#being kind and finding the good in every day

[femmeroll]

hiii, could you write something about sevika corrupting a sweet church girl?

your blog is really cute btw <3

omg omg omg !!! i’ve been dying to write something like this, thank you for the request!!

sevika x fem reader

cw: religion, corruption, implied age gap, fingering, semi-public.

you’re a good girl. made good grades in school, good daughter, good sister, kind person. you never miss a sunday service. and if you must, you’ll be at the church for service on monday afternoon. you spend your life being pure, avoiding sin wherever it may rear its devilish head.

no pride or greed or lust. just simple, sweet purity.

that is, until you meet that lady.

every day on your walk home from mass you see her. maybe mid forties, dark hair, and easily six feet tall. she stands outside the deli every morning at 11:45 on the dot for her smoke break.

and every sunday morning she says hello, or good morning, or asks how ‘sunday school’ is going. it’s strange. you always give her a smile, say hello back, but she seems so condescending. like every word she says to you is secretly making fun of you.

you don’t really know her either, which is weird. it’s a small town, everyone knows each other. not…her thought. she’s just an impossibly rude person you see on sundays that causes you to remember the jesus was always kind to strangers.

it’s a cold january morning, sidewalks slick with ice. like clockwork, that woman is standing outside the deli with her cigar.

“careful, virgin mary. don’t want you slippin’ out here.”

okay, rude.

“i’m okay, no need to worry,” you respond, stopping in your tracks in front of her. the gaze she holds on you is almost uncomfortable. she’s staring down at you like she’ll burst out laughing at any moment. like the mere idea of you is just hilarious to her.

“sevika, by the way. my name.”

oh. sevika. okay.

“y/n. it’s nice to properly meet you. i’ve never seen you around outside of…this.”

“i’m not very social” she responds.

you smile. you certainly know the best way for people to find community in town.

“well, there’s a service on mon-”

she cuts you off with a scoff. “not interested. not the place for me.”

“why not?”

sevika leans closer, letting her lips fall near your ears.

“i like smoking, drinking, cursing, fucking. it’s not the place for me, princess.”

you clutch the cross around your neck with a gasp. this is wrong on so many levels. sinful, disgusting, unnatural…and yet you feel your face getting impossibly redder.

sevika stomps out her cigarette. “see you next sunday, princess.”

whether you like it or not, sevika evokes quite a bit of lust in you. her smirk, her piercing grey eyes, her muscles that stretch the fabric of her impossibly tight tshirt…you can’t help it. the forbidden fruit is strong. you suppose it’s all a part of the lord’s plan. send you a taste of homosexual temptation and watch you be a true follower.

you aren’t though.

you entertain her flirting, all her lustful stares, and your church dresses start to come above the knee just to give her something to look at. you don’t know why you like this so much. it’s gross. it’s wrong. it’s against god’s wishes.

but jesus christ, one look from sevika and that all goes out the window. every good christian moral, everything you’ve known to be true disappears the second sevika locks eyes with you.

after a monday evening service, you take your weekly stroll home. it’s dinner time, and sevika is working.

you open the door to the deli, seeing sevika behind the counter. you watch silently as she meticulously rearranges the meats on display.

“i could use some dinner, sevika” you say and she perks up, brief shock replaced with her signature smirk.

“princess. c’mon back, i’ll make you whatever sandwich you want.”

and she does. you’re sitting on a wooden stool in the back of the deli, making small talk. sevika’s presence feels strangely right, like these little moments were made to happen. maybe this was the lord’s plan after all.

sevika steps closer, towering over you.

“you have sauce on your lips. messy eater, huh princess?”

she takes her calloused thumb and wipes the sauce away, eyes never leaving yours. the air feels thicker and your face feels hotter. and without skipping a beat, your lips on on sevika’s.

she stammers a bit in shock, then immediately gaining back control. she wraps her hand around the back of your neck to pull you in deeper. you can feel her smirking against you, prying your lips apart and exploring the inside of your mouth with her tongue.

her lips feel like the missing piece of a puzzle, perfectly slotting against yours in a dance of passion and affection. she’s calculated with the way she kisses, making sure you feel every bit of her tongue gliding against your mouth.

“sevika-” you pant, pulling away. “we shouldn’t, i-it’s not right.”

“shush, princess,” she growls, “gods not watching right now.”

and maybe he’s not. so fuck it. you nod and let sevika pull your blouse off, pushing her head into your chest. she litters your chest in bites, reveling in the sweet moans you let out.

her hands make their way under your skirt, silently asking for permission to pull your slick panties down.

all you can do is nod, desperate and utterly dumb for her touch.

“so soft, princess…” she moans, “so wet. is that all for me?”

another nod.

“you gonna be a good girl?”

another nod.

sevika pulls hand away with an evil grin. “words. or you aren’t getting shit from me.”

“yes, it’s all for you. yes, i’ll be good. please hurry before i remember that i’m a woman of god and stop,” you groan.

her ring finger circles your swollen clit, spreading your folds and rubbing you down to your needy hole. one of her thick fingers is enough to stretch you out, walls tightening around her as she slowly moves in and out of your cunt.

“tight fuckin’ pussy…so pure and innocent, huh? just a good little church girl who likes other women fucking her greedy cunt?”

she chuckles darkly at herself, and at the way you get even tighter at her mean words. so humiliating, so blasphemous, so unholy. and yet every deep, deliberate thrust has you closer and closer to cumming.

“sevika,” you whimper, “i can’t hold it, please.”

“is that right?” she teases.

“you can cum, baby. but make sure to repent after.”

[shackleton2]

it's true and I say this as an avid binge-watcher who in the stone age had to look up transcripts of episodes because I couldn't wait THREE ENTIRE DAYS OF MY LIFE FOR NETFLIX TO MAIL ME THE NEXT DVD

Seasons of TV released as one fat drop of 8-12 1-1.5hr episodes, literally being told THIS IS FOR YOU TO BINGE IN ONE INSANE SITTING is the exact definition of my dreams and desires.

......why are they no good??

I can definitely think of exceptions, but "both of them have too much time and not enough time for the characters to struggle and grow and change," as it's well-put above, does seem to be the rule more and more. But what does that phrase really mean??

I saw something recently weighing in on this and saying series in particular seem to think every single thing depicted on screen has to move the story forward, possibly because everything is angled to encourage "binging". It's funny because that sounds like it should do the opposite of making the story feel ponderous and pointless!! So what's going on?

Maybe it's because Real Life™ isn't constantly moving towards one plot resolution, so the more you write a story where that's true, the more impossible true immersion for the viewer becomes?

But also I think actively designing a series to be compulsively watched in one or two massive sittings is hurting them as stories. Maybe it's because bingeing, especially as it's understood in other contexts, is not about enjoying something massively good, at least not after the initial part.

We all know this, right? You don't binge on something because it's just sooooo good. Are there people out there who have never done any kind of binge? Maybe so, so I'll tell you because I surely have: it's inertia. A really scary kind, to be honest, that feels, after a while of getting acclimated to nonstop-consuming the thing, like an absolute involuntary need. Because the second I stop eating the family sized bag of chips, stop taking another drink, stop lighting another smoke, reality will come rushing back in place of the comfort-stimulus. And in reality I am not experiencing joy or even pleasure, I am experiencing the kind of existential horror you get when you try to convince yourself you don't actually have to deal with your own mind. This 100% applies to letting the next episode autoplay after 5 hours of watching one story unfold.

Sorry I got kinda dark there, but the point I'm trying to illustrate is that I don't think you NEED a GOOD PRODUCT in order to get people to binge. And, well, that shows more and more with this "content" streaming services are releasing.

True Blood was a hot mess in so many ways and my mental health sure as shit was too but holy shit watching that obsessively years back was so FUN. That show and other story-loves of mine feel different from stuff getting released in full-season streaming dumps right now, and I don't think it's quality of writing or acting or effects or anything else making the difference as much as whether a show seems to genuinely LIKE itself, or whether it's counting on you finding it preferable enough to reality to let the next episode play and thus get good stats.

we need 15-20 episode seasons again these limited series have the worst pacing in the world and none of the character decisions hold any weight

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Shhh....

Summary: Being a single parent comes with all kinds of challenges. Challenges that are so much easier to deal with when the father of your daughter's best friend is there to take of your more personal needs. And if that meant sneaking off with you into a laundry room at a garden party? Well who would he be to complain?

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.2k

Rating: E

Warnings: smut (semi public sex, unprotected sex, oral f receiving, cumplay) friends with benefits to lovers, a lot of flirting, fluff?

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

He didn’t know exactly why he agreed to go to this garden party. It was one of the few Saturdays he had off and he wanted it to spend with Sarah. She’s been in middle school since the summer and with all the changes that brought they only had little time to hang out in the last few weeks. 

So when Sarah brought the invitation for this garden party that the parents of one of her new classmates were throwing, he wanted to decline. But Sarah told him she really wanted to go, and that if he had something else to do that day, he could just drop her off and pick her up after?

But of course Joel Miller went with her. 

And it wasn’t that bad. The drinks were cold, the food was good and meeting all the new parents at the beginning of the year was a good thing too. Even if he already had forgotten most of their names. There were a few faces he recognised from Sarah’s elementary school, so he kept talking to them, all while having an eye out on Sarah who was playing soccer with some kids at the other side of the backyard. 

„Fancy seeing you here,“ he heard your voice behind him, and his eyes closed before he took a deep breath and turned around, fighting unsuccessfully against the smile that sneaked to his lips as he looked down at you. 

„Could say the same,“ he winked and your smile widened. 

This party just got interesting. 

You were running late.

The plan was to leave around twenty minutes ago but Charlotte, your daughter, just couldn’t decide on what to wear. She just turned twelve and if this last half year was a preview on how puberty would be with her, than you were in for a wild ride. 

Usually you used the weekends to charge your mental batteries by having as little contact to the outside world as possible after working at a bakery and having to be social all week. 

But Charlotte had brought the invitation for the garden party a couple weeks ago, begging you to go because Sarah would be there too. 

And where Sarah was, her father wasn’t far behind which was why you said yes in the end and spend way too much time on deciding what to wear before you decided on a light summer dress. 

It had been a while since you seen him, and you couldn’t even remember the last time the two of you had found the time to have sex.

Because ever since Charlotte and Sarah became best friends some time back in pre school, you and Joel started sleeping together occasionally. The first time happened after a night out at the bar where you ran into him, both of your kids on a sleepover. It had been positively mind-blowing and you were more than eager to agree to keep this going when you both needed a release. 

His wife had left him and Sarah before the girl turned one and your husband had used your pregnancy to fuck his secretary because apparently carrying his child made you unattractive to him.

And with both you and Joel being very devoted single parents, both of your love lives was pretty much non existent. You wouldn't say it was frequent now, but every month or two you would find some hours where you’d meet up at either of your houses, not leaving before both of you were more than satisfied. 

And you didn’t know if it was the secrecy of the whole thing, but my god the way Joel Miller knew how to play your body to the point of a crying orgasm was addictive.

But now you hadn’t really seen him in almost three months. 

With the school change and summer break things were busy not only for you, but for him too. You texted occasionally, trying to figure out a time to meet up, but business was picking up for Miller construction and Joel used the little time he had off to spend with Sarah. 

Something you could understand. 

So you were excited to see him as you parked your car right behind his on the street after Charlotte finally had chosen a dress to wear. You knew all that time deciding on her outfit would be for nothing once they played soccer, but hey. 

Charlotte was off to see Sarah as soon as you stepped into the garden, many people already mingling. The smell of fresh BBQ lingered in the air and before you even had taken two steps inside you already had an iced tea in hand, the host, one of the moms of a new classmate of Charlotte that you had met before, welcoming you. 

You were glad that Charlotte and Sarah where in the same class, both of them loving each other like sisters. With Joel working so much you had Sarah over more often lately, seeing Joel only when he picked her up. 

She was very well behaved and deep down you got the impression she loved hanging around with just girls for a change. Of course Joel was the best father, but there are some things that teenage girls don’t want to speak to their dads about. 

Such as how to use the eyeliner she secretly bought correctly or the awkward question about what to use, pads or tampons or period underwear?

It was nice that she trusted you with questions like that. 

You knew from Joel that she had struggled to not have a mom like other kids and he told you it was nice that she now had you to ask all those questions. 

Not that you were her mom, or wanted to be. 

Well…. Okay maybe sometimes deep into the night when you looked at the empty space in bed next to you, you might imagine how it would be if Joel would be there, every day. How could you not?

He was the hot single dad every mom in class always wanted and you were the one who had him. Occasionally. But still.

You let your eyes gaze through the backyard before you saw the broad shoulders of the man you had hoped would be here.

You could feel the butterflies in your belly as you walked over to him and fuck that smile he gave you when he turned around…

„Work still keeping you busy?“ You asked a little while later, both of you with a plate of food in front of you, sitting at one of the tables outside. 

��Yeah. Can’t remember when I got more than five hours of sleep at night the last time,“ he groaned and you reached one hand over to rest on his knee before you could stop yourself. 

„You got to take care of yourself, honey. Let that brother of yours pick up some slack too,“ you winked and he gave you a bashful smile before one of his hands came to rest on top of yours. 

„He does. As a matter of fact he’s taking over the next project so I have some more free time to spend with Sarah,“ he said and you hummed. 

„And if I’m being completely honest there’s this girl I haven’t spend any time with in the last months and I really really miss her and her little pussy,“ he had leaned in, whispering the last words against your ear and you shivered. 

„Just her pussy?“ You mumbled back as you looked up at him and he smirked. 

„Nah, she’s the whole fucking deal. Should probably get off my own ass and finally as her out on a date instead of just fucking he brains out whenever she lets me,“ he said and you sucked your bottom lip in as you tried to hide your smile.

You looked away from him for a moment, gathering your thoughts, making up your mind. 

You needed him, and you needed him now. 

„Think you can show me where the bathroom is? I think I need a little refresh,“ you asked, hoping he would get the hint. And by the shit eating grin that came to his face, he did. 

„Of course. Follow me.“

„This… This is not the bathroom,“ you mumbled against his lips, his body pressing you against the door of what looked like a laundry room. 

„Less interruptions here,“ he hummed, hand slipping under your dress, finger hooking into your panties, pulling them down. You smiled, hands in his hair as you helped him get your panties off. 

„Been too damn long,“ he ran his hand up your leg, wrapping it behind his back, his other hand on your back puling you closer before he kissed you again, his tongue playing with yours as you reached down, unzipping his pants. 

„Missed me so much you gonna fuck me in some people’s laundry room? Want us to get caught?“ You grinned, hand pulling out his cock, surprised to find out he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Wrapping your palm around his cock you loved the deep groan he released against your lips. 

