#because this thing turned out way more realistic than I thought it would | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heart4gyu · 7 months ago

Text

wet dreamz || sim jaeyun x reader

note: 18+ mdni!! y’all know the song lol changed it up a lil for the story tho :P this turned out longer than i expected and maybe needs a part two (??? lmk) also this is my first time writing full smut so i hope it’s not too bad and that y’all enjoy anyway okayy gn :3 not proofread sorry!! | pt.2 here |

this had honestly never happened to jake before; waking up in his bed, heart racing, covered in sweat, and pants soaked.

he just couldn’t help it though.

you hadn’t even noticed him before you got partnered up for a project. but him? oh, his eyes were on you the second you walked through that door on the first day of class.

how pretty you looked laughing with your friends. the sweet smell of your perfume as you walked past. the way you always got the answers right when you got called on. it started off so innocent, just a little campus crush.

after you became partners, everything changed though. the project went perfectly, of course, with both of you acing the class it was easy. but after it was over, you didn’t go back to sitting with your friends like jake thought you would. you stayed there, right next to him, every day.

you became friends. you exchanged phone numbers and you hung out quite often in the library or student center. the more time you spent together, the more jake’s want for you grew.

jake just didn’t understand how you could be so effortlessly perfect for him though.

you, on the other hand, knew exactly what you were doing. you’d observed jake long enough to know that he’s probably never made it past second base with a girl.

the way he’d turn red when you’d scoot over touching your thighs to his. the way his mouth went dry when you’d lean over his desk in a very low cut shirt. even the way he’d stare at your lips after you applied your lip gloss.

all the things you purposefully did to get his attention. because obviously how could you not go after him, he was just your type. sweet, nerdy guy who was also extremely hot.

and so far, you were doing an excellent job at it. but you were getting a little impatient with him, so you decided to tell him about this loser guy who took you out the other day. and fuck it, you decided to slip it into the conversation that he couldn’t even make you finish.

you smiled when the text bubbles appeared and disappeared over and over again. how cute.

jakeyjakey: don’t let someone like that take you out again.

you: ikr. need to find someone who can get the job done…

jakeyjakey: if you gave me the chance y/n, i’d show you a great time.

it definitely wasn’t expected but who were you to complain when this is exactly what you wanted. so you let him know that your roommate would be gone visiting family this weekend & that maybe he should come over…

so he went to bed that night, thinking about the weekend coming up. thinking about you.

and he had a sweet, sweet dream. it was so realistic too. the way your pillows smelled like you as he laid back on them with you on his lap. how soft your thighs were as his fingers grazed over them. your eyes darker than he’s ever seen them, and your voice so quiet he could barely hear it over his heartbeat.

he felt the coil in his stomach tighten the second your lips were on his. you tasted like strawberries (or at least that’s what he thought you’d taste like because of your pink gloss).

you held his face gently as you kissed him. and your tongue slipped inside his mouth so easily when he let out a deep moan for you. his eyes squeezed shut as he felt you grind down on him. your pace speeding up the longer his lips were on yours.

“jake,” you panted, he didn’t know he could want to hear your voice more but you proved him wrong with the way you sounded right now. “can you touch me?”

he could’ve came right then but he took a deep breath to compose himself and nodded, his eyes not leaving yours. he dragged his hands up your thighs and under your skirt, stopping at your ass to give it a squeeze to which you let out a whine.

giving his confidence a boost, he kept going up with one of his hands, pressing down on your lower back to close the small distance between your bodies and grinding up into you.

he broke the kiss to look down between your bodies and saw your hands working on unbuttoning his pants. he didn’t know how his breathing could become even more ragged but it did. especially so when he felt your cold hands pull his cock out of his pants, and he had to look away. he squeezed his eyes shut trying to focus but how could he with your delicate hands stroking him so perfectly.

“jakey, you said you’d show me a good time,” you said, looking up at him with those irresistible eyes of yours. fuck, fuck was all jake could think as he rolled you over, positioning himself between your legs.

“i know i did, angel,” he whispered by your ear, placing a kiss right below it. he reached under your skirt, then pulled your underwear all the way down your legs. “i’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

he lined himself up quickly, not wanting to look like he’d never done this before. then he leaned down for a quick peck making you smile into the kiss and hearing that pretty little laugh he loves to hear. now he could push in gently and it was easier than he thought it’d be.

there was still resistance though because you were tight. so tight he had to drop his head down beside you and just breathe for a second. he could honestly just stay here forever, his cock buried so deep in you. he loved the feeling more than he expected.

you placed a hand on the nape of his neck, fingers tangled in his hair, your other hand soothing his arm that supported his weight above you. and he wanted this you always, every day, never wanted to hear you talk about another man again.

so he started thrusting into you, slow but hard thrusts. with you squeezing his arm, pulling on his hair, and moaning out his name, he was a goner for sure. “yes, that’s what i wanna hear,” he said, lips on yours as he kissed you again.

he kissed on your neck, and brought his hand down to rub circles on your clit just like in the videos he studied for you. he never heard your voice this loud before, couldn’t believe the way you looked with your head thrown back as you came around him.

he was close now too, knew his thrusts were getting sloppier. but you wrapped your legs around his waist, lifting your hips to meet his thrusts. “god, you’re so good for me,” he whined.

“i’m so close,” he said, kissing you again as you put your arms around his neck. then he heard you whisper something that he didn’t quite catch, he leaned in closer so you could repeat it.

“babe, please come in me,” you whispered. and that’s all it took for him to come undone, a moaning mess as he filled you up. he was panting at this point, trying to regulate his breathing.

and unfortunately that’s exactly how he woke up. in his own bed, heart racing, covered in sweat, and pants soaked. only one thing, or more specifically, person on his mind.

2K notes · View notes

dualityvn · 3 days ago

Text

I would like to address a recent trend I am seeing pop up in the yandere community. I feel that people are kind of pointing fingers at each other trying to decide who is more morally correct than the other. And I find it a little silly. We're here for hot stalkers. None of us are consuming moral fiction.

I sympathize with Fantasia and the backlash she is getting because of her recent update to her game. I still stand by my belief that devs should write what they want before they let themselves be influenced by outside opinions. It is her choice and her game first and foremost. Not to mention it's her first one and being thrown in the spotlight while you're making your first game is a pretty horrible experience. Because you don't know much about the process of making games or what you even ultimately may want to do with your game. It's a trial and error type of thing. And you can't make everyone happy. I still support her and encourage her on her creative journey and I hope the finished game is something she will be proud of.

I also understand that the game originally looked like a yandere romance game and it did not turn out to be that. So people are upset and feel betrayed. Some have spent money thinking they'd enjoy it and the recent update may have changed that. I understand, but I ask them to be understanding themselves and give their feedback without harassing or insulting the dev.

At the same time, I'm observing some weird new mentality in this attempt to support Fantasia. Now, we are claiming that "realistic" yanderes are superior? And that people who enjoy softer yanderes are delusional idiots who don't belong in the yandere fandom? And don't get me started on the word "romanticize." Can we please stop the holier than thou attitude?

We are all in this pig den together. We are all muddy. We are all consuming dark content. One isn't more moral than the other. You are free to prefer yanderes who are cruel and awful and psychotic, but do not belittle the devs and fans who prefer a softer alternative. If someone outside the yan fandom were to look at us, they'd judge us all the same: people who like toxic obsessive love interests. We all know real life stalkers are bad. I am afraid of them everyday. None of us are delusional children and it's insulting and ridiculous to claim so.

Likewise, it's a little silly to claim you can't have darker content in dark fiction. Dark fiction is here to explore the awful parts of humanity without having to worry about morality. It does not reflect on the type of person the creator is. It does not make them an advocate for murder, stalking or sa.

Please be mature. If you wish to criticize, do so in a well thought out way. Do not simply throw around words.

#yandere vn #male yandere #yandere male

699 notes · View notes

eddiethebrave · 3 months ago

Text

secret admirer part eighteen

767 words

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen

Steve isn’t sure what to do. He knows what he wants to do. He wants to stuff Eddie’s locker full with every thought he’s had in the past week and a half without an outlet. But would he be receptive to that?

By practice the next morning he’s decided that he’ll give it a try and then see if Eddie’s still wearing the ring.

He figures the boy isn’t ready to talk about it face-to-face yet, given he brought out the ring instead of simply talking to him. Then he had the gall to ask Steve if he was okay.

No. He’s really not.

Eddie you talk with your hands a lot it’s hypnotizing it was one of the first things i noticed about you at the beginning of the year i never knew what you were saying from so far away but i felt like i was in on the conversation just from that and i never feel like that, so thank you p.s. i’ve missed talking to you well, not talking, but you know p.s.s. i could definitely say more but i don’t wanna bombard you so we’ll save all that for later thank you for giving me another chance

Steve is nervous walking into the lunch room. For the first time since he switched, he takes his usual seat on the side of the table where Eddie is in his line of sight.

Steve was worried that he would have changed his mind and taken the ring off, but there it is on his right hand.

Steve actually engages in conversation with Tommy and Carol for the rest of lunch so Eddie doesn’t see him staring, even if he feels a little better about it now that Eddie knows who he is and is still wearing the ring.

Out of the corner of his eye, though, he catches sight of Eddie talking animatedly to his friends, arms waving this way and that, perhaps a bit more than usual and Steve has to tamp down a smile.

They don’t talk in class until the bell rings and Steve realizes Eddie didn’t say where they were meeting after class today.

He must have forgotten all about it because he goes to stand up and Steve has to catch him by the wrist before he makes his escape. Eddie jerks back out of instinct and shoots him a questioning look. Steve busies himself with packing his bag to avoid eye contact. “Wanna meet at Benny’s? On me?” he asks tentatively.

Eddie bats his lashes. “Steve Harrington wants to buy little ol’ me a milkshake from Benny’s Burgers? Oh my,” he says breathily, fanning himself.

Despite him raising the pitch of his voice several octaves to sound more feminine, Steve’s face still burns. Oh god.

Steve rolls his eyes and swings his backpack over his shoulder. “Is that a yes?”

Eddie nods, pulling a piece of his hair over his face and as cute as the whole blushing maiden act is, Steve has to resist reaching out to tuck the hair back in place so he can see his smile.

He bites his lip and backs away. “See you there, Munson.”

“Yup, see you there, Harrington.”

— — — —

They don’t talk much once they get going on their projects. Eddie, of course, attempts multiple times to catch sight of Steve’s portrait.

He even goes as far as to sneak up on him on his way back from the bathroom, not thinking Steve would be anticipating the act. Steve had pulled a blank piece of paper out of his bag and placed it over his actual project. On the paper, he drew a stick figure with Eddie’s haircut and huge eyes. Remembering how much Eddie had seemed to like Steve’s more unsettling attempts at art, Steve made the eyes as realistic as he could manage while the rest of the thing looked like a child had drawn it in a hurry.

Steve didn’t even know Eddie had come out of the bathroom until he heard laughing and wheezing coming from behind him.

He didn’t turn around. He simply sipped his strawberry milkshake until Eddie fell into his seat once he’d calmed down. The boy pouted for all of two seconds before breaking out into a smile and commending Steve’s foresight.

Once they pack up and Steve pays the bill, they make their way outside and he pulls out the prank drawing.

“Here,” he says, holding it out to Eddie.

“For me?” The smile he gets in return is beaming.

Steve rides that high well into the next day.

nineteen

tag list (closed)

@sofadofax @noodle-shenaniganery @queenie-ofthe-void @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @devondespresso

@dreamingtheimpossibe @plutoshelm @jaywhohasthegay @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie

@dreamy-jeans137 @justdrugsformethanks @estrellami-1 @travelingtwentysomething @sleepy-steve

@wheneverfeasible @bisexual-and-broke @lil-gremlin-things @n0-1-important @xxbottlecapx

@tinyplanet95 @dannys-guilt-ridden-cockroach @theohohmoment @corvus-perplexus @hippieg1rl420

@blurryjoji @bookbinderbitch @arthurianace @dragonmama76 @thesuninyaface

@tillystealeaves @p0lybl4nkk @sageclipse @mugloversonly @chameleonhair

@thedragonsaunt @yesdangerpls @sanctumdemunson @slv-333 @loguine-linguine

@resident-gay-bitch @anaibis @moomkin77 @thrashbatx @salchica

@flustratedcas @ajeff855 @nerdyglassescheeseychick @pearynice @imaginary-maggie-waggie

sorry if i missed anyone!!

#NOTE NUMBER TEN I REPEAT NOTE NUMBER TEN #the way this was lowk a date #wrote this instead of sleeping #<3 #steve harrington #eddie munson #pre steddie #steddie

637 notes · View notes

movedto-gemini-atz · 4 months ago

Text

Yunho as your Boyfriend (Realistic + Astrology Based)

Contains NSFW, minors please use caution or dni!! I will put all NSFW headcanons under a cut if you're looking for more fluffy feelings in general and would like to avoid.

Background/Disclaimer: !!This is all my own interpretation based on my personal astrology knowledge and research. I consider myself an amateur!!

Please see here for other members

Genre / Au / Trope : Smut, Imagines

Rating: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI

Warnings: mostly vanilla, c0ckwarm1ng mention, Yunho has a tights fet1sh??

Follow my new URL

YUNHO SUN Aries MOON Gemini MERCURY Pisces VENUS Taurus MARS Scorpio

Yunho as your boyfriend feels like the personification of a hoodie just out of the dryer, just a big warm hug for you both physically and emotionally. He's unusually honest and he definitely asks you out first. Mercury in Pisces can be challenged by their ability to communicate their true thoughts, I can see him saying strange or awkward things in front of you the first few times you meet, but by the time he’s resolved to ask you out his Aries and Taurus can take over. He will be straightforward with his wants and needs and doesn’t appear nervous at all when asking you out. He just feels comfortable and easygoing to be around and a lot of that is stemming from his Moon in Gemini and that Venus in Taurus (literally so silly and fun, like the boy next door type). He can make you laugh endlessly, not in a way that he's TRYING to be funny, I think he just does things that he doesn't realize are so silly and cute, sometimes bordering on being funny because he’s being so awkward about something. If you guys drank together he'd probably turn into the aegyo machine just to make you laugh and cringe and then feel absolutely mortified the next day.

