#but also i wasn't thinking when i said whatever i said and i can't quite remember all of it

[loverboybrightsideghost]

you know school season's coming back when i have random concertos playing in my head

[bakerysnake]

.

[midnite-c6]

Heyyy! I just wanted to say I love your writing!! And I was wondering if I could request VIP!thanos x reader x VIP!Namgyu ?? I haven’t seen anyone write something like this yet and I think you’d write it so well😚 thank youuu❤️

ugh. yes. this. to pink guard, to frontmen and now to VIPs, god those pervy ones in season 1 really fit their essence!! this is also for the ones who wanted bukkake of the two! <3

VIP!thanos & VIP!nam-gyu x reader !!<3 warnings: 18+, DARK content, noncon, sa, sex, public space, threesome, no aftercare, degradationnnn (pls read at ur own risk!!)

つ⁠｡⁠☆ your broke ass was looking EVERYWHERE for a job... luckily! a man with dressed in a suit gave you a special card to call. boom. you're hired. but not as one of the guards, not as one of the players, but simply a servant, more of a maid. instead of being in any involvements during the games, you'd be cleaning up the soldiers rooms, washing the sheets for the 456 players who'd lay down on the beds, to think, the games were actually pretty clean and organized.

but... now it's your time to shine, since now the VIPs would come and visit. the frontman would prepare the small watching area for the VIPs, this was the first time you ever caught a glimpse of what was actually happening during the games, you thought it was some low quality TV show before, not realizing it was way darker than that. it made you quite shocked, and scared, duh.

the VIPs were loud and talkative, with their fancy suits, sure, but the ones in the corner were just full-on distracting! both had golden masks, a dog and a cat, they even seemed like bestfriends. "hey, pst, maid, c'mere." the one with the tattooed hand would signal you to come over, you were hesitant, but you decided to join them nonetheless. carefully walking over to not spill the tray you were holding onto. "a shot of vodka, please." the one with the cat mask hummed, offering his glass so you could refill it. you'd turn your face to the man in the dog mask, a much more deeper voice, he had the hand tattoos too. "babe, which player do you think will last the longest? bet on it, if you will." you shrugged, you weren't really trained to talk to the people you were serving at, especially in these type of games. he wasn't slow to surprise you, giving you a smack in the ass, making you yelp out loud. but only as much as they're the only ones to hear. "ah!"

"talk. i want you to talk. don't be boring.." he nudges your stomach, trying to annoy you even more. you really want to punch him, this guy's nerve. but the frontman was looking directly at you, if you were to do anything absurd, there's no doubt you'd get a bullet through your head. "just give us a damn number, woman, is it so hard?" the man in the cat mask groaned. he had less of a deep voice, sounding much more sly and snarky, like it was meant to push you over. "don't pressure," the tattooed hand would make way to touch your face, you were masked aswell, the frontman had his ideals in not to provide any information of the workers to the viewers and participants. "take this off? i'm sure you're pretty without it, hm?" you quickly shake your head! you can't do that! "fuckin' idiot, you remember what the guy said? no taking off masks." the cat was definitely much more grounded. "oh yeaah, whatever, nam-su. fuckin' stupid idea, but..!" "nam-gyu." the other one corrects, guess the guy wearing the cat mask was named nam-gyu? why do you care about this now? ..when the unnamed one has his hands now moving to your neck.. then to the sides of your chest, your body was shaking.. "they wouldn't mind if i take this off, huh?"

you didn't wanna strip! of course that wasn't in your plans, ever, even if it was in the darkest corner of the room! "i can see your eyes, all worried, sososo cute." he giggles, nam-gyu would sigh, "it's too easy," "right? m'sure it is, you getting turned on by masked men, honey?" this guy was getting on your last nerve. shut up! "let's make it a bit more challenging for me then." as if, as if you were turned on right now, as if you didn't tremble at the sound of his deep voice. "just say a number of a player, someone you'd think would survive!" you quietly mumble, not wanting any other servants or your boss to hear, "sir.. i.."

he cuts you off, with a warning. "...and if he dies, we'd get to fuck your cute little body, 'kay? make a wise decision." "and if she gets lucky? we'll just be blue-balled, idiot. thanos the legend my ass." his name was thanos ?? "shut up, jeez." was this even fair? no way! you shake your head, not wanting to do whatever they say. thanos would only scoff, flicking your forehead. "you're a servant here and you don't serve? are you dense?" this wasn't in anything you signed up for. "hey, man, we can take her to the bathroom later, yeah?" nam-gyu would question the black-masked man, you turn your head to face him, he surely knows what that implied.. but it broke your heart into pieces when he'd nod, not caring about you :(. poor you.

you look at the big window outside, quickly muttering out a number, you'd only pray that they'd live for the whole entirety of the round.

nope, the player didn't survive. (⁠.⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

nsfw below!! ->

as they both promised, carrying you out to the small bathroom stall strictly for VIPs, your squirms and attempts to escape were no match to their strength, especially thanos'.