„Not gonna get caught if you keep quiet baby,“ he hooked your leg over his arm, hand on the door behind you as he stepped closer, opening you up for him. 

„Oh yeah, because I am the one who can’t keep quiet,“ you teased and he huffed a laugh, replacing your hand around his cock with his as he pumped himself and lined himself up. 

You wrapped one arm around his shoulders, standing only one one leg, trusting him to keep you there. 

Slowly he finally sank into you, his thick cock stretching you perfectly. 

„Fuckin’ perfect,“ he grunted, lips pressing against yours in a deep kiss when his cock filled you completely, both of you moaning quietly. 

„This ain’t gonna take long, sweetheart. Been to fuckin’ long,“ he grunted and you gasped when he moved, bottoming out completely before thrusting back inside. 

„Don’t care, just fuck me,“ you whimpered and he nodded against your lips, fucking up into you, skin slapping against skin every time he filled you. 

You sucked your bottom lip in, trying to keep quiet as he hammered into you, his lips now attached to your shoulder as he groaned into your skin. 

„Shit,“ he grunted just a couple of thrusts later and you felt him twitch as he came, spilling inside of you. Letting your head fall against the door you gasped for ear, having not cum but fuck it still felt good to just have him inside of you.

You were about to say something when he got on his knees, cock pulling out of you, your leg now hooked over his shoulders as his tongue replaced his cock, Joel moaning as he tasted you. 

„Oh fuck,“ you whimpered, hands now in his hair as he looked up at you. He grinned wickedly as he licked into you, licked his cum out of you. 

„We taste good together,“ he mumbled against your cunt, and you pulled at his hair with a quiet whine. 

„Shhh Baby. Don’t want anyone to hear what a little slut your are for me huh?“ He teased and you pulled his hair harder, making him moan as he continued to lick you. 

He sucked on your clit, tongue playing with it all while pushing you closer and closer to the edge. 

„Joel,“ you moaned softly, your head falling back against the door as you finally came, gasping for air as your body shook in Joel’s hold. You melted against the door once you rode it out, limbs feeling like jello. He kissed your pussy one last time, before he set your leg down, keeping his arms around you as he got off of his knees. You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him hard once he stood upright. 

„We do taste good together,“ you whispered and he chuckled. 

It was two hours later, nobody at the party had noticed the very explicit things you did in that laundry room, that Joel carried a very tired Charlotte towards your car, Sarah already sleeping in the backseat of his car. 

You opened the backseat door of your car for him and he carefully sat Charlotte down, putting the belt on for her. 

You were leaning against the back of your car as he closed the door and he walked towards you. 

„What are you doing next Friday?“ He asked, fingers tilting your chin up.

„Nothing. Charlotte is with her Dad,“ you said with a small smile. 

„And Sarah is at her Grandma’s for a sleepover,“ he hummed with a smirk. 

„Wanna go on a date with me?“ He asked and you grinned, getting on your tiptoes to kiss him softly. 

„I thought you’d never ask.“

[awrkive]

For the milestone bash

No. 23 from the smut list with any of your jks please and thankyou ☺️

23. "I saw on your Amazon wishlist you wanted a dildo. You know I got a dick, right?"

note: last drabble im posting for awhile and also the reqs are closed!! thank u sm for participating in the follower milestone game and im sorry if i wasnt able to write the req that you sent in 😔! dw im still going to go over them once in a while, one of these days.

wc: 1.3k

warning/s: p in v s*x, himbo!jk (hes so stupid i have a crush on him)

Jungkook can be infuriating sometimes. Your friends assume that the reason you dislike him is because he’s a big himbo who can’t even say the word misogyny right and has a GPA lower than a minor earthquake magnitude, but you find that’s the least of your concern when the man has a problem with privacy. 

He doesn’t know it. He absolutely has no concept of it and you thought – upon the first month of being roommates with him – that he’s just the typical fratboy who likes flaunting his body to any audience because he knows he looks good, but he genuinely just doesn’t like hanging around with clothes on and would always forget that you exist and he can’t just parade around with nothing but his tight boxers on during the weekends. 

Jungkook’s the type to not lock his bedroom. He’s the type to not knock when entering the bathroom, the type to not shy away when he sees your underwear in the laundry room. He doesn’t have shame – and it’s exactly why he sticks his nose into your phone charging at the outlet by the island counter with the Amazon app opened while you go and take out the trash real quick. 

In his defense, he didn’t mean to. He just walked past it when he was making his toast – but a very neon picture on your lit up screen caught his attention and when he squinted his eyes, he almost couldn’t believe it. 

A dildo. There’s a pink dildo in your Amazon wishlist, sandwiched by a list of otherwise beige-colored stationery items that included a lot of… notebooks.

And you definitely could not miss it. Not when it’s neon! And not when… what? Eight inches? 

Jungkook scoffs.

That's exactly his size! 

He couldn’t believe his eyes. You… a dildo in your Amazon wishlist? Hah. Jungkook didn’t expect that. He’s always seen you as this… prude, somewhat innocent librarian. And you are actually a part-time librarian at school. And you kind of act sort of prude-ish, and there’s nothing wrong with it – not really, Jungkook thinks. You’re still hot and sexy to him – although, he tries to not think of you that way because you’re really nice to him even though he knows he can be a bit too much sometimes and he knows he isn’t exactly the type of person you keep in your circle.

He kept a rowdy set of friends (except Yoongi) while you go out with your intellectual friend group who are all members of an intelligent club at uni. You know, debate club, the school paper, maths and sciences… Jungkook’s just shocked you even entertain him because boy, do your friends kind of hate him. 

Anyway. The dildo. Oh wow. This definitely changes things – but Jungkook doesn’t know what exactly. He never thought about whether you’re still a virgin or not, but finding out about the dildo in your Amazon wishlist is definitely making him think things.

Can you even handle the eight inches anyway? You’re kind of small. The girls he’s been with had always commented on how big he is but he’s very efficient with it and he knows well enough to make the girl cum twice before putting it in so the stretch doesn’t hurt. Would you use lube if you used that plastic dick? You must, you should… but like, Jungkook is also really good at cunnilingus because no one loves pussy as much as him so maybe, you’d need someone’s help to prep you and—

“Jungkook?” 

Jungkook feels every hair on his body standing up when he hears your voice behind him. In quick succession, he manages to make it seem like he’s checking out the chip on the edge of the counter instead of your phone. 

“Hey!” he greets you with a smile. 

His heart skips a beat when your eyebrows furrow, eyes landing from his face to your phone. None of you say anything until you walk further into the kitchen. Then, you grab your phone and turn it off. 

“I’ll head out in fifteen minutes. I’m sleeping over at Yena’s for a group study. Can you lock the door later?” You ask him. 

It’s weird because it isn’t the first time you went around in a tank top and a pair of short shorts inside the apartment, but right now all Jungkook can think of is how tight your shorts are. And also how smooth your skin is – and how nice your chest looks.

“Jungkook?” You call again, and Jungkook snaps out of his trance. 

“Uh… yeah, sure.” 

“Okay. Thank you.” 

It’s the last thing you said before you take out your charger and go straight to your bedroom. 

Jungkook stands there in the kitchen wide-eyed, a bit stunned at the turn of events. 

———

You knew Jungkook saw that. And you ranted about it to Yena – how embarrassed you were for having him see the damn dildo in your wishlist. You weren’t embarrassed about wishlisting a dildo – you’re just embarrassed that Jungkook has seen it out of all people. 

Ever since that day, you’ve been trying to avoid him. Not that it’s hard because your schedules don’t align most of the time but Sundays are always free and you have no choice but to face him over dinners. 

What you’ve noticed, though, is that… Jungkook is being a little different, too. He usually has that suave, easy-going vibe to him, and it’s fine if his approach to other people has changed as well but you realized it’s only you he’s being weird to. 

So you decide to confront him. 

And it ends up this way. 

“Oh my god–” You gasp audibly when Jungkook inserts the first inch of his cock in your pussy, mouth agape as you stare into his eyes while he continues to get in deeper. 

“Jesus fuck.” Jungkook moans, tightening his hold around your waist. “Tightest pussy I’ve– ah, shit, stop clenching, pretty.” 

You look absolutely delicious with your mouth hanging open, pleasure written all over your face. Jungkook would lie if he says that he hasn’t thought about how you’d look like during sex – especially over the past few weeks but for some reason, the universe has pull its strings for you two to end up this way and the Academy really ought to give him an award for not nutting just right after putting his dick in you because phew, you’re more than what he imagined. 

“Oh, that– that feels good,” you pant, hands reaching out for his biceps. “Harder, Jungkook.” 

And he does go harder, pulling out for a moment and slamming right back into your tight pussy which welcomes and grips him like a vice he swears he’s popping veins over how much he has to constraint himself from going crazy. 

But maybe he’s giving himself too much credit because one second you’re moaning and it sounds like music to his ears but then the next he’s saying something stupid like, “I–shiiit– I saw on your Amazon wishlist you wanted a dildo. You know I got a dick, right?” 

Jungkook’s got to stop running his mouth. Namjoon tells him he’s way too chattery sometimes and he’s right but he can’t help that he has a lot of thoughts in his head! So what if he thinks that he can outdo a dildo in any way? From the looks of your face right now, it seems like he can!

But you have a deadpan look on your face, a contrast to how you looked just seconds ago.

He’s prepared himself for something that would ruin this moment, but you only stare at him and say, “Yeah. So put it to good use and shut up.” 

Jungkook thinks he’d cum in the next ten seconds. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He grunts as he slides in and out, picking up his pace, sweat forming in his temples. He greedily lets his hand wander over your breasts and squeeze one, making you moan.

“Good.” 

You don’t know where you began and ended, all you know now is that as much as Jungkook can be infuriating sometimes, at least he can make you cum. 

And oh, he was definitely way better than the dildo Amazon had just dropped into your door three days ago. 

[jungwnies]

sfw alphabet | park sunghoon (en-)

୨ৎ : synopsis : sfw a-z alphabet for park sunghoon

୨ৎ : word count : 1366

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

(a/n) : don't forget to like & reblog !! my requests are open!

a ⤖ affection (how affectionate is he? how often does he show affection?)

sunghoon might not be the type to shout his love from the rooftops

but his affection is a quiet fire that burns steadily.

he'll leave you little notes hidden in your pockets

remember your favorite flower and surprise you with it "just because"

and his eyes will hold a special warmth when he looks at you.

b ⤖ beginning (what would he be like as a bsf; how would the friendship start?)

imagine bumping into him at a cozy café, both reaching for the same book on the shelf his dry wit and unexpected humor would draw you in

you'd find yourselves talking for hours, discovering a shared passion for music, art, or maybe even the quiet beauty of a snowy day.

c ⤖ cuddles (does he like to cuddle; how would he cuddle?)

oh, he absolutely loves to cuddle. picture this: a rainy sunday afternoon, soft blankets, and sunghoon holding you close, his chin resting on your head as you both get lost in a movie.

he'd be the perfect big spoon, his embrace a safe haven where you can let go of all your worries.

d ⤖ domestic (does he want to settle down; how good is he at cooking and cleaning?)

while he thrives in the spotlight, a part of him longs for the quiet comfort of a home with you.

he'd be surprisingly good at keeping things tidy, maybe even a bit of a neat freak.

cooking might be a learning curve, but he'd be eager to try new recipes with you, turning kitchen mishaps into laughter-filled memories.

e ⤖ ending (if he had to break up with you; how would he do it?)

breaking up would be his absolute last resort.

if it came to that, he'd do it with the utmost respect and honesty.

he'd choose a quiet place where you could talk privately, his eyes filled with sincerity and regret as he explained his reasons.

he wants to make sure you know it's not your fault.

f ⤖ fiance (how does he feel about commitment; would he want to get married quick?)

commitment is not something he takes lightly.

he'd want to be absolutely sure before proposing, ensuring that you're both ready for a lifetime together.

he wouldn't rush into marriage, but when he finally gets down on one knee, it would be a moment filled with deep love and a promise of forever.

g ⤖ gentle (how gentle is he; emotionally + physically?)

sunghoon's gentleness is woven into his very being.

he'd handle your heart with the care of a sculptor, always mindful of your feelings.

his touch would be feather-light, a whisper against your skin that sends shivers down your spine.

h ⤖ hugs (does he likes hugs; how often does he hug you; what are his hugs like?)

his hugs are rare but precious, a silent language of love.

he'd pull you close when you need it most, his arms a warm cocoon that melts away your stress.

his hugs would linger, a quiet moment of connection that speaks volumes.

i ⤖ i love you (how fast does he say he loves you?)

those three little words would be sacred to him.

he'd wait until the moment feels perfectly right

j ⤖ jealousy (how jealous does he get; what does he do when he is jealous?)

he's not the possessive type, but a flicker of jealousy might cross his face if someone gets a little too close.

he wouldn't make a scene, but he might subtly pull you closer or hold your hand a little tighter, a silent reminder that you're his.

k ⤖ kisses (what are his kisses like; where does he like to kiss you; where does he like to be kissed?)

his kisses are slow and tender, savoring every moment.

he'd adore kissing your forehead, a gesture of affection and protection.

he'd melt under your kisses on his jawline, a secret spot that sends shivers down his spine.

l ⤖ little ones (how is he around children?)

he might seem a bit awkward at first, but his playful side would emerge around children.

he'd be patient and kind, engaging them in imaginative games and making them laugh with silly faces.

m ⤖ morning (how are mornings spent with him?)

mornings with sunghoon would be slow and peaceful.

he'd wake you up with soft kisses and whispered "good mornings," followed by a leisurely breakfast in bed

definitely enjoying each other's company before the day begins.

n ⤖ night (how are nights spend with him?)

nights would be a blend of quiet intimacy and shared passions.

you might find yourselves curled up on the couch, lost in a good book, or sharing headphones as you listen to your favorite music

but the silence is 100% filled with unspoken affection.

o ⤖ open (when would he open up; does he say everything at once or does he wait to reveal himself?)

he'd open up like a blooming flower, slowly revealing his deepest thoughts and feelings as your bond deepens.

late-night conversations would become a sanctuary where you share your dreams and vulnerabilities

p ⤖ patience (how easily angered is he?)

his patience runs deep

he'd approach conflicts with understanding and a willingness to listen

always seeking a peaceful resolution.

q ⤖ quizzes (how much would he remember about you; does he remember every little detail; or is he forgetful?)

he'd be a keeper of your secrets, big and small.

he'd remember the way you take your coffee, your favorite song lyrics, and the story behind that tiny scar on your knee.

your life would be etched in his memory, a testament to his love and attention.

r ⤖ remember (what is his favorite moment in the relationship?)

his favorite moment might be the first time you looked at him with pure, unguarded love in your eyes

in that moment he knew he was falling for you just as hard as you were falling for him.

s ⤖ security (how protectice is he; how does he protect you; how would he like to be protected?)

he'd be your silent guardian, always looking out for you, whether it's holding your hand as you cross a busy street or defending you against unkind words.

he'd appreciate a partner who offers him emotional security, a safe space where he can be vulnerable without fear of judgment.

t ⤖ try (how much effort does he put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

he believes in quality over quantity.

dates would be thoughtfully planned, anniversaries celebrated with heartfelt gestures, and gifts chosen with your personality in mind.

he'd show his love through everyday acts of kindness, from making you breakfast in bed to surprising you with your favorite takeout after a long day.

u ⤖ ugly (what are some of his bad habits?)

he might be a bit too hard on himself sometimes

always striving for perfection in everything he does.

he might also overthink things, getting lost in his own thoughts.

v ⤖ vanity (how concerned is he with his looks?)

he takes pride in his appearance, but it's more about self-care than vanity.

he understands the importance of looking his best

w ⤖ whole (would he feel incomplete without you?)

while he values his independence, you'd become an essential part of his life

for him, you're a source of joy and strength.

he'd cherish your presence, your laughter filling the spaces in his heart he didn't know existed.

x ⤖ xtra (random headcanon for him)

he secretly writes you love poems in his spare time, hiding them away in a special notebook

y ⤖ yuck (what are some things he wouldn't like; in general or in a partner?)

he wouldn't like dishonesty, rudeness, or people who try to pressure him into things he's not comfortable with.

in a partner, he'd value kindness, understanding, and a shared passion for life.

z ⤖ zzz (what are his sleeping habits?)

he might be a cuddler in his sleep, subconsciously seeking your warmth and comfort.

he might also talk in his sleep occasionally, murmuring sweet nothings that make your heart melt.

