather than a genuine character. The first movie established her character and importance, so it's understandable why Wade chose to hide his identity and how he slowly came to terms with his new identity. She helped move his character arc of self-acceptance forward, yes, but she also existed as her own entity.

In the movies after this, she isn't treated with the same care. She's used as a central motivation in Deadpool 2, a force that drives Wade to save Russel and confront Cable when his character motivations aren't easily tied to morals. However, that's it. She isn't fighting alongside him or given the same treatment as the other important "family" characters. In Deadpool 3, she's treated with even less care, only having short scenes at the beginning and end of the movie to give Wade a representation of "home."

This isn't to say Vanessa isn't an important character and shouldn't be treated as such. However, the purpose of having a "love interest" in an action movie's plot isn't just to have someone to love. It's almost always to have someone who can be kidnapped or killed to spring the main character into action. It's someone who fades to the sidelines so the main character can show off while showcasing their relationship success.

Consider this: in all of the Marvel comic universes, Deadpool and Wolverine have had many different partners. Different names, different faces. It's common for the "love interest" of a superhero to be seen as an accessory that changes shape depending on the comic artist or franchise. After all, they don't need a cohesive identity to serve their purpose as a "general, digestible reason for the main character to act."

Everyone understands how love can cause people to do crazy things. There is no further elaboration needed, even for morally grey or black characters. It's an easy way to make an understandable motive for the audience. Suspension of disbelief.

And yet, the superheroes remain the same. They get to keep their identity throughout different media. It's always Wolverine and Deadpool. Logan and Wade. Even if they have slightly different plotlines, their core characteristics and intrinsic identity are constant.

Logan could have Jean Gray. Or Mariko. Or Silver Fox. He can have anyone play the role of "love interest," a role that can be shapen by a ball of clay and changed entirely to fit the narrative.

But his "rival" and "best friend" in the multiverse will always be Deadpool. They're notorious for being referenced in each other's media. For fighting. For working together. They are A Set.

This is why I'm so much more drawn to Poolverine than other ships. Wade has different love interests depending on the media type. So does Logan. I can't tie in knowledge from different interpretations into the romance because the love interests are fluid. But with each other, they interact in almost every universe. Have a consistent bond. A "standard." They're soulmates, in a way, forever destined to meet and be important to each other.

This is setting aside how female love interests are treated in male-oriented media in general. They're normally seen as someone to be protected, to stay at home, and welcome back the hero when they return. Some are allowed to be strong, to have abilities, but rarely ever do they stand on equal footing with the male main character. Not where it matters.

This is exhibited in both Wolverine and Deadpool's movies. Vanessa is introduced as a "badass," someone who's part of the underworld and knows how to fight, yet she's often placed in the damsel in distress position. She could match Wade before his mutation, maybe, but after he dons the mask and becomes Deadpool, his work is over her pay grade. The same happens with Mariko in the Wolverine movie: she's initially introduced as someone who can fight, but Logan ends up protecting her almost entirely and is responsible for rescuing her from her kidnapping at the end.

It creates an emotional rift between the side of the "hero" and the side of the "love interest," because it feels like they aren't fighting together for the same cause. It feels like the love interest is treated more as a "reward" for the hero to come back to after saving the world rather than a person.

When the entire movie follows the perspective of the main character as they fight, and action scenes are primarily used to invoke emotion, it feels lackluster to have the love interest stay at home. The most intense moments of emotional connection are typically portrayed between the hero and someone else who understands their suffering who they're trying to reach, such as a villain or rival or friend.

Love interests are never on the same "playing field" as the main character and thus can't relate to their struggle. The director tells the audience that they should be happy or sad when a love interest is on screen, but they don't show the same level of emotional depth when the main point of an action movie is action. The entire premise of the main character is action, and yet the love interest is absent from it. Or a victim rather than a player.

This is why Poolverine subverts this trope. You have two people, each with their own franchise and life. Each with their own skills. Each with similarly powerful abilities.

They are equals and are treated as such by the narrative. They take each other seriously and have an emotional connection because they understand each other's suffering. They both are out on the battlefield, fighting the same war and overcoming their differences. They both are allowed to have "cool" scenes and "sad" scenes and "funny" scenes. They both are given the spotlight to experience character growth and have their own unique internal conflict because they both are strong characters who are narratively important.

They both have chemistry. Which is nearly impossible to attain when the love interest isn't even in the lab.

[illycanary]

What Aang’s Relationship With His Kids Tells Us About His Relationship With Katara

Bumi: “Oh, boo-hoo. Must've been real hard for you, flying around the world with dad, riding elephant-koi all day.”

Tenzin: “Oh, so that's what this is all about.”

Kya: “That's what it's always been about. You think you're some savior who has to carry on dad's legacy.”

Tenzin: “Who else is going to do it?”

Kya: “How about all of us?”

Bumi: “Yeah, we're Aang's kids too.”

The whole problem with this family is, Aang didn’t believe that.

Aang has a long, undeviating track record of never questioning anything he believes about the Air Nomads. Who the hell has a perfect and complete understanding of their society, government, international relations, education system, religion, morality, genetics, and reproduction at age 12? According to Aang? He does. 

The entire lynchpin of Aang’s Book 3 arc is all about how Air Nomads are pacifists and cannot ever under any circumstances harm a life. (We’re going to ignore the body count Aang’s already wracked up over the first two seasons for the sake of preserving his feelings because those were soulless NPCs or something.) 

And yet Aang never questions this…

Monk Gyatso’s bones surrounded by a pile of Fire Nation soldier bones. The picture doesn’t fit Aang’s image of Air Nomad peace and harmony, so he ignores it entirely. It NEVER comes up despite its overwhelming relevance to Aang’s internal conflict and the sorts of advice he seeks from authority figures in the third season (despite Monk Gyatso being the penultimate authority figure in Aang’s life).

Another thing Aang never questions?

There’s no such thing as a non-airbending Air Nomad. They’re just all born that spiritual. And spirituality is the golden key that unlocks bending. (Because Bryke said so.)

Despite Guru Pathik not being a bender. Despite the fact that Zhao, literal spirit murderer, is one. Despite Toph—the most un-spiritual, cynical, feet-on-the-ground-head-nowhere-near-the-clouds member of Aang’s friend group—being the most powerful bender of the lot. Despite Hama being a waterbender equal to none but Katara while completely cut off from her culture and turning her back on everything we believe about water bending’s inherent ties to community, connectedness, and love (Iroh’s words). Despite Azula mastering the god-tier lightning technique BECAUSE she’s practically dead inside and values life least of all things. Despite the fact that Princess Yue has the literal MOON SPIRIT THAT IS THE SOURCE OF ALL WATERBENDING living inside her, and yet she still somehow manages to not be a bender.

Despite the fact that Air Nomads roam all over the world, sewing their wilds oats throughout every nation, yet no airbending toddlers ever crop up in Fire Nation or Earth Kingdom preschools. 

Despite the fact that non-monogamous societies where men have multiple partners father more children and boost the population faster than in societies that favor “attached” relationships, yet the all-airbending Air Nomads still somehow have the smallest population of any ethnic group in the world. 

Despite the fact that Aang’s twin, Ty Lee, is RIGHT. THERE. with her unparalleled aura-seeing, chakra blocking spirituality and her GRAY EYES in a world where color coding is ~totally~ not a thing… *sigh* 

But nope. Air Nomad parentage = airbending child. Always.