"fucking hell! these masks were making me sweat." nam-gyu would take off his mask, forehead sweaty, he had soft yet sharp features, he looks young too. "let- let me go!' you'd see him look down on you and laugh. wow, it felt much more humiliating this way. thanos would toss his mask out aswell, flashing you with his purple hair. "looks like we won the bet, babeee." fuck, these were handsome men, who look like they're high as hell, but handsome nonetheless. "i'm sure you're not even thinkin' about it like it's a punishment."

thanos would quickly rip off the black tights you were assigned to wear, ripping off the black body-con dress that fit the aesthetic of the frontman's taste. he'd bite his lips, seeing the wet patch forming at the center of your panties, he politely moves them aside instead of ripping them off! still, he'd shamefully slide his fingers onto your slick, making you unfortunately moan in front of him, he'd take a lick at the residue that would stay on his fingers. "you like? you taste like you do." he asks, before diving in to give a generous lick on your pussy, licking the juices off clean, what the hell "stop-" you whined. he'd bite your clit in response, making you whine even louder, "if you didn't want this you prolly would've guessed better." making it sound like it was your fault, ultimately.

nam-gyu would move underneath the two of you, he was as aggressive as thanos, tearing more of your stockings, just to feel your pretty ass bare. his hands would grope roughly. "you used to takin' two?" he asks, into your ear. even at this point, you didn't wanna entertain them at all, "jesus." his grip on you would tighten. why was he so pissed all the time? "i'll fuck you with no prep, just answer, damn." his grip was now starting to hurt even more. "n-no! no. i'm not.. i'm not used to two." "yeah. was that so hard?" you shake your head. "no..no.." he was too rough, he makes the purple-haired one look gentle.

turns out, their idea of "prep" was just spitting on your trembling pussy, before putting out their dicks to simply put inside you! thanos was too teasy about it, he'd have the tip of his dick brushing against your pussy lips, slightly pushing past your hole, but he'd pull out quickly, leaving you to clench against thin air. "nn... please..." as much as you didn't want to, he'd make your subconscious beg for it! to beg for more! "beg more, baby, let me hear." "please, pleas-! hoh- fuck!" and when you did beg for more... nam-gyu, who was underneath you, would fully push inside your other hole, leaving a loud groan to echo your ears. "so tight, holy fuck. not used to anal?" you nod, it was pretty obvious. though that didn't stop him from starting a brutal pace, leaving you moan out from the pain and stinging feeling, whining about how it hurts too much... "stop bitching around, and take it, that's all your good for, yeah?" all the while, thanos's dick would teasingly brush against your clit, giving it the slightest bit of attention.

and when thanos would feel generous enough to slide inside your needy cunt, who was aching for his dick to finally be shoved, prepare for the thick loads of seed to be inside you, i mean, he seems pent up all the time. the sight of leaking cum out of you, juicing their balls dry, was too rewarding. "ah bro, i feel like a true VIP now," thanos would laugh. "she's beginner at best, i woulda paid less." that hurt a bit... still, they'd take turns to fuck your cunt and ass, dumping their load inside, leaving your body to become a container of their white sticky juice, you'd pass out from the contact, losing breath, and the compact space. :< "we'll come back again, okay?" "we already trained you for next time. don't forget."

now you're left in the VIP bathroom, your unconscious body lying on the tiled floor, they didn't even take the time to take off your mask to see your pretty face :(. you were only two holes to them </3.

war is almost over for me, my training is almost over 💓 i'll be free to write moreeeee

[primofate]

Genshin Angst Headcanons - Why the two of you broke up

Note: Had an unexpected free day! I haven't written in a while, please excuse the mistakes, if any.

Disclaimer at the end of the post

Warning: Some are pretty predictable. Each of them have their own issues, lore wise, so some are lore heavy. You might not agree with some of them, but its how I see it, so to each their own. Let me know what you think! Some are quite angsty. Some scenes it's you breaking up with him and some are vice versa. Didn't feel like writing Razor, Venti and Xingqiu.