He craves physical contact from you as much as he can get, like the "I can't fall asleep unless at least my foot is touching you" type. When you're at a restaurant with a booth, he wants to sit in the same booth. When you've both just woken up in the morning and you're trying to brush your teeth in the mirror, he drapes himself over you, sleepily swaying and rubbing his face into the back of your head which would be super cute and sweet if he also didn't have one hand sneakily slipping up under your shirt. He doesn't think of himself as the jealous type, and you might not notice that he is either. Taurus Venus placements can be more chill that way but his Scorpio Mars has him possessive of you. It doesn't present itself as aggressively as it might in someone like San (Scorpio in Venus AND Mars oooo boy) but more like if you're at a party and he sees you talking to another guy he might come up behind you and wrap his arms fully around you, leaning down and planting a big kiss on the side of your neck before giving the other guy an innocent "What?" type look. Instead of directing his jealous energy at you or starting a fight, he simply physically shows everyone around that you're his. I think this works well with his Mercury in Pisces since articulating and getting their deeply felt emotions doesn’t often come across how they want; his natural ability to physically show you his affection means he won’t be insecure about whether or not you understand his love for you. But just because he has an easygoing nature, you shouldn't push him too hard in the jealousy department. He needs to feel that your care for him is equal. He's never careless with your feelings and these placements can be extremely wounded and not show it.

Yunho loves having matching keychains, shirts, pajamas, etc. with you. Taurans are all about good food and showing their love that way, you'd probably gain weight in no time because he wants to feed you CONSTANTLY. His instagram feed is just selfies of you guys trying out that new restaurant or cafe. Rather than going out on dates every weekend, he's more of a stay at home together guy; movie nights, two player games, just cuddling and making out energy. He isn't over the top with gifts/displays of love, it might seem like he isn't as passionate as others but the peace and comfort he can bring is so rewarding.

NSFW HEADCANONS

Romantically and Sexually his Venus and Mars sign working together create a bit of a double identity, your friends might not even believe when you tell them what he's capable of in bed because they only see that goofy sweet side.

Oral. He loves it, both giving and receiving. He'd love eating you out to distract you from activities; You'd be in the kitchen trying to start dinner when you'd feel him behind you, burying his face in the crook of your neck and kissing your ear before whispering that he needs to taste you right now and if you let him the next thing you know he'd be dropping to his knees behind you, yanking down your shorts and panties and eating you from the back, just slurping and sucking and making plenty of noise like you were the best meal he’d ever had. In the morning you might find yourself woken up by him kissing your thighs and when he notices you awake, and he gives you those puppy eyes, seeking permission to just lay between your legs as long as he wants, lapping at your pussy. He’d move his head away when he feels you getting closer and closer to your orgasm and look up at you with the most innocent smile while you whimper his name pleadingly, As your peak fades he would dip his head back down to kiss your clit and by this time you’re so swollen and sensitive, the gentle pressure of his lips sends shocks of heat through your lower body before he starts back up again, dragging his tongue through your folds and groaning softly, his eyes closed in appreciation for your taste. By the time he’s ready to let you cum, one of your hands is already tangled in his hair, holding his face steady while you helplessly move your hips against him and he reaches up to clasp your other hand, his long fingers feeling cool and comforting against your feverish skin.

When it comes to sucking him off, he likes to see how long he can keep you down there. It's not even about cumming for him he just wants to watch you struggle to take all of him. There would be times you'd be in the mood and try to kiss him and sit on his lap while he's busy with a game only for him to give you a sympathetic smile and tell you "I'll take care of you once I'm done with this game baby." If you pout and try to walk away, he'd grab your hand and pull you back, leaning up to give you a kiss before flicking his eyes slowly down your body and telling you to "get under the desk". Twenty minutes later his cock has gone from soft to fully rock hard in your mouth and you've been warming him obediently under the desk for that long, moaning pitifully ever so often, your jaw starting to ache but your head and body feel floaty. No thoughts in your head, just a pliant hole for him. If you start to try sucking or moving on it he pushes your head back gently before returning it to his mouse. "Bad girl, not yet. Go ahead and play with yourself for me, I'm nearly done". Hearing the rustles of you slipping your hand into your soaking panties to touch yourself while trying to hold yourself back from sucking him nearly drives him over the edge but he's able to keep it together long enough to finish his game before taking his headset off slowly and slightly moving his chair back. He’d gently guide his cock from your mouth before slapping it heavily against your cheek a few times, sending little shivers down your spine at the weight of it. “What am I going to do with you?” He’d ask, tilting his head to the side with that boyish grin, petting the top of your head so gently while his other hand guides his cockhead to press against your lips , smearing his precum around and around. He’d be completely caught up in how swollen they were because of him.

As far as kinks or fetishes I am getting strong 'office lady' and socks/nylons guy from him. Black tights especially, he'd probably be buying a constant supply from how many he rips open to get to your pussy or how many get covered in his cum from him asking for you to use your feet on his cock while wearing them. Seeing you in a pencil skirt, tights and heels for a job interview would have him acting so crazy, by the time you walk back through the door it's on sight, he fucks you right there in the hallway, with your hands and face shoved up against the wall.

————————————————————————

This is my first Ateez imagine, it was a lot of fun and I haven’t written in a long time, I’ll work to keep improving! If you share some of Yunho s chart or know someone with his placements and agree (or disagree!) with some of the interpretations I’d love to hear about it, I’m always gathering data 🤣

#yunho smut #yunho x reader #yunho imagines #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez hard hours

575 notes · View notes

themeraldee · 3 months ago

Note

Awkward sex prompt: homelander figuring out how to control his strength with a human reader, who still wants rough sex, but would prefer to be alive at the end of it.

[Masterlist]

18+ Only | 1.2k | Homelander x gn!Reader | Realistic sex. Communicating during sex. Choking. Penetration (but not specified). Fluff at the end.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“But I want you to.”

It really should have been no surprise to Homelander when you requested he goes a little rougher on you in bed. At first he was taken aback, stopping the pace he was fucking into you with, jerking his head back as if offended, choking on his breath in surprise. You know who he is, bringing up the use of his strength is no small ask. But you’ve shown the signs before. He could hear the spike in your heart rate anytime he’d showcase the incomprehensible strength he possesses. Whether it was him moving heavy objects, accidentally bending steel frames in his penthouse or breaking furniture—like that one time he ripped the headboard off during a particularly fine blowjob—you loved it. Though he never thought that your dirty little thoughts went straight to him using that strength on you.

“What if I can’t hold back?” He looks down where you’re right below him, all flushed and spread out for him. He’s been giving you a damn good time but it’s like you can never get enough of him. Always wanting more, more, more.

“You can. You’ve been doing it your entire life. Adding a tiny bit more pressure isn’t gonna change anything.”

The one thing Homelander loves about you the most is the pure trust you have in him. After all you’ve seen of him you still believe that there’s no world in which he would purposefully hurt you. So to hear you all but beg for him to use strength that has more than decimated many gets his heart soaring. The feeling of acceptance and unconditional love blooms warm in his chest spreading all the way out to the fingertips currently wrapped around your neck.

“Come on, what’s the point of being the strongest man in the world if you can’t rough me up a bit? I’ll tell you if it’s too painful okay?”

Your hand sat on top, your fingers tracing over his as you squeezed your hand.

“A little more.” You guide him verbally and manually. Your hand is still squeezing around his own until you reach a point where you’re satisfied with his confidence to do this himself and you pull your hand away. “Yeah, that’s it.” You squeak out a little breathlessly as he restricts your airflow.

“That’s good?” He asks, choking on his words halfway at the way you squeeze around him while he’s still lodged firmly inside you. He jerks with his movement, giving you a very short snappy thrust but after your little intermission where you taught him how to choke even this little sensation made you moan.

Homelander’s eyes widen when he realizes the sheer potential of your request. Not only could he hear your heartbeat, your shaky breaths and moans, he could now also feel them. Right against his fingertips. The moan vibrated against his hot skin, your heartbeat constantly thrumming all around him. He felt it in the way you were tight and clenching around him and now he felt it under his grip.

He released his hand a little, settling the palm of it in between your collarbones.

“See? Wasn’t that good? I love feeling your strength, let me have a little more of it.” You say it with such conviction, inviting him in, accepting him exactly—no, especially—because of the way he is.

The last thing Homelander wants is to not be able to fulfill your needs. As much as the thought of hurting you—actually hurting you—kills him, if it’s something you find excitement in he’ll be damned if he doesn’t deliver.

He pulls you down the length of the bed a little bit to give himself more space and with a grin he pins your wrists above your head, holding them down against the mattress with little effort. He knows he’s doing something right when that startles you, you let out a cute yelp that quickly turns into a moan. God, he could eat you up with the way you’re looking at him. But he’s gonna need to leave that for round two. Now he’s here to fulfill a wish.

He slowly picks up the pace. He’s thrusting slow and deep while his other hand freely explores your body underneath him, giving it generous squeezes as he goes. He’s testing the give of you. Learning where he can apply the pressure you so desperately crave.

He’s fucking into your faster now, grunting at the sheer heat of you surrounding his cock with every slide. His hand glides up your body, settling back on your neck. He gives you a look as if he was warning you of what’s to happen. Yet he still manages to catch you off guard. With the snap of his hips and the iron-clad grip of his hand your eyes widen in what Homelander only translates to fear.

Immediately, he lets go.

“Why did you stop?!” You look at him, your own hand gliding across where his hand was squeezing a second ago, as if to chase the phantom feeling, recreating it yourself.

“Why did I stop? You got scared and I don’t want to fucking kill you!” He sounds angry but it’s mainly to hide the genuine worry that comes with this irresponsible play. It’s already hard for him to hold back anytime you’re having normal sex. Wanting him to rough you up conjures very different imagery in either one of your minds.

“Baby, the scary part is the best bit. I know you’ll stop before it’s too much. You can feel the give of my body. Let yourself feel that, okay?” You say softly, soothing his fears. In your entire relationship he’s not managed to hurt you, you don’t imagine it was about to start now.

“Now come on, I wanna cum with your hand around my neck.” You give him a cheeky smile that breaks him out of any doubts he had about manhandling you the way you’ve requested.

He’s given you exactly what you’ve asked for. Just enough squeeze and pressure that you feel so overwhelmed with the greatness of his presence pinning you down and nearly squeezing the life out of you that you succumb to your release. Homelander follows you there, unable to hold off after seeing the way you look at him with such adoration right after he let your airways open fully and you regained your senses.

After you’re both beyond blissed out you snuggle up to one another, locking the jigsaw pieces of your bodies together.

Homelander traces a finger across the bruised finger marks wrapping around your neck. Part of him relishes in the way he’s managed to brand you where you won’t be able to hide it easily. Even with a scarf or a turtleneck, any slight move of the garment will expose the impressive size of your lovingly placed bruises.

The other part of him isn’t that happy about it.

“I hurt you.”

“Duh! I wanted you to!” You scoff as if it was the most obvious thing.

His fingers trace over them some more before he leans in, placing a soft kiss against the marred skin.

“You’re fucking crazy.” He lets out a little disbelieving laugh as he pulls you closer into his arms.

“Yeah, you’ve been rubbing off on me.”

“Nope, this is all you.”

“Maybe. Hey, can we try spanking next?”

Taglist (you can add yourself to be tagged anytime I publish a new Homelander story): @infinetlyforgotten @rafecamsgirlll @nervoussystemss

#thank you for the prompt #I've thoroughly enjoyed it!#though I realise this is less 'funny awkward' and more 'realistic awkward' so I hope that works #I'm getting pretty efficient at getting these out!#and I've always wanted to write a bit faster without overthinking it too much #but I do feel like I'm losing the characterization a bit so it's a slippery slope #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander #homelander fanfiction #my writing #the boys fanfiction #asks!#fic request

446 notes · View notes

the20thangel · 4 months ago

Text

The Labor of Our Fruits

Summary: Tumblr Request!: A Targaryen reader. She and Benji didn't get off on the right foot because it was an arranged marriage, but Benji loves her but is scared to show it. The reader is pregnant, and because Benji has been ignoring her when she goes into labor, she begs Benji to not let her die, and he feels terrible thinking she would think something like that. But ending happily with their little baby boy.

tags: childbirth, angst, fluff

Word count: 2005

(this is an x reader fanfic but just with a name)

Daella grimaced, feeling immense pressure as the maester pressed down on her stomach. She wished her mother’s healers were here instead of this maester, but she was far from home, far from her mother and brothers and step-sisters, far from the comforts of Dragonstone and the sounds of dragons roosting around the island. She realistically knew all she needed to do was ask to get what she wanted, but she couldn’t bring herself to. Since their marriage night, she hardly spoke to her husband, Lord Benjicot Blackwood. How can she just go up and ask him to tell him to send for the healers from Dragonstone?

Her marriage… was strange; that was the only way she could describe it. To ensure House Blackwood kept their alliance with her mother, Daella was brought to Raventree Hall to marry its new lord. He was not cruel, her lord husband, but distant. She did not know if having a distant husband was better or worse. In some cases better, because he never forced himself on her or commanded her to do things that might have made her uncomfortable. She greatly appreciated him for doing that; he was already better than her uncle Aegon.

On the other hand, having a distant husband was worse. She was lonely, growing a babe of a man she hardly knew, proudly doing her duty for her mother and husband but drowning in her isolation. She laughed at the gods' cruel joke. Was she turning out to be like her ancestor Daella, daughter of Good Queen Alysanne, who bore her grandmother Aemma only to die without holding her babe?