2021-2024 © jungwnies on tumblr | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[hopefulidiocy]

nsfw salesman?🫣

Bitch

Salesman x Fem!Y/N

Warnings: rough sex, gun play, p in v, foreplay (f receiving), SMUT, not kind, but he feels something for her.

💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼

💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼

Red dress. Heels.

The text came through when you were sat in your lecture, scribbling down notes you weren’t going to look at later but knew you had to do something to get him out of your mind. For the past few months you had been playing a tedious game with a nameless man, someone who had been following you for months before he turned up at your flat with four words…

“Let’s play a game.”

And you, being intrigued in this handsome man, agreed to play with him. Despite your gut telling you to run. He came every Monday an hour after your classes without fail. And without fail, you were undone every time he left.

The text came as a surprise, leaving you breathless as the class came to an end. He left no time, no place to meet, just what to wear. How the fuck could you find a red dress within the depths of your sweaters and baggy jeans? Dresses don’t suit you. It’s not a part of you. At least that’s what you thought. He might’ve seen something in those twinkling hours above your naked body, maybe he thought you’d look good in a dress. So, the port of call is to call your best friend.

It took a few tries to get through to her but she finally answered.

“What?” Her gruff voice came through your phone, she had definitely just woken up.

“Have you got a red dress?” Both of you rarely said hello to each other.

“Yes. Why?”

“Okay I’m coming over.” You hung up, tucking your phone into your back pocket and taking off down the green campus, onto the busy Main Street and basically becoming Usain Bolt towards your best friend’s apartment.

No questions asked, she thrusted the red dress in your arms and oh my god it was fucking short. It wouldn’t even cover your ass but you had the short straw here, you couldn’t simply bargain for a longer red dress because no one owns one these days. Your best friend is a hoarder so it’s usually more than likely she will have something.

Evening was drawing in, you had blown out your hair knowing it would be completely lax by the time you arrived back at your own apartment; the dress definitely didn’t cover anything, you would look better going out naked; the heels were too high and it took a few rounds of your bedroom to walk like a normal person but at least your make up was astonishingly. You were waiting by the door, anxiously tapping your toes against the wood. The knock came, once and then twice before you answered. He took one swift look at you, with that shit eating smirk of his.

“Beautiful.” And then he led you to a place with dim lighting and dark candles.

“I need you to remember something for me y/n.” He leaned forward, his elbows pressed into the table as his eyes zoned in on you, darkening with every passing second. “You’re my bitch, okay?” Goosebumps raised on the back of your neck as you squeezed your thighs together, his mouth was slightly puckered as you attempted to find the words that roamed freely in your mind. He cleared his throat, looking marginally disappointed at your silence. You simply couldn’t find any words to say. His arm reached for his briefcase, pulling it up to his lap as his hand completely disappeared inside of it. You watched him, mouth dry and throat closed as he threw a black gun on the table. He didn’t say anything at first, instead he examined you with one elbow on the table and his fingers touching his chin, his eyebrows slightly raised.

“Is-Is it loaded?” You managed to muster. He broke out into a mocking laugh, it shook the room. You leaned back in the chair, trying to breathe as his snake-like moves suddenly came closer. His broad hand wrapped around the gun as he pressed the cold brass against your temple, your breath hitched and died in your throat as he clicked the revolver. His lips brushed against the side of your neck, his breath hot compared to the cold shivers that were coursing through your body; a shock sent straight to your abdomen.

“Would you like to find out?” His voice was so low it was barely audible as his lips sent waves down your spine, he wasn’t kissing you, just simply grazing his lips against your neck, teasing you until your hands clenched in your lap.

“Answer me.” His wrist wrapped around your locks and pulling harshly, the gun still taped to your temple.

The sane side of you wanted to say no, that side wanted to push him away and point the gun at the centre of his head. But you knew you’d be seeing stars before day break, before the moon fully made itself present you’d be shaking under his touch, and you loved it. Every second you loved the way he made you feel, how his fingers played you like a toy.

“Yes.” You whispered, a small tear forming at the corner of your eye. He chuckled darkly before kicking your legs apart, suddenly revealed to him in the candlelight. He trailed the gun down from your temple to your chin as he got onto his knees for you, the only time he ever did, and hitched your dress to your hips. He tutted, shaking his head.

“Why are you wearing these?” His index finger poked at your black underwear, the only thing saving your dignity and the way he poked at you sent a harsh gasp through your body and out your mouth. He narrowed his eyes before smirking, with one hand he yanked your underwear until it was dangling over your heels. Devastatingly slowly the gun traced over your collarbone, to your breast bone, to your naval and finally onto your clitoris. The cold metal stung and the thrill of danger had you weak, it was unlike anything you felt before even from him; he clicked the gun and you shrieked despite yourself even though this gun was obviously not loaded. His gun was left on the space between your legs on the seat as his hand grazed over your inner thigh before circling your clit with the pad of his thumb, similar but better than earlier in the car. He watched you through his dark eyelashes as you slowly lolled your head to the side, your eyes fluttering shut at the gentle touch to your sensitivity; he licked his lips as he sweetly kissed you on your pussy before diving in. You clutched on the sides of your chair, moans escaping your throat as you looked towards the ceiling, letting him work his tongue all over you. Black vision spilled in front of you as your body played along with his beautiful music, your vision completely blurred as a cold wave crashed over you, causing your knuckles to go white due to the hard pressure against the chair. You knew you were shrieking, but your body completely detached as he continued using you, your noises far away as if it’s in another room. White noise rushed into your hearing as your body began to tremble, your thighs locking him shut between you as he worked faster and faster on you until you folded into yourself. The cold air hit your aching skin as he removed himself from you, standing to his full height which was imposing even in this environment and then he scooped you up bridal style. It was almost romantic as he threw you against the window for all of the world to see, it was almost beautiful when he ripped your friends dress for the neighbours to enjoy the look of your breasts pressed against the glass. His black leather shoe kicked your feet to separate them.

“Stay there.” He ordered before his shoes grew quieter and quieter. The moments in which you were alone, your body on full show, prepped for him and you knew you were a whore for him, you knew this was going to be your life now. The threat of being killed, the threat of being hurt only turned you on more until you were basically dripping down your thighs. His footsteps became louder and you knew, you just knew, he had a gun in his hand. A different one and you had no idea whether it was loaded or not. The idea made you whine, your abdomen aching for his touch.

“You look so fucking beautiful like this.” He stood back to admire the view of your ass sticking out and the rest of you pressed against the glass. He enjoyed the thought of people watching you becoming undone by his simple touch.

During these times, he rarely removed his suit and today was no different. All he had to do was unzip his pants and his dick was excitedly pointing towards your heat, he lined himself up, a gun against the back of your head unknowing whether it’s loaded or not. He grunted as the tip of him entered your walls, the stretch always shocked you, the thickness was something you had to prepare for but he very rarely allowed the bliss of feeling ready for his cock. A small loan escaped his lips, it was classical, as he entered fully inside of you, allowing himself to fully enjoy the your warmth. You pressed your cheek against the glass, jaw slack as his cock touched every nook and cranny of your cervix; he reached around with his free arm and pressed down on your abdomen as he began to push further inside of you. Whining, you arched your ass towards the ceiling to accommodate his size.

“Look at you.” He snarled, pulling himself out to just the tip to make you beg for it. To make you weak and ache for his cock. And you were. The instant he pulled out almost completely, you felt the cold air and groaned in annoyance, you were empty and all you wanted was to be full of him. You bucked your knees, to try edge his cock in further but he harshly held onto your hips, his thumb digging in so hard you felt the bruise forming. That magical feeling of his breath escaping his mouth as he emerged back inside of you, the relief that settled your heart before he began hammering his hips into you, deeper than you ever felt. The cold glass and the hot feeling of his cock inside of you was such a stunning contradiction, you hoped people could see what this man was making you feel, you squeezed your pussy around him just to hear that musical moan escape his throat again. His tie became undone as he clicked the gun, relishing in you flinching, ducking your head every so slightly but enough for him to notice and laugh.

“You love the threat of being shot, don’t you?” He snapped his hips so deep into you that for a moment you forgot your native language, you forgot the laws of physics as his cock buried itself deep within your womb, readying itself for his lust. You felt the tip of the metal begin trailing your spine as his hips snapped in and out of you, huffing as he brought his fingers towards your clit, circling it in a ferocious manner to bring you quicker to your undoing. Suddenly, he flipped you towards him, he preferred to see your face as you moaned all over his cock, bring your legs to his shoulders so he could grow deeper inside of you. You didn’t even worry about slipping down the window because he had you hard against the glass, there was hardly any space between you and him and the window. His hips came down like a hammer, he wasn’t picking up his pace and instead simply pulled half way out slowly and slammed his hips down, hitting your aching g spot as it threatened let go all over him.

“Please, faster.” You begged, crying almost to let go. His hand clasped around your neck, adding onto his quickening pace. Instead of hammering down onto your quivering body, he began to level up faster, making you cry out in absolute bliss and serenity. His hips slapped quickly onto yours, as he grunted and groaned, hiding them in your neck; he bit down as hard as he could as you let everything go all over him. He knew you had reached your high, but he didn’t stop, instead in one swift movement he picked you up and slammed you into the hard floor. You knew, come daylight, there would be a mark but you would parade it proudly knowing you had become a whore for a man you hardly knew. It was disgusting but somehow it made you hornier as his cock worked you to a pace of his own, something that physics hadn’t yet discovered. The gun was forgotten about, he didn’t want to continue threatening you, instead he wanted you to see stars once again, he wanted to hear your beautiful music as you shrieked over him.

“So good to me.” He grunted. “Your pussy belongs to me, you belong to me.” He wrapped his wrist into the knotted locks of your hair pulling violently that it made your neck completely snap towards the ceiling, making you cry out in pain that was overwhelmed with pleasure. You contracted around him, your toes curling as you unleashed everything onto him; he moaned in delight as he pushed further into you. His large hand grabbed the gun and pointed it at your forehead, you just about saw the barrel, your jaw slack and dumb.

“Look at you, in this pretty dress, getting fucked, being my own personal fuck toy.” He mocked, pounding even harder. You started seeing stars, your eyes rolling back and your throat sore; you let him have his way as you dived into a world of satisfaction, no moans or words could describe this moment between the two of you. “Can you not speak, pretty girl?” He pouted, pulling your hair and rising you roughly so your back was against his chest; your eyes still rolled at the back of your head. His fingers splayed over your exposed throat, your hair sweating as he whispered. “Do you like it when I fuck that tight cunt of yours?” You wanted to scream yes, you wanted the whole world to know that you belonged to him and you loved being used like a useless toy.

“Y-Yes. Yes I do!” You managed to squeak, but he wasn’t happy and clicked the gun in his free hand, making you flinch once again, his hips still bucking at a gods speed. “Yes. I love it when…. When… you fuck me, I love it!” You ended up screaming towards the end, eager to get it out and he chuckled darkly as his movements began falling. Close to his edge, his imprinted himself onto your neck with his mouth and shook with agonising pleasure as he painted your walls. He groaned loudly, pulling out and you simply collapsed onto your hands and knees; a stupid, shaking mess. You managed to look up at him, his eyes were black with pleasure and he smiled sweetly as he saw you curled up by his feet.

“Now tell me, sweet girl, what are you?” He mocked.

“Your bitch.”

[princecharmingwinks]

Sterek Fic Rec - 2024

Guess who's backkkkk??? Ok so I know that I am late but only by like 4 days? So not too bad. Anyway! Welcome to Prince's 2024 Fic Rec List! I am now aiming to do a list every year (and more if we are lucky but let's not promise that hehe). As always here are my top 10 fics I read and a special bonus mention !

Perfect Star That Hid by thebigoblin (1/1 | 1K | Teen)

He turns his hand— It’s not bare, anymore. His wrist — it has a name. His soulmate’s name. He stares. And stares and stares because what the hell. This has to be a joke, right?

Last Christmas (I gave you my heart) by jadore_hale (1/1 | 4K | Teen)

“W-what is this?” Derek couldn’t even begin to get his mind around this current situation. “My Christmas gift to you, nephew.” Peter pushed the guy towards him, and Derek hastened to catch him before he fell face first on the floor. “I’d like you to meet your soul mate.” *** Derek's uncle Peter decides to get a little more creative this Christmas by finding Derek's soulmate and stuffing him in a box with a pretty bow on top.

Stiles Stilinski, Magical PI by suzvoy (1/1 | 21K | Mature)

Stiles is a Private Investigator, only not really. He's also magical, but only close up. One thing he's really good at is lusting over people from afar, which is why it's a problem when Laura Hale hires him to help her brother.

Wanted and Wounded by RoxyRosee (3/3 | 12K | Explicit)

Derek can't seem to get off. It's been days with no luck, and he's constantly on edge. But then pack night rolls around, and when Stiles falls into him as he goes to sit down on the couch, Derek is suddenly coming, right where he sits. Turns out, Stiles is his mate. And among a whole slew of embarrassing side effects to this whole "mate" thing is the fact that Derek will never again be able to have an orgasm without Stiles by his side. So yeah, Derek's life kind of sucks right now.