So when Katara births a child that is… not an airbender? Not any kind of bender at all, in fact. There’s only one logical conclusion (in Aang’s mind). 

That is not Aang’s child. 

Aang never had a problem traveling with non-airbenders before. He was non-exclusionary by nature. Katara and Toph and Zuko were welcome. Sokka and Suki were welcome. The more, the merrier, in fact. Because Aang loves nothing as much as he loves an adoring audience.

Yet Bumi never travelled with Aang.

Bumi’s as old in this picture as Aang was in the first series. He had an entire decade in which he should have been the most important thing in his parents’ lives. His personality was already more or less formed (not completed, but the groundwork was laid) by the time Tenzin came along. Bumi’s inferiority issues began long before there were any airbending children around to siphon Aang’s attention for training purposes. 

Aang and Katara didn’t have another child until Bumi was on the verge of adolescence because Aang was convinced that Katara cheated. And I’m guessing it took Mr. “Let Your Anger Out, And Then Let It Go” about ten years to forgive his wife and give her the chance to get it right. (Which is at least four years longer than he gave her to forgive her mother’s murderer, in case you forgot.)

Acolyte: “Sorry, I thought you were the servants.”

Bumi: “We’re Tenzin’s brother and sister!”

Acolyte: “Avatar Aang had other children? The world is filled with more airbenders?!”

Kya: “We’re not airbenders.”

Acolyte: “Oh… I’m so sorry.”

The Air Acolytes—whose whole identity, purpose, lifestyle, and religion center around every detail of this man's life and beliefs—didn't know Aang had more than one child.

The best case scenario here is that Aang simply pretended his older children didn’t exist because he was ashamed of them and made Katara keep them shut away at all times. 

And maybe that could have worked… If Aang and Katara had ever had any privacy in their relationship. But they didn’t.

The Air Acolytes have been following Aang and Katara since the comics. They’ve been there at every step of Aang and Katara’s life together. Observing. Fangirling. Emulating. Diefying. Looking for weaknesses in the relationship because Katara was only his “first girlfriend.” 

Yet, somehow, they didn’t know Aang had three children. 

I can’t imagine a way for them not to know unless Aang actively told people, “Those aren’t my kids,” and let Katara bear the shame and stigma of having the world believe she was unfaithful. 

All because Aang couldn't entertain the idea that he was wrong about some facet of a society he never understood clearly.

[fae-whispers]

i just finished the dragon prince’s season 6. holy shit.

SPOILERS BELOW!!!!

-AARAVOS IS MY NEW FAVORITE CHARACTER HOLY SHIT I LOVE A MORALLY GRAY MAN WHO WOULD BURN DOWN THE WORLD FOR THE ONE PERSON HE LOVES

-ohhh my god me and my friends were SOBBING over his daughter’s death oh my god!!!! what the fuck thats so sad. and him crying for A HUNDRED years is so fucking sad oh my god please

-viren redemption arc??? man he has to stop coming back to life. i think hes finally dead this time but holy shit it took six seasons

-TERRY ILY YOU DESERVE SO MUCH BETTER YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE WAITED FOR HER OMG (like ily claudia youre hot asf but you need a redemption arc before you deserve terry)

-speaking of terry that scene where he ever so gently bathed her had me rolling over crying he is the sweetest man to ever exist

-IF SOREN AND CORVUS DO NOT KISS ASAP IM LITERALLY EATING A MY TV YOU CAN HOLD ME TO THIS

-lesbian wedding!!!

-rayllum finally kissed 🤭🤭 its only been sIX DAMN SEASONS OF TENSION

-yeah im still thinking about aaravos i love me a morally gray man and hes hot asf

-ezran is so young bro hes like 12-14 here im so mad he grew up so quickly hes gonna have so much trauma

-the ending with callum spotting his kingdom burning in the distance??? please 🤕

-SPEAKING OF MEN i forgot how *HOT* runaan is like sirrrr 🤭🤭 (i cant be saying this he’s old enough to he my actual father)

anyway i have to go rewatch the whole damn thing because my brother wants to watch it with me so ill be sobbing over fictional characters if you need me!! <3

[giuliettagaltieri]

Chase for Prestige

Pairing: Presidential Candidate!Coriolanus Snow x Strategist!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: The Performer

Warning: elitism, morally gray reader, greed, mentions of drugging, self induced injury, violence, death

Word Count: 3738

3 of 6

After graduating from the University, you and Coriolanus set your plan in motion.  With your minds working together, and Dr. Gaul and the Plinths behind him, it was not that difficult to do.

Coriolanus was a perfect man to become a President.

He has the intellect for it, the support, the charisma, and the right name.

It was not a wonder how in just a couple of years, young Coriolanus Snow was able to climb high in politics.  A fresh graduate, already contending with veterans.

With the media on his side, he showed them that what Panem needs is something fresh.  Someone new to govern them.

President Ravenstil is an old man, he has suffered too much.  And it seems he was only waiting for the young Snow to fully come to age and take the seat that was rightfully his.

When Coriolanus announced that he is filing candidacy for President, you were with him.

Thanatos Swansworth’s daughter.

The Districts felt an old fear creeping up their bones, similar to what they felt over two decades ago.

But Coriolanus Snow was not the only candidate.

There was also Hilarius Heavensbee.

Not the greatest politician but he did have the money and influence.

“Heavensbee visited the grave of Felix Ravenstill.”  You say from the couch in Coriolanus’ office.  “Claimed to avenge his good friend when he becomes President.”

Coriolanus puts his pen down as he listens to you read from the newspaper.

This is not good.  This will garner the attention of the Capitol.  And with President Ravenstill stepping down, it seems only fitting to have someone who will avenge Felix as a replacement.

“I regret telling you that.”  You sigh as you make your way to the refreshments table to pour yourself a cup of tea.  “Focus on your speech for tonight.”  

He bristles.  “How could I when my enemy has the upperhand.  He offers kindness and empathy.  What do I have to offer?  The name of my father and games?”  Coriolanus snaps at you.

But you don’t respond to him as you check the teapot for remaining hot tea.

“What are you doing?”  He grumbles, eyeing you with frowned brows.  To his surprise, you plunge your hand inside.  “Y/N!”

Your hiss as Coriolanus yanks your arm away, making the teapot drop and shatter on the hardwood floor.  “What has gotten into you!”  You have never heard him so angry.  Not even when they stripped him off his name and status and sent him to District 12.

He rushes you to the powder room and places your hand under the faucet.  His teeth were grinding against each other as he observed your skin for any permanent damage.

“What were you thinking?”  His voice is low and barely contained.  He was behind you, trapping you between him and the lavatory.  Every rumble of his chest sends a shiver to your spine.

You smile as you gently move your fingers.  No serious damage.  Your skin still stings though.

“Giving you a chance to be kind and empathic.”  You laugh, one cut short by how he squeezes at your hip warningly.  “You’ll have to cut my steak for me later, Mr. President.”  The frown in his brows deepen as he hears the smile in your voice.  “I will make you do everything for me, Coriolanus Snow.” 

He did not like what you did.

Not when you grimace at the slightest touch to your hand.

The Plinths held the dinner party for Coriolanus, a celebration before his District Tour.

Many influential people are present in the party and for those who could not come, the party is being televised, all throughout Panem.

You are by his side the entire time, your good hand holding on to his arm, whispering information to his ears for every person that comes to shake his hand.