Daella groaned quietly as the maester finished evaluating her. She sat up as the doors of the bed chamber opened, revealing her husband, Benjicot. Walking into the chamber, he saw the maester packing his bag. Benjicot quickly walked to his wife, pausing before her, unsure if he should hold her hand. Ultimately, he stood by her, watching her fidget with her dress.

“How are they?” he asked the maester.

“Both mother and child are progressing wonderfully, my lord; we should expect the babe to come any minute now.” stated the maester, bowing to the lord and princess as he walked out of the room.

Daella swallowed; she did not know what to do now, such was most the case with her. She mainly floated around the castle, careful not to be in anybody’s way. Knowing that made her seem weird, she heard the whispers as the people spoke about the odd Targaryen girl their lord was forced to marry.

Benjicot stared at his beautiful wife, wishing he could know her thoughts. His marriage was a quiet one. Both hardly spoke to each other, only short sentences here and there. His aunt urged him to make more effort to express his love to Daella, but he just didn’t know how. He was not good at romance, feeling more comfortable in battles. He also never wanted to be the husband who would force his wife to do actions she may not like. So he tried to give her space, allowing her to grow accustomed to her new home.

Swallowing away his nervousness, he decided to try to make a small conversation.

“How are you feeling?” asked Benjicot, seeing how Daella jumped in surprise, looking at him with her soft purple eyes. Oh, how he could get lost staring at them all day.

“Tired… my lord,” whispered Daella, smiling at him, not wanting to seem rude at his genuine worry.

Benji smiled back, “Would you like to rest before supper, or could I have the servants bring supper to the chambers?”

“I think I will rest a little and then meet you there,” Daella said, looking at his nervous smile.

Benjicot nodded. Feeling awkward, he turned to leave, but before thinking about it, he turned back to Daella.

“Should you want or need anything these last few days, all you need to do is ask, and I will try my best to provide it to you,” Benji promised as he reached to caress her cheek, only stopping mere inches away. Again, feeling unsure if she would accept his touch, He chose to walk away and leave the room.

Daella, with great sadness, watched her husband leave her alone again in the chamber. Once the door closed, she let a small tear flow freely down her cheek.

“I wish to go home,” whispered Daella, closing her eyes as she stroked her belly. Only allowing a smile to softly stretch on her face as she felt her babe kick her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following day, Benji woke up earlier than previous ones. He had to ride out for a few days and needed to check in with the village. As he turned, he could not help but smile at the sight before him. He loved seeing his wife sleeping, seeing her in the most relaxing state. She always wore a smile on her face as her hands lay on top of her stomach. She was a beauty, and he wished he could show more of his feelings towards her. He wants to build his relationship with her but always becomes too nervous to act anything out. Leaning down to provide a small kiss on her forehead. He made a vow that once he returned, he would start to show more effort in his marriage so that when their babe entered this world, they would have parents who were openly affectionate with each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daella grew restless. Benji had been gone for a few days and was not due to return for another two days. She was trying her best to take over the castle duties, but she kept having cramps. Her babe was not due yet, so Daella started worrying. Was there something she was doing wrong? Was she harming her baby? She groaned from another cramp as a passing servant, recognizing the signs of labor, gasped and ran to the princess.

“My princess, how long have you been feeling these pains?” questioned the servant girl as she led the princess back to the chambers.

Daella exhaled, feeling the cramp alleviate for a second, “Since last night… I think..” groaning from another wave of cramps.

“Princess, you are in labor, we need…. Someone fetch the maester. The princess is in labor!” shouted the servant girl to the nearest guard, who frantically nodded, running to do his bidding.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The castle was in chaos; the pained screams of Daella echoed in the halls as servants entered and left the princess’s chambers. Daella was lying in bed, watching the maester and midwives converse quietly. Her babe was taking too long to leave her body. She knew what the maester wanted to do… he wanted to cut the babe free from her body. She shook in fright; she did not want to die in the labor bed. She did not want to follow the path of her namesake and her grandmother, Aemma. She wanted to live, not ready to enter the realm of Balerion.

“We need to wait for Lord Benjicot to decide…” whispered the midwife, trying to stall the maester from doing anything drastic.

“If we wait too long, there might not be anyone left to save.” argued the maester, looking back at the bleeding princess.

Daella closed her eyes as she wept; she wanted her mother, she wanted Benji, and she prayed to the gods to have mercy on her and her baby.

As if the gods were listening, the doors opened with a bang, and people gasped. A muddy Benjicot ran into the room, scanning for Daella, and saw her breathing heavily on their bed.

“My lord, the birthing room is no place…” began the maester as Benjicot ignored him, running to take his wife’s hand in his.

“Daella..” whispered Benji, moving some white hair away from her face.

Daella smiled painfully at her husband. She needed to be a dragon, and she would fight for her life.

“Benji, please, please don’t let him do it to me…” pleaded Daella as she let tears stream down her face.

Benjicot looked at his wife in confusion. What was causing her so much stress?

Turning to the maester and midwives, he asked them what was happening to his wife. The maester walked up to the lord as he explained that the babe was taking too long to leave the princess's stomach. Proposing that the best option to save the future heir of House Blackwood was to cut the babe out of the princess's body.

Daella, sobbing, reached for Benji's hand as she pleaded, “Please don't let them cut me. I do not wish to die yet.”

Benjicot, heartbroken at seeing her in such a state, leaned down to kiss her forehead and whisper comforting words to her.

“Shh, my love, I would never do such a thing to you…”

“My lord, if we don’t, we risk losing the ba-”

“Remove this man out of my sight before I turn and run my sword across his stomach,” growled Benjicot, shooting daggers at the gaping maester being led out by the guards.

Benji turned to the midwives and pleaded, “Please, is there any way to save them both?”

The midwives nodded, “It’s the princess’s first, babe. She has grown tired of using all her energy to push out. We can help her by pushing on her stomach as she pushes herself. It will be painful, but it is the best chance to save both mother and child.”

Benjicot nodded, letting himself be led to sit behind her, pressing his hand on her stomach as Daella continued to sob.

“When we ask the princess the push, we will need you, my lord, to push your hands downward with all your might. Even if she screams in agony, you push down. We cannot risk the babe getting stuck.” commanded the head midwife, waiting for him to agree.

Once the young lord agreed, the midwives all went to their positions. Looking at him, they started to command the princess to start pushing. Benji, in turn, also pressed his hands on her stomach, feeling her body warp. Daella screamed in agony, feeling like her body was ripping in half. She wanted them to stop but knew that if she wanted to live, she needed to continue to push. Praying to the goddesses Meleys and Shrykos, she pleaded for them to hear her, asking for a safe, open road for her babe’s birth.

Benjicot continued to press down as he kissed Daella's crown, feeling proud of her courage and bravery during this upsetting situation. She was indeed a dragon princess, not letting herself falter. He decided to express his thoughts as he continued to help her push.

“That’s it, my love, you are doing wonderful; you are almost there, Daella, don’t give up… I know you can,” he whispered to her ear, his heart breaking at every scream she let out.

Daella, even though tired, felt empowered by her husband’s words, inhaling she gave one last push. She will live, she will not die in this bed, and she will get to see her child grow up.

With one last scream and push, the baby boy left his mother’s body, wailing to the world. Daella started crying at seeing her son. He was beautiful, with his father’s black hair and pale skin like hers. He was placed on her chest as she wrapped her arms around his tiny body. Benji, too, started crying at seeing his son, something that showed a promise of the love he was willing to show to his wife.

As the young heir nuzzled his mother’s chest, he briefly opened his eyes, showcasing a beautiful purple color—the very ones Benjicot adored on his wife. Feeling overwhelmed, he rocked the baby and mother into his arms.

“You did wonderful, Daella. You were amazing,” he praised his princess, kissing her cheek and continuing to rock them.

Daella smiled as she leaned into her husband’s embrace, feeling she was finally home.

#benjicot blackwood #fanfic #hotd #hotd fanfic #benjicot x reader #house of the dragon

788 notes · View notes

hoodoo12 · 4 months ago

Text

Sweltering

First and foremost, fuck this heat. I've always preferred colder to warmer, and nowadays the summer is just a hellscape. Therefore, a story.

It's too hot outside, and The Ghost with the Most thinks he has a way to cool you down. NSFW.

It was stupid hot. Inside with no air conditioning was worse, so you were out on the patio in your backyard in nothing more than the thinnest tank top you owned and underwear. You’d brought a fan that was specifically labeled “for indoor use only!” out, plugged in by multiple extension cords that also said to only use them indoors, and had it going full blast right at your body.

You were sweating through what little clothing you had on. Your brain felt melted. The ice cream sandwich you thought would help cool you down did nothing.

Without warning or fanfare, Beetlejuice appeared at your side.

You hadn’t called him. You just never re-said his name after the last time you’d summoned him, and now this was the arrangement. He just came and went how he pleased, like a tom cat. You hoped he didn’t fuck around like an unneutered cat, but you were also realistic. There was never any label to the thing you had with him, although there was something to be said in that he kept returning.

“Jesus! You’re wearing that suit? It’s over 95 degrees out here!” you complained at him. Then you took a lick around the edge of the ice cream, because it was melting faster than your brain.

The ghost looked down over himself.

“Well fuckin' good day to you too,” he grumbled. “And what’s wrong with my suit?”

“I already said it was so damn hot! How can you wear that in this heat?!”

He rolled his eyes. “Because I’m a dead guy, sweetcheeks. I don’t feel the heat. I don’t feel the cold. It’s all the same to me.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, in both disbelief and a titch of jealousy. “Must be nice.”

He shrugged. “I suppose. If you mean not feeling much of anything.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “You don’t feel much of anything? Then why’re you sporting a boner behind your fly?”

Instead of being embarrassed, a reaction that would have surprised you, he rubbed his palm over his crotch as he leered down at you. “My dick’s hard because you’re laying in front of me basically nude, baby, with sticky white stuff dripping all over your hand.”

Your ice cream! In the seconds you’d forgotten about it, it melted just as he said, leaving trails down your hand and wrist. With an inarticulate cry of surprised dismay, you immediately started to lick the mess off your hand, mostly managing to smear wet sugar over your skin instead of actually removing it.

“You know, I’ve got something just as chilly that’d fit in your mouth.”

Your tongue still in your palm, you flicked a glance at him. You’d expect nothing less from the ghost watching what you were doing with keen, hungry interest. Beetlejuice hadn’t stopped rubbing himself through his trousers and you saw him give himself a squeeze that was none to gentle.

“Oh?” you replied innocently. “You think something like that’d cool me down?”

“Fuckin’ heat you up, more like,” he growled. “I know how much you like suckin’ my cock.”

This hadn’t been on your agenda today, but his unexpected arrival did make you think dirty thoughts. Shoving the remaining bite of the ice cream sandwich into your mouth, you gave up trying to clean off your hand and spun in the lounge chair so he was between your legs. Looking up at him, you grinned even as you reached for the button and zipper on his trousers.

As your fingers undid the fastenings, you said, “This is all for me then, huh? Sucking you off is all for me, because you don’t feel much of anything?”

You dug into the front of his pants--he never wore underwear, so you didn’t have to contend with that barrier--and eased his cock out. Grub-pale and heavy in your hand, it did have a distinct chill that wasn’t unpleasant in this blasted heat.

Beetlejuice looked down at you with half-lidded eyes, drawing a thumb over his lower lip. “I think you know the answer to that, babydoll. Now you just gonna sit there? That sandworm isn’t gonna suck itself.”

Even as you rolled your eyes again that he called his dick a sandworm, you obediently opened your mouth and he rocked his hips. Because you were holding him by the base of his cock, it was the perfect position to slip between your lips and onto your tongue. You loosened your jaw; you knew he tended to pop himself forward once in your mouth and--

Beetlejuice thrust, his cock filling your mouth almost to your throat.

--yep, there it was.

The second he was encased in your mouth, you sucked him hard.

He groaned. A hand went to the back of your head and fingers entangled into your hair. You gave him a few sucking strokes, and on one of the outward pulls, he yanked back a little so your face tilted backward.

“Look up at me,” he ordered.

You barely contained another eye roll. Instead, you concentrated on doing as he asked, keeping your eyes trained upward as best you could bobbing on his cock. Along with the movement, you alternated swirling your tongue around him and applying heavy solid suction. He’d been correct; his cock was chilly in your mouth, although not quite as cold as the ice cream had been and nowhere near as tasty.

The ghost continued to groan and now gasp at each sensation you wrung from him. He tipped his head back, and you saw his throat work as he swallowed.

Without warning, you pulled off him. He gasped again, for a different reason, and dropped his gaze back to you. His mouth was open and he looked a little stuporous, as well as surprised.

“Look at me,” you ordered him.

He swallowed again and nodded quickly. You quirked an eyebrow at him as if to silently say he better not forget to keep his eyes trained downward. Then, keeping your eyes locked on his, you went back to work with even more vigor.

There was a little more intimacy, with direct eye contact. As much intimacy as sitting outside in basically nothing, sucking a basically fully clothed ghost’s cock could be. You laughed as best you could with that cock down your throat at what you must look like and what the neighbors would think if they happened to see you. Beetlejuice continued to moan and tightened his hand in your hair, as if he thought you were laughing at him. His hips rocked forward to shove himself in a little deeper.

The head of his cock choked off your air supply and cut your chuckle short. Now it was his turn to cock an eyebrow at you, daring you to say something or stop. Without taking your mouth off him you narrowed your eyes and worked him even harder.

You sucked, your swirled, you didn’t swallow any of the thick spit blowing him built up in your mouth. It ran out of your mouth and soaked your chin and neck; when you deep throated him it drenched his rat’s nest of pubic hair and trousers. Pulling back after keeping him fully inside you raised your eyes again. He locked eyes with yours even as drool beaded on his own lower lip. It became too heavy to remain there, and a thin droplet of it fell.

He licked his lip then. “Your fuckin’ mouth baby,” he muttered.

“Uh-huh,” you were able to reply, since that was easier than actual words. He seemed to want to choke out some words, however, so you slowed.