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Bennett, Chongyun, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kaveh, Kazuha, Lyney, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Thoma, Tighnari, Xiao, Zhongli, gn!reader

Personal Favourites in this work: Lyney, Itto, Kazuha

Aether

Sister issues. Enough said.

He realized he didn't have enough time to spare romancing with someone.

Somewhere along the way he felt guilt that he was enjoying his time with you while his sister went through some sort of villain origin story that seemingly turned her bad.

Top off all the adventuring, searching, solving problems for other people that he did...Where did that leave you, exactly?

"...I'm sorry, Y/N... I just... I don't think this is the right time for me to be together with you,"

Albedo

Contrary to popular belief it wouldn't be his lack of time or extreme focus on his alchemical experiments that would break the two of you up. He knows how to manage his time.

It was the RESULTS of experiments and his research that would put him away from you.

The possibility that HE or his world, was way too dangerous for you.

How many "Albedos" did Rhinedottir really create? Was there more than three? Perhaps four, five? And what happens when you come face to face with another Albedo?

"I'm afraid...There are far too many dangers surrounding myself... There are answers that I can't find...and perhaps that's the reason why my answer is to part ways with you,"

Alhaitham

Too much of a nonchalant attitude.

He expressed some kind of interest in you...but it's like... once in a blue moon. 95% of the time you're not sure if he's really into you. It almost seems like he's more into that book he reads all the time.

Simply just not good at expressing himself. Like, at all. Hides behind a "whatever works" and "I don't care about what other people think of me" attitude, unfortunately that seems to include you.

Is so straightforward that sometimes it hurts, but he's really just telling the truth through logical analysis.

will act like the breakup didn't hurt nor affect him at all. In turn it hurts you instead.

"I see. So you've had enough of me... And you only spoke up now? Pointing it out earlier could've diverted us from this path...If that's how you feel already I suggest that we stop seeing each other,"

"That's it? You're not even going to try and work it out with me?"

"What's there to work out? You've made yourself clear. You're not satisfied with the way I treat you, and I'm afraid I'm not going to change the way I act just for your pleasure... It'd be more meaningful for you to find someone who fits your criterias,"

Ayato

entering a relationship with a noble was not as easy as one thought.

It's not just about being together forever and feeling lucky because Ayato is rich and your whole life is set, it's also the not fitting in, the etiquette, the whispers from townfolk that you were too ordinary for him, the work that you needed to do if you were to become his wife.

All that was not really a big problem for you, but Ayato seemed not to know of your struggles, he was extremely busy, and when he wasn't, he seemed to think that everything was well and fine, since you were getting all your basic needs met and even more.

"...So I'm sorry, Ayato. This is just... All too much for me. I'm sorry,"

"...I understand. Forgive me, it seems that I've overlooked a lot of things...Perhaps it is as you say, that it'd be better for us to grow apart rather than grow together,"

Baizhu

because he is a ticking time bomb, no matter which way he looked it's not going to end well for both of you.

He either dies early or lives forever. In both scenarios he anticipates that the two of you are just going to be in a world of hurt.

Besides, he didn't mean to get so attached to someone in the first place, he knew his quest for immortality was long and arduous. You didn't deserve to walk that difficult road too.

While breaking up, will conceal the fact that he's only thinking of you and will possibly hurt you in the process.

"I'm sorry, but it's for the best. I ask that you continue going forward without me, there's no space for you in my... ideal future,"

Bennett

We all know it...it's his bad luck. However, it wasn't YOU who had a problem with it, it was HIM.

You understood that his bad luck was just some extended part of him, plus it's not like it was always bad, there were a lot of good times too. Plenty!

But the guilt ate him up whenever the two of you were stuck in a seemingly impossible scenario and predicament, brought on by his luck. He just had enough of it one day.

"I...I can't keep doing this to you every day! It's not fair..."

will be on the brink of tears before he even starts.

"Maybe it's better if you find someone else to adventure with, Y/N, sorry...!"

runs away before you can even get a word in.

Chongyun

Thinks he's not good enough in every aspect. It's really, seriously not about you. He thinks he's lacking in everything. Strength, maturity, experience, confidence.

So badly wants to stay with you but feels like he's not good enough and thinks that you're better off with someone else.