Welcome to the Jingle by Jmeelee (1/1 | 1K | Mature)

Derek could admit—only to himself, of course, never out loud—that he was a little desperate to make new holiday traditions with his (officially all adults now thank god) pack. But his ideas had run more along the lines of a cozy take-out dinner at his new apartment, an ugly sweater or white elephant party, or maybe volunteering at the local soup kitchen. It had not involved spending Christmas Eve at Jungle.

Hey Dad, Derek Hale Is In My Room. Bring Your Gun. by fairytalesandfolklore (1/1 | 767 | Teen)

Being the Sheriff's kid is hard enough. Having a seemingly over-protective father who's more concerned about your bad influence than your ex-murder-suspect werewolf boyfriend is so much worse.

"The point is, I'm an adult," he amends, heaving a weary sigh as he attempts to salvage whatever is left of his dignity. "I can make my own decisions, and I choose Derek. He makes me happy. He's a good guy. He treats me well. He looks out for me, keeps me safe. He's responsible and respectful and a complete gentleman, and I really think that if you just got to know him a little better, you'd really—" The Sheriff holds up a hand, effectively cutting Stiles off mid-ramble. "I like Derek just fine," he says, and the smile that spreads across his face is warm and genuine. "You do?" Stiles falters, completely thrown. "Wait, so then why—" The Sheriff's fond smile turns to one of wry amusement. "It's you I don't trust, Stiles," he says around a hearty chuckle. "I've raised you for 18 years, I know exactly what kind of mischief you're capable of. Wouldn't want you dragging that nice, respectable boy into any trouble."

The Hoodie by PersePhonesDreams (1/1 | 1K | General)

Stiles didn’t mean to keep Derek’s hoodie—really, he didn’t. But the oversized, ridiculously soft thing quickly became his favorite comfort item, a piece of Derek he couldn’t quite let go of. It’s not like Derek would notice anyway... right? When Derek unexpectedly shows up at Stiles’ window one quiet night, Stiles’ not-so-secret attachment to the hoodie is exposed, leading to a conversation that changes everything. Cue awkward confessions, teasing smiles, and the realization that maybe Derek doesn’t mind Stiles keeping more than just his hoodie.

Over the Hedge(witch) by rororowyourboat (1/1 | 7K | Teen)

Derek moves into a new house with Laura and he is flustered by the hot gardener next door who is always just slightly dirty.

And When I Wake You're There I'm Saved by suchfun (1/1 | 14K | Teen)

"Derek," Stiles says, firm. His hand is warm on Derek's shoulder. "I'll be okay." "You didn't leave me," Derek argues. "How can you expect me to leave you?" Stiles rolls his eyes. "Oh my god, it'll be fine. Even if I am captured, I'm just a boring human. They wanted you for your Lycan blood." Derek crosses his arms. Mainly so he doesn't wrap his hands around Stiles' throat in an attempt to throttle some sense into him. "That's fine. But this isn't a time when being a boring human is an asset. This is a time when being a boring human results in a shot to the head." "Derek," Stiles says again. He steps closer, so Derek is surrounded in his scent, his chemosignals—namely unwavering, resolute determination, distinctively sharp and entirely unbreakable—clouding Derek's mind. "You'll come back for me." He sounds so sure, and he can tell the exact moment Derek gives in. Because Derek somehow always gives in to Stiles. "I'll come back for you," he confirms. "And you better not be dead." Stiles grins, eyes sparkling with far too much humour for someone who potentially just sacrificed himself for a surly Lycan and bunch of strangers. "You do say the sweetest things."

Remember What's Lost by AMatchInWater (1/1 | 7K | Explicit)

Wild Hunt AU, Stiles gets taken and Derek instantly knows something is wrong with his memory, but just doesn't know what until Lydia calls him, begging for his help to get Stiles back because she thinks they have the strongest connection. When Derek saves Stiles he stops at nothing to finally get what's his.

princecharmingwinks special mention (this fic has a heck of a lot of emotions and when Derek fell to his knees, my heart broke. you gotta read it to find out why! don't worry I will never read or rec unhappy endings)

Horizons into Battlegrounds by AClosedFicIsNeverRead (1/1 | 15K | Explicit)

Derek has always kept his distance from Stiles, refusing to act on his instinctive desire for the pale, doe-eyed human. But at what cost? When circumstances reveal the horrors that Stiles has suffered due to Derek's self-imposed distance, will the Alpha be able to make it right before it's too late? ______________________________________________________ “Who are you to the pack?” the hunter asked. “I’m nobody.” Stiles answered plainly. And a harsh chill ran through Derek’s body. His breath caught in his throat because… because Stiles’ heart… it had remained steady. Stiles… actually believed that. Believed that he was ‘nobody.’ How could Stiles believe that?

That is all for 2024 my friends! Please remember to give kudos and leave comments for all our amazing Sterek writers. I know I'd be lost without you all. Thank you!

[kaisaerinlover]

dark content

tw: abuse

laying in bed with kaiser after an extra rough day, a day where he was so much worse than usual. a day where your whole body is left aching in pain. kaiser doesn’t offer you any help or care other than picking you up where you lay limp on the floor to toss you onto the bed so he can feel your warmth next to him.

you’re laid on the pillow trying your hardest not to move, every time you move it feels like a thousand bricks are being tossed at you nonstop. feels like hammers are beating at you. you’re so broken right now it hurts. but that’s what you get for dating someone like kaiser; you shouldn’t play angel with a guy like him. shouldn’t play the “i can fix him” game with someone who is more than just sad inside. someone who’s pain and hurt from the precious years of childhood manifested into a terrifying amalgamation of twisted morals and sick behaviour. you shouldn’t play those types of games with a man like kaiser, because he’s not like anyone you will meet or have ever met in your life. any therapist would truly have a field day with this boy because the amount of times he would have to be in their office is more than infinite, if it’s even possible. it’s impossible, but not for him. fitting for him. he could get better, but his mindset doesn’t allow this. he won’t change it anytime soon, that’s why you’re laid in complete and utter agony trying to bite back the tears that threaten to fall from your eyes. even breathing is painful.

he’s next to you, looking like nothing even happened at all. he looks beautiful, hair tied up into a neat little bun at the back, glasses on, face illuminated by the awfully expensive antique lamp you insisted he buy the other month. he’s reading something, your vision is too blurry to see what he’s reading. the sound of him flipping the pages every so often is soothing, you could almost forget about the burning pain you have all over your body. almost forget how he looked as he punched you over and over; screamed at you again. how terrifying it is to be beneath him as he gets so violent with you.

it’s not fair, it’s really not. it’s not fair how he treats you when you are so kind to him; so gentle. sometimes he treats you with the same sweetness you taught him, but it’s not common. but you are different; you would never react back to him with the same brutality his actions teach you. you are a good person, your heart is big and your compassion swells for him even after he treats you like this. you couldn’t explain why even if you wanted to, human nature of this degree is wordless, unexplainable and weird. it’s illogical, but that’s one of the most beautiful things about humans.

that’s kaiser’s opinion anyway, he has you wrapped around his pinky finger. he can hear your shaky breathing next to him; he smirks to himself.

you look at him when you hear him fold the corner of the page of his book so he can find it easier later, and place his book down on the bedside table. you’re waiting for him to turn off the lamp, but he doesn’t yet. your boyfriend clears his throat and looks forwards into the rest of the very luxurious bedroom you both share. “hey, engel” he doesn’t even bother looking at you as he talks. he obviously lacks respect for you. and you acknowledged this long ago. and you stay. you stay with him. you wait silently for him to continue. silence is the best answer after a day like this - he’s impossible to predict. whatever is inside of him follows no logical pattern, if you say the wrong thing you’ll anger him more. “do you know why i hurt humans?” he still isn’t looking at you. you don’t talk still, you don’t bother looking at him anymore. the bruise on your neck that’s darkening even now, hours after the beating, is hurting too much. you stare at the ceiling as you listen to him talk.

he’s smirking as he talks, looking out into the bedroom with his hands behind his head. he carries on again, his voice never lacks confidence “it makes me feel alive.” you never quite understood that about him, you’re still quiet, listening to him, but you extend your arm anyway and lay it awkwardly on his chest despite the pain that shoot’s up the entirety of your arm from doing so. he acknowledges your smaller hand messily splayed across his chest by bringing his own bigger hand to squeeze it tightly, painfully even. he bent your fingers back today a lot, they still ache.

he doesn’t look you in the eye still as he talks. and you don’t want to look him in the eye either. you just both stare into the dimly lit surroundings as you maintain some semblance of skin to skin contact. “i’ve hurt a lot of humans before” he laughs a little. you gasp a bit and jump as he squeezes your hand painfully tight, obviously intending to hurt you. “but hurting you makes me feel the most alive.” your chest is hurting and your hand is crushed so immensely between his much bigger one. you heard the sickening crack of your fingers. you sort of wish he wouldn’t let go, you don’t want to see the damage. purple is a pretty colour, but not when it’s on your fragile skin.

kaiser squeezes hard, he can’t feel alive in any other way than this. than checking his heart rate in a morning. than looking in the mirror and seeing himself standing there, seeing himself in the flesh and knowing he’s alive. he loosens his grip on your hand though and turns to lay on his side to face you. he looks pretty like this, you’re looking at him as well; head propped on his free hand, the other reaching out to caress your battered cheek. he likes seeing what he did to you earlier, likes when he can assess the damage himself. it makes him feel so alive. and even though you won’t admit it his battery makes you feel equally as alive as he does. “you know, prinzessin, i’ve never been hurt before though.” blatant lie, he knows it is, you’ll believe it. he chooses to push his childhood far far behind him. he doesn’t associate with that time of his life, any memory of it that replays will only be viewed in a third person point of view. he doesn’t know that weak child anymore. “wanna know why?” and you give him a response for the first time. you nod and look up at him with your big glassy eyes. you’re like a broken toy, but you know that someone like kaiser can appreciate a broken toy. poor kids who grow up with nothing will accept anything. wealthless kids, abused kids who grow up and enter society as sickeningly ill in the head adults will stop accepting anything, they’ll only accept the familiar brokenness they know best. and if it’s not there in the person they want, they’ll make it themselves.

“it’s because i’m not human.” kaiser doesn’t see himself as human, the opposite actually. having a superiority complex is fun, but it’s less fun when it’s to cover up the hideous truth beneath. he’s caressing your beaten face so tenderly right now, as you deserve. for once he’s treating you kindly. he’s subhuman. but he’s also something better, he’s above everyone else. his intellect is a mean feat in any terms of human endeavour. his talent is unrivalled. he can do things no one else can. michael kaiser can make the impossible into a reality. michael kaiser can give hope to those who thought they could never dream again. he looks at the tattoo on his hand instead of your eyes, the tattooed hand that’s caressing your face; the face he’s grown to both love and despise over the years. the face he wants to destroy beneath his rough fists. the face he wants to hold gently and leave a kiss on. his tattoo is a reminder he’s above everyone else, but also that he’s a piece of shit. he has narcissistic tendencies but it’s mostly a cover up. even he doesn’t believe in his delusions sometimes.

poor you has to bear the brunt of that, but whilst he’s caressing your face you can forget about all the burden you’re forced to carry because of the emotional baggage your boyfriend brings to the relationship. he sighs. he can’t even look you in the eye. he stares off into the window, the one that rain is trickling against now. the city is beautiful at night, but you’re more beautiful. you’re pretty. so cute. süsser prinzessin. but he can’t bring himself to look at you right now. “i’m not like the rest of you, and i never will be.” you can’t tell what he’s thinking when he says that; but you’ve always been an empath. your hand finds its way back to his and you push it from your cheek and intertwine it between the fingers he hurt so much.

you make him feel so alive, hurting you is the best thrill he could get in life. bringing any harm to you is also the most saddening thing. you’re so nice to him even now, someone like him doesn’t deserve it. he’s a subhuman piece of shit and you love him. he’s also a god, renowned by many. he’s a subhuman who needs to be loved and he’s a cruel cold hearted god who needs to be taught gentleness and kindness. he just rubs his thumb over the back of your smaller hand and sighs. he’s a confident guy, no doubt about it, but maybe you won’t be around forever. maybe you will pack up and leave one day - he’s tried every trick in the book to ensure you stay, not that he even has to do that, because you would undoubtedly, but he can’t help but be worried.

it’s shameful to admit that maybe an emperor does need a princess sometimes. he rubs your hand in circle motions and presses a kiss to your forehead. he’s sorry, he’s so fucking sorry for doing this to you. he doesn’t know why he’s like this; you deserve so much more than this. infinity times infinity more. you’re really his princess, he’s sorry. sorry that he treats you like this. sorry that instead of affection all you get most of the time is his fists bearing into you over and over, a barrage of attacks until he’s finally decided you learned your lesson.

you don’t have anything to learn. kaiser loathes you because you’re a perfect human. you’re beautiful and you’re compassionate. you have a big heart and a big personality and he likes your stupid jokes you tell. and he hates that you stay with him. you’re so perfect, you really are. you notice his eyes are glossy. he hates to cry; kaiser fucking hates crying. you also know your boyfriend hates crying, so you open your mouth for the first time tonight. “i love you, micha.” a sweet whisper of love. he feels your other hand, your other thumb wiping up the small amount of wetness beginning to form on his lashes. only you could notice that, god he fucking hates you. “i love you too” he confesses in a rare moment of vulnerability.

you fall asleep in his arms, and he falls asleep too. he’s squeezing you so tightly, he’s holding you so close like you’re something so precious; like a thief of the night might come and steal you from him. every inch of your body aches from his earlier barbarity, but you didn’t care whilst falling asleep and you won’t care when you wake up. your heart is so pure that you simply don’t have the capacity to care about anything other than your boyfriends wellbeing and happiness.

kaiser is thankful he gets to even lay next to you. you’re not one of the same at all. but sometimes he debates your humanity as much as his own; you’re an angel.

[negrowhat]

Sangmin Dinneaw Ep 1 Elevator Pitch

Because the tag only has like 4 people talking about it and I want to talk about it with some of mutuals and strangers alike. Ep 1 dropped 6 days ago and I still have no one to talk about it with so here we go!

This is Dinneaw! He is a very cute young man who helps his beloved mother run the family homestay, 'Dinneaw Homestay'. He does quite a few jobs for the homestay which includes checking guests in and out, working as a barista at the homestay's cafe, and selling Dinneaw Homestay goods at the local market. Dinneaw's ultimate dream is to be a tour guide.