“Told you it was better, didn’t I?” he reminded you. “Nice isn’t it, something that’s cold in that hot mouth of yours that doesn’t melt right away? Fuck, baby, you gonna edge me so you can keep going? You gonna want to keep my cock in your mouth as long as possible--”

That was exactly what you didn’t want. Already his babbling grated on your nerves, like he was the one in charge here. You took him as deep as possible again, with your nose pressed into the wet hair over his pubic bone. Beetlejuice interrupted himself with an open-mouthed groan. You’d have smiled at the power you had over him, but that would break the suction.

Keeping his cock exactly where it was, you used your tongue to press it up against your hard palate for some variety in sensation and paused a second to breathe through your nose. You couldn’t tilt your head up enough to look him in the face again, but from the now involuntary jerks his body gave and the rhythmic tightening of his fingers in your hair, you didn’t need to see his expression to know that he was damn close to blowing his load down your throat.

As if on cue, he rasped, “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come--”

You left off the heavy suction for a second.

“Down your throat or on your skin, baby?”

His come would have a distinctly different taste in the back of your throat than the ice cream you’d eaten, so you answered him by releasing him and pulling back a bit. You caught his eyes again, dark even in the sunlight, and grinned up at him. His hand left your hair and went to his own cock.

Beetlejuice gave a slightly different groan at seeing you displayed in front of him. His hand stroked his length easily due to the amount of spit you’d laved him with. You gathered some of the spit that had dripped to your chest and smeared it, making yourself shiny. With the breeze from the fan, your nipples peaked. The grin didn’t leave your face.

The ghost jerked himself off, and broke the rule about keeping eye contact with you. His eyes were riveted to your chest. That was okay; you couldn’t help watching his cock disappear and reappear in his own hand, his pace increasing the closer he got to finishing. When he leaned over and used your shoulder for balance, you knew his end was inevitable.

He squeezed the head of his cock between his thumb and forefinger, then gave another frantic jerk and cried out as he came. Thick, off-white come spurted onto your upper chest, and it was just as chilly as his cock had been. You gasped as it painted you, and you couldn’t help taking one hand to smear it thinly over your skin. It was only slightly less tacky than the ice cream that had melted earlier. His nails dug into your shoulder, and you shrugged it to remind him that you were still a breather and didn’t really appreciate the pain.

Once his cock stopped pulsing and the last of his ejaculate dribbled out, he blew his breath out like he’d run a marathon.

The spunk you’d smeared was even cooler when the air from the fan hit it. You knew the sensation wouldn’t last long, but it was nice for the moment.

“You’re pretty hot, baby,” Beetlejuice complimented.

You gave him a look. “Yeah. I know. That’s the whole problem.”

He smirked and took your upper arm, hauling you to your feet.

“Why don’t I try to cool you down--now gimme a chance to explain, baby!” he said over your attempt to interrupt him. “My entire body is just as chilly as my dick, sweetheart, so me laying on top of you or you laying on top of me is gonna help. And when I say my entire body, I mean my tongue too, so just imagine what that’ll feel like tickling up between your legs. Cool you down from the inside out.”

When he put it that way . . .

Beetlejuice grinned as your expression softened into compliance.

“Come on baby,” he continued. “Let’s get inside where I can really concentrate. Unless you wanna continue to give the neighbors a free show?”

“What?!” you squawked, scrambling for your bra to cover yourself.

He laughed and didn’t let you grab it, pulling you along with him into the house and up to your bedroom. As far as a sweltering day went, at least a corpse-cold lover helped make it better.

fin!

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice x reader #repost of an old story #writing #fanfiction

450 notes · View notes

shibaraki · 7 months ago

Text

OUT OF MY HEAD, HALF BURSTING ┊ MIDORIYA IZUKU

synopsis: japan’s sweetheart and saviour is in a quirk induced coma. you’re the only one that can bring him back.

tags: GN reader, post canon au, pro hero deku, quirk accidents, fluff + angst, hospitalisation, mutual pining, intimacy, technically doctor/patient but they know each other, friends to lovers, reader has quirk (‘dream walker’), memory/dream sharing, referenced depression, getting together, kissing, cheesy idc idc

wc: 5.2K

In your years wading through patients' memories, you’ve found that people have the most uncanny ability to resign themselves to their fate. You’ve wondered time and time again whether it’s instinctive to ruin things—if humans couldn’t help but stumble and make a mess of the things around them.

You recall that thought process now with a weary sigh, as your eyes skim over the patient's name for the tenth time in as many seconds. Midoriya Izuku.

“Well? Are you gonna do it or not?”

You’ve been staring at the medical file for long enough that an uncomfortable silence has dawned upon your office. Two weeks prior, a villain named Catatonic used her quirk to force Deku into a comatose state, that which he has yet to wake from. Even after the liberal use of quirk inhibitors, countless visits from Eraserhead and the administration of various stimulants, Deku would not stir. Realistically he should’ve roused from the coma naturally as soon as the quirk was cancelled. But he hadn’t, and his doctors can only assume it’s because he can’t, or refuses to.

Thus the case in your lap. A last resort.

“I’ll do it,” you intoned, thumb flicking at the corner of the manila folder. There’s already a deep crease there. The file itself is the heaviest you’ve ever had in your hands. Dense in a way that makes you ache. You and Deku are good friends—the kind of friendship that forms mainly because you frequent the same places. That place in particular being the hospital, except you were there to work, and he was often wandering the hallways listlessly to burn off the dregs of whatever sedatives he’d taken or visiting with patients.

Awkward small talk eventually blossomed into real, fulfilling conversations, and you started to like him, a lot more than you should. You kept the memory of his small, sincere smile close to your chest; nothing like that dazzling grin he wore on duty, it was softer, something private, and you relished being on the receiving end of it.

He was skilled at talking around his injuries. Sometimes if you felt especially bone-weary after a shift you’d be so relieved to see him that you forgot to ask. That sits with you. Deku is a hero. A good one, the best one. He’s brilliant at what he does—keeping people safe, protecting them from harm. In the entirety of his career, it appears he rarely, if ever, turned that care and consideration onto himself. You’re not a licensed therapist, and barely a doctor. Still you contemplate his medical history with a cold sense of regret.

“You realise there’s a large possibility I’ll end up seeing a lot of confidential stuff while I’m in there”.

“Don’t care. S’not like you can tell anyone”.

“I don’t think you understand how invasive this will be. I’ll see personal things. Private things, Bakugo. He won’t be happy”.

“Don’t care. If he doesn’t like it then maybe he should fuckin’ wake up”.

“This might not work, you know,” you finish tiredly.

Bakugo arches his brow at that. Despite the shadows under his eyes there’s no defeated slope to his shoulders, only a fierce scowl. “Either you can do it or you can’t,” he says, voice unsteady as if reeling between rationality and outright aggression. “You’re supposed to be the best at what you do”.

“I am the best at what I do, Bakugo. I can promise you I’ll find him”.

“Then what’s the damn problem?”

The file feels heavier. It feels like a foregone conclusion. You swallow, your throat dry. You don’t bother attempting a smile. You’ve lost the will to maintain your professional veneer.

“I can’t promise he’ll want to come back”.

Dream walker.

At twelve years old you thought it made your quirk sound whimsical, and gentle, and not at all the invasive thing that it actually is. After all, your reach didn’t end only at dreams. You were able to project your consciousness into another’s mind if it pleased you, parse through every memory, ambition, fantasy, trauma and fear, and manipulate them however you liked. Back when your control was non-existent you would drift into people’s heads whenever you slept like some wayward soul and saw far too much far too young.

The need to understand yourself and your quirk is what drove you to studying medicine. Neuropsychology, mainly. You carved meditative techniques into the very recesses of your own brain and learned to keep your consciousness tightly moored but had no real ambition beyond that. After the war and the complete upheaval and reform of hero society, it was difficult to find your place.

Until Okumura Yukiko.

At the small age of eight, Yukiko fell under the effects of a severe nightmare quirk, and despite the quirk being canceled she couldn’t wake up naturally. You had carefully walked through the delicate threads that made up her young mindscape—quirk-infested by formless shadows with knife-sharp teeth and worse, eerie figures that wore the appearance of her father—you found her trembling inside her mothers figmental wardrobe, took her hand, and guided her out.

When you came to she was curled up in the swaddle of your arms, trembling still, but awake. Her timid incantations ring true in your ears even now. Those tiny little thank you, thank you, thank you’s inspired the person you are today. Not quite a doctor, or a therapist. A specialist for special cases.

Something in your gut told you that traipsing into Midoriya Izuku’s mind wouldn’t be simple. That it would permanently change things. This isn’t some stranger, or a patient you’d never cross paths with again. He’s important to you in a way others aren’t.

Your hand hovers over his face, fingertips brushing his temple. You push your fingers into his thick green hair, rich in colour and soft, no knots to catch on your knuckles. His friends have been visiting in shifts, keeping him comfortable and presentable.

Bakugo had managed to keep the Hero Commission at bay for the time being, but if you came back without Midoriya tomorrow there would be far more than one scowling man looming in your office. Though the possibility left a bad taste in your mouth you can admit, in the privacy of your thoughts, that you’ve contemplated prolonging his recovery for the sake of allowing Midoriya rest. There must be something keeping him under, his genuine reluctance or worse; you’ve been reassured repeatedly of All for One’s death and the absence of the previous quirk holders but it’s best to exercise vigilance.

Midoriya does not react, not even a twitch of his nose, but there’s a flutter beneath his eyelids and a sleepy-sweet warmth to him that has you smiling, fond. Tucking your feet around the legs of your chair, you scoot it forward and bend closer, elbows resting on the edge of the hospital bed. “I’m not sure you can hear me in there. Maybe not. But I hope you won’t hate me for this,” you tell him.

Midoriya’s face remains serene as ever—more so than you can remember. It makes you wonder how much pain and discomfort he’s been hiding throughout your interactions. The tension has been sapped from his expression, lashes fanning over his cheeks. You’re close enough to count each individual freckle. Lightly, your thumb taps the space between his brows. “There are a lot of people out here that love you. They’re waiting for you to wake up, so I’ll have to have a look around your head a bit. Okay?”

Nothing. Heartbeat monitor pulsing a healthy rhythm, broad chest rising and falling, Midoriya continues to sleep. You sigh and cast a final glance around the private hospital room. The clock reads 18:22. Outside the window you see a single cloud, wispy as a dandelion, slowly disintegrate across the dusky sky. You make a cradle with your arm, head resting in the crook while you take Midoriya’s hand and try to relax. Anticipation turns in your gut. Years of experience aside, you’ve never really acclimated to the feeling of that first step into another’s subconscious.

Pressure gathers inside your skull as your quirk activates. You inhale a quick, wounded breath at the sensation. Your eyes roll back, vision swallowed by abrupt darkness, and you jerk against the distinct sensation of falling as your stomach roils. You’re overwhelmed by a cacophony of images and sounds—a determination that happiness would come, then moored to the burden of expectation, any optimism muffled under exhaustion and pain, replaced swiftly by a sense of discontent, grief and regret that swelled over time.

And then everything stops.

Your arms feel empty. Your chest feels hungry. You ache with it, the disquieting loneliness. Fog leaks into the memory, surroundings concealed beneath a thick mist. Behind you is a small pond. There’s a notebook soaking in the water. The koi are mouthing curiously at the weathered corners, faint black tendrils of ink curling off the charred pages. Scrawled boldly across the top is ‘Hero Analysis for The Future: No. 13’. Your strikingly young reflection ripples as you plunge your hand in and fish it out, holding it at arm's length as you shake the excess away.

Sufficiently less soaked, you draw the notebook to your front and carefully turn the cover to read the first page. You can feel the slight indentations on the back where a pen has been pressed hard enough to score the words through the page. Written inside, smudged but undeniable, is Midoriya Izuku’s name.

“Uh—excuse me…” a shaky, pitched voice comes from behind you, belonging to a very familiar pair of teary eyes. Midoriya is not just small, he’s scrawny. His hair is longer, unable to decide on which direction it wants to grow, and his middle school uniform is slightly ill-fitting, as though his mother bought it a size bigger for longevity. He ducks into the higher collar to hide his reddened face when you look at him.

The urge to bundle him up and hide him from the world is fierce. The situation is odd, but you offer a smile and his blush worsens. “Is this yours?” you ask, holding up the notebook. You try not to grimace at your own childlike voice. Midoriya nods frantically. His hands flex around the straps of his backpack. Smaller than the broad palms you’re familiar with, neither scarred nor crooked, trembling where they motion to clasp around the notebook. Your fingers brush and he attempts to swallow the yelp that bubbles in his throat.

“Thank you,” he stammers, pressing the notebook flat to his own chest. Midoriya swallows. His gaze never strays from you, growing brighter with each passing second as the idea in his head takes shape.

“Do you go to school here?”

“Oh,” you blink and the shadows have elongated. The pond is now hugging a school building. You recognise it despite never having seen it before. Aldera Junior High. “I don't,” you answer, sounding sorry. He predictably deflates. “I live close by, though!”

Midoriya perks up again. He shifts his weight between each foot. Red faced and unsteady, he quietly asks, “Do you think we could be friends?”

Your mouth slacks a bit, answers dying in your throat. You look down at your hands, palms upturned and unblemished. The dappled sunlight passes through your incorporeal form. Interaction with anything aside from the true patient during your work is incredibly rare though not entirely unfounded; people who daydream in vivid detail or ruminate chronically on old regrets usually had false memories in excess. Their minds seem to naturally meld around your intrusion, but they never went so far as to seamlessly incorporate you. Which can only mean one thing.

You fit because Midoriya has imagined this numerous times before—befriending you as a child.

Before you can respond you’re being dragged abruptly into a memory, the echo of a blinding flash of pain rippling through you. A reflexive gasp has your chest heaving and you curse at your lack of control. There’s barely a shard of light. Behind you is a hard, jagged surface but below is loose, uprooted. Attempts to move are futile, and agonising. You slump into the displaced rubble, silt and icy embrace, and listen. From above there is only a haunting silence but only a few feet ahead you hear muffled crying and Bakugo’s strangely tinny voice.