"D-Don't misunderstand... It's not because I don't like you anymore... I just...Please find someone else!"

Cyno

his bad jokes and TCG addiction. just kidding, you're not that shallow.

A lot of people are intimidated by him being the General Mahamatra because he gives importance to justice. While you, who had seen a bit more of him than other people had, it seemed more of an obsession to uphold the Akademiya's law and integrity.

This was not a big problem to you, you liked how he was serious at work.

Until one day when you were accused of plagiarising one of your papers and Cyno was the one sent to give you a first offense warning. The Akademiya knew of your relationship, that's probably why they sent him, to make it harder on the two of you.

Cyno didn't listen to your explanations on how it was an honest mistake, he still gave you the warning that you "deserved"

From then on it had just been different between the two of you, so it was really a mutual breakup. Or so you thought.

"...After that, I just realized that maybe this isn't the right time for us... We're both working for the Akademiya, we both take our jobs seriously...Unfortunately that seems to just be getting in the way of us...I think it's best if we stop seeing each other,"

"...I see." he pauses for a minute, as if tossing your words in his mind. "I...agree. Parting ways would certainly make work easier for both of us...it's the professional thing to do,"

Dainsleif

Has not moved on from his past.

Sure, everyone has their own baggage to carry, their own history to live through...but Dainsleif has heavier things than that. He seemed to wake up every day thinking of Khaenri'ah and the days long past. Was it regret? Nostalgia? Loneliness? You didn't know. You just knew that he wasn't really completely THERE with you in the present. Part of him still lived in the past.

When you explained that you felt like the two of you were not moving forward together and that it seemed like he wanted to go back to the past instead, he got offended.

"...My past is something that I carry forever, you'd claimed that you understood that," he starts.

"I do! But carrying it with you and letting it drag you backwards are two different things!"

He falters for a moment, only to leave you with his last words before turning away from you forever: "You will never understand, the weight that I carry,"

Diluc

is too guarded. You'd been friends for a long, long, long, long time before he decided he could let you in enough and be more intimate with you.

Even then everything was going at a snail's pace, though you were extremely patient with him.

The biggest problem with Diluc was that the two of you would progress one day, take a step forward, and then the next day it was like the two of you took two steps back.

Example: The two of you went out for a simple stargazing excursion late one night, it was nice and he had been incredibly affectionate. The next day he had trouble even meeting your gaze, and disappeared to do his work. It was also a little awkward during dinnertime. This scenario had happened more than once.

Hint: the closer he got to you the more afraid he became, thinking that he would one day lose you too.

"I...I can't. I love you but I...I've waited far too long. I'm sorry. I'm tired of this endless chase for you!"

He couldn't even say a thing. He'd wanted to ask you to stay, to wait for him a little longer, but he already knew how incredibly selfish that would have been. Instead, he grimaced, and looked away from your gaze, trying to find something worthwhile to say. There was only silence for a few moments.

"Goodbye Diluc," that's when you turned away.

Gorou

worships Kokomi too much and your insecurities just kept circling around in your head.

You know its his job. You know he isn't like that but the problem was YOU and not him.

Simply said you let your insecurity eat up the relationship between the two of you.

You couldn't bring yourself to say that you were jealous of the way he admired Kokomi so you broke up with him with another reason in tow.

Unfortunately, you're not a very good liar face to face so you did a butthole move and actually broke up with him through a letter. You just couldn't face him and tell him why.

All you mentioned in the letter was that you needed time to think and be away from him, and told him not to worry because it was your problem, not his.

Poor Gorou reread that letter over and over, trying to understand what went wrong.

Heizou

is just a natural flirt. You're not sure if he's doing it on purpose or not and you're not sure if he's even aware he's like that.

Anyway you'd seen him getting overly friendly (just another word for flirting) with a few other people a couple of times. You didn't let it get to you the first, fourth or even eighth time but you realized that he KNOWS that you're watching him do that.

So you confront him about it, but he claims that it's just his way of gathering information from others. People like to hear good things and some people are more susceptible to flirtatious comments so he resorts to that for his investigation sometimes.

You didn't really completely buy it and even if you did, it's not like this was healthy for your relationship. You just couldn't make yourself comfortable with it.

*You just chalked it up to the two of you being incompatible.

"I'm just not comfortable with that...I don't think I have to say sorry for how I feel but...I'm sorry anyway because I know you're just doing your job... It's probably best if we part ways here..."