This is Sangmin. He's a handsome young Korean man who travels to Thailand and winds up staying at Dinneaw Homestay. He's actually lived there before at a very young age through some sort of foreign exchange situation. I'm not really sure how long ago it was exactly IQIYI subs aren't that reliable but sometime between one and two decades prior to his return as an adult. Judging by the way Dinneaw's mom talks about him, he's at least one or two years older than Dinneaw.

Unlike a lot of BLs we have seen that like to use characters from other Asian countries as a plot point, Sangmin actually does speak Thai. He's not expert in it, but he knows enough to have full conversations with the people around him. He does get mixed-up and stumped from time-to-time but that's okay.

Dinneaw does seem annoyed by Sangmin's presence but that is mostly because his mother seems to be a tad more fond of Sangmin than Dinneaw would like. Like she thinks about Sangmin daily and she misses him dearly and she immediately recognized him when he showed up again. In her defense though, Sangmin was kind of forced to leave her home and he was very young and she is a mother who took care of him so in her mind he's another son who's been missing for over a decade.

Anyways, Sangmin and Dinneaw have instant chemistry. Sangmin seems immediately interested in Dinneaw and smiles very happily every time he sees him. Dinneaw definitely seems attracted to Sangmin but he still finds him annoying and he picks a lot of fights with him. We do get quite a few scenes that display the chemistry between them...one being an insanely oily massage scene.

We also have our side pairing introduced already. Athit and Tor. They're both friends of Dinneaw and both own vendor stalls at the same market. Athit sells herbal liquor and Tor sells chicken meatballs. Athit already has his sights set on Tor and Tor is just happy to have a regular customer. If you recognize them it's because they also played a side couple in The Rebound.

Anyways the ep ends with Sangmin and Dinneaw sneaking out to go drink together so ep 2 is no doubt going to start with them getting drunk together.

Ep 1 was a good mix of comedy, flirting, slice of life, and the tiniest tinge of sadness. After y'all watch ep 1 of The Boy Next World slide on over and catch up with Sangmin Dinneaw, it will also be airing on Sundays on IQIYI.

[cherrixpie]

Hiiiii I’m so so excited for your requests being open!!! Also CONGRATS ON 300!!!!!!! so deserved.

If it’s alright, may I please req an Enzo fic or headcanon list where reader is like very day dreamy? Like very head in the clouds type of person, preferably Ravenclaw!reader? Anything else is up to you

Thank you so so much for reading my req, and happy new year!

↬ enzo x dreamy!ravenclaw!reader

I imagine your first encounter being when you ran into him in the corridors one day, completely caught up in one of your vivid daydreams, when you, not for the first time (that day) run straight into someone.

You apologize profusely to the pretty slytherin boy you ran into, his cute smile only worsening your embarrassment.

Despite being in the same grade, you only know so much as a last name about him. Your friend groups have no overlap at all, you barely have any classes together and you have a hard time concentrating in those, so you had never greatly noticed a lot of things about him.

Like how cute and radiant his smile is. How good you could drown in those brown eyes of his. How gentle his hands are, even when he's picking up old schoolbooks. His dimples. His smooth voice. How kind he is, despite you staring at him for a good minute, completely lost in thought (and his eyes)

You are awkward and stutter a lot, but Enzo thinks it's cute. Though he does recommend you see Madam Pomphrey for advice in case you need glasses. At this, you explain your habit of daydreaming, feeling embarrassed, but he only comments how this must be the creative spirit of Ravenclaw

Ever since then, you can't help but notice him more often. You tend to wake out of your daydreams in class whenever Enzo says something, and you notice that he's a good student and almost always right.

You also notice a lot of other things. How he crouches down to pet every cat that crosses his path. How he seems to be Mattheo Riddle’s cooling down pill. That he tends to spill ink on his fingers from writing so fast and proceeds to clean them with a silken handkerchief.

The next time you properly meet is in Hogsmeade’s book store. The Hogwarts library doesn't have many novels and even less muggle books, so you get your supply from Hogsmeade. You run into each other in the muggle section, greeting each other shyly and you somehow find yourself recommending a book.

You thought that would be the end of it, even though your thoughts sometimes slip away to a parallel universe where you could spend more time drowning in those brown eyes. But it isn't.

Only a week later, Enzo calls out to you after class (he has to call your name several times), running up to you and thanking you for the recommendation. Since books are one of the few things you can actually concentrate on, you end up discussing the novel with him in great detail.

That evening in the library, Enzo comes to sit next to you at your usual desk. You realize you can keep your mind on school stuff much better when he's around, somehow. But over your hopeless pining, you tend to miss the flush of his cheeks and flustered expression whenever you accidentally touch hands or you talk passionately about a book.

His friends start noticing that he hangs out with that one Ravenclaw girl that always seems a thousand miles away recently, especially when he starts walking you to classes you have together instead of going with them.

They tease Enzo for falling for someone who's got their heads in the clouds all the time, for ditching them for the quiet mooncalf ravenclaw girl in their grade, but he only scoffs about their teasing remarks and smiles to himself, making them holler with glee.

It took a while for you two to actually cross your platonic boundaries, though. Mainly because his attempts and nudges went right over your oblivious head and you stocked up all signs to your amorous daydreams. Enzo couldn't possibly like you like that, right? It had to be a fickle of your imagination.

Little did you know that Enzo was growing quite desperate as time went on and you failed to pick up on any of his hints. Or did you, and ignored them because you weren't interested in him romantically?

He had one or two smaller breakdowns with his friends who kept reassuring him that he just had to man up and ask you out.

When he finally did, you spaced out for a good few seconds, making him sweat with increasing unrest. When you finally got your mind back, you agreed enthusiastically, stumbling over your words and blushing furiously. Enzo was beyond relieved.

As your boyfriend, Enzo insists on walking you to every class, even those you don't have together, because your daydreaming not only makes you knock into people, objects or walls, but your sparse concentrations on your surroundings (he is the exception) makes you prone to fall for trick steps, false doors or moving stairs.

Enzo loves to listen to you talk. When you trail off in the middle of a sentence, fall silent and stare into space for a while, he waits patiently, caressing your thigh in gentle brushes and waiting for you to return to him.

Sometimes he will ask you to tell him about his daydreams, and when you do, you compliments your creativity and kisses away your embarrassment.

It's much easier to concentrate with Enzo around since his presence alone has the effect that it draws your attention, therefore anchoring you in the present. Especially effective is his touch, though he is a little shy about that.

Enzo would frown and glare at anyone who laughs about you behind your back, even if you tell him it doesn't bother you. If people tease you badly to the point of hurting you, he will call up his friends.

Is that… Mattheo Riddle and Theodore Nott beating up the Gryffindor guy that made fun of you? No, no, darling, don't look at that, just walk with me, yeah?

Enzo calls you his dreamy girl, affectionately referring to you as “dreamy” in general.

He makes sure to write extra orderly when he takes notes in class so they can be of use to you later in case you spaced out in class. When you study together, he always makes sure you drink enough because you tend to forget taking proper care of yourself sometimes.

If the hustle and bustle of school life makes you shifty and nervous, he looks for an empty classroom for the two of you to sit and talk, or lean into each other in silence while runs his fingers through your hair.

You are nervous around his friends, but once they realized how serious Enzo was about you, they have stopped teasing him (so much). Instead, they (at least some of them) make an effort to make you feel welcome (and maybe even making up for bullying you in the past pshhh)

Enzo is absolutely enamored with you and your endearing habits, and he feels honored by your trust. While you could get lost in daydreams for hours, he could spend an eternity being lost in you.

[beckwritesif]

The vast stretches of lone trees and wild grass of the rural countryside lures the ego overboard, pulling consciousness off course into addiction, delusion and seduction’s disintegrating madness. You barely pull yourself home from there every evening, the sun telling your time, the birds your weather forecast. One day you might not return home at all.

From the Mud is a Midwest gothic inspired horror set in a solitary countryside occupied only by two small towns and stretches of untamed nature. You play a troubled cowboy/girl/puncher who‘s ground deep into a maddening, repetitive routine that a string of deaths suddenly upends. The sheriff of the neighboring town along with a driven journalist and an old friend whose bridge you’ve long since burnt comes to town having heard the news. As you’re hunting for the culprit and running from yourself, your quiet life on the ranch is disturbed, forcing you to keep your cards close and choose your company carefully. But the most pressing matter proves to be whether you can trust your own mind.

From the Mud

☆ Interactive fictional psychological horror written in choice script

Features

Play as either a man, woman, or other

Choose your appearance from overall features to minor details

Experience nuanced romance as either straight, gay, or bi, or forgo romance altogether

Choose whether you’re religious or not in an overly christian rural town

Experience the world react differently towards you depending on who you identify as

Get wrapped up in the chaos to solve the mystery of several murders

Lose touch with reality and slowly question everything around you

Reject the possibility of unnatural forces at play, or believe

Rot in a jail cell

Ride a horse!

Play a game mostly not driven by numbered stats but meaningful actions and a fuck ton of trackers

Demo TBA soon | pinterest

Basics about some of the important characters and other below

The Sheriff ☆ Zachariah “Zach” Mallory ☆ a man in his mid thirties

Sheriff Mallory works from his office in Two Rocks, and though his occupation means working closely with other people and seeing to their needs, it would be indolent to describe him as being good with people. At all. Being abrasive and ill-natured, the man does, however, suit the role of authority well. When the angry crease on his forehead soften, you might find there is something else within his tired eyes.

The sheriff has dark brown, chin-length hair and a matching little effort short beard. His sand-colored skin is sun-kissed from being outside, the circles under his eyes almost a purple kind of shade. Under a heavy set of brows sits a pair of dark blue, almost stormy gray eyes. Standing at an imposing height, Mallory is nigh refused anything, and can’t be forced to wear the ugly uniform his rank requires. Instead, he sports a simple white fitted t-shirt and a pair of well-loved denim jeans.

The Journalist ☆ Candy Tillman ☆ a woman in her early thirties

Working for the local news station in Two Rocks, Ms. Tillman has through work experience and excellent mentoring from her predessessor become a hound chasing stories and truths. She is both idealistic and romanticizing (that which shouldn’t), and yet entirely unsusceptable to bullshit. When her facade falters who will accept her then?

The woman with the sweetest name has blonde hair that falls to the middle of her shoulder blades, which she loves to blowout. Her tan skin is contoured by a natural style of makeup, her small, light blue eyes painted. Candy is average height, reaching taller stature with her go-to minimalist pumps. The journalist prefers simple, feminine silhouttes of clothing, keeping up with the times.

The Best Friend ☆ Blythe Abel Goodwin ☆ a woman in her mid twenties

Blythe is your best friend who you grew up with in Ashley and who stuck around when everyone left, though you know she would’ve loved to leave just as much as you once did. In response to the death of her dreams and the narrow-minded opinions of the general inhabitation of the area, she has defiantly become a person of unique and unpredictable character. You’ve known each other through thick and thin, but is there a side to her yet to be discovered?

Your childhood friend is a contrast-filled woman just under average height. Long, black, cascading hair falls from her head down to her mid-back. Choppily home-cut bangs frame her small face. Her fair skin turns rosy in the cold. Blythe’s almond eyes that are sometimes obscured by a pair of reading glasses, are hazel. She wears whatever the fuck she wants.

The Colleague ☆ Ford Wiley Mallory ☆ a man in his early twenties

Ford Wiley is the younger half-brother of Sheriff Mallory and your colleague on the ranch. Working there only half-time, the younger Mallory is dedicated and driven only in the field of his passion; music. His band has only ever played at the local bar, though. Reserved and perhaps somewhat more thin-skinned than most living out on the countryside, Wiley makes do with refreshing optimism. Whether this optimism is genuine or fabricated is yet to be revealed.

Your part-time cowboy coworker has long, wavy brown hair that he sometimes makes an effort to style, and otherwise lets it live its own life. He and his half-brother have little in common, appearance included; Wiley has olive skin covered in freckles. His eyes are dark brown, and he is of average height. The musician’s clothes consist of unwanted (by himself) hand-me-downs from Zachariah and ill-gotten items.

The Old Friend ☆ Sawyer “Saw” Brennan ☆ a gender selectable person in their late twenties (m/f)

You grew up with Sawyer along with Blythe, and the three of you braved your childhood and youth in this godforsaken place for years. But they left when things got hardest, and you haven’t been able to get past it even after all these years. Over the years Sawyer has been away they’ve grown into a person you barely know anymore, and you struggle with their sudden return. Will you be able to understand and forgive them for leaving?

Sawyer has inky brown curly hair, worn long (f) or short (m) and loose, carefully taken care of and styled. They have warm brown skin and sharp eyes to match. Your old friend is tall, fitting their frame into oversized graphic t-shirts and either color matched sweats or baggy jeans.

My intentions with this game: It is not supposed to be a beautiful story, it is supposed to be ugly. Writing this game in the way I am is my taking a step away from perfection and seeing where my unpolished writing takes the story. I have been ruled by fear of inadequacy and a desire for ‘perfect timing’ long enough. If I continue to wait for the ‘right moment’ to create, I will end up not creating at all. My only desire now is to simply create, and continue doing so until I have something to show for it.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

You are never a mistake

Dmitri Smerdyakov x betrothed!reader

warning : kissing, hurt/comfort, cuddling, emotional, abuse (beating), family problems

Summary : Dmitri thought for a moment that he would be accepted by his father, but when he felt the blow and his wife's intervention almost backfired, the Kravinoff son realized that he had to become strong, not weak. For his love, for someone who loved him as he was, he himself would stand up to his father no matter what a disappointment he was.

info : Finally the first one-shot for Dmitri the cute little beaten up bastard who just needs a little love. I hope you enjoy reading ;)

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

Many couples around the world meet in cafes while they are both reaching for coffee, looking for life books in the library.

Maybe at a party or through friends, there are moments that last forever and are cherished when you find your partner for life, a relationship that becomes a marriage and an eternal bond with the exchange of rings.

Something that symbolized love and strength a bond when you had your own family maybe even about to start and then there were still the couples that met and a shadow seemed to lie over them forever, a shadow that had a name and didn't even seem to be happy for the love of their own child.

The first time they had met was in their music store, the best and biggest in New York, a store for the elite and those who could afford it.

An old family store that was the heart of every musician and singer from strings to wind instruments to keys and to microphones and stands.

A business that adapted to the talent.

Behind the counter, glancing up every now and then to greet the new buyers, she had seen him first, the slightly wavy blond hair, the cute nose, the little smile on his lips and the gentle demeanor.

The first time she had seen him, she had dared to leave her seat and come to him, seeing how he looked a little lost as he stood in the piano section.

She knew the feeling of being lost in a place you were interested in, not quite knowing whether to move or stand still.