Your vision adjusts in increments, from pure darkness to a soft outlined blob to a comfortingly familiar silhouette. Midoriya is poised like an Atlantean statue, holding up the creaking structure and keeping it from crushing the young girl cowered in front of him.

Another wave of pain washes over you as the rubble groans. Midoriya bites back a whimper. His body is sinew and bone pulled taut, skin stretched over a drum. Everything seemed to swell dramatically around him.

“We’re almost there, kid. Two minutes,” Bakugo’s voice spills jarringly from the bulky earpiece hugging Midoriya’s ear. “Now look at Deku for me. You lookin’?” the young girl does as he commands. You see her trepidation falter at the easy smile Deku is wearing. “Bet he’s got a big dumb grin on his face right now, yeah?”

“Y—yeah,” she echoes, clutching the dirtied hem of her dress.

“You think he’d be smiling if there was anythin’ to be scared of?”

Her shoulders slant, the tension released, and she offers a tremulous smile of her own, “No”.

But you can feel, quite viscerally, how scared Deku was in that moment. The nauseating pain in his arms has dwindled into numbness and he daren’t spare himself more than the occasional shallow breath, as if the bloating of his lungs alone might disrupt his balance. Not once does his smile falter.

The surroundings warp again. You struggle against the whiplash, flung unwillingly into another memory. Breath forced from your lungs, the echo of Izuku’s pain dissipates in a blink and you land on unsteady feet, coughing and spluttering in the middle of an eclectic café covered in tinsel.

A sign written in cursive above the chalkboard menu reads ‘Mean Mug’. Melodious Christmas music plays quietly overhead, and the bell above the door is soft enough to get lost in the smooth notes. You’re cocooned by heat and met with bold patterned wallpaper. The unifying palette seems to be warm-toned colours; red, orange and brown come together amidst the mismatched decor to create a cosy atmosphere.

A half heartedly disguised Midoriya shuffles awkwardly by the counter, looking up at the door with trepidation every time the bell chimes to signal another customer. He grins once Uravity arrives in a casual disguise of her own, eyes still bright beneath the shadow of his cap.

They order and settle in a quaint alcove away from the windows and any prying eyes. Neither hero notices your presence as you seat yourself at their table and listen to their conversation. There are things you don’t understand. Code words to be used when discussing sensitive matters outside of their agencies. Inside jokes that you weren’t there for. But most curious of all is the knowing look on Uraraka’s face when Midoriya mentions that he saw you at the hospital that day.

“You’re hopeless, Deku-kun,” she says, as fond as she is amused. “What was your excuse this time?”

Midoriya clears his throat. He grips his cup, pressing until his knuckles turn white. It draws your attention to the thin cast splinting his ring and middle fingers together. “I broke my fingers sparring with Kirishima”.

You remember that, though too entrenched in his memory to attempt receding into yours for details.

“So you leapt halfway across the city to have them stuck together despite the fact that your agency has an on-site infirmary,” Uraraka’s hair falls in a gentle swoop beneath her jaw as she laughs. Midoriya shrinks into himself ever so slightly and her eyes soften. She pokes at his forearm. “C’mon Deku—why haven’t you asked yet? Do you really think you’ll get rejected?”

Glancing back and forth between them, your heart beats a tattoo across the inside of your ribs. You feel as if you’ve both missed something quite important and heard too much. You push your chair backwards and fall away from the table, and the memory, before Midoriya can respond.

With renewed determination—and heat rising to your cheeks—you reign in your quirk, steering cautiously through Midoriya’s subconscious mind as you should’ve in the first place. Images flicker in and around your periphery, each as desperate to draw you in as the last.

You see Midoriya crying, bleeding, lashing out in anger. You see him in a sterilised room, lulled by monotonous beeps, flesh stitched back together. You hear the doctor's voices coalesce into white noise. You watch as he’s handed crudely drawn thank you cards, coffee-stained police reports and thick manila envelopes marked as confidential in large red letters.

You turn away as Eraserhead approaches, a solemn expression, a quiet clink accompanying his footsteps, unnaturally heavy to one side, a young girl with silver hair following right behind him.

Your heart leaps to your throat when he screams in agony. You look down. There’s blood running down the street in rivulets, skin coming apart like wet paper.

You close your eyes. Next you risk a glance All Might is there, thinner than ever. He’s sitting in a wheelchair by a large window swaddled in a thick knitted blanket, watching over the city, smiling.

You turn away, feeling a pang of grief. Midoriya is expressionless, examining his battered body in the mirror, condensation still lingering on the glass, tendrils of heat curling upward as the shower drain gurgles.

Then he’s in a dark room bringing a stranger's hand to his mouth, kissing the centre of their palm, drawing the finger into his kiss-bitten mouth and sucking with a hazy gleam in his eyes.

It’s overwhelming. You stumble and suddenly Shouto is eating across from Izuku. He brings his chopsticks to his lips, noodles hung limp between them. “It’s obvious you like each other. You should just confess,” he says before shovelling his food.

Too private. You turn on your heel and find a patient of yours on the bed, unresponsive. Izuku is beside you, muttering under his breath, thumb pressed to the shadow beneath his lip. He reaches back to brush your wrist and offers a tentative touch of reassurance. You watch yourself lean against him for a moment and then retreat, grateful for his consideration, unneeding of it, and desperately wanting it, all at once.

The scene ripples violently. A reporter is staring up at Izuku with sparkling eyes. Her hair cycles through an array of colours as she shakes with excitement. “It’s amazing, Deku-san,” she insists. “For your spirit to be so heroic that it physically steers your body… that’s special!”

Izuku conceded with a strained laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. You feel how his stomach knots. “I used to think so too,” he says, sounding far away.

It’s the middle of the night somewhere when your search finally comes to a halt. You find you’ve landed on an empty street, in that dense, heavy darkness that makes you feel like the only person in the world who’s awake. There’s a tall residential building hugging the pavement. Intuitively, you know this is where Izuku lives.

Your footsteps are made heavy by Izuku’s lingering hurt and exhaustion. It’s disconcerting, the way he feels about his apartment. Coming home should be effortless. People come home in the same way they draw breath. But to Izuku, it's a weary, miserable journey that he must consciously think about and do. His perennial loneliness is overwhelming, a near physical force repelling you from opening the large glass door.

One foot in the lobby and the surroundings undulate. You’re dropped in the middle of his living room. It’s vacant. There’s a large box of case files tucked under the coffee table, an old takeout box left out on the counter, a blanket strewn haphazardly over the couch cushions. You pinch the soft fabric and rub it between your fingers, bringing it to your nose as you’re overcome by the urge to smell it. Izuku’s warm scent floods your senses.

Something thuds outside, followed by a tinkling of keys on a chain. Your blood runs quicker as the front door abruptly opens. Izuku looks harried as he ducks into the genkan, quite visibly frayed. The upper half of his hero suit is unzipped, pushed down to hang over his hips, littered with debris and dry mud. You hold your breath as he kicks off his shoes and lifts his head, meeting your wide-eyed gaze. The air around you is charged. Trepidation prickles at your nape.

Then the shadows over his stormy face recede. Izuku gentles, light returning to his previously empty eyes. “I’m home,” he breathes. “I missed you”. His voice shivers down your spine—you know in your gut that this is him, the real Izuku, but that fact is hard to believe while he’s looking at you like he wants you.

“Welcome home,” you smile back, slipping the blanket around your shoulders as you move toward him. “Hard day at—?”

Your intentions are to sit him down, keep him calm so as not to be ejected, and explain what’s happening, but before you have the chance his larger body crowds you against the wall—the dull impact reverberates through your ribs, knocking the breath from your lungs and he’s kissing you as if it’s something he always does.

Though it’s more of a collision than a kiss. The sensation is indescribable. Information spills into your mouth, your quirk reflexively absorbing his every fantasy, ache and want. Your knees almost buckle. The blanket puddles at your feet. Fingers snake into his thick hair, nails dig into his roots where skin becomes earth as you try to reciprocate his fervour.

Under your tongue you feel the cut on his lip, under your palms the dark swell across his cheek. You shake off the cloud of desire. Too many lines have already been crossed. “Izuku,” you whine. His name comes naturally now; you know him deeply enough. Blunt teeth graze at your jaw, your throat. You lean away for air only to catch a glimpse of another angry ivory-red bruise peeking from beneath his loose collar. “Izuku,” you tried again. Then louder. “Izuku, that’s enough”.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Izuku rasps as he rears up from the crook of your neck with wide, glassy eyes.

“No—I’m,” your heart beats hard in your ears. Dread sinks low in your belly. “It’s me. I’m really here, Izuku. You’ve been away for too long. I had to use my quirk. We need to wake up”.

“Wake up? You’re… oh,” his eyes grow wider, then shutter closed on a shaky exhale. The cut on his bottom lip has started bleeding again. Rivulets seeped into the cracks between his teeth and stained his gums red. You yearn for the searing heat of his hands as he releases you and staggers backwards to scrub at his face. “Oh my god”.

“Wait. Please don’t throw me out,” you say quickly, reaching to clutch at his wrist in case he panicked. Izuku tenses at the contact only to relax a beat later, his fingers spreading over his eyes so he can get a peek at you. “It took me forever to find you here. There’s a lot of stuff in your head”.

“I won’t. I wouldn’t,” he mumbles. You could collapse in relief. He’s not angry, he’s embarrassed.

“Thank you. I promise I tried not to look at anything too private”. Your mind didn’t make it easy, you think. It was almost like he wanted me to see everything.

Izuku groans and lets his hands drop to his sides in defeat, revealing an entirely pink face. You keep your fingers curled around his wrist, his pulse light and fast. “Okay. I’m okay. We should probably sit down for this,” he eventually croaks, a tremulous smile working its way across his lips. “Drink?”

You pick up the blanket and make your way to the couch while he briefly disappears into the kitchen. Around you the apartment takes on a rosy sheen. A dull clink shudders through the silence as Izuku sets a cup on the coffee table in front of you. It’s your favourite work mug down to the smallest details.

“You remembered this old thing?”

Shaped like a cat, the handle curved in and away like a feline’s tail. It’s piping hot, steam already curling up from it like a crooked finger, like the invitation he meant it to be.

Izuku nodded awkwardly, perched so far forward that it stretched credulity to say he was on the couch at all. He tracks your movements with intensity when you lean to pick up the hot drink. The initial sting to your palms quickly dwindles into numbness as you bring it closer and realise what’s inside. Hot chocolate. The surface sprinkled with those small, cube shaped marshmallows that he likes.

You swallow and feel the warmth spread through your body. A smile pulls at the corner of your mouth as the thick, saccharine flavour floods your senses, washing back the bitterness and thawing your anxiety. You can hear the tension in Izuku’s shoulders snap as he slumps forward, arms hung over his knees and head low in relief. His reaction is oddly vindicating, if not contagious.

“How long have I been asleep?” he asks. “Time is weird here”.

“You’ve been comatose for over two weeks,” you reply. “They tried everything they could before Bakugo insisted on bringing me in. You have a lot of people waiting for you”.

Izuku inhales sharply. He makes an aborted motion to scoot closer before thinking better of it. Your attention strays to the nervous wringing of his battle worn hands. Endeared, you put your mug down and close the distance yourself. Pressed thigh to thigh, you envelop his tightly curled fists, bringing them into your lap. The shaky breath he takes is loud in the otherwise quiet room.

“Honestly I’m surprised you’re still working”.

He looks at you with an unsure, watery smile, sunlight caught in glassy eyes. His voice is thick as he asks, “What do you mean?”

You smile sadly and run your thumb over his knuckles. “You’ve been on patrol. I thought you might’ve locked yourself in your head because you needed a proper break—and who could blame you, really. But you’re working yourself thin even in your dreams”.

Izuku huffed a laugh, more breath than humour. “I love being a hero. It’s what I’ve always wanted,” he says, his voice tight. You sink into his side and feel his diaphragm stutter. “But it isn’t everything. It felt like I was suffocating and I needed something more. Something to come home to for a little while…”

His red-rimmed eyes quickly return to his lap when you meet them. “I still can’t believe you’re here. Your quirk really is incredible”.

You can feel the shame swatting at you like a summer-born heatwave, reminded of just how deeply you’ve invaded his privacy, and how easily you overstepped your bounds.

“I’m so sorry,” he continues, at the same time that you tell him, “I’m sorry, Izuku”.

“Please. Let me go first,” he murmurs like a question. You nod your assent. “I’m sorry I forced myself on you. I thought you were a part of my imagination, like the rest of this place. I should have realised you weren’t. I’m sorry,” he rambles on. “I wanted to be closer to you but I got carried away and I’m sorry”.

“You couldn’t have known. I should have told you it was me as soon as you walked in,” you firmly interject. Izuku doesn’t look any less stricken in your periphery, cheek sunken where he’s gnawing at the flesh. “And you didn’t force anything. I hardly pushed you away,” your brow wrinkles and you smile despite yourself. “I got a little lost in your head, too. Not my most professional moment I admit. But I wouldn’t want to leave either, if we were cuddled up in here all day”.

“Really?” Izuku blinks. Hope colours his cheeks. He clears his throat and shifts in place as he tries very hard to appear unaffected. “You don’t think it’s creepy—me picturing all this with you?”

You think of that young boy yoked with the burden of expectation and feel your heart crack. You can still taste his desires. They’re insipid, belying their age, as though they’d lingered long enough to stale. Izuku treasured his friends and fans', their love and loyalty; yet he felt guilty for allowing them to foster such a blind faith in his goodness. He was a man with faults like any other, capable of making mistakes, of inflicting harm. More than anything Izuku longed for someone to see the darker, uglier corners of his life, and make room for all of him. And you wanted to be the one to do it.

“I’ve imagined this with you. This and more,” bolstered by everything you’ve seen, the confession spills out with startling ease. Your eyes squint above the curve of your grin. “I like you too,” you coaxed his fist open as you spoke, mapping out the carved furrows, shallows and depths on his palm. “A lot”.