It was fascinating to watch how easy it was to inflate their ego.  They genuinely thought that Coriolanus Snow had the time to know their name and worry how their orchids were thriving this year.  No, it was all you.

You with your sweet smile and alluring voice.

Many expressed their worry for your injured hand but you always manage to turn it back to Coriolanus.  Telling them you had a little accident with your tea this morning, that it could have been worse had it not been for Coriolanus Snow.

They were so touched by his concern for you.  They start to see him in a new light.  He was not only good to Sejanus Plinth, but he was also doting on you.

Coriolanus Snow is a firm politician but he is also capable of warmth.

Many of them sneakily tried to ask about your relationship, but you were smart enough to deflect their questions.  Not confirming them but also not denying, just enough to keep their attention on you.

And it was finally time for the speech.

Coriolanus made people shed tears that night, fueled the narcissism of the Capitol citizens, but also gave a smidge of hope to the people of the Districts, it is not much but they do learn to start trusting this young Snow.

You are at your table, sharp eyes glinting at Coriolanus, sipping your champagne as you watch your handiwork.  You were careful enough to wear a gentle smile, for the cameras, lest the public mistake you for plotting something malevolent.

For the grand finale, he walks over to your table, his eyes on you the entire time as roars of applause ring heavily in the air.  He gently holds your elbow, careful not to hurt your hand and places a featherlight kiss on your wrist and closes his eyes, making the public believe that you are his anchor, grounding him.

Your lips part at his display of affection.  It almost seemed real.  You place your good hand on your chest as you smile up at him, your eyes turning glassy from all the emotions you are supposed to be feeling.

The ruse does not end there.

Just as you asked, he cut your steak for you, excusing himself from the conversation with the president to focus on the task.

You kick him under the table, it was sweet but this is the president he is talking to, and to put it to a pause just for your meal-

“What a sweet boy you are.”  The President’s wife coos and the President nods in agreement.

“It is hard to come by a good woman, especially for men like us.”  The President tells Coriolanus who chuckles.

“Indeed, sir.  That is why I have no intention of letting this one go.”  Coriolanus nods at you, making everyone around the table laugh.

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.”  You place a hand on his forearm.  “You are stuck with me.”

The President laughs harder at that.

It seems like Coriolanus knows what he is doing.  It made him look committed.

The Capitol is sad to see you off in your District Tour.

Hilarius Heavensbee, calls it foolishness in an interview once.  So many can go wrong on the tour.  You can be ambushed in the middle of speeches, poisoned in the homes you stay in, and even road accidents are a possibility.

You indulge a reporter as you are about to depart with Coriolanus, you smile at the camera as you hold on to his arm.  “Hilarius Heavensbee is right to be afraid, but a coward to hide in the walls of the Capitol.”

The ratings for Coriolanus rose dramatically after your comment, and the man cannot be more proud of you.

Or so he thought.

District 4 was fairly a peaceful place.  The land was beautiful due to it being situated on a large body of water, one that you do not see much from the Capitol.  The stench was something else but with the position of being President on the line, Coriolanus managed to tolerate it.

The mayor was wary for some reason.

He was sweating intensely.  His eyes darted all around, jumping at the slightest of sounds.  It did not sit well with either of you but you smiled for the cameras still.

He was nearly rushing you and Coriolanus to a fairly sized yacht.  

The ship you saw your father buy on an impulse once could collide with this one and your father’s ship will not even feel the slightest tremor.  It was exceptionally gigantic, especially to a four-year-old girl.  Your father bought it for your family should the Capitol fall in the war.  You never got to see that ship again when he got his head blown up with a sniper.

When you manage to get to a considerable distance from the port, the mayor was able to breathe more calmly.

“Is something the matter?”  Coriolanus smiled kindly, but you hear the sharpness in his voice.

The man stills his movement, his breath coming to a stop too as he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights.  He opens his mouth and closes them quickly.  He looks like he is about to burst into tears.

“You-you see, Mister Snow, sir…”  He stammers.

“Yes?”  Coriolanus raises a brow.

The mayor heaves a rather large sigh. 

“We m-might have received word that a…a group of people might have been uhm, they might cause…a smidge of trouble.”  He scratches at his head, trying to make it sound light and funny but he is obviously failing, soaked with sweat now.  “But there is nothing you should worry about.  We are taking care of it.”

You wanted to punch the man.

“And you thought it might be wise to bring us here in the middle of the ocean when someone declared a threat against us?”  You ask coldly.

“We thought, this way…w-we can select who could be around you, Miss Swansworth.”  He grimaces at your tone.

Coriolanus looks around the deck.  The reporters are stationed on one side, waiting to cover the party that will be thrown at dusk.  Peacekeepers are also deployed in the area.

You pull Coriolanus close by his tie, the mayor looking away with his cheeks flushing.  It seemed too intimate for him to see.

“We cannot have rebel attacks in the news.  It would prove everything Heavensbee said to be true.  Everybody would laugh at us!”  You say through gritted teeth.

Coriolanus clicks his tongue, hating how true your words are.  He places a warm hand on your back and leans down until his lips brushes against your ear, tickling you.  

The reporters are going haywire at the romantic gesture being offered to them.

“We will proceed as planned.”  He whispers lowly.  “For now, let’s retreat to someplace more private.”  Coriolanus straightens up and looks at the mayor testingly.  “Mister mayor, could you provide us a quieter deck?  Miss Swansworth would love to rest before the party begins.”

The smile you gave the mayor did not reach your eyes.

“Of course!  Right this way, please.”  He guides you inside the yacht and Coriolanus had his hand on the small of your back, keeping you close.  Peacekeepers stationed themselves inside and outside the doors.  A silencer now attached at the tips of their guns.  The mayor opens the door leading to a smaller deck, an empty one, one you’d love to explore.

“You can rest here, Miss Swansworth.”  He smiles nervously at you, his feet sweating at how you look at the place with indifference.  “Mister Snow, I would send refreshments for you and the Miss.”  He walks over to the door.  “Excuse me.”  He almost runs away from you.

“How rude.”  You say plainly.  “Acting as if I will bite his head off if he breathed wrong.”

Coriolanus leaves your side to rest on a plush sofa.  “You wouldn’t?”  He busies himself with a pile of magazines that featured successful men of the Capitol.  He is somewhere in there too.

You scoff, walking over to the empty deck.

“Stay where I can see you.”  He reminds in a manner that is intended for children.

Rolling your eyes, you venture further into the deck, the sun is setting beautifully, it would be a shame to stay indoors.

You close your eyes at the soft breeze, listening to the gentle lap of the waves and the seagulls flying above.

“My my, what a stubborn girl.”  Coriolanus sighs as he comes to stand next to you.

“You are not my father.”  You quip, brow raising at him. 

He only smiles darkly at you.  “No, but I expect the same obedience from you.”

Coriolanus chuckles when you huff, your lips forming a delicate pout.

In the calmness of the descending twilight, you both share a comfortable silence. 

Behind the beauties that publicity offered you during the tour, one thing that you appreciated is the places you got to visit.

Coriolanus was not the best company but he is slowly becoming more and more tolerable.  At times you even begin to have trouble trying to guess if his actions are part of your ruse or not.

A mistake.

You inhale sharply, turning away from the tangerine glare, your back to him.

Coriolanus Snow watches you as you walk away from him.

“Problem?”

He leans on the rails, his arms crossing.