The first time she had heard him play in her shop was the day she no longer saw her customer as just a customer, she saw his strength, his art, his beauty as he seemed to be absorbed in playing the piano.

There was a talent, a dedication in it and his voice, that voice she could have listened to for hours, made her hum along even when it seemed to be just the two of them in her shop.

,,A wonderful talent, really beautiful" her praise came from the purest heart...but for him, for Dmitri Kravinoff, it was the first time anyone had recognized him in what he was good at.

It was the first time for Nikolai's son that someone had inspired him in what he did and it was the first time that he lost his heart to her on the spot.

The day they exchanged numbers so that he could deliver the piano she had chosen to the club and also so that he could take her out for a meal at the end of the day.

It was on that day that two people had found each other and that only some time later it was more than just a relationship and fleeting dates, it was a bond between the two young people to whom the world was open...or so it seemed at first glance.

For the first few months it was like that, moving in together, partying, having fun, traveling everywhere, gifts that went from expensive to cheap to homemade and then to something more intimate the more they opened up and trusted each other.

The more she realized who his family was, what he was, but most of all what he had experienced, his ,,I-I understand if you hate me now...I wouldn't stop you if you wanted to leave” surprised her but most of all hurt her that he gave up on him so easily.

That her talented, precious, wonderful, gentle Dmitri, who kissed her on the forehead every morning, who did everything you could do with her and who dedicated every song in his club to her with such love and kindness, thought so little of himself.

Who had hurt him so much?

Who hurt him so much that every loud noise made him flinch, that he almost cried during an argument over trivial things and how he hated it when animal documentaries came on TV, little things she would have overlooked but with what she knew she just wanted to hold him in her arms.

Who had hurt him so much that he saw himself as nothing, which she tried to talk him out of every time ,,Dmitri my beautiful star I don't care who your family is, it's us who are together and not your last name” she tried to explain to him that he was the most important thing she had.

That her kisses and hugs, her words and gestures had the same loving effect as he had on her, that they had each other and when she threatened to kiss him every time he thought something like that again.

Dmitri finally seemed to find his smile again, ,,Do it," he just said, and he pulled her into a kiss as they lay cuddled together on the couch.

Together they gave each other the support they needed, Dmitri kept her motivation up whenever she wanted to give up with her msuik and she lovingly told him every day how good he was, that he was loved and above all that he was not alone.

The two of them in the club they had built with Dmitri's family money was their common pride, a club for the rich customers of the city.

A club where she could recommend her regular customers and the best entertainment was guaranteed with his piano and singing as well as her violin playing which made for a pleasant atmosphere.

Almost every evening, the two of them stood on the small stage and performed their harmony, ,,I dedicate this song to my beautiful fiancée,” he announced, while she joined in with her violin and the soft music amused the guests.

His blue eyes kept going to her, the smile was returned and she gave him a wordless ,,I love you” which he reciprocated, it couldn't have been better for the couple... until the moment when Dmitri's eyes fell on a man, a certain someone who came into his club and almost made the Russian play the wrong music.

With a hand movement that made the music continue to play by itself from the equipment hanging on the walls, and she saw how he smoothed out his jacket.

Everything will be fine, she thought he wanted to tell him, but he had already gone to his father, who had sat down in one of the recesses in the walls, looking directly at the stage from which she also came down to follow her fiancé.

Nikoali was a man of strength, a man you didn't want to mess with and yet there was no avoiding him, ,,Father, we're glad you're here, can I offer you something?” Dmitri asked and got a hug and a gesture she didn't get instead Nikolai gave the back of her hand a kiss and she gave him a quick friendly look.

It seemed that Dmitri was the only thing keeping her future father-in-law from killing her-what a luck.

But as long as Dmitri was happy and had his father, the two should get along, ,,I'll get a few glasses,” she let the men know as Nikolai gave his son a bottle of expensive wine.

A gift of value not from the heart but it made no sense to the son his father was here and happy that was all that mattered...so she thought.

It was just a moment when she pulled out the wine glasses in the kitchen at the back of the club, not wanting to take any more advantage of the waiters who had a long shift ahead of them.

The glasses in her hands and a smile on her lips, she heard the muffled noise and a crash, rushing back into the main room she saw Nikolai had pushed Dmitri against a wall, knocking over the table and no one was doing anything.

,,Dmitri! Let him go!” she shouted at the older man, afraid that he would seriously hurt his son, because the horrible stories that sent shivers down her spine told her everything she needed to know about the underworld boss.

Her fiancé's attempts to get free were unsuccessful, so without hesitation she picked up one of the glasses and threw it against the wall next to Nikolai, ,,Let him go and get out of our club,” she continued to threaten.

An empty threat that amused the dark-haired man, who was already lifting the next glass when he let go of his son, who slumped to the floor, barely able to support himself.

,,Even your bitch has more courage than you, shame on you,” Nikolai said to his son and walked past her with an appraising look, hurrying to her fiancé as soon as the door closed and he fell onto the nearest chair, ,,Are you all right? To the hospital?” she asked, trying to wipe the blood from his lip with a slapped hand from the blow his father had given him.

He looked terrified, as if all joy and hope had drained out of him once more, but he just shook his head before he simply poured out a tearful ,,You're fine” into her arms and she embraced the couple just lying in each other's arms for a few moments.

They held each other until Dmitri calmed down and his tears had stopped, the decision to close the club early was hardly one because it looked like a mob had gone wild there and not just Nikolai, ,,Your heart is too big for the world,” she told him as they rode back to the apartment together in a cab.

Her hand didn't leave his and stroking his head at least reassured him but the look in his eyes, she had never seen such hatred, whether it was just the confrontation or something else she couldn't say.

Whatever it was it seemed to keep him occupied the whole time no matter what they both did, no amount of embracing or kissing could break his blcik until the moment they lay in bed together.

She cuddled up to him and he gave her a good after kiss she couldn't shake the feeling that something else was going to happen.

Even though she felt safe in his arms, he stroked her side until she fell asleep like he did every night, usually soothing them both, the sound of the door opening and closing was something she didn't realize, didn't realize how Dmitri had to do something.

It was one thing when he was pushed around, he had been pushed around all his life but now that he had his fiancée he wouldn't let his father get away with it.

Knowing she was safe in the apartment sleeping peacefully, it was the Kravinoff who set off through the city at night to his father and it was only the clanging and rattling of cupboards that woke his fiancée from her slumber.

,,Dmitri?” the question came cautiously as she groped beside her but he wasn't there, but the sounds from the apartment frightened her.

No one had a key except for the two of them, pulling the covers aside she reached for the water bottle next to her bed, quietly and carefully venturing out of the bedroom, she saw the shadow in the hallway that seemed to be raging in the kitchen.

She should have called the police, anyone, but what if Dmitri was in danger?

She was ready to sleep with the bottle tighter if ever, she cried out in fear when she saw Dmitri, who seemed to be looking for something in the kitchen and looked completely exhausted, ,,What the hell? Dmitri darling what are you doing?” she asked putting the bottle down.

Seeing the torn clothes, the fuzzy hair, the black eye but most of all the bloody knuckles as if he had hit himself or better said as if someone had hit him.

Seeing what he had failed to find, however, she grabbed the first aid kit and went with him to the couch, ,,I well...I told my father never to insult you again and then there was a little altercation” he began to confess as she gave a makeshift dressing to his wounds which fortunately did not require stitches or hospitalization.

His courage touched her as she realized that he had pushed away the person he had once needed the most for her, ,,I've never loved you more and well...next time we'll both beat him up” she suggested and felt the kiss he gave her as they both laughed at the idea.

But in his eyes the look of gentleness and love was there again and not the hate ,,I love you too" he replied and she pressed a kiss to the bandage on his hand which should make the pain less.

At least Dmitri didn't seem to be in pain, not when they kissed, not when she continued to nurse him and he proudly told her how he had told his father off, and not when his hand stroked the engagement ring on her hand as they made love and finally seemed free of the gray of the Kravinoff family.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ @tori111777 , @bel0ved-heretic , @amecchii , @xxxibgdrgons , @lordbelzeebub , @simonsrealwife

[moonmaiden1996]

Totally agree 💯 with your thoughts on Sanji as a romantic partner (he's my favourite 🥰). What is your opinion on him as a sexual partner? I somehow see him still as a virgin (would have died from that massive nosebleeding) 🤣 and shy, afraid of not pleasing his woman. Maybe more vanilla than into kinks. Lot of cuddling, kissing and holding hands. 🤔 What you think?

I love this question. Sanji is also my fav- you have good taste.

Okay, buckle up, folks—I've put some serious thought into this, and here comes a full-blown essay.

First off, I’m convinced Sanji is a virgin. Hear me out. I think even Oda might’ve hinted at this somewhere? The guy’s all about the romance of the relationship, not the deed itself. His intensity about love probably scares off anyone looking for casual fun. Add to that his chronic nosebleeds at even the hint of affection or attraction—it’s safe to say it takes someone very special to get over him losing his entire supply of blood through his nose to get to that level.

But let’s talk about Sanji as a lover. The man is a giver, full stop. His happiness comes from making you happy, no matter the lengths he has to go to. Sanji’s the kind of guy who could literally lose himself in your pleasure—like, "Oh, you’re enjoying this? Great, I’m done!" He’s probably the type to cum in his pants while he’s focusing on you.

In the early stages of your relationship, Sanji would be laser-focused on perfecting his technique. Picture him pouring over every guide, every book, every questionable magazine he can find to up his game. And don’t think he’d stop there—oh no, this man would shamelessly eavesdrop on his fellow crew members for tips. And yes, I absolutely believe he’d practice on a half-eaten peach in the privacy of his room. (RIP peaches, forever ruined for him he can't go near them without his pants tightening .)

Being the hopeless romantic he is, Sanji’s all about slow burns. He’d wait until marriage, all while showering you with kisses and cuddles—he thrives on emotional and physical connection. That said, if you weren’t a virgin, he’d be down for a little extra physical affection before marriage and the big event (cue eyebrow waggle). He wouldn’t mind your past; he’d just be thrilled to share this new chapter with you. And hey, if you’ve got pointers? Even better. Sanji’s a fast learner with a willingness to please.

Now, if you were a virgin, Sanji would handle it with the utmost care. This man would be terrified of messing it up and you never want him to touch you again (I feel like this is the biggest fear for him getting physical with you, that and hurting your even the slightest bit). Hence lots of prep, oils, and constant check-ins to make sure everything feels just right. He’d follow your instructions to the letter, treating the whole experience like a sacred ritual.

Now for the spicy part: fetishes.

I’m torn here. On one hand, I could see Sanji keeping things vanilla—classic positions, whatever works best for you, with a side of soul-stirring romance. But let’s not forget, this man is also prone to dramatic flair. I wouldn’t be shocked if he pulled out some next-level One Piece tantric lovemaking just to keep things interesting.

On the kinkier side, I think a breeding kink might be on the table. Sanji dreams of a big, loud, loving family, and the "practice makes perfect" mindset tracks perfectly with his character. Beyond that, he’d be open to experimenting—but with clear boundaries. Anything involving harm or discomfort? Absolutely off-limits. Sanji wants you happy and safe, always. Nothing you do or say will persuade him. Side note thought - he would be very down to mark you up with hickeys, something that doesn't hurt you but tells everyone your his really hits his possessive needs.

That said… I do get strong "step on me, mommy" vibes from him. Just putting it out there. Take that as you will.

At the end of the day, Sanji is all about love, care, and devotion. Whether he’s cooking for you, cuddling with you, or, ahem, other things *wink wink*, he’s 100% in. He lives to see you happy, and your joy and pleasure is the greatest reward for this passionate, hopeless romantic man.

[neiptune]

et nunc et semper

cw: NSFT, 3k+ wc, female reader, ancient rome au, slavery, mentions of violence, sexual exploitation, power imbalance, intercourse, fingering, reader has greek origins, sae is head of the most gorgeous domus and you, a slave, eventually become his favorite concubine. one that just so happens to fall in love with the person, other than his brother, sae confides in the most: his most trusted slave, oliver

Sae is a good dominus.

When his brother sold you to him, grown bored and easily irritated after so many years of service, you were expecting complete and utter disinterest at best. However, prepared just in case you wouldn’t be as lucky once more, you also braced yourself for the worse scenarios: corporal punishments, torture, sexual exploitation. Rin’s kindness had always rested in his complete indifference and when he announced you were to be sent away, you spent entire nights awake, praying his brother would be just as merciful.

Against all odds, however, Sae grew fond of you. As soon as he learned you were able to speak Greek, he summoned you to his tablinum. You knew being one of the most trusted advisors to the emperor came with immeasurable privileges and richness, something you were reminded each day you spent in that domus: not even Rin’s residency had as many elaborate marble decorations and paneling, grandiose paintings and a garden one could very well get lost in.

The tablinium is where very few slaves are allowed, only the ones Sae trusts enough to let into the room he receives his clients in. The first time you stepped inside, well aware of teal eyes studying your every movement, you tried not to appear too fascinated by the walls decorated with such rich fresco pictures, nor by the busts of the Itoshi family arranged on pedestals on the other end of the room.

However, you couldn’t help yourself. You were born a slave but your parents were not: your mother was Greek, could read and write, made it a point to teach you both Latin and her native language. Back then you thought you’d never get to see Piraeus firsthand, hence why you were so drawn to the unusual frescoes Sae chose for his study. Aesop’s fables, represented so beautifully you raised your hand with the intention of tracing outlines you wouldn’t even be allowed to observe in a different household.

“Read for me”, Sae said that afternoon, shaking you from your stupor. He pushed a scroll towards you and it was surprising to suddenly discover his interest in science and philosophy. You were there, standing by his chair for hours, reading Anaximander’s theories and studies out loud, until the room grew dark and your voice hoarse.

It became a daily appointment: each evening, you knew your master’s expectations was to find you in the tablinum right after dinner. Never one to sleep much, sometimes he’d keep you there the entire night, your voice the only sound in a household where slaves were barely allowed to speak if their master happened to be around. You read for him without eating, drinking or sleeping, and when the sun would rise you were simply sent back to your duties.

And then, suddenly, he started asking questions too. What did you think of Aristotle, Herodotus, Plutarch? Was his pronunciation beyond saving? When you switched to poetry, Sae allowed you to sit next to him, so that he could follow along, eyes focused on your finger as it grazed each verse, to make it easier for him. He scoffed at Aristophanes’ comedy, which you suspect was a way to hide actual amusement. He enjoyed Sophocles and his tragedies. Then, he enjoyed watching you, the first time you read lyric poetry for him.

“It’s supposed to be accompanied by music, isn’t it?”, he asked, eyes boring into yours. You just lowered your head further and apologized, briefly stated that you didn’t want to sing for him without asking for permission first. Sae granted that permission.