“Oh,” he exhales, slowly entangling your fingers.

You give an emphatic nod.

“How mad is Kacchan?”

“Pretty mad. But when is he not?” you laugh at his grimace. “I’ll be there as a buffer when you wake up. It’s my professional opinion that you need a few more days to recuperate and take me out for crêpes. So will you come home with me?”

There’s a gleam in his eyes—a combination of warmth and weight that tugs at your chest. His gaze flickers across your face, from your lips to your eyes in askance. You lean in and he kisses you again, sipping gently at your mouth, firm and slightly sticky with congealed blood. Strange. It feels so real. You suppose it is, in all the ways that matter.

“Okay,” he whispers after one last peck to your lips. You get to your feet as he stands and gestures nervously toward the genkan. “I, uh. I don’t really know how to get out of here so… lead the way?”

You laugh and take him by the hand. “Don’t worry. The way home is always a lot faster. It’s a little disorienting—watch your step,” you warn as he follows you through the front door. Rather than the lobby, or a stairwell, both bodies are swallowed up by darkness.

Spat out just as abruptly, your senses return to you piece by piece. Breathing through the vertigo you peel your eyes open to the rapid rise and fall of Izuku’s chest as he reorients himself. A crick in your neck, a knot in your spine. The clock reads 07:12. There are already nurses bustling around the hospital bed, likely alerted by the frantic heart monitor; that which does little to hide the way Izuku’s pulse stutters when you lift your head to get a look at him.

“I’m up,” he says, throat rough from disuse. There’s a shaky smile on his face. “I’m home”.

Your hands are still entwined, albeit a little sweaty. You smile, “Welcome home”.

#deku x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #q’d

926 notes · View notes

propheticbride · 3 months ago

Text

Abducted

𐙚 Living among Joel’s group isn't so bad, you were fed and taken care of. The only downside? You could never leave him.

𐙚 Raider!Joel x Reader (tw: kidnapping, dubcon, reader is technically a hostage, joel is a bad man!)

AN: Listen to this, for maximum effect <3 reader is early 20s and Joel is mid-50s :3

You really missed your father. You couldn't remember what he looked like, not truly. Could not make out his features precisely, the way his face curved. Your heart dropped at the realization. The very person who had raised you, almost your entire life was gone. Viciously beat to death by the man who quietly slept beside you, his back to you.

Joel was an awful man, wasn't he? You had heard stories of him, at least a year before he had gotten to you. Your cousin returned from patrol with news of him carving up men in camps, stealing everything and leaving nothing but a butchered mess in his wake.

And for a while you couldn't believe men like that really existed, men who would take advantage of the innocent of the world. As if there wasn't already enough of that in the form of a vicious infection.

When he came to your camp, it was dark. You hadn't heard the attack at first, but rustling of the bushes around your tent made you quickly sit up. After screams and sounds of wet filled the air, tears streamed your face as he stood in front of you. Blood caked his face, fresh and new. His clothes were old and worn in. He was a truly frightening image to take in and you prepared for what you knew would come, his knife in your neck.

But it never did. A woman had entered your tent behind him, 'She's pretty.’

‘We’re takin her with us.’ he had muttered to her, and quickly turned and left.

The breaking in part was brutal, more brutal than what the soldiers had to endure you were sure. He wouldn't touch you, not yet. He left you alone for hours on end in an empty barren room, with no clothes on and realistically nothing to piss in. Then we would return, bloody and bruised and care for you, tricking your mind into believing he was the best thing for you. But after much pampering, he'd leave you on your own again. Alone and abandoned.

He would do this for a solid two months, until your will and mind shattered.

The last time, the last you could remember of that room, you had begged him to take you with him. Grabbing at his pant leg and refusing to let go, please please please.

‘Please take me with you!’ you had screamed, voice hearse.

‘Why, why darlin, what's the matter?’ he had asked you with a smirk. Joel was enjoying you, begging like this.

After all, the man had been a father. He would never force himself on someone unwilling, so in his mind; he needed you willing.

‘I love you. Please take me with you please!’ you cried.

‘You what now?’ he cupped his ear, pretended he didn't quite hear you.

Hot tears streamed your face, it was an awful position to be in. You wanted clothes, you wanted to be held. You wanted love again. ‘I love you.’

And with that, Joel had scooped you up and carried you to his room, and that’s when the sex began. Almost every night, no matter how sore you were or was from the night before. Pleasing him was the only real job you had.

Now you sat up in bed, the covers covering your bruised legs, all left over from his iron grip on them. He was not a gentle lover, nor did he make an effort to become one for you. He'd come back from his raids and take you, it didn't matter if you were doing anything. Because your only real job was pleasing him.

Sometimes, you thought about the repercussions of stabbing his throat and running. But his entire group, who worshiped Joel, would sic you like a dog and you found it wasn't worth it. And other times, you really fucking loved him.

“Darlin?” his gruff voice fills the silent room.

You quickly turn to him, watching as he rubs his eyes.

“You awake? Itso’ late”

“I’m sorry.” you murmur.

“C’mere baby.” Joel leans against the headboard and holds his arms out.

You waste no time practically launching yourself into his arms, he had bathed recently and the smell of outdated old spice (and maybe some musky cologne he had taken off a dead man’s body) filled your nose. God you missed him. He had been gone, not raiding but patrolling with Tess.

“How's my girl?” he asks.

“I’m okay. I missed you. I hate…hate it when you go.” you say, leaning into his shoulder. “When you leave, and I…can't go with you. Something dies inside me.”

You can't see it, but Joel grins. A wide grin he hasn't smiled since he held Sarah.

“What dies darlin?” he begins rubbing your back. A tactic he used after abandoning you for days, when he sat you in the bath and promised he wouldn't do it again only to do it…again.

“I dunno. Something hurts, like in my stomach when you leave.” you pull away to look at him. Joel was pretty, too pretty for you to possibly deserve. And he thought you were pretty enough to take.

“I’m not really leavin you doll, not really. Jus’ gotta go protect our little family, you know that right?” he kisses your forehead.

“I know. You wouldn't leave me.” you tell yourself mostly.

“Now, I’m glad you’re awake.” he starts. “I had a dream darlin, a good one.” Joel reaches down to his pajama pants where a tent is forming. “Think my lil doll can help her daddy?”

You nod, nervous.

He pulls his pants down, along with his boxers. You take a deep breath and begin small kisses on his dick. He sucks in a breath and collects your hair in his hands.

You continue to kiss at his drooling shaft when he starts huffing, “Just suck it doll, don't need to be teasin’ me and shit.”

“Sorry daddy.” you murmur.

You take him all in your mouth, using your tongue to wet his dick more.

“Oh god damn, I knew you were the one… god, good girl.” he groans. It's filthy, in the gruffy voice he knew you loved. “I knew I was right to take you. Got a mouth like an angel.”

The comment made you dizzy. I was right to take you.

You continue to work him, until he pulls you off. A sign he's close.

“Come ride me darlin, let me feel that tight lil hole.” he grins at you.

You nod and allow him to undress your pajama shorts and panties off. He bunches the fabric up and brings them to his face, inhaling the scent you left behind.

Small things turned you on, you weren't sure why. Maybe proof he indeed was attracted to you and it was proof that you weren't just a toy he fucked.

Growing frustrated, Joel simply grabs you and places you on his dick with little to no effort. He's sheathed fully, he's completely inside of you. You whimper slightly.

“Now hush darlin, you’ve taken this cock about a dozen times now. Don't be so damn shy.” he tells you, shaking his head.

Joel begins pumping into you, while at the same time grabbing your hips and bouncing you on him. The movement was all too much, too dizzy. You try your best to keep up with him, but Joel is always an animal. Too insatiable to do really anything. So you do what you’ve learned to do best in these situations: you simply take it.

“Fuuuuck.” he moans. “God this never gets fuckin old. Your pussy is all mine, mine to have and mine to fuck. Got that?”

His stamina never amazed you, despite being almost over half his age he still fucked you like you’d imagine a young frat boy would. Only Joel was better. He knew what thrusts when and how to angle them to hit your little spot inside, knew how to send you seeing stars.

“You hear me?” Joel smacks you.

“Yes! I’m…I’m yours!” you agree and nod.

“Good.” he begins to pick up his thrusts. And you sat there, taking it like the good toy you have become for him. “Hate when I gotta repeat myself with you. You young people are so annoyin’, never fuckin listening.”

“I’m sorry-”

“Always are doll.” Joel kisses your forehead and his final thrusts get lazy, and he finishes inside you.

You both stay there for a little. Joel trying to catch his breath, his age truly showing. You cuddle into his chest, your head below his chin. In the beginning there were no small moments like this, only sex and he’d leave to shower or go back to Tommy.

But now, he likes to cuddle you and coddle you. Was the mean terrible raider that everyone feared…growing affection for you? No no. You couldn't delude yourself into thinking someone like him could love anyone, let alone someone he stole.

#joel miller x reader #tlou smut #the last of us #pedro pascal #:pp #raider!joel #dark!joel miller

306 notes · View notes

sooslick · 1 month ago

Text

Part Two

Il Capitano X Reader

Theme: SAGAU

‹Part one›

"Forgive us for such an attitude, Your Grace." His rough male voice rang out. He wouldn't dare look at you unless you let him. The Fatui agents were shocked and this realization came to them too. They also fell to their knees before you, cursing themselves for daring to attack their Creator.

You stood there in absolute shock. "What the hell..?" Just a few hours ago you were a normal person, just living your normal daily routine, and now you are HERE and they call you.. "Your Grace..? What?" You said out loud, barely having spoken it out, looking dumbfounded at the man’s lowered head.

The man still dared to look up in your direction, "Please, your highness, these soldiers should not have attacked you, I—we thought it was someone else, considering that they were just wandering around the snowy forest 2 kilometers from the Fatui base."

His explanation, if you can say so, didn't make you feel any better or understand it any more. One thing was clear. They wouldn't kill you. You mentally breathed a sigh of relief, At least you'll be able to wake up whole. Although you already doubted that this was just a dream. Everything was eerily realistic, especially the cold wind that made your bones tremble under the thin fabric of your pajamas.

Noticing this, the Harbinger frowned under his helmet. He couldn't let their Creator freeze to death in the cold of Snezhnaya. With a quick movement, he took off his fur coat and wrapped it around your small (compared to him) body.

You immediately felt the warm fur of his coat and it felt incredibly good when your body finally started to warm up— wait, you were still barefoot. But Capitano had almost figured this out as well, looking towards one of the agents, the poor guy had to take off his shoes, at least that was the only thing he could do at the moment, to deserve your mercy and the mercy of the First Harbinger.

"Will you allow me, Your Grace?" Captaino asked, still avoiding your direct eye contact, but standing with a pair of warm shoes. Unable to find better words, you had to just throw it out, it all still seemed so surreal and so strange, that it even made you think that it was better to agree than to go on their bad side if something happened because of your refusal.

With a deft movement, the Harbinger knelt in front of you, offering you to lean on him for balance. He lifted your ankle and wiped your foot of the dampness with the edge of your fur coat that you wore, because of the snow and to avoid the risk of your illness, although he did not think that their Creator was even familiar with such mortal things. He put the boot on you, they were certainly too big for you, at least a couple of sizes too big, if not bigger, but something was better than nothing, right? He did the same with your other leg so that your legs would warm up faster.

And only then did he stand up, looking over your figure to make sure that you were at least a little protected from the cold of this snowy region of Teyvat. He understood that your head was not protected from the cold, and I swear, if he could, he would wrap you in a scarf, put on a hat and throw a couple of fur coats on top so that you would not freeze, after all, perhaps it was unusual for you to deal with such a temperature. All you could do was just stand there, afraid to ask or say anything, lest things turn against you.

He looked you over again before speaking again.: "Your Grace, if you don't mind, let me take you to a warmer place. This is the Fatui base, but I will guarantee your safety, although no one will dare to lay a finger on you, let alone harm you in any way."

It made you think. It made sense that you needed warmth and a place to stay and find a way to get back, because with such care, this tall man didn't seem like any kind of suspicious or having something against you. But at the same time, something inside you told you to refuse, it was unwise to go with a stranger, and his hidden face under the helmet did not give you any hint about this man's intentions. In any case, you had to agree, hearing the howl of a wild wolf in the distance, it was better to go with him than to stay overnight in the forest among wild animals.

You nodded, and the man, with a respectful nod, led you to his horse, keeping a respectful distance between you.

#sagau fatui #genshin cult au #il capitano #capitano x you #capitano x reader #fatui harbingers #genshin impact fatui #fatui x reader #genshin sagau #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #sagau x reader #genshin impact sagau #sagau cult au

298 notes · View notes

nozunhinged · 4 months ago

Text

Okay okay okaaaayyyyy I swear I also have smart thoughts that are NOT related to boys artistically smashing on screen BUT korntonkla in 4 minutes is such a prime example of plot driven intimacy if not THE prime example in all of the BL I've watched so far. We all know mystery and timejumps and how they are done well and visuals we need to look for but when it comes to physical intimacy as a plot device everything suddenly goes to shit so here I am.

I'm going to explain why korntonklas scene was the perfect way to establish their relationship and how this is so, so, much more than just a "NC scene" (btw I HATE this acronym with a passion), it's an essential part of the story that cannot be left out.

But I do understand it's not everyone's cup of tea so I am going to seize screenshots or GIFs but plssssss keep reading the scene deserves it! Even more if you've skipped it!

Ok now with the disclaimers out of the way, let's talk about Korn and tonkla.

The flow of their scene was absolutely perfect from start to finish and not a single second was wasted. Their sugar relationship is established immediately with the topic of work as the center. Thanks to that we learn what their relationship is in the first place, which purpose it serves korn and what that says about him. His sweet words are the turning point to shift the focus on tonkla. They are too sweet, almost cheesy, they're empty and meaningless but we watch tonkla eating them up like candy and the stage is set for the exploration of their dynamic.