You sigh as you grip your wrist behind your back and rocked on your feet, still not looking at him.  You appear rather insecure and it bothered him greatly.  Y/N Swansworth can be a shy girl but never insecure.  Not even once.

“Yes.”

Coriolanus strides over but you take another step back.  He narrows his eyes at you warningly.  “Tell me.”

You purse your lips, doe eyes glancing at him before looking away.  “I should not.”

Patiently, he waited for you to continue talking.

You started walking further and further until you were farthest from him.

“Are you asking for a chase, sweetheart?”  He says playfully.  Coriolanus found it comical to watch your eyes widen.

“No.”  You are quick to rid your face of vulnerability.   “I would like a moment alone.”  You spoke distantly.

Coriolanus knew better than to force you to do something that you quite obviously do not want to do.

He straightens up and gives you a charming smile, similar to the ones he gave to the cameras, you hated it.

“I will leave you to yourself then.”

You bite your tongue as you watch him head to the direction of the door.  You wanted to stop him.  To get him to stay…with you.  But your longing eyes, hidden by the dimming nightfall, can only look at him.

A soft thud from behind you steals both of your attention.  Coriolanus pauses his steps by the door.

“Y/N?”  He calls.  “Come here.”

With the lack of light, you struggle to see clearly what is happening, but with the mercy of whatever gods are looking down at you, you manage to see a silhouette of a person on top of the rails.

He was startled to see you, his movements freezing.  But that moment of shock did not last long as he seethed at you, his hand fished something from his pocket and you did not wait around to see what it was as you ran to Coriolanus as fast as you could.

But the man was not having any of that.

You yelp as a heavy mass slams against your back, knocking you to the ground.  It takes everything in you not to scream when your foot lands badly, now twisted in a weird angle.  Tears spring in your eyes as a burning pain rips from your head as your hair is being held in harsh fingers.  A cold sting against your neck had you squeezing your eyes but a muted bang stills every movement.

You look up to see Coriolanus still pointing a gun not very far above you, his eyes wide and afraid.  The fillet knife clatters on the deck and you groan as the man collapses on top of you.

Loud footsteps echo around the deck and you are yanked by your arms but as your feet make contact with the floor, you cry out in pain.  

You sniffle as you collapse on your bum, pretty dress splayed around you as you try to be brave, swallowing your sobs as you shiver from the fright.  Rough hands grab at your tear stained cheeks, turning you from side to side.

“It’s alright, I got you.”  He murmurs as the peacekeepers fill the area, the body being dragged away and taken care of.  You clutch at Coriolanus’ arms as you sobbed openly at his chest.  “You’re safe.”  It was the only promise he made that you found yourself believing.

The mayor was hysterical.  The doors and blinds shut, separating you from the people in the main deck.  He is kneeling in front of you and Coriolanus, sobbing like a newborn child deprived of his mother.

“We cannot let the people know about this.”  You spoke sternly, the ice on your foot had a biting cold, not making you feel any better.  “This never happened.”

Coriolanus’ leg is bouncing without a pause, his eyes livid as he refuses to let you get as far away as a meter from him.

The peacekeepers offered a drink to the Mayor before he leaves, which you think might have been tampered with as he was unnervingly happy afterwards, perhaps a bit loopy.  He joins the party with a glass of wine that a peacekeeper thrusted to his hand.

“You’d have to follow him.”  You spoke gently, trying not to wake his anger again.

“How many times would you have me tell you?”  He asks, agitated.  “I will not be leaving your side-”

“You have come this far, Corio.”  You spoke quietly, eyes looking anywhere but him.  “Surely you don’t intend to make a mistake now.”

This gets him to reconsider.  You turn to him with your most convincing smile. 

“Nobody is foolish enough to attempt another attack after that.”  You do not know that of course but you will say anything just to get him out there.  “We are doing so well, Coriolanus.  Do not ruin this for us.”  You plead.

Coriolanus looks away from you, contemplating.

“We were supposed to do this together.”  He sighs, eyes downcast.  It is a look you have seen often in his youth.  “And I let you get hurt.  On my watch.”

You smile, a real one this time.

In that moment, the peacekeepers and the people outside seemed to have disappeared as you were certain that it was just you and Coriolanus existing at that moment.

“I will never forget what you did for me.”  You caress his face.  He killed a man for you. 

“You still got hurt.”  He frowns, jerking away from your touch. 

Coriolanus Snow is sulking.

Laughing softly, you place a kiss on his jaw as you give him a knowing look.  He keeps his face straight but he looks at you from the edge of his skeptical eyes.

“Don’t play games with me.”  He warns you but you only giggle.

“I will be seeing you in a while.”  You say as you fix the ice better on your swollen foot.

Coriolanus wanted nothing else but to pull you back to him but he decides against it and he gets on his feet.  He gives you one last look before heading to the party.

Peacekeepers were quietly deployed around the yacht to prevent the public from noticing anything unusual.  The party was already packed with them by the time Coriolanus joined in.

You watch a live feed of the party from a channel that broadcasts all over Panem.

They are all expressing their disappointment in your failure to attend the party.

Coriolanus charmed them by saying that you had fallen asleep while the two of you watched the sunset, he told them you were too precious to be awakened from your slumber.

The people of the Capitol will believe you of course, but your enemies will plant seeds of doubt from this error.

You cannot let that happen.

The mayor was laughing at something Coriolanus said, others present at the table laughing along with him.  They did not know that the Capitol politician knew how to jest.

Coriolanus laughed along with them, though his eyes often wander to the closed doors that separated you from him.

“Missing Miss Swansworth?”  The mayor wriggles his eyebrows at him.  Perhaps the peacekeepers added a little too much on the drink.  He is starting to get too friendly than Coriolanus would have tolerated.

He chuckles lightly.  “I am.”

Everybody in the table looks at him dreamily, their hands in their chests.

“I have the perfect distraction.”  The mayor exclaims.  “You must try this, Mister Snow.”  The mayor pushes a plate of Lobster Thermidor to him.  Coriolanus knew better than to try anything that is not approved by the food taster you hired. 

He smiles and pats his toned abdomen.  “Oh, no.  Thank you, but I have satiated my appetite.”

The mayor frowns at him.  “But these are the best lobsters in District 4!”

Coriolanus nods at him.  “And they are exquisite, Mister Mayor!”

With such flattery, the mayor blushes, smiling bashfully at the others who praised him.

As the night progressed, Coriolanus kept glancing at his watch, dreading the speed of time.  Time was moving so slowly, he wondered if this was a form of punishment.

“I cannot believe you started the party without me.”

Coriolanus never looked up as swiftly.

There you stood, in a long evening dress he had not seen before, smiling brighter than any stars overhead.  You are standing on your feet, posture perfect, with no trace of injury.

He was in disbelief and he wanted nothing more than to tell you to get back inside.  His brows pinch when you glide with perfect steps, face as angelic as ever.

Coriolanus was quick to get to his feet and pull the chair next to him for you to sit on.

“Thank you.”  You smile at him.

The media was quick to cover your arrival.

“You’re not supposed to be on your feet.”  He seethes.  His smile barely kept together and you can see his teeth gritting.

In a closer look, he can see how your eyes are a bit glassy, lips quivering, and your temple moist with sweat.  You lean closer to him and beam.

“The show must go on.”