He started touching you, a gentle brush of the fingers at first, to make sure your hair didn’t hide your profile from him. He’d then grasp your chin and tilt your head back to make sure you looked at him while detailing your impressions over a piece you’d just read. You never grew tense under his touch, not even when he’d grab your jaw if your tone got too low or you paused to clear your throat in the middle of a sentence. You did whatever was expected of you. Let him part your legs and sneak a hand underneath your tunic, obeyed when he ordered you didn’t stop reading as he touched you.

Like his brother, Sae grows restless easily and your submissive nature ended up irritating him. You were a little too unfazed, a little too good at carrying on, as if he wasn’t making a wet mess of you with his expert dexterity.

And so he ordered you’d kiss him, crawled onto his lap with your legs spread wide open for him, gasped and moaned and whined into his mouth. Loud, for all to hear. He wasn’t rough, perhaps it was the most gentle you’d ever been touched by a man, by a dominus. He’d take you right there, on his lap, on the table, on the floor. With time, you learned what he liked. On some days, you were allowed boldness: whispers to his ear of how good he felt, how much you desired him, more than any other man as no one could ever compare. Your fingers would card through his hair and pull at the soft strands right as he throbbed inside you, buried so deep you felt him in your throat as tears he’d lick away stained your cheeks. You’d keep your nails clean for he liked it when you scratched his back, you’d gently bite the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

And then, on some other days, you’d let him use you as he pleased, mouth shut, legs parted. He’d be stressed, angry, sometimes too irritated by either his marriage or matters of politics you’d never understand. You were always there for him, far from being the only slave he fucked, but certainly an interesting exception Sae didn’t want to get rid of and instead kept by his side most nights, in his personal bedroom, arms around your body pressed close to his as he softly asked you’d speak to him in your language.

You thought you could fall in love with him, you really did. He’d bring you with him on his travels and you’d find yourself missing him whenever he’d be back to his main residence, where his wife was. Where his children were. Sae would always come back with gifts, still does, and you know his affection has never been less than sincere. Being his favorite concubine means being draped in a cloak of newfound protectiveness, it means being owned social respect. It means being special. He sees you as more than a slave kept as sexual luxury, he cares about you. Wouldn’t that be enough to make a woman fall in love?

And then, one day, Sae came back and brought his most trusted servant with him. One you had never met before.

While you’d occasionally be with him during journeys or whenever he’d retreat to his country house for a couple of weeks during the summer, Oliver was always by Sae’s side. His mother was Sae and Rin’s father’s slave, he was born in their household and is Sae’s domestic worker. Oliver carries out a range of duties: cleans, prepares food in the kitchens, delivers missives. He’s probably the man, other than his own brother, Sae trusts the most in this life. They have a relationship intimate enough for him to keep Oliver as a secretary and an accountant too. He was the one asking his father to pay for a slave’s education, to make sure he could serve him better. You can imagine the affection he has for Oliver runs deep enough to grant him freedom from ownership, one day.

It was your demise and greatest stroke of luck. You never in a million years could’ve imagined how frail the equilibrium you were relying on was, a crimson thread mercilessly severed by a single touch of his fingers. It was desperate, the way you were drawn to him. When he talks, when he looks at you, you feel like a person and not a possession. A dangerous thought to have, and yet.

The days spent helping him in the kitchens, in the garden, the afternoons you’d catch glimpses of him laughing with other servants, all the times you were forced to be on Sae’s lap while he sat across from you, detailing the latest information about his most pressing affairs, eyes only daring searching yours when your master would be deeply focused on a document or a letter. Oliver had such a way of carrying himself, with a dignity you’d never seen in a slave. He wore a perpetual mask of neutral detachment with his master but when Sae would leave, on the fortunate occasions when he wouldn’t be around and all the eyes and ears of the residency could be considered far enough to grant you enough intimacy, Oliver could drop the act his life depended on.

He’s smart, curious by nature. Speaks Greek with a better accent than your master’s and yet still comically distorts some words, which makes you laugh. He’s knowledgeable about horticulture and spends hours curating the gardens surrounded by the peristylium each day, you’d often observe him from the patio as he tended to violets, saffron, thyme, rosemary, carnations. With expert hands that would leave no place for doubt should another slave or the master himself have noticed, he once plucked a rose and bowed as he offered it to you. A slave bowing to another slave. It made your heart flutter.

You hated yourself for desiring him, not because your mere existence revolved around the axiom of any individual desire being forever forbidden, but because your selfishness could cost him much more than his freedom. If Sae so much as imagined Oliver touching you, he could’ve claimed his life and yours with a light snap of the fingers. 

You didn’t care about your life, not really, but his held so much value. He was about to be freed, there was too much at stake for you to ruin everything.

Oliver is infuriating and stubborn, any attempt at avoiding him went up in smoke as he was just as desperately drawn to you and refused to give up on the one thing he ever wished for himself. Whatever he would do of his freedom with no one to share it with. You had insinuated yourself in his heart like dripping water that hollows out stone and for once in his life he, a person who wasn’t allowed to own anything but his feelings, felt alive.

And yet, he waited, persistence confined by respectful boundaries Oliver never once forced you to cross. He waited, exasperating, confident, beautiful in a way that made you wish there were marble statues and saturnalia dedicated to him. In a way that made Sae dull, someone you couldn’t hold anything but gratitude and affection for. A man you could never love the way you loved Oliver, a man you’d never kiss for the first time on your own accord, brief and sweet in the middle of the night, by the kitchen. You remember his eyes and how dangerously beautiful the moonlight reflected in them was, how searing the second touch of his lips felt against yours, the way he’d silently asked for permission he didn’t need, the uncertainty swarming in those eyes almost bringing you to tears.

You didn’t know what being asked for consent meant and you had no idea what choosing to lie with a man would do, how different the pleasure would feel. Despite being uncomfortably taken against the wall, it was the first time you ejoyed sex. Even on exceptional days when Sae would care about your pleasure too, it always felt like making you finish was a stubborn challenge he’d test himself with. Another proof of his ability, void of any sincere care.

Oliver was different. He strokes your skin with genuine tenderness, never chases his own high without making sure you’re feeling good too, without being absolutely certain he isn’t hurting you somehow, or being unintentionally too rough. Some nights he’d drop to his knees, a servant serving you, making you fall apart on his tongue without ever looking away from your face, so beautiful when contorted in pleasure. He’d catch you when you wouldn’t be able to stand any longer, gently lay your trembling body on the hard ground and push your tunic further up, to be able to still look at you before diving in once more. He wouldn’t ask for anything more on those nights, kissing your palm tenderly when you offered to grant him relief too.

“Get some rest”, he’d whisper against your lips before leaving you cold and alone once more. 

Neither of you expected Sae to free you first.

One day, he’d summoned you to the triclinium, the magnificent dining room where he receives his illustrious guests. Oliver was there, standing by the entrance, expression neutral and eyes never daring finding yours. Rin was there too, reclined on his left side on soft cushions while other slaves served him courses of fruits and warm, sweet wine.

“Lie with me”, Sae’s order surprised you: it wasn’t rare for him to keep you close in front of clients, friends or other servants but members of his family were his only drawn line. Obedient, you positioned yourself in front of him, propped on one elbow on the same couch. 

“She’s worth much more than the amount I paid you, brother”, he murmured into your skin, one hand lazily pushing your tunic to your hips.

Oliver’s love had changed you. Made Sae’s touch intolerable, newfound feelings of guilt and shame churning in the pit of your stomach for the very first time. You didn’t wish for his fingers to explore your skin, you didn’t want Rin to watch, or worse, claim his own fair share.

“What, just because you made her your Greek whore?”, the mockery, for the first time, hurts you. These feelings could get you killed.

“Be respectful of my Greek whore”, Sae buried his face into the crook of your neck and you stayed frozen, “she’s also my liberta, now”.

Your breath hitched in your throat and he chuckled, pulling you possessively against him with an arm around your waist. A liberta. A freedwoman.  

Rin’s scoff didn’t faze you.

“Look at me”, Sae’s grasp on your throat burned as he tilted your head backwards and spoke against your mouth, “you are free. I wish to keep you with me as your patronus. Will you stay?”.

For a moment, you feared you might not be able to speak, too overwhelmed by feelings interlaced within you like both ribbons and snakes.

“You honor me”, you were finally able to whisper.

In a way, this was everything you could ever wish for and the worst thing to ever happen to you. It was perfectly clear what being freed meant: you would forever owe him eternal gratutide and reverence. He made sure you’d remain in a legally defined position of obligation for your entire life, a bond that would last forever. You had never felt more trapped.

“Oliver, serve some wine to your mistress”, Sae’s gaze never left yours as he quietly ordered. Your heart squeezed painfully as you kissed him, doing everything in your power to keep your focus on your patron and nothing else.

Now, on nights like this, when you lie tangled in warm sheets with your lover, you’re even more dreadfully aware of what’s at stake. His freedom, your freedom. Both your heads, probably.

This bedroom in Sae’s domus now belongs to you, along with all the valuable possessions within it. He provides financially for you and finally grants your most intimate moments their due privateness. His slaves are your slaves, you are free to wander around the house as you please, accompany him publicly for everyone to see. Rin once said he’d never seen him treat his own wife with such devotion and Sae simply pulled you closer in response.

“This one’s different”.

He loves you, you know he does. When you read for him the world stops, Rome and perhaps the entire empire dissipating into thin smoke. His own dimension ruled by your voice alone, eyes shut when the pads of your gentle fingers explore him, lips he would start wars for.

But all that ceases to exist when you’re in Oliver’s arms, his nose grazing your neck, the deep rumble of his voice vibrating in a chest pressed to yours.

“Does he hurt you?”, you ask and he peels his weight away from your body, propping himself on one elbow by your side instead.

“No”, he replies quietly and smiles when you reach to grab his other arm and place it around your waist. You then hum, fingers tracing scars you’re familiar with. Faded marks on his chest, his back, his shoulder and arm. Oliver’s gaze softens at your unspoken worry.

“His father”, is the explanation he offers, “Sae never touched me”. His thumb starts stroking the skin above your hip and you sigh, relieved, melting into him like you always do.

“Does he ever hurt you?”, the question makes you chuckle but Oliver is serious, scowl getting deeper.

“No”.

“Does it feel good? Does it feel the same?”.

His hand disappears underneath the sheets and you jolt weakly against him when knuckles graze your bare skin before fingers start collecting the slick that still trickles out of your spent hole. You take his face in your hands and pull him closer to make sure he looks at you, not wanting your next words to sound as if you’re only speaking under the effect of the pleasure he’s providing.

“Never. It could never-”, a gasp when he dips one finger inside you, “it will never”.

For the following minutes, the only sounds in the room are your soft whimpers against his mouth and the increasingly wet, lewd noises produced by his fingers, the increasingly restless roll of your hips barely able to meet movements that drive you insane.

“I love you”, he murmurs, a low groan bubbling up from his throat when he curls his fingers and you see stars, muffle a moan into his neck, one hand closing around his wrist and nails digging into his skin. You’re still shaking when he pulls you into his chest, brings one of your legs around his hips. There’s a familiar hardness pressing against you and you tentatively rub yourself against it, face hidden into the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

“I will buy you”, you whisper, “I will buy you from him and set you free”.

Oliver stills your movements with a gentle hold of your hips, his other hand stroking the small of your back. Having you close is, once more, enough.

“He will never sell me”.

“Then you should stop seeing me. He will grant you freedom one day but if he ever finds out…”.

“What an absurd suggestion”, a quiet laugh shakes him, “giving up on the one thing that gives my life meaning at all”.

“He’ll take your life, Oliver. You could die because of me”.

“Then so be it. I would die after having lived”.

You pull back and meet his only half playful gaze.

“Don’t mock me. And don’t you dare leave me alone in this life”.

“Is that a request or an order, mistress?”.

Your groan elicits a chuckle. Oliver kisses the crown of your head, wraps his fingers in your hair.

“He owns my freedom, everything else is yours. I don’t fear punishment, only an existence void of you”, he speaks in Greek, attentively, and your heart throbs painfully once more. You kiss him, soft and gentle, then decide to be just as playful while your thumb delicately grazes the portion of skin underneath his eye.

“Really?”, you also ask in Greek, “I heard rumors of his wife requesting to lie with you. Does that feel the same?”.

He offers a boyish smile, gently bumping his forehead against yours.

“You’re ridiculous”.

“Not a very convincing answer”.

Oliver sighs.

“It feels like nothing, woman”.

You hum, feigning pensiveness.

“They say she’s beautiful”.

“She is”.

“Just so you know, this conversation is not going well for you”.

Oliver chuckles, lowers his head to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. He stays here, lips brushing against yours, in hopes you’ll swallow his next words and let them take root in every crevice of your body. Maybe then you’ll believe him.

“Aphrodite herself wouldn’t be a match for you”.

“Flatterer”, you whisper, amused. It’s not lost on you, the way he intentionally used her Greek name instead of naming her Roman counterpart, Venus.

Oliver smiles, taking a second to observe features already carved into his very soul. He cups your cheek and thinks he wouldn’t mind dying like this, with you turning your head enough to press your lips to his wrist, eyes softened by sincere adoration.

“In love”, he corrects.

[ryuzakemo128]

Kintsugi: Chapter One: Red Flags, Why can't we see them?

Pairing: John Price x Female reader

Content Warnings: Female reader is the breadwinner, female reader is a sex worker, john price is an asshole to you, simon is there for you as a friend, John's secret affair mentioned, cheating suspicions, female reader has a secret apartment, pregnancy scare, arguement and yelling. Burned out female reader. Smut. Not the good kind sadly. Second warning for asshole john price. You will hate him. You are supposed to hate him.

Masterlist - Chapter List

Summary: “I am tired of being someone else’s last choice instead of someone’s first. It’s always what have you done for me? Instead of how was your day? I can’t take more of this. I knew what I was getting into. But I didn’t agree to any of this.”

I get what you're sayin' I just really don't wanna hear it right now Can you shut up for like once in your life? Listen to me, I took your nice words of advice

“I am tired of being someone else’s last choice instead of someone’s first. It’s always what have you done for me? Instead of how was your day? I can’t take more of this. I knew what I was getting into. But I didn’t agree to any of this.” You remarked into your cassette tape, another diary entry you keep from his prying eyes and another way to keep Price from using your own hurt against you. You don’t know what you did to earn it.

You mentioned your ex-boyfriend off handedly once and he blew up in your face. You waited for hours for him to come back home. You were crying your eyes out when he stormed out the door. It wasn’t like you were mentioning him to make him jealous either. You didn’t know what you did wrong.