Tonklas way of rewarding these words, which brings us the iconic bareback moment.

Tonkla turns from cute and confident to incredibly needy the moment the heat turns up and we understand in a split second that he wants more from his daddy than just his dick. He wants his trust, a true connection, the level a relationship could potentially reach and his only chance in their current setting to articulate that is by yeah, asking if Korn could go in raw.

And how he doesn't even say no, he just rips the condom open.

Oh boy no dialogue in the world could replace THAT, I'm telling you. Now we know he uses his power in this moment to cover up his cowardice and acts like the one whos in control. I have a feeling this way of dealing with things will bite him in the ass later.

Meanwhile tonkla just takes everything he could get. And if that wasn't enough to let us know what's going on here, we double down with a round of helping tonkla cum.

That makes him look generous and loving and of course it would make tonklan even happier because that's (unfortunately) not the norm. Another way of covering up his uuh...let's call it mediocre performance.

But in tonklas eyes, he's so lucky to have him. Korns knows he has to take good care of his puppy if he wants to keep him. How do we learn that? Well in their afterglow all tonkla does is cling to Korn to bask in every moment he gets with him while Korn is completely out of it, visibly enjoying his stress relief.

And let's be real here, he may have jerked his boy off but dude held it for like 10 seconds before he busted whimpering like a damn loser no amount of money makes you this happy in the way tonkla is clinging to him. Puppy is down bad.

The conclusion of it all—the make out scene before they get interrupted—is the cherry on top, now we know how their dymanic works and how it functions in the overall story. Chefs kiss, I'm telling you.

I could go on how many plot points we've established in this one intimate scene but this is already too long uuuugh.

Korn and his relationship with tonkla painted a perfect picture of his character and the issues he has and will have to deal with and I'm telling you there was NO BETTER WAY to establish than with this scene.

And I haven't even touched on the natural movements of the actors, the realistic flow of things that make everything so palpable, tiny details like Korn holding his dick after he lubed it up. It's not relevant to the plot but makes the intented plot points SHINE because you don't stumble over clunky or unrealistic execution and can concentrate on what's happening with the characters UGHHHHHH SO GOOD!!!

Man that's A+ direction and I'm in absolute awe.

#4 minutes the series #4 minutes

251 notes · View notes

melobin · 3 months ago

Note

omg did you see the eunseok day off thing? the moment he started making that bee thing I just wanted to kiss him until I pass out ughh 😵‍💫😵‍💫 anywaysss could you please do how riize would react to you trying distract them with kisses (or even more iykyk) while they're trying to put some new toy/figure together? or even just eunseok because i'm literally crawling for this man rn

if you can't it's ok tho, just needed to put this thought outta me before it ate me alive 🤭🤭

trying to distract them

shotaro

shotaro would let you, no questions asked. unless he’s doing something really important, all of his attention is going to you. he’s more than happy to drop what he’s doing to focus on you and let you kiss him. would put the thing down immediately and forget about it for as long as you’re with him for, all you have to do is litter little kisses against his cheek and he’s all yours. will definitely try to put it together later on but would find himself distracted thinking about you instead.

eunseok

eunseok would ignore you on purpose, just to tease you. realistically, he doesn’t care about the toy he’s building but he loves the way you whine when you don’t get his attention when you want it. will wait till you’re sulking and sighing and going to leave before he drops the toy and pulls you down onto his lap, laughing at you for being so needy for his attention. kisses you and tells you he’ll make it up to you for teasing you, kissing your neck whilst running his fingers over your body. wouldn’t be long until his fingers are inching under your clothes and pushing inside of you. suddenly thinks the best thing to do is to fuck you and then let you cuddle sleepily into him whilst he finishes building it.

sungchan

sungchan is a wild card, his reaction depends on how he’s feeling that day. he could melt under your touch and drop what he’s doing instantly, leaning into the kiss and holding you as close as he can or he’ll tease you and tell you he’ll get to you when he’s done. giggling when you whine about how long he’s taking and kiss at his neck. sungchan is really easy to work up and make hard so it isn’t difficult for you to get him where you want him, he just has too much self restraint and will make himself suffer just to tease you that little bit more. will make it up to you after by sitting you on the very table he was using and eating you out until you’re crying.

wonbin

wonbin is similar to sungchan in the sense that his reaction depends on how he’s feeling that day, he’s more likely to cave right away than to tease you though. when he’s feeling more teasing, he’ll taunt you. copying your whines when he doesn’t react to your kisses with a smile on his face whilst he fiddles with the piece of the toy, turns to you smiling whilst you’re pouting back at him. ends up putting the toy down and pulling you into him whilst telling you how cute you are, kissing you as an apology and promising to give you all of his attention once he’s done. on the flip side, most of the time wonbin would end up caving into your touch and letting you climb onto his lap so you can kiss him properly, gets so lost into it that the two of you end up making out for hours before you even think about moving to the bed.

seunghan

seunghan would be a difficult one to properly distract, partly because he’s invested in whatever he’s building but also because he likes to make you work for it. he wants you to be pawing at him shirt and whining for his attention whilst kissing at his neck, all whilst he laughs and tells you he’ll be done soon and to be patient. he’s not afraid to grab you to make you look at him and ask you to be a good girl whilst he finishes what he’s doing, promises he’ll make you feel good when he’s done but for now he needs you to be a good girl and wait. will reward you so well if you do wait but if you don’t then he’s more than happy to make you cock warm him whilst he continues doing his toy.

sohee

sohee wants to attempt to not be interested in the way you kiss his skin gently and run you fingers over his lap, but he can’t. ends up pushing a piece of the toy together a little too hard causing it to slip out of his hands and make a loud noise against the table startling you both. that’s when he gives in and leans back, running his hand through his hair before looking at you and letting you kiss him, sighing when you giggle about him getting frustrated. he’s the one who ends up pouting, waiting for you to stop giggling before kissing him.

anton

anton would have no composure at all and would give up even thinking about putting the toy together, the moment you sat next to him his thoughts would be gone and as soon as you press your lips to his skin he’s done for. he’s instantly turning his head so he can kiss you properly, his arms wrapping around you so he can pull you to sit on his lap. the toy wouldn’t even cross his mind when he has his lips on yours, though it would be a fun game to make him put it together whilst jerking him off and not letting him cum until it’s completely finished !!

#✧ melody answers #✧ anon #✧ hard hours ✧#riize smut #shotaro smut #eunseok smut #sungchan smut #wonbin smut #seunghan smut #sohee smut #anton smut

308 notes · View notes

changbunnies · 9 months ago

Text

One & Only (18+)

♡ Pairing: Boyfriend!Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: fluff, smut, pre-established relationship, some light plot to establish the setting, college au but it's a background detail

♡ Word Count: 4.6k

♡ Summary: Following a perfect Valentine's Day date, you decide you're ready for the next step in your relationship with Chan. You want him, and you know he wants you- and the only thing left to do is tell him exactly how you feel.

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): petnames (pretty, baby) corruption kink, virgin + inexperienced reader, mutual masturbation, fingering (f rec), handjob

♡ Notes: i wanted to upload something short (compared to what i usually write anyways) for valentines day and i’ve been wanting to write corruption kink channie for a while now, so what better time to do it! i hope you enjoy <3

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

You sighed as you flopped on the bed, freshly changed into your pajamas- next to you lies Chan, your best friend and roommate turned boyfriend, easily the love of your life, and you nervously chew your bottom lip, faced with the choice of what to do next now that your first Valentine's Day as a couple had come to an end. Returning to your shared apartment, nerves rattling away at you as you changed out of your prettiest, formal dress and now on the bed, trying your best not to overthink your situation.

If you were being blunt and honest, you just really wanted to have sex with him- or at least take the next step in that direction. But the thought of it was utterly nerve wracking; every time he looked at you with his handsome, dimpled smile and pretty brown eyes, and you pictured seeing that same expression while he was hovering over you in your newly shared bed, it made your heart race out of control.

After an awkward, impromptu confession that led to you becoming a couple, the two of you slowly began sharing your space, until one day you stopped going back forth between bedrooms and decided to just share one. You chose your room to share in the end- Chan, the gentleman that he is, let you have the larger room when you moved into this apartment as roommates, and it was the natural choice when deciding which of you would be moving their belongings into the other room. And it was nice, exciting even, to help Chan move his belongings into your space until it became not justs yours but his too.

But lately, sharing a bedroom served a problem- now that you slept in the same bed every night, you were becoming increasingly more aware of how badly you want him. And thanks to being friends and roommates before you were together, you knew had experience- experience that you felt you were sorely lacking. And it's not like you ever felt shame over the fact that you were still a virgin in college (as it's much more realistic than tv shows and movies would lead you to believe) but somewhere deep down you worried your lack of experience would make things awkward and unenjoyable.

That awareness of experience was equal, because in turn Chan was well aware of your sexual history (or lack thereof). You knew he wouldn't judge you, he would never be anything but kind and considerate, but it was hard to prevent self doubt from digging its claws into your embarrassingly fragile heart. You knew it was silly to feel this way knowing all that you do about Chan's character and his care for you that extends beyond titles of friend or girlfriend, but your nerves ate away at you regardless.

You kissed people before Chan, and that was unfortunately the extent of your prior experience. Your kisses were shared with fleeting crushes in high school, inside the confines of short lived relationships that never made it past first base. You didn't mind at the time- you weren't ready for more then, and you weren't going to compromise on sex just to keep a relationship going. But now here you were, an adult with little to no experience; and now that you were ready you were plagued by the idea that all of the awkwardness and exploration you could've gotten past in your adolescence will now be Chan's burden.

He wouldn't actually view it as such, you knew for a complete fact that he wouldn't- but the thing about self doubt is that logical thought does little to prevent it from taking root. And you felt terrible because Chan noticed you were feeling off since coming back to the apartment following your date; of course he did, he always noticed when you weren't acting like your usual self. You had such a perfect date together and now you were ruining it with your virginal rumination.

"What's on your mind, pretty?" Chan asks as he tucks the fallen hair behind your ears, the beautiful necklace he gifted you as your date came to a close perfectly adorning your neck. A silver locket in the shape of a heart, with dainty gems accented into the patterned engraving, which you opened to find a picture of the two of you after your first date. It was so perfect that you were speechless, and he admitted it took him months of saving to afford it (which was why your Christmas gift was something much less expensive in comparison and instead purely sentimental.)

"I-I'm sorry, I just.." you swallowed as you looked at him, your heart squeezing both from your nerves and from just how soft his expression is. "I was just thinking.. that I want to do more than just.. makeout, y'know..?"" You try your best not to blush from the admission, especially not when he starts smiling at you, but you can't stop your face from burning, and you turn your gaze away from his eyes, embarrassment taking its hold.

"Baby, look at me," he speaks softly but you can hear the smile in his voice before you even meet his gaze again to see it. It's a gentle smile that relays sweetness and care, but there's an underlying excitement beneath; because while he would never do anything to rush or pressure you along, he obviously wants more too. You're gorgeous, his best friend, his dream girl- of course he wants you. "You sure? I know it's a special day but we don't have to rush it or anything. I've already got the perfect gift."

You smile- timidly, but genuinely. He's so impossibly sweet, always; it's one of the main reasons why you fell for him in the first place. "Yeah, I'm sure- and I promise it's not just because it's Valentine's Day. I've been thinking about it, and I really want to, I'm just.. nervous is all. I've never.. you know.." You hesitantly meet his stare, your hand now nervously and unconsciously fiddling with the locket he gifted you that hangs from your neck.

It’s unceremonious the way his cock starts to throb from your timid words alone, almost shameful. He doesn't even know how much further than making out you're even going to go, but his body reacts regardless, independently from his brain that recognizes your need for slow, careful affection. There’s a million things he wants to say- “we’ll go slow” or “I’ll take care of you” or even “I love you” but his brain practically short circuits when you lift yourself from the pillows, locket dangling as you come closer to him, leaning down to press your lips to his.

A moment of confidence? Or maybe you already knew all the things he’d say and didn’t need to hear them? You’re not entirely atop him- that’s still a step too far in uncharted territory, but this at least.. Kissing him is something you can do without getting in your own head about experience and desirability. His fingers rest behind your ear, his thumb stroking your cheek as he kisses you- softly and slowly at first, the way he always does. It’s always a build up, his lips taking their time, his every caress careful but deliberate.

He always makes your heart race when he kisses you, makes your stomach do somersaults and blood run hot. Nerves aside, it’s undeniable how much you want him. One hand on his chest and the other in his hair, he’s careful when sits up from the bed to adjust your positions, conscious to not cause you to remove your hands from his body as you move in tandem with him. You let him lay you back down, catching just a glimpse of him hovering over you before your eyes are closing again as he kisses you. When his tongue licks your lips, you open your mouth to him without so much as a thought- it’s automatic, innate the way you welcome him into you.

It always makes you dizzy, the way Chan’s tongue dances around yours, swirling and building the excitement from deep within your gut to new heights you didn’t know possible. This time however, there’s an added desire, his kisses and gentle touches more impassioned with the promise that you’ll be giving him more; more skin to kiss and touch, to feel under his calloused fingertips, to admire and love and venerate. You’re all he wants, all he’s ever wanted, really; and he wants you to know, desperately wants to show you how much he desires you.

One arm holds his weight up while the hand on your face starts to trail away, fingers tracing the skin it travels over. Careful, slow, deliberate- it’s foreign but comfortable, somehow. When he hesitates, you affirm, you chase his touch, you pull him back, you silently plead with desperate eyes and eager breaths. Your face grows hot when your shirt comes off, his gaze hungrier when met with the sight of your bare chest, nipples hardened more so from the building anticipation than from the cool air.

He wants to dote on you- call you cute, caress your burning cheeks, kiss the blush on your face and feel the heat of it on his lips. So he does, slowly so as to not overwhelm you, word choice careful as to not embarrass you. Your cheeks burn brighter, but you smile; a cute, shy one that his cock reacts to in equal measure to his heart. Pretty, beautiful, cute, he says it all as he starts to trail his kisses around the shell of your ear and to your neck.