Hunt for Glory

[queenshelby]

Daddy Issues (Part One)

Pairing: Dominant!Cillian Murphy & Shy!Reader (& Jamie Dornan)

Warning: Smut, BDSM, Daddy Kink, 4-Somes, 3-Somes, Sugar Baby Arrangements

Summary: Through your best friend, you meet actor Cillian Murphy and come to some kind of arrangement involving intimacy in exchange for being spoiled financially.

Written with: my beautiful wife @darkshelbyfiction

Ever since school, Emma had been your best friend and now that you were both in your early twenties, and studied law at the prestigious Oxford university, nothing really changed. 

Your friendship had grown even stronger despite differences in personalities – you being introverted and reserved, she boldly exploring her newfound independence.

Emma was always full of surprises - from her unexpected move to New York City without telling anyone and then coming back six months later, to now referring to herself as Jamie Dornan's sugar baby when you were on your own while, otherwise, keeping it discreet. 

When alone with you, she would often talk about having "intimate encounters" with him and sometimes even others, keeping you amused while leaving you curious about what exactly happens behind closed doors. You were often thinking about 50 Shades of Gray, spiking your curiosity, although Emma assured you that it was nothing like that.

When talking to Emma and her sugar baby experience, it felt like one day she decided to break all boundaries – whether social or moral – as if embracing freedom beyond comprehension. Despite her brazen behavior, deep down inside, she still cared deeply about your opinion which made things interesting when discussing such topics together over coffee late into the night, sitting among the humming crowd of the cozy London Cafe.

The coffee shop filled up quickly around lunchtime, making it harder for Emma to continue sharing stories confidentially.

You eventually moved outside underneath the shade of a large tree, sipping their drinks while enjoying the cool evening air. Again, your conversation turned towards the subject of sex which was something your life was lacking.

To you only, Emma often opened up about her time spent with Jamie, the man who had become what she calls her "sugar daddy".

Their relationship was nothing serious and it was that, just after his messy and rather public divorce, he sought solace in younger women whom he could provide financial stability for. In return, they agreed upon fulfilling his needs discreetly and you knew that Emma was not the only one. 

As she shared more explicit details of their sessions, which she only did with you, the way she spoke became increasingly sensuous. She had fun, it seemed, and it was just last week that she had engaged in her first ever threesome with Jamie and another man.

"A threesome, with two men?" you asked incredulously, gripped with curiosity as she mentioned it for the first time that day. You only ever had sex with one man, and it was nothing short of boring to say the least.

"Yes. Jamie had a friend over, and it just happened. It wasn't really planned. But we had lots of fun and probably too much to drink as well" she giggled seductively, leaning forward slightly as if divulging a juicy secret. The sunlight reflected off her soft skin causing her silhouette to waver rhythmically against the foliage behind her. 

"Uhm, okay..." you began. "So who was the guy? Was he an actor too?" You queried, genuinely intrigued.

"Yes, he is an actor too, but I really shouldn't talk about this." Her tone implied reluctance to share further details.

Curiosity peaked, you probed, "But come on, tell me! Who is he? You know I won't tell!"

 She hesitated before speaking again, seemingly caught between excitement and fear. "His name is Cillian," she finally revealed, and your chin dropped.

"It's not Cillian Murphy though, is it?" you clarified, thinking of the renowned Irish actor who portrayed one of your favourite TV characters, namely Thomas Shelby. 

"Jepp," she replied simply, confirming your suspicion.

"Oh my god...Cillian Murphy? Is he actually single enough to do that kind of thing? Like wow..." you couldn't help feeling shocked. Even considering you hadn't met him personally, there was undeniable respect and admiration attached to Cillian's image as he tried to stay out of the tabloids as much as possible. 

"Well yeah, apparently he filed for divorce two weeks ago. Weird timing, right?" Emma said, looking almost surprised herself before you took up the courage to probe her with more questions.

"So, you actually had full on sex with them both? At the same time? In the same room?" 

Your head swam with visions of those three intertwined bodies, imagining the erotic chaos taking place beneath the sheets. "Wasn't it weird?" you then asked. You had so many questions.

"Yes, we had sex at the same time and it was crazy," Emma admitted, smiling mischievously. "And no, it didn't feel weird at all. It was exciting, surprisingly so."

Her frankness startled you somewhat, used to living within societal norms, yet also fascinated by how freely Emma discussed these experiences. Perhaps it was because of your conservative background that she never judged your naïveté regarding intimacy.

"I mean, Cillian Murphy is pretty fucking hot, so I do not blame you," you said, catching yourself off guard with your sudden audacity.

Emma laughed lightheartedly. "You want details don't you?" Emma teased, already aware of your insatiable curiosity. Your cheeks flushed crimson in embarrassment, partly due to her keen observation, partly due to the explicit nature of our conversation.

"Yes, of course," you stammered nervously, clearing your throat. You could barely look at Emma straight in the eye anymore, instead fixating on the ground, afraid that your face might betray you completely.

"What do you want to know about?" Emma continued, unperturbed.

"Everything. All the dirty details," you confessed honestly, unable to suppress your voyeurism any longer. "I mean, did they both, you know, at the same time, you know..." you stammered, wondering whether they simply took turns or penetrated her at the same time.

"Put their dicks in me?" Emma laughed, seeing how shy and embarrassed you were, causing you to nod.

She proceeded, "Yes, eventually. They took turns first but then both of them wanted to be with me at once. At first, I thought it was a bit awkward, but after getting comfortable, it became thrilling and liberating." 

You chin dropped, speechless. How could someone like Cillian Murphy be entangled in such debauchery? 

"You look really shocked right now," observed Emma, watching your expression carefully. "Is it because I told you or because of who it was with?" 

Though you were tempted to ask about Jamie, your mind remained fixated on Cillian. As far as you were concerned, he was practically handsome. To think he was capable of participating in these types of wild escapades was surreal. 

"A bit of both," you responded, half questioning and half affirming, hoping she wouldn't sense your growing interest.

"You know, he is single and I could get Jamie to introduce you sometime, maybe. If you want to meet him," she added nonchalantly, as if suggesting dinner plans. 

This left you stunned momentarily. You considered the possibility, envisioning yourself engaging in similar carnal acts.

"I don't think so, no... I mean, I am not like you," you protested timidly, attempting to regain composure. 

"I think you are thinking too much about moral standards which are absurd concepts, developed by society to control people and maintain certain order," Emma chuckled, referring to your prudish nature.

"Cillian is single and he was clearly intrigued by what Jamie and I have going, because it is simple. There is no hassle. No feelings. Only pure physical satisfaction. That's the arrangement between us. No strings attached. And he takes care of me financially which is really helpful seeing that I am, just like you, a student with a huge student debt," Emma went on matter-of-factly.

"That sounds nice," you commented, trying to understand why Emma would agree to being part of such arrangements without seeking a deeper connection. "But, don't you find it degrading sometimes?"

Emma gave you a sidelong glance, understanding perfectly well where your concerns stemmed from. "No, because there is absolutely nothing wrong with having sex for personal gain, especially when consent is given mutually. Despite, I actually really enjoy the sex. It's different than anything else, more intense and raw - and I feel closer to myself afterwards. There's just something powerful about it, you know? Sometimes I wonder how long this will go on, but then I remember that as long as everyone gets what they need, nobody gets hurt. This keeps everything simple and fair game, which suits me fine.”

You listened quietly, struggling to process all the information. It was difficult to imagine Emma – sweet, innocent Emma – as someone who enjoyed these kinds of arrangements. Yet somehow, hearing her describe it made it sound logical, even reasonable.