He never told you why he was upset with you sometimes. He would always leave after a huge argument saying he needs ‘space’ and that you made things worse when all you wanted to do is to make things better. Nothing ever seemed to work for him at all. Nothing at all. You called Gaz and he would say he didn’t see him. But your hunch that Gaz was covering for him.

About how you think I'm gonna die lucky if I turn thirty-three Ok, so yeah, I smoke like a chimney I'm not skinny and I pull a Britney every other week But cut me some slack, who do you want me to be?

You didn’t want to turn to Simon for advice but john left you without a choice. What wer5e going to do next? He wasn’t content with just small insults at your appearance it seems. It was going to a different level like stepping out of your relationship. The one thing you thought was going well for you.

'Cause I'm too messy and then I'm too fucking clean You told me get a job then you ask where the hell I've been And I'm too perfect 'til I open my big mouth I want to be me, is that not allowed? And I'm too clever and then I'm too fucking dumb You hate it when I cry unless it's that time of the month And I'm too perfect 'til I show you that I'm not A thousand people I could be for you and you hate the fucking lot

“I don’t know what I did wrong, whenever I ask it’s like I’m talking to a brick wall. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” You felt awful about talking to your ex. But he knew you better than your current boyfriend it seemed.

You had tried everything to make it work with Price but it felt like you were just going around in circles. You felt like you couldn’t breathe anymore. It’s like every move you made was wrong. You decided to give him the space he wanted, hoping that when he returned he would realise what he had and that he didn’t need to treat you this way.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.” You stated. “I need to find a new place of my own if he’s gonna keep actin like this. I don’t know what he wants from me and he just won’t use his fuckin words to say it either.”

You wonder where you went wrong in your life to get THIS kind of treatment. You never spoke back, never complained nor insulted him or looked elsewhere for comfort outside of your relationship. You pulled out of the apartment slowly enough to make sure he never caught on, last thing you wanted him to do is to catch on to what you were trying to leave him.

You hate the fucking lot You hate the fucking lot

You made rain checks whenever he ‘tried’ to have sex with you. You knew what he was trying to do and you weren’t going to fall for it this time. You didn’t want to feel like you were slowly losing your mind.

You don’t still don’t know what you did wrong to deser5ve John’s cold shoulder as of late. You still tried asking about it. But he always says, “Nothin for you to worry about.” No ‘babe’ or ‘love’ like he used to speak to you.

You slowly started to miss those moments more as the days went on. It made you worry more so you stopped mentioning his hours away from home and you silently continue to seek out a new place to move into.

You didn’t tell Price about the new place you managed to find. You stopped telling him much of anything related to you or your work. You didn’t want another lecture on how you were ‘wasting’ money. Even though you out earned him in your chosen profession. Money remained a sore topic for the two of you.

Staring to move your things into it while he would be deployed. Piece by piece, you didn’t move any of you old furniture it would make things far too ‘obvious’ to him. It would alert him far too quickly.

That’s if he even noticed anything about you anymore. Or if there was anything wrong to begin with. The selfish cunt. No guarantee that he hasn’t noticed either. He wasn’t completely stupid sometimes. Might get suspicious about what you’re planning to do or planning to go. You would have to come up with a convincing enough lie to get him off your back.

Though if he already knows? He may try something drastic enough to keep you there. You just hoped you had enough time to give yourself space between him and the man you used to love. That you used to adore and cherish. Before whatever cause this….monster, this fiend to come out of him.

You showed Simon the new place you bought, it had two bedrooms, the master bedroom had an ensuite attached and a walk-in closet. The kitchen had a stainless-steel dishwasher, and the apartment building had laundry machines on the ground floor. You can always buy new furniture, and any old furniture will be sold when you get comfortable with living somewhere he doesn’t know of.

You didn’t want to hire a private detective on your own boyfriend, but you can’t help but feel suspicious of what he was doing in those long hours far away from you. You pitied anyone who had the misfortune of dealing with him. Even the people inside the same task force as him. The need to control everything won all the time.

You worked in your office like you normally done. Giving him his own branded silent treatment into his face. You weren’t going to give the right to hurt you more than he had done tonight. You were so tired of his shit.

You weren’t perfect far from it too. But whenever he was around you it was clear it was what he wanted from you. You continued to play dumb and you didn’t give him anything he ‘wanted’ from you.

“No. Do it yourself.” You remarked one morning.

John raised his eyebrow, looking at you like you had grown a second head. “What the fuck did you just say to me?” He spat, his words dripping with venom.

“You heard me. Do it yourself. Clearly you don’t need my help. So, go on, do it yourself.” You stated as you walked upstairs to your office to continue your sewing on your dress.

John looked at you, his eyes wide with shock, “Is this what it’s come to? You’re just going to ignore me like that?”

“W-what’s the matter dear? Can’t handle your own portion of your responsibilities? Does he need his mother to write up a chore list?” you taunted from upstairs. “You know one thing a man can do that proves he’s a real man? Admit when he’s fucking wrong. You can’t seem to even do that anyway.”

'Cause I'm too messy and then I'm too fucking clean You told me get a job then you ask where the hell I've been And I'm too perfect 'til I open my big mouth I want to be me, is that not allowed? And I'm too clever and then I'm too fucking dumb You hate it when I cry unless it's that time of the month And I'm too perfect 'til I show you that I'm not A thousand people I could be for you and you hate the fucking lot

As you finished the dress’s skirt velvet inlay for the next video, the amount of work you put into your pornographic content is both immense and taxing at times. As you didn’t want it to look like it was a cheap Halloween cosplay or cheap in general.

The main reason you earned so much is because of the level of care put into your craft. Your fans knew that and appreciated it. It was a stark contrast to the apathy John showed for your well-being. You had a loyal fan base and they were eager to support you. But that didn't matter to him.

Especially when he looked at the content you posted both behind the paywalls and the free teasers. He said it wasn’t real money. But you also pointed out that you sold pottery once a month online. You paid the bills, and you weren’t above reminding who earned more to be able to let him spend his income his own way.

Petty? Sure. But petty with a reason attached.

By the time most of your most expensive work gear is moved to the apartment, you were only living there now and cleaning up to a meticulous degree in total silence. As you cleaned the living room carpet with the deep cleaning machine you bought for the occasion. You were dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top, showing off the tattoos that danced along your arms and your stomach.

You had dinner in the slow cooker since seven in the morning. You didn’t bother to set the table since it was just you and your thoughts. You weren’t expecting him to come home early tonight. You hoped he’d stay out for as long as possible.

When he finally decided to come back home. You had placed his dinner into separate containers. You were already asleep on the couch. The plush pink eye mask over your eyes, the matching pink silk pyjama set. The chunky, thick blue-grey crocheted blanket you made last year keeping you warm. As the unicorn shaped nightlight provided enough light in case you needed to use the bathroom.

You had a doctor’s appointment coming up sometime in the next month or two. You don’t exactly remember if it was next month or the month after that. A full body check up to make sure things were in working order. You had done one every three months. The job demanded that you were healthy physically and mentally.

You paid for these yourself, despite living inside a country with healthcare. You paid for medical insurance anyway. It was one of those private healthcare insurance things you paid a good chunk of your money for. You decided to go for the best of the best, and with John’s current mood swings? You weren’t going to take any chances with your health.

What if you were pregnant would he finally be excited that it had finally happened? Would he confess to his affair to another man or woman? All of these thoughts spun around your heard like ballerinas. You didn’t quite understand where his hostile started and if it would ever end.

You felt like it was your fault for not being strong enough to put your foot down. To demand what you did wrong. Why did he seem so fine with it if he felt otherwise? What made him feel this way? If he wanted to break-up why did he wait so fucking long?

You always felt like he was rushing things in this relationship. Especially when he found out about your career, your little side hustles which contributed to your cushy amount of money. But you weren’t perfect, you weren’t even close. From far away the illusion of perfection is there. But once you peak through the cracks they’ll see how many imperfections you got.

What were you supposed to be?

What are you supposed to be?

Everything is spinning out of control. Cliché advice doesn’t work when he doesn’t want to fix himself.

You were either too messy or too fucking clean. Either way he hated how you’ve been. You could be keeping the house clean, but he’ll comb through just point out a spot where you have ‘missed’. Like he knew what to do to make you so pissed at him.

Pushing all the buttons built inside you in the right order, the right way to get you annoyed with him., It was like he had some kind of sick satisfaction when you broke down in tears. Not because you were sad or even upset. You just had so much anger built up inside you that you couldn’t contain it all.

“I feel so fucking disgusting that I even still want the guy that way. It’s like he knows that about me.” You confessed to Simon during one of John’s solo operations. He knew he would have freaked if he knew Simon was inside his home while he wasn’t there.

“Its not nearly as weird as you might think, humans are supposed to be complicated. You’re not a simple creature, love. And neither is he.” Simon remarked. He didn’t have to say much to get his point across.

“He wasn’t so closed up before. He used to be so open minded about these kinds of things.” You remembered, talking about how John Price used to be before things went to shit after almost eleven months dating him.

Simon nodded his head, “Looks like you’re going to have to make a decision soon, love. You can’t keep living like this forever, hiding and tiptoeing around him.”

“I have a doctor’s appointment coming up, if he hasn’t spoken up by then, or by the time most of the house is back to how it was when I first moved in. I’m breaking up with the guy.” You remarked.

Simon raised an eyebrow at how you were putting the house back to how it was before you moved into it. The only difference is that you wouldn’t leave things unrepaired or maintained.

“Why bother with the appointment if you’re just going to leave him?” Simon questioned, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Full body check up remember? I still get one every three months. Four times a year.” You answered taking a sip of your earl grey with lemon and ginger tea.

The last thing you want is to drag some poor child into this whole mess. You don’t know how he would react to the news of it.

To think months ago you couldn’t wait for it to happen.

Only for your relationship to sour this quickly.

Over the weeks Price was deployed, you got the plumping fixed, the light switch and plug covers replaced by an electrician, the toilet and shower head replaced. You didn’t care if price wouldn’t appreciate the thought going into his house.

This was done selfishly not selflessly. Though your definition of what made someone hopelessly selfish was always different from his. Not that you cared anymore.

You replaced his couches and threw out his old, ruined ones into the large tip you rented one morning. Price barely recognised his own home when he came back home from deployment again.

From the old grey ones to dark crimson red ones, with charcoal grey cushions on them. A new cow’s skin rug on the floor. New light switches and plug covers. Painted the living rooms a deep blue-grey shade that made everything else pop. The kitchen had new cabinets and new appliances. It was a stark difference from what it used to be.

Price walked upstairs to the bathroom to see how you changed that too, the tiles were changed to a beige on the walls with black on the floor. The shower was now a glass cube instead of a shower curtain. The sink was no longer a pedestal sink, but a modern vanity with lights around the mirror. The bathtub was replaced with a walk-in shower that had a bench and rain shower head.

Other changes he took notice of where all his things were in the master bedroom, organised, hung up, ironed, folded, washed and put away. Everything was clean and in its place. The bed was made with freshly washed linens, and you had even gone so far as replace the mattress. It was a new king-sized memory foam one with a fancy cooling system that would be heavenly to sleep on.

As you fucked yourself on his thick cock for behaving so well? His rough hands on your hips. You continued to ride him with your luscious hips. Wide-eyed, rock hard and stunned. Your mind was elsewhere about hoping he didn’t do anything other than put a condom on. You didn’t know if you still wanted to have his children when he was treating you this way.

Your body betrayed your every thought, every moan you made were made from your lips. You felt your pussy tightening around him. He had to be feeling it too, his grip on you tightened and his thrusts became more erratic. Enjoying letting out his most primal nature into you. Feral and unabated. \

Only you knew he wouldn’t provide aftercare when he was done with you and you always had to finish yourself off in the bathroom as he passed out in his bed. You don’t know if you could stand him anymore. You didn’t know whether you could wait any longer.

Tags: @night-girl-301 , @evans-dejong , @persephone-kore-law

If you want to be tagged in the next chapter please let me know!

[bunnyinvanilla]

hey it’s me. again. kind of self indulgent but price with reader stressing OUT about exams and school and being an anxious emotional mess.

hey hi again, please fill my inbox with your beautiful amazing feet kicking reqs ily

this is so self insert, oh my, literally relatable on a personal level 🥺 lil side note: I’m super open about my faith because it’s what keeps me alive and happy, so there’s a lil mention of it on the one shot <33

as a college student, your days are constantly reminded of your upcoming exams, and lately you’ve been an emotional, sensitive, anxious lil mess. The tiniest inconvenience makes you cry, sob your stress out, you’re very fidgety, john notices that — bouncing your leg when you’re sitting, biting your nails, playing with your fingers.

you can’t style the ribbon on your hair? you cry. you drop a drink and it spills out? you cry. you can’t put mascara on properly? you cry. you can’t find a comfortable spot or position to study? you cry.

when you’re working at the bar, you try hard not to think about when you’ll have to go back home with price and bury your head deep into your notes. You only feel calm and relaxed when you’re either reading your lovely books, praying, getting dolled up and having quality time with john — all kinds of it.

john understands, he really does. Poor baby, having to study so hard, you’re so anxious and stressed and overwhelmed :( but he so proud of you, his little girl studying hard for her education.

you basically only go to college because you like studying and you know that graduating is important, because with john, you’ll never have to lift a finger, he already spends all his money on you, you can just be his pretty sugar baby in peace.

when you get too anxious, you end up studying on his lap, while he works on some paperwork in his office. When the familiar anxiety cripples in your stomach, making you want to throw up, and you start moving nervously, john intervenes — wrapping his arm tighter around your waist, squeezing softly to remind you of his presence, or gripping your knee gently, stopping your bouncing and rubbing his thumb over it in circular motions.

“shhh love, daddy’s here, breath and focus”

”im so scared, i don’t think i can do it, what if I don’t pass it” you’re a blubbering little mess, considering all the worst case scenarios that will never happen, john knows you’ve always excelled in your studies.

“you will pass it, babydoll, your exam will go amazing,” his deep british accent is basically an antidote against your thoughts, it spreads over you like a warm caramel balm. “you’re always studying so hard, daddy’s proud of you, you’re worrying too much angel,”

poor bunny you’re stressing your poor head out, little tears stain your notebooks, you don’t know how john handles all that paperwork, that responsibility at work, being the captain and commanding officer.

but he wipes away those ears, whispering to your ear how proud of you he is. Tells you to study just a bit more, and he’ll reward you later. that’s enough to keep you focused on the task, using colorful highlighters so that when you’re done, he can easily press you against his desk and make you forget about all the bad anxiety

:,(<33 spoiler: you do end up passing it, but act nonchalantly as if you didnt just cry every day before taking it. “daddy I’ve passed it! :D”

“good job angel, good girl, love, see? that’s because you studied har-“

“but I have another one next month :(“