"Is there any way to change your mind?" he genuinely asks.

You only give a lopsided smile. "You're a detective, I think you already know the answer to that,"

Yet he didn't stop you from walking away.

Itto

Kept breaking promises because he was too airheaded or too occupied doing something "stupid" with the kids or with his gang.

Pretty soon it just felt like you were an afterthought while everyone else in his life took precedent.

Got a ramen date? Oops, sorry! Got caught up looking for a strong onikabuto in the forest!

Needed his help to move some things? Gah, he was vandalising the bulletin boards, so he's running a bit late!

What's more you didn't actually mind that carefree, airheaded side of him...but it really got to you when he couldn't even seem to make you a priority. Not once.

He only realized that when he came running, late again, and stood face to face with a crying you.

"Hey sorry Y/N, I was just--...Why are you crying?!" is completely dumbfounded and clueless, mostly because when he came late, you had always shrugged it off with a smile on your face, or so he thought. This time you had a completely different reaction.

"I hate you...*hic* I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

Shocked beyond belief. It wasn't like you to just blow up like that, but he couldn't do anything except watch you turn and run away from him after that exclamation.

Kaeya

Sometimes you're not sure if he takes you seriously.

Recently, he's not where he says he is, you don't know why he doesn't just tell you where he is.

He said he'd be working late, but then you find out he's at Angel's Share.

He said he'll be at Angel's Share, but then you catch word from Jean that he's out on a late mission.

He said he's escorting a caravan to Mondstadt but he's actually on assignment in Liyue.

It came to the point where you altogether just stopped looking for him cause half of the time you couldn't find him. It's like he's avoiding you or something, which, actually, seems just about right since he's been so busy with "work"

It reached a breaking point when, for a week, you were unable to bring him the lunch you prepared...because he was not where he said he was going to be. It was starting to get annoying.

"I don't understand why you're lying to me! Why do you have to tell me you'll be at Angel's Share this afternoon when you're not? Do you realize you make me walk all the way there only to come all the way back with nothing achieved?"

"I'm sorry snowflake, that wasn't my intention," though he still chuckles despite knowing full well that you were about to turn away.

"You know what, let me know when you're ready to stop making jokes. Until then, don't bother contacting me,"

He just didn't expect you to actually walk away from him.

Kaveh

Entertains everyone and anyone. Naturally kind at heart, will stop for anyone in trouble...even that flirtatious man/woman who is clearly just pining for his attention.

No he doesn't quite realize this.

The same person had asked for his help at least 4 times now and all 4 times he had been happy to offer a helping hand.

The last straw was when he was invited into the stranger's house, they had apparently needed someone to help them move and re-arrange furniture and he did, working till almost dinner time.

You'd caught him right by the person's door, because Kaveh was actually honest and told you he'd be helping them today, but the person was clearly eyeing Kaveh rather flirtatiously.

"Come again next time," you heard the person say rather happily. Kaveh only replies with "If I have nothing else to do, I suppose,"

"Kaveh, they're coming onto you and you keep letting it happen!"

"I'm not certain what you're talking about...They just needed some help around their house, nothing suspicious happened at all. Even if there was, I won't let anything happen between me and a stranger!"

"Then STOP helping them!"

"There isn't anything wrong with lending a hand...It was a quick move of things, that's all,"

"How would YOU feel if I just went into someone's house and kept helping them "move" things?"

"...I would think that's nice of you,"

You actually threw your hands up. "Oh, forget it! You know what, for someone who LOVES helping others, you're not doing such a great job of helping ME," then walked away and never came back. "Good riddance,"

Kazuha

He's a wandering samurai. You knew what you were getting into but you didn't expect dating him to be so hard.

He was gone for weeks on end, and you were not getting on that boat with him. In essence the two of you were just not ready to follow each other to the end's of the Earth, and that was fair. The two of you were young.

Kazuha kind of saw it coming, whenever he visited you, you seemed less spirited and he had an inkling as to why. The time apart was just too much for you.

It was a rather clean break actually. A real mutual breakup that the two of you agreed on.

"...You could say it's just not the right time for us," you even managed to laugh under your breath and he did the same, though it was barely audible.

"...Mm. There are matters that you need to attend to here...and there are things that I need to do out there," he slowly stood up from his sitting position next to you and still gazed at you rather lovingly. "...Perhaps, in another world, you and I are bound together,"

You gazed back forlornly, "...Just not in this one, it looks like,"

Lyney

because he will always choose his siblings over you. Always.