After all, money was tight for students. If consensual adults found pleasure in such arrangements, why should anyone judge them? You understood why Jamie paid for expenses in return for sexual favors – he wanted to compensate Emma for services rendered, plain and simple. Still, you marveled at how easily she glossed over potential consequences associated with such liaisons.

She always had nice, expensive things nowadays, clothes and shoes alike and she spent most nights with him, having fun and enjoying her life.

Their lifestyle seemed enviably easy and carefree compared to yours, stuck with heavy books and a mountain of debts piled high. Maybe it was worth exploring, you mused fleetingly. Still, you knew deep down inside that this wasn't the path you wanted to take. The idea felt morally corrupt, and it terrified you.

Back in reality, however, the fact still remained that you lacked the confidence needed to approach someone like Cillian Murphy let alone sleep with him. You were too scared of rejection and failure.

It was hard to believe that someone like Cillian Murphy could ever give you the attention you desired. Besides, it wasn’t as if you would suddenly become desirable just because you slept with him. Deep down, you worried that you weren't good enough. Your insecurities consumed you. However, the more you talked to Emma, the more curious you grew. How would it feel to be with such a person? What would happen during the act itself? Would they dominate you entirely? Or perhaps be gentle? So many questions filled your mind as you tried to grasp onto reality.

"Maybe dinner would be alright. I mean, nothing bad can come from meeting new people, right?" You countered cautiously, your heart racing slightly. Meeting someone like Cillian Murphy was indeed exciting, yet nerve-wracking simultaneously.

"Right. I will organise it then!" Emma said excitedly and, to you, agreeing to meet Cillian Murphy felt monumental, almost surreal.

You couldn't help feeling excited, hopeful that he would notice you among others and throughout the night, you couldn't stop reflecting upon the encounter with Emma. Her stories sparked countless fantasies that tormented your imagination, leaving you eager to experience pleasures beyond conventional boundaries. Even though it meant facing risks and challenges outside your comfort zone, the prospect of indulging in passionate encounters captivated you.

After all, hadn't dreaming been harmless until it turned into reality? Confronting your fears allowed you to grow stronger. As you sipped on another cup of coffee, lost in thought, Emma noticed your contemplation.

"So, are you really really sure?" Emma asked, seeing how nervous you were already. 

"Yes. It's just dinner, right?" you said and Emma chuckled and agreed.

"Yes, but these things can lead to more. There is no pressure though," Emma reassured you as a mischievous grin spread across her lips.

"Exactly," you nodded vigorously, although doubts crept into your head when you looked up his soon to be ex-wife and the women he had dated before, all of whom were extremely attractive. 

How could anyone possibly compete against those women? Why would he bother with somebody like me? These negative thoughts flooded your brain but nevertheless, you decided to push through these anxieties. After all, life was full of surprises and opportunities. Who knows, you may end up liking each other!

"Alright, we're doing this, then. Let's see where it leads," you confirmed firmly, looking determined despite your lingering insecurities.

Emma grinned broadly, pleased with your decision as she picked up the phone and called Jamie. 

To be continued....

Tags:

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[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Oct 18th

~*~

1. itmf fics where jiang yanli becomes the yunmeng jiang sect leader?

the focus doesn’t necessarily have to be on that aspect but i would love to see how that would turn out

thanks!

Just go forward like you mean it by tawaen (M, 101k, WangXian, WWX & WN &WQ, WWX & JYL, NHS & WWX, Canon Divergence, WWx does not attend the Wen indoctrination, WWX saves Lotus Pier, Inventor WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, Sect Leader JYL, JC Has No Golden Core, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Not JC Friendly, but he gets a happier ending than canon so don’t look here for bashing)

Sail Away Sweet Sister by sami (M, 73k, WangXian, YZY/CSSR/MDM Lan, MingLi, Time Travel, EXTREME Canon Divergence, Wide Focus Narrative, Some People Live/Not Everyone Dies, Most Named/Canon Characters Live, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Families of Choice, Parenthood, this work contains a major tonal shift, Fluff, Angst, Underage Sex, not particularly explicit, but not at all ambiguous, PTSD, Only a tiny bit, Unforeseeable consequences, The butterfly effect, Slightly Dark JYL, Asexual Characters, but that’s not really the focus, Canon-Typical Violence, [Podfic] Cold read of Sail Away Sweet Sister by kisahawklin)

picking up the pieces by KouriArashi (M, 111k, JYL & LWJ, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Alternate Canon, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Regret, Family, Kid Fic, Families of Choice, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Politics, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, canon typical political bullshit, Eventual Happy Ending)

I Have Arranged to Tie You to Me by xxxMiaHikarixxx (G, 82k, WIP, WangXian, Lan protective team, Time Travel, Past, LWJ oriented, Arranged Marriage, Boys In Love, Soulmates, Fix-It, Jiang siblings, not jiang parents friendly, JC is slowly becoming a good sibling, Soft LWJ, Protective LWJ, Genius WWX) If the requester doesn't mind a WIP, plans for Jiang Yanli taking over as sect leader begin in chapter 18 of I Have Arranged to Tie You to Me

~*~

2. hi hi! any fics which have the song WangXian as the main focus or play a big part?

hi this is the person who sent the WangXian song ask I forgot to mention that I'd prefer if it was modern au but canon is fine too!

synesthesia by uchiuchi (T, 28k, WangXian, Modern, College/University, Strangers to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining)

A Wish I Can't Stop Making by Tirielle (T, 51k, XuanLi, WangXian, Memory Loss, Slow Burn, Mystery, Secret Identity, Wishes, Magic, Canon, JYL Lives, JZX Lives, JGY Redemption, Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Hairpins as a metaphor for love, Idiots in Love)

🔒Closer Than Eternity by Netrixie (T, 26k, WangXian, Modern AU, Reincarnation, an unhealthy addiction to starbucks, Immortals, cultivation is -kinda- commonplace, Self-Doubt, POV Alternating, Minor Original Character(s), Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Temporary Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, not for jc fans, This is not a reconciliation fic)

every love story is a ghost story by aisthuu (M, 59k, WangXian, Modern Era, Reincarnation, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Post-Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Mixed Canon)

~*~

3. Hello, I’m not sure if you’ve answered this before but do you have any fics where Wei Ying dies in the burial mounds and resurrects or ends up puppeting his body with resentful energy? Thanks so much!

🔒 A Heart Undying by NonsensicalRambling (M, 114k, WangXian, Undead WWX, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical dead things the burial mounds, Fix-It of Sorts, Canon Divergence, Eventual WangXian, No Yīn Tiger Seal, Morally Gray WWX, Animals Eating People, WWX’s questionable choices, Morally conflicted LWJ, Oblivious WWX, WWX Creates a Sect | Yiling Wei, YLLZ WWX, Sect Leader WWX, LWJ & WQ have an Understanding) link in #6B Not sure if this counts because WWX is technically dead but also not?

~*~

4. Hello! I was wondering if anyone has seen any fanfic with canon wwx exchanging places with a wwx that had parents? With canon I just mean orphan and preferably without any good/nice yzy, I just really want to see everyone's reactions to how different he would be of he had parents and wwx's reaction to how his parents are but I haven't been able to find anything like that 😞

I would specially love if it's during the crsa but if it's not that's fine!