And you’re shy, impossibly so, but you indulge in the affection, as happy as you are timid and out of your depth. You can count on a single hand the amount of times he started kissing your neck during a makeout session, and you were always left wanting more but were much too sheepish to admit your building desire. But after that first time, when you were in the bathroom that night and saw the trail of small, just barely visible bruises left behind on your neck, you knew- you wanted more, and he was being considerate, holding back for your sake.

You didn’t need that anymore, nor did you want him to- don’t hold back, don’t hesitate, leave your mark for all to see, touch and kiss and suck wherever you want. That’s what you want to tell him, but it’s hard to formulate that thought into words when the feeling of his lips on your neck and fingers ghosting over your nipples makes your brain grow fuzzy. He’ll get the hint though, you think, when you tilt your head to the side to allow him easier access to your skin and a whine leaves your lips.

He can feel your body tremble, can hear and feel your breath hitch when his attention to your skin grows in intensity. Harsher sucks to your pulse point, more deliberate rubs of your nipples between his fingers- still careful, but no longer entirely delicate, as if you’re made of porcelain. No, his touches are now firmer, with more purpose and intention, more confidence now that it’s clear your admission of wanting more was not something said just to appease his growing desire to have you.

He throbs when he pulls back to look at you; face flushed, skin varying in shades of pink and red, breath a near pant, hair fanned out and growing messy, the locket he gave you still staring back at him in the middle of it all. His fingers trail over it and you watch him carefully, trying to gauge what he’s feeling. “Should I take it off..?” you ask, wondering if it’ll get in the way somehow and he quickly shakes his head, leaning back down to you, his lips just barely touching yours.

“Fuck no, leave it on. I love seeing it on you like this. Like-” he stops a moment, carefully considering if what he’s going to say will scare you off. But fuck it, you’re all being honest tonight, right? So why shouldn’t he say what he’s really thinking? “Like you’re mine. All mine,” he finally says, and though shy, you smile as you expertly play into it, feeding his fantasies. “I am yours Channie, I’m always yours.” Oh, you really have him now (as if he wasn’t already impossibly yours to begin with- you don’t even know the depth of his belonging to you.)

Chan thought about you like this so many times- for years if he's being honest. He always felt guilty; the way he fantasized about you, his best friend for all his formative years and then his roommate, spread out for him and crying his name, clutching him so tightly that your nails dig into his skin. He just couldn't control it, and even his dreams, which were once innocent in nature (if you could believe it), you were there, whimpering on his cock, back arching as hushed whispers of praise were spoken into your ears, your eyes rolling back and drool escaping the corner of your parted lips.

He wanted you, fuck, he wanted you, always have and he’s sure he always will. A single kiss and then he’s pulling back again, his hands trailing just over the hem of your pajama shorts. You unconsciously hold your breath, and maybe it’s his ability to read the nerves all over your expression that lead him to hesitate, capturing your gaze with sweet consideration despite how much he yearns to see all of you. “Nervous?” he asks and you nod, thankful when he kisses away the tension building in your body.

“It’s okay if you’re not ready for that yet,” he reassures you, taking his hands away from your hips and instead moving them up to your waist, where he knows you’re comfortable with his touch. “I-I am, I want to, I promise! It’s just..” you trail off, and Chan offers you a sweet smile, stroking your cheek as you once again fumble nervously with the locket on your neck. “It’s a lot, I know,” he finishes for you, and you’re relieved he understands (not that you even suspected otherwise- he’s always been the sweetest guy you know.)

He returns to kissing you softly and sweetly, his hands exploring the regions he knows you to be ready for, never wandering too far below your stomach. When he pulls away, your curiosity gets the better of you- you look where he rests between your legs, his erection noticeably straining in his sweatpants, a wet patch of what can only be pre-cum darkening the gray fabric. While you feel shy looking at it, Chan seems to welcome the curiosity, a slight smile playing on his lips. “Want to see it?” he asks and you gulp, tearing your eyes away to look back at his face. “Y-Yeah, can I..?”

“Course, baby,” he replies easily, his smile growing ever so slightly as he straightens up to remove his pants. You swallow, blush flaring as you watch him slide his sweatpants and boxers down his legs. Rather than returning to his spot between your legs, he settles next to you, sitting up against the headboard and making himself comfortable. Chan looks at you, watching as your eyes travel and drink him in; you take notice of how his cock twitches as you stare, how pre-cum steadily drips from the tip, how prominently his vein runs down the length of it.

You're not sure what words are appropriate when it comes to describing your feelings towards seeing him bare, but you know you like it- you really like it. Your gaze makes him throb- desire, need, love, all wrapped together with a pretty ribbon of innocence and purity. He's being patient, but fuck, he wants to ruin you, wants to see your eyes well with pretty tears and body painted with ropes of his cum. "Do you want to touch it?" he asks, hopeful and raging with want- for you, your touch, your kiss, your pleasured voice, everything.

"Y-Yes, but.. I don't know how to.. how do I make you feel good..?" you ask with the cutest pout he's ever seen, and he truly feels like his heart is getting struck by lightning; you're going to drive him insane with need before the night is over. "I can show you," he offers, smiling when you quickly nod. You're amazed by how confidently he takes it in his hand, not a single ounce of shyness to be found in his actions, unlike you; you wonder if you'll ever be the same- able to act without timid embarrassment eating away at you.

Even compared to his large hands, Chan's cock appears impossibly thick, and you swallow as you watch him collect pre-cum from the head before he spreads it down the entirety of his length. His fingers trace the vein before he takes it fully in his hand, his gaze entirely fixed on your face as he starts to slowly pump himself. You swallow, completely mesmerized, the butterflies in your stomach thrashing violently. You look back up to his face when you hear his breath shudder, blush growing with the realization that your stare had an effect on him.

When Chan lets himself look away from your face, he notices the way your thighs press together, how you squirm in place as you watch him, yearning for touch- and it gives him an idea. "Can I-" he exhales a shaky breath, fisting his cock just the slightest bit faster when you meet his gaze again, "Can I see how you make yourself feel good too? Can you show me?" Your face burns hotter, your legs pressing harder together as his question rings in your ears. You swallow, impossibly nervous but equally as excited, and you nod timidly after a few moments of careful consideration.

"Y-Yeah, okay," you mumble as you shift your position to get your pajamas and panties down your legs. You timidly watch his expression as you settle yourself across from him, aware enough that he should have a good view of everything (even if the action of spreading your legs for him makes you want to cover your face in embarrassment.) Chan exhales another breath as he tightens his grip on his cock, licking his lips when he sees just how wet you are. You're dripping and it's all for him, because of him- finally, his dreams become realized.

Similarly to what he did to himself, you rub your fingers up and down between your folds, gathering the arousal on your fingers before you bring them to your aching clit. You bite your lip, shy as ever and embarrassed by the noises that leave you. You close your eyes in an effort to ebb away the shyness and focus on the pleasure, but you're still starkly aware of his presence, of his eyes watching your every move. You can hear his low groans and harsh breaths, can hear the sound of his fist pumping faster when you let out another whimper between your bitten lip.

It astounds you how something this embarrassing can also be so arousing- you don't think you've ever been more excited than you are now, and the mess between your thighs and under your ass is definitely a testament to that. As the moment continues, with you timidly opening your eyes to watch him again, he doesn't fail to notice that you focus entirely on your clit, so he has to ask- "Do you ever- fuck- put your fingers inside?"

God, as if your face isn't already hot enough- but it's a fair question, and you answer as best you can between the noises you fail to keep internal. "S-Sometimes, but- it's- I don't-" you try, though you fail to formulate the words you wish to say; partly due to pleasure fogging your brain, and partly due to not even knowing how to phrase your thoughts the best in the first place. "It's hard? Doesn't feel as good?" Chan takes an educated guess, and you nod, relieved he found the words for you.

He understands- your fingers are dainty, and it must be hard trying to get them angled deep, hard to find the spot that makes you see stars when you have to contort your body to barely comfortable positions. "If you want- if you're comfortable, I can.. do it for you..? Help you?" Oh. If you're being honest, you've thought about how good his fingers must feel so many nights while touching yourself, wondering about how good they'd make you feel, how expertly they'd make you cum. "R-Really? You want to?" you ask- perhaps a stupid question, but there's still a part of you that can't even believe he's attracted to you, even this far into your relationship.

"God, yes, isn't it obvious? C'mere, baby," Chan beckons you back to him, and you oblige. You crawl your way back to your spot next to him, sitting on your knees but with your legs still spread apart. He takes his dominant hand off his cock, bringing it instead between your legs, slowly rubbing and getting his fingers wet enough to slide easily inside. His opposite hand resumes the motion on his cock, and you unconsciously tremble- both because of the hand between your legs, and because the sight before you is so fucking hot (to put it bluntly.)

"You're so fucking sexy," Chan utters, starting with just one finger, pressing it inside slowly, and your reaction is immediate- body shuddering as a gasp escapes you, biting your lip as he pumps his finger slowly, ensuring you're comfortable and adjusted before he adds another. "Pretty, so pretty," he continues, the tips of fingers rub your deepest parts with hardly any effort on his part, and when he finds your sensitive spot you positively jolt, every nerve constricting as if thrown in an ice bath, body tense, stomach clenching as the pleasure builds.

"My gorgeous fucking baby- feels good, doesn't it?" he asks, a theoretical question with no expected answer, but you're whining and nodding your head, your hips acting independently of the rest of you, rolling and bouncing and chasing every ounce of pleasure that can be derived from Chan's fingers. He presses his thumb to your clit, simply keeping pressure there as the motion of riding his fingers provides all the friction you need.

"C-Channie, feels so good, think I'm gonna-" before you can finish voicing the words, you're gasping and crying out. You're hot, your dripping with sweat, you're utterly floating as you're hit with wave after wave of explosive pleasure. He doesn't dare remove his fingers until you've finished riding it out, but to his surprise, you grab his wrist when he starts to pull his hand away, your eyes glassy and pleading.

"More? Please, more?" you ask so sweetly, and again he throbs, licking his lips as he takes in the sight of you- debauched, dewy, and flushed, world shattered in the best way possible. "Yeah baby, I can give you more. Course I can," Chan says before he's thrusting his fingers inside as if there was never a pause. Your eyes roll back as you bite your lip, your grip on his wrist tightening as you grind down against his fingers, always meeting them halfway.

When you open your eyes to look at him again, you can't help but notice that the pace of the hand on his cock is sloppy and uneven, and while you doubt you'll fare much better, you decide to take over for him, to try to please him just as much as he has you. You hear him utter a quiet curse as he takes his hand away, letting you replace it with your own. It's a sight, a feeling, that he wants engraved in his memory- you, riding his fingers while your hand desperately pumps his cock, giving him your best effort and trying your hardest to make him cum despite how much your arousal fills your brain with fluff.

"Fuck, baby-" he groans, reaching his hand out to the nape of your neck, pulling you down to capture your lips in a kiss, his tongue shoving it's way in your mouth before you can even process that your lips are touching. His hips buck when your thumb glides over the tip, sensitive and leaking, your soft hands sticky and wet and perfect. You hold his gaze when the kiss breaks, all your shy tendencies and thoughts of embarrassment seeming to fade to the very back of your mind, replaced entirely by desire and need- not just to cum again, which you unmistakably want, but to watch Chan cum too, to watch him fall apart and know that it was all thanks to you.

The room is filled with the slick sounds of your hands working each other, of heavy, panting breaths, of low groans from Chan and barely restrained, quiet whimpers from you, a sinful symphony played exclusively for your own ears. "Oh fuck, fuck-" he grits out, clenching his jaw and brows knitting together as he tries to stave his orgasm off long enough to watch you fall apart again first.

You can feel his vein pulsing beneath your fingers, can feel him twitch and throb, and there's a sense of pride you've never felt before that comes with it- it doesn't just feel good to cum, you realize, it feels good to watch your lover cum too, to be the reason they're losing composure and falling apart. "Y-You're close, Channie? Gonna cum?" He groans as he nods, licking his drying lips as his head falls back, unsure if he can hold it back much longer than he already has.

"Yeah baby, gonna- gonna cum for you, fuck-," Chan, who knows it's only a matter of seconds before he has no choice but to let go, mercilessly targets your sweet spot, his fingers all but drilling into it as his thumb rubs messy circles on your clit. Your hips stutter before your body seizes with overwhelming pleasure, the pace of your hand on Chan's cock faltering as your eyes roll back and you surrender yourself to the blissful sensation washing over you.

Chan follows quickly, the sight of you cumming again on his fingers breaking the already impossibly thin line holding him together, hot cum shooting out and spilling on his chest and stomach. You collapse next to him, legs aching (your knees especially) and body utterly exhausted. Your shyness returns when he turns his head to look at you with a sweet smile on his lips, and you blush as you return the smile.

You're both messy, in desperate need of a shower and a change of bedsheets before you actually sleep, but you bask in the moment regardless. He reaches for a tissue on the nightstand to clean the cum off his stomach before it dries and becomes a pain to wash off, and the moment it's done you're back in his arms, being hugged tight with kisses pressed to your forehead, your warm cheeks, and then your lips.

You curl into him, one of your hands holding the locket as you return his affection, pouring all your unspoken love and affection into the kiss you share. Your first Valentine's Day of hopefully a lifetime more, your joy immeasurable, your love boundless; a perfect day with an equally perfect end. You tell him you love him as he helps you clean up in the shower, he tells you he loves you as he helps you get dressed before he dresses himself, you share “i love you”s as you relax into each other in bed. You sleep, happy and warm and loved, secure in the knowledge that truly, this is only the beginning, and there’s still years worth of experiences left to share.

#ksmutsociety #skzstarnet #skz x reader #bang chan x reader #skz smut #bang chan smut #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fanfic #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

412 notes · View notes