Though that's not a bad thing because you also think that family is important...somewhere along the way you realized that family is the ONLY thing he had and saw.

Example: Lynette and you had gotten ill at the same time one winter morning. Perhaps it was the cold that was passing around Fontaine. Lyney had been so worried about Lynette, that he seemed to have forgotten about you for the next few days. In fact, Lyney didn't even realize that you caught the cold too. You had only heard from Freminet, who you happened to cross paths with, that Lynette was also ill.

You thought that incident was the end of it, but really it seemed that whenever Lyney wanted to hang out with you, Lynette had to be there too. You tried to understand...after all there's still that mystery of disappearing women in Fontaine.

The breakup was induced when Lyney completely forgot about your birthday, because Freminet's was around the same time as yours. You helped Lyney prepare everything for Freminet, and said nothing about your own.

You realized that there was nothing wrong with choosing family over everything else...but the problem here was that Lyney didn't even have space for you in the first place.

So you left without saying anything. You figured he'd get over it quick. You had even gone so far as to move away from the main city of Fontaine and out into another island, because what would you say if he found you? That you were jealous of his siblings? You weren't going to ruin a family like that and it wasn't right to make him choose...so you just left without a word.

Neuvillette

Had a whole brainrot for this man:

Part 1

Part 2

Scaramouche

surprisingly it's not his anger issues.

It's the way he wouldn't acknowledge your relationship. You wonder how you even got into one with him.

There's no public show of affection, but even behind closed doors it rarely happened.

You knew that he was going to be like that, and so you didn't mind it all that much.

It was getting a bit much though when, out in public, he would walk further in front of you and refused to walk next to you. When he pretended like he didn't even know you. When he didn't stop to help you even when another man had shown interest in you, bordering on uncomfortable.

The more time passed the more you simply felt unloved...but for some reason you still blamed yourself.

"...I...don't know. Maybe you find me undesirable, or just...unappealing. Maybe you're embarrassed of me or...or..." maybe you just didn't care in the first place, you thought to yourself.

There was a long silence. Of you turning your gaze away, of him still piercing into yours. And then...

"Tsk...don't waste my time...Leave if you want to leave, door's open,"

Tartaglia

This one is simple. It's his obsession for fighting plus his complete disregard for himself. It's a constant heart attack for you. At some point the anxiety is just too much for you to handle.

Imagine living every day just wondering if he's safe at the same time knowing that he just loves to look for trouble.

The foul legacy that you know of, he uses it with disregard as well, despite knowing that it wasn't good for him.

And there are even days where you know he was heavily wounded but didn't go to you, in an attempt to shield you from worry.

It's a constant battle trying to stay sane and unworried, until one day it all just becomes too much.

"...Nothing I say will change anything, Tartaglia. This is who you are...This is who you need to be..." you whisper while bandaging his knuckles. He lets out a short hum.

It was silent all up until you finished with his hand, you squeeze it gently. "...I love you but...I can't keep doing this to myself, I'm tired...more so than I have ever been before,"

He lets your hand slip away from his knuckles, and that was the last he saw of you.

Thoma

This one is also simple. He was always taking care of others and running errands for others that he sometimes just couldn't catch a break.

Just a classic case of not enough time for you since he had a job to do for the Kamisato Clan.

He knows it, and feels awful about it. So he's the one who makes the move.

"It hurts that I can't give you what you deserve, Y/N. This isn't it... You deserve more than this but I can't give you that and I'm sorry. Please look for the love that you deserve,"

Tighnari

Remembers everything. Can be critical of things you've done, specially if he thinks there's a better way to do it.

Simply said you just feel stupid in front of him sometimes.

He doesn't mean to, but he sometimes forgets to appreciate or give praise to the things that you do well and even if he does, it tends to be short lived compared to his constructive criticisms.

Pretty soon you felt like he only looks at the bad things you do, and never the good. Though he was really only trying to teach and guide you as an equal.

He in fact feels that you are one of the few people who can keep up educational conversations with him.

The problem is he kind of forgets that you're his lover, and that you would enjoy his praise and affection from time to time.

"Do you... Do you ever have anything nice to say other than 'good work' or 'great observation'?" the words were out of your mouth before you could hold yourself back. Sometimes it was tiring to feel like you weren't good enough.