Thank you! @menimimimeni

in a dream, i was home by thelastdboy (M, 25k, WangXian, POV LWJ, Canon Divergence, Post-First Siege of the Burial Mounds, Time Travel Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Different First Meeting, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, Sentient Burial Mounds, CSSR and WCZ Live, Families of Choice, Protective LWJ, Everybody Lives, Temporary Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, Golden Core Reveal, Fluff, Developing Relationship, Wen Remnants Live, WQ Lives, WN Lives, No Sunshot Campaign, BAMF WWX)

🔒the world wags on by justdoityoufucker (orphan_account) (T, 5k, WCZ & WWX, WCZ/LQR, Canon Divergence, Pre-Canon, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Not Jiang Clan Friendly, Past Child Abuse, Canon Jiang Family Relationships, Parent-Child Relationship, Pre-Relationship, Not for Madam Yu fans)

~*~

5. Hi! Thanks for the work you do. I’ve found so many great fics! I’m in the mood for fics where Wei Wuxian comes back in his original body. Thank you 😊

Tripped at Every Step by brooklinegirl (E, 28k, WangXian)

Always Light My Way by cqlorphan (E, 27k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Friends With Benefits, to lovers, wherein dual cultivation may be counted as a benefit, Jealous WWX, a little bit, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Pining while fucking, angsty sex, Switch WangXian, Bottom LWJ, Service Top LWJ, Topping from the Bottom, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Coming Untouched, Dom/sub Undertones, the angsty sex happens in the beginning but they get past it dw, Oblivious LWJ, archer wwx, Smart WWX, Porn with Feelings, probably at least half of this fic is just that, Panic Attacks, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dual Cultivation)

the hidden source is the watchful heart by o_honeybees (E, 10k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Domesticity, Touch-Starved, Grief/Mourning, Misunderstandings, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Unresolved Sexual Tension,Eventual Smut, reflections on selfishness and selflessness)

This House of Ill Repute by Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (M, 13k, WangXian, First Time, Post-Canon, Getting Together)

蓝色生死恋; a blue love (to live and to die for) by yiqie (M, 24k, WangXian, Post-Canon, wedding fic, Psychological Trauma, Empathy)

Life before you was tragic by covalentbonds (Not rated, 4k, wangxian, Fluff and Humor)

~*~

6. Hi!! I’m in the mood for fics where people believe A) Wei Wuxian actually birthed A-Yuan (when he didn’t) and B) fics where WWX is inhuman. I prefer fics set in the canon timeline (i’ll accept modern fics if it’s WWX as a zombie or something though lol). It’s been surprisingly hard to find good fics with these premises.

6A)

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious) WWX makes a joke about giving birth to A-Yuan & a couple of Lan disciples believe it

Wei Wuxian, God of Fertility by tired (T, 19k, WangXian, Family Feels, Crack Treated Seriously, Crack, the juniors get REAL drunk, Gossip, POV Multiple, surprisingly not an mpreg fic, Kissing, Self-Esteem Issues, Discussion of Porn and Sex, Post-Canon, SOFT SOFT SOFT, married wangxian, Fluff and Humor, PSA: touching forehead ribbons gets you pregnant) focus on people believing Wei Wuxian gave birth to Yuan.

The Grandmaster of Demonic Reproduction by likeafox (E, 7k, WangXian, Kid Fic, not mpreg, but not-not mpreg?, Pregnancy Kink, Come play, LSZ deserves a sibling) focus on people believing Wei Wuxian gave birth to Yuan.

🔒Light of Stars (and the Destroyer) by Sanguis (T, 22k, WangXian, Legends, Arranged Marriage, Pining, Pining for your spouse, Adoption, Canon Divergence, Married Couple) has Lan Wangji believing Wei Wuxian when he says he birthed Yuan himself.

6B)

🔒 A Heart Undying by NonsensicalRambling (M, 114k, WangXian, Undead WWX, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical dead things the burial mounds, Fix-It of Sorts, Canon Divergence, Eventual WangXian, No Yīn Tiger Seal, Morally Gray WWX, Animals Eating People, WWX’s questionable choices, Morally conflicted LWJ, Oblivious WWX, WWX Creates a Sect | Yiling Wei, YLLZ WWX, Sect Leader WWX, LWJ & WQ have an Understanding)

❤️ A Corpse Called By Name by jaemyun (Not rated, 60k, WangXian, Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Horror, Zombie WWX, Eventual Happy Ending, yunmeng trio, Eventual WangXian, WWX is dad material even in death, Humor, YLLZ but make him dead, A Corpse Called By Name by jaemyun [Podfic] by Miss Appellation (Lizeth)) if the modern setting is okay then A Corpse Called By Name by jaemyun, featuring some angst and a very cute Zombie Wei Wuxian, it's amazing!

~*~

7. Hello! Are there any Wen Qing centered fics? Both modern and canon?

Meet you at a different place by tawaen (M, 57k, WQ & WN, WN & MXY & WQ, WQ & WWX & WN, Eventual WangXian, Ghost General WN, Ghost WQ, Canon Divergence, WQ comes back to haunt the cultivation world, Bad idea to kill the one person who didn’t kill anyone, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Wen Remnants Deserve Better, Sīsī Deserves Better, MXY Deserves Better, POV WQ) Post-siege Ghost!WQ hunts down the scattered remains of WWX's spirit

💖 With Surgical Precision by metisket (T, 20k, WQ & WN, WQ & WWX, WangXian, Time Travel, Families of Choice, sibling bonding through murder) WQ time travels & goes on a murder spree

The Needle and the Nail by littledust (E, 119k, ChengQing, WQ Lives, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Memory Loss, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Golden Core Reveal, First Time, Explicit Rating Earned 14 Chapters In Because Slow Burn)

🔒 Meat by captain_apostrophe (E, 5k, NMJ/WQ, Modern, PWP, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism (Referenced), Hook-Up, himbo NMJ, horny WQ) set during a power outage

🔒 The Hand is a Voice (that can sing what the voice will not) by captain_apostrophe (E, 124k, NMJ/WQ, NHS & NMJ, WQ & WN, NHS & WN, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Non-Canon Relationship, WQ Lives, and is awesome, it's not Beauty & The Beast okay, NHS Being A Little Shit, Marriage of Convenience, arguing as a love language, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Minor Original Character(s), Everybody Lives, Slow Burn, only a little bit of smut, Childbirth) in which the Wens find a new home

~*~

8. Hello~

It's me again, I just love this blog! I'm in the mood for fics where the Lan recognizes Wei Wuxian's geniuses and the Jiang doesn't, so the Lan plot to steal him or something. Could be arranged marriage or anything, really! I just really want the Lan appreciating his mind! @lostandmessedup

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious) link in #6B

Just go forward like you mean it by tawaen (M, 101k, WangXian, WWX & WN &WQ, WWX & JYL, NHS & WWX, Canon Divergence, WWx does not attend the Wen indoctrination, WWX saves Lotus Pier, Inventor WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, Sect Leader JYL, JC Has No Golden Core, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Not JC Friendly, but he gets a happier ending than canon so don’t look here for bashing) link in #1

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 828k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

Lessons relearned by Iamnotawriter (T, 44k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Not Madam Yu Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inventor WWX, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, No Golden Core Transfer, YZY Bashing)

golden when the day met the night by glitteringmoonlight (Not rated, 95k, slow burn, sugar daddy LWJ, light, angst, fluff, developing relationship, eventual smut, WIP)

~*~

9. ITMF: fanfics that take Madam Yu's abuse toward Wei Wuxian seriously, no Jiang Yanli bashing and without Wei Wuxian being mad immediately but instead needing time to realize that what happened was wrong. Thank you!!!!! :D

All Things Belong by kuroi_atropos (M, 93k, WRH & WWX, WangXian, WN & WWX, WWX is a Wen, Abuse, Whipping, Manipulations, Warning: WRH, Smart WWX, Possessive Behavior, Warning: JGS, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Rape/Non-con, Society Level Victim Blaming, Victim Blaming) If they don't mind an AU for 9, the very recently completed All Things Belong fits the request nearly perfectly.

~*~

10. hii could u recommend some office aus, slightly longer and complete ones?

thank you

Work-Life Balance is Not A Thing by catbrainedschemes (E, 17k, WangXian, Modern AU, Workplace Relationship, Romantic Comedy, Idiots in Love, Oblivious WWX, Oblivious LWJ, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut, but not that eventual, Pining, Dirty Talk)

🔒WangXian Office AU: What's the Tea... ? by Blackbeads461, Ladycroft4evr (M, 23k, WangXian, Modern Era - no cultivation, CEO WWX, Secretary LWJ, Office Romance, Rollercoaster ride of new love and angst and pining, office gossip, OYZZ is So Done, SS Bashing, more like pulling his leg, Awesome WQ, NHS is a Little Shit, no nsfw in this work but it is there in the next ones)

whether i’m gonna flip you off or pull you into the closet, i haven’t decided yet by livinginaworldofnoise (G, 14k, WangXian, Modern AU, Epistolary, Workplace Relationship, hostile coworkers to lovers who have not disclosed their relationship to hr, Human Resources, hr director!lwj, unknown corporate job!wwx, ft the junior squad as interns, told entirely thru emails and slack messages, Crack, Social Media, if you consider slack social media which is highly questionable, Enemies to Lovers)

~*~

11. hi!! for the itmf, can i get anything where yllz!wwx get’s transported to the 13 years he’s dead (not him coming back to life, but specifically yllz!wwx being back in a world where he’s dead). bonus points if he’s been redeemed already. this may be weird and overly specific but i figured i’d try T_T

~*~

12. ITMF: a fic where people found out it was LWJ who done corrupting. Not WWX

Bonus if the one that found out is LQR

Prefer if it was a humorous fic. But im okay if its not. Thanks!

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious) (link in 6A) assuming they mean "shameless behavior" by "corrupting," Chapter 45 onward of Dispersing Clouds

🔒Something is wrong with A-Zhan! by HeloSoph (M, 15k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Sort Of, Dark LWJ, Morally Gray WWX, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiangs, WWX is a Lan, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, JC Bashing, Smitten LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Engaged WangXian, Blood and Violence, a lot of people die, LQR Metaphorically Qi-Deviates, because of, Shameless LWJ, LQR Tries, to fit into the following tag, Good Uncle LQR, Semi-Public Sex, or at least wangxian's version of it, Scheming NHS, POV NHS) would also work but note that it starts off very lightheartedly and then gets very dark in chapter 4.

~*~

13. heyyy for the next itmf can i request something lsz-centric that shows his relationship with wwx and/or lwj? Growing up with them or when he's already grown up, anything works. Preferably canonverse, but I can also do aus. Thank you!!!

your name, safe in their mouth by astrolesbian (G, 10k, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Father-Son Relationship, Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, More aligned with CQL than novel canon, Miscommunication, Eventual Positive Communication, Trying to be a family, how to tell your dad you want him to be your dad in 6 easy steps!)

Gathered Herbs & Sweet Grasses by hansbekhart (Not Rated, 19k, LSZ & LWJ, WangXian, dad wangji, LWJ’s Questionable Parenting Skills, Grief/Mourning, Recovery, Injury Recovery, Hopeful Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Gathered Herbs & Sweet Grasses [podfic] by someplacelikebolivia)

Inquiry by incendir (G, 10k, LSZ & LWJ, WangXian)

🔒 Not Yet (There As Needed) by sunrise_and_death (T, 13k, LSZ & WWX, JL & WWX, JL & LSZ, WangXian, Post-Canon, Family Feels, Family Bonding, POV LSZ, This Fic Has Everything, even more yearning, WWX & LSZ figuring out wtf their relationship is, Dramatic Revelations)

let the yoke fall from our shoulders by occultings (microcomets) (G, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, wangxian, LWJ & LSZ & WWX, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Character Study, Mentions of Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Gusu Lan Juniors Dynamics, let capricorns cathart agenda, Happy Ending, Family Feels, Established Relationship)

to the act of making noise by words-writ-in-starlight (WordsWritInStarlight) (G, 19k, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Father-Son Relationship, inquiry, LSZ is the best of boys and I will not hear debate, Music, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, [Podfic] to the act of making noise by Ceewelsh, flamingwell, kisahawklin, Rionaa)

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14. It's spook month and that means our fave disaster necromancer birthday!! How about some recs of everyone's favorite fics celebrating Wwx's birthday? Any and all the birthday fics!!!

when I look over my shoulder by cafecliche (T, 10k, WangXian, Modern AU, exorcist LWJ, medium wwx, vague The Conjuring AU, some horror elements, Pre-Relationship, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort)

On a night just like this one ... by DizziDreams (G, 3k, WangXian, WWX & The Juniors, The Junior Quartet, Ghost Stories, Comedy)

autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place by gusucloudbunny (dykebytrade) (G, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Autumn, Halloween, Fluff, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, Haunted Houses, Pouty baby lwj, Mutual Pining)

💖 Regrets by antebunny (G, 37k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Time Travel, Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Angst, Explicit Descriptions of Love, and other squishy feelings, Angst with a Happy Ending)

an hour of sunshine by astrolesbian (G, 2k, WangXian, Modern AU, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Mindless Fluff, halloween party)

In love with a ghost by Bookish_penguin (T, 14k, WangXian, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, junior shenanigans, Necromancy, Talking to Ghosts, Or in general spooky things, Post-Canon, references to death, where wwx is an expert on all things dead and dusted, because he’s one of them too, big yiling laozu vibes, wwx can be kinda creepy sometimes but everyone still loves him)

why'd the chicken jump over the fence by yellowcarnations (G, 1k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fluff, Drunk LWJ)

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15. Itmf a fic where wwx adopts himself a younger sibling oc (basically he's being a parent but age gap between them isn't wide enough) like an orphaned shidi, street kid, or child of Jiang servant. And wwx has to provide for them out of his own stipend (which madam yu insists on remaining the amount for 1 person). How would that change plot? Distance him from Jiang sibs cause he eats with sib instead jaings? Better behaved at leactures or doesn't attend? Work hard & creative to care for them

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16. Itmf wwx and lz ghost marry while one is dead/believed to be dead and the other is later resurrected. Esp if it's while wwx is dead and his name is cleared prior to or after the marriage, but while he's still dead. And how people react to their relationship/lz's affections because of this

Ghost Wedding by nirejseki (G, 4k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Ghost wedding, Introspection, Crack Treated Seriously, mostly seriously anyway, Good Uncle LQR)

lovers be lost (but love shall not) by la_muerta (T, 13k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, 1910s, Case Fic, Ghosts, Happy Ending, Background Relationships, Ghost Marriage)

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17. Itmf any fics where wwx's name is cleared while he is dead/believed to be dead

🔒Confusion by Vrishchika (Not rated, 4k, wangxian, time travel)

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***