There's a flash of surprise that crosses Tighnari's expression for a split second, before he recovers. "...Had I not been praising your work enough lately? My apologies... It has a lot of merits, I just thought that you wanted my opinion on how to make it better,"

You opened your mouth to say something, but closed it again right after to ponder on his words. Somehow even that had managed to make you feel embarrassed. It was here you knew that the problem also lied within yourself.

"...Sorry, Tighnari...I think I'll need some time alone,"

He obliges quickly and asks. "That's reasonable. When would you like me to come back?"

"...Let me rephrase that... I need some time away. From us."

Xiao

Unfortunately there's a lot of things wrong here... his lack of affection. His aloof personality. His dedication to his yaksha duties. Despite that he does actually try to be gentlemanly or respectful of you.

The worst of it is that he didn't know how to be in a relationship, in other words he just wasn't ready for one, or perhaps he would never be ready for one.

He didn't understand that humans craved companionship and sometimes touch. He didn't understand that meant having to favour you over others, sometimes even putting you first over his yaksha duties.

Worst of it all was when he shut himself off from you, sometimes for days on end, when his karmic debt was too high. He only really did it to protect you, but never realized how isolated that made you feel.

When you confronted him about it, he felt attacked. Hiding away was the only way he knew how to cope...why couldn't you understand that?

"Let me help you, Xiao,"

"I don't need your help!" his tone would make you wince and just like that he disappears into a billow of smoke.

You never returned to Wangshu Inn after that. If he couldn't let you in, there was no use trying to knock on his heart. Xiao being Xiao, never sought you ought again either.

Zhongli

He had experienced so many things and you had listened to many a tales from him.

This is what caused you to realize that you hadn't even experienced life at all, and yet here you were willing to tie yourself down to him.

It just didn't feel like it added up. Here he was with all this knowledge of the world and here you were who had never even stepped outside of Liyue. By no means were you stupid, but you felt that you could be better not only for him, but for yourself if you learned more.

There was just such a huge gap in life experiences, and though you never expected to get to his level (he was a God who had lived for a long time, you would never catch up to him) you at least wanted to see what was out there with your own eyes instead of through his stories.

He understood that wholeheartedly, and had no qualms in letting you go.

"You will always have a place with me, Y/N. No amount of lifetimes will change that,"

I’ve published The Ruthless Prince (Reader x Scaramouche) on paperback. Click here.

Consider supporting me to read some exclusive fics:

Ko-Fi

buymeacoffee

Here's the Masterlist

Disclaimer: Relationships will always have some sort of problem along the way, maybe big, maybe small but I just want to reiterate that breaking up is not always the solution. Communicating is very important. So to those of you who like taking fanfiction too seriously, let it be known that this is just a work of fiction. I don't actually suggest breaking up with someone as soon as there is the slight indication of a problem (Just saw someone commenting on a similar themed post for Haikyuu that this wouldn't happen in the real world if both parties were mature... I mean, sure, but, idk, you must be fun in parties... it's called fiction for a reason...)

[3liza]

I agree that the pushback against White Woman Paranoia About Men is warranted but

I also see a lot of posts by men and people who situationally may never experience this, about how being wary of men as a class is delusional due to the actual crime statistics being basically negligible compared to, for example, being hit by a car or getting into a car accident. and what this kind of post doesn't acknowledge is that there are lot of ways to have an exceptionally bad experience caused by strange men in public that have nothing to do with anything that is classified as criminal, bodily harm, and specifically any behavior that would actually be worthwhile to report, making it unknown to the statistics. the guy who followed me for two blocks one night and then brushed by my back and said "don't fall" very pointedly as I was standing on a freeway overpass wasn't doing anything illegal and certainly nothing any cop would do anything about if I "reported" it (lmao) but yeah that is an unpleasant experience I remember vividly and would like to avoid in future. one example of many, obviously, I'm not making a whole post about a single experience

it is absolutely the case that the only rapes and most of the physical assaults I've experienced have been from men known to me socially or intimately, but until I got a large dog, going outside was about 60% likely to involve being harassed. which is a lot more than I have been hit by cars (zero times)

being harassed is extremely unpleasant regardless of its likelihood to progress to physical assault. sometimes it can be so unpleasant it affects our daily lives, and a single incident of harassment can impact a person's mental health. the expectation of ongoing harassment does this moreso, it creates a continual expectation of being pursued, questioned, and then having to deal with someone getting angry at you when you don't accede to their demands. in any context this is unpleasant. people who do not experience sexual harassment in their daily lives may be able to empathize with this experience if they were ever bullied as children. people chasing you around, calling you names, creating unpleasant confrontations for no reason, and then the next day you have to get up and go do it again. people change schools, quit jobs and move out of shared living situations to avoid this kind of stress, it's reasonable to develop an aversion to it. it's reasonable to develop reactivity and hypervigilance as well. verbal and social harassment without any physical assault is more than enough to cause a trauma response.

it's also just inconvenient. even if you are not menaced or belittled or traumatized by an episode of harassment, having to Manage a Harassment Situation in the grocery store or post office when you're just trying to get an errand done is a massive waste of time. a lot of women have to plan for extra time during errands or travel to account for getting out of situations like that.

a LOT of the paranoia about men from women that you can read everywhere in the culture is based not in a fear of getting physically harmed or killed, but simply avoiding more harassment.

I think a lot of women have defaulted to explaining this desire to avoid men and avoid being alone with men, or explaining their suspicion of men, as fear of physical harm, because that's the only way people who don't get harassed are able to take it seriously. but it's completely reasonable to want to avoid being annoyed, bothered, harassed, questioned, inconvenienced, interrupted, or to have someone just be rude to you, completely apart from the actual percentage likelihood that they are a serial killer. even the act of telling these men politely that you can't talk right now, aren't interested, have to go, have a boyfriend, whatever, is annoying and often escalates into a confrontation or to the man being angry at you or insulting you. we can agree that getting into a verbal argument for no reason on the street is a negative experience. it can be annoying and unsettling without being a threat to life and limb. and no this isn't a "i have bad social skills and can't handle normal human interactions" thing, it's not a social interaction required by common decency or manners or basic function, it's someone putting you into a bad situation for no reason and then getting mad at you when you decline to entertain them. the harassers are the ones being rude. it is a violation of the social contract to catcall someone. it's just annoying and I want to avoid it. most women want to avoid it, and behave accordingly.

no terfs on this post. everything I just said about being bothered by strangers applies double (at least) to the experiences of most trans women

women aren't the only people who get harassed by strangers either, but it is overwhelmingly an issue experienced by women, and people who are perceived as feminine or as women.

it's also not just men who do the harassing, but again, it is overwhelmingly men who are doing it.

some women experience no harassment or very little of this harassment and won't identify with this post. that's true and real, but doesn't make it not true that a very very large percentage of women, maybe even most women, have experienced this. no experience is universal

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Were You Wooing Me?

Prompt Day 11: Cabin | Word Count: 769 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Dustin Henderson: Matchmaker, Background Ronance (or not, your choice), Acting on Feelings, First Kiss,

It could be worse.

It could be better, too.

But it could definitely be worse. In the pro column, it's not located in the Upside Down, Steve supposes. But Henderson could have also not talked it up quite as much as he did. It looks like his great-grandparents just walked out one day and never returned. 

"Is there really only one bed?" Robin asks, pacing around the cabin, as if another room is suddenly gonna appear. 

"Looks that way," Nancy says, and Steve is pretty sure there's not room for more than one bedroom here. But Dustin swore there was room for all four of them, easy. 

He's a dirty, little liar.

Eddie's settled into the old rocking chair, and is gently keeping himself swaying. He's always moving as far as Steve can tell, but right this second he's looking distinctly unbothered for Eddie.

"You two take the bedroom, we can crash on the floor," Eddie says, and Steve thinks that's awfully generous of him. But it does make the most sense. He can't imagine listening to Robin yap about being stuck on the floor. 

This will be easier for everyone. Even if it means he has to sleep on the floor with the mice.

Fuck, he hopes there's not mice.

The girls go to bed, and he can hear them in the bathroom, washing their faces or whatever it is that girls do once they are in a bathroom together.

Eddie has started a fire, and it's actually warming up nicely. Steve has squatted down in front of the fire, rubbing his hands together as Eddie bustles around behind him. Steve's leaving him to it. Eddie was quite adamant that he didn't want, nor need, Steve's help.

It's still the floor, so Steve isn't getting too excited. But at least they probably won't freeze to death. They did bring a pile of extra blankets, just in case, because Nancy made them, and Steve's happy about that, now. This place wasn't exactly ready for guests. Eddie gathered up their share of the blankets, and said he was making them a pallet on the floor. Steve's not really sure what that means, but he lets Eddie do his thing.

"Tada," Eddie sing-songs, and Steve turns his way.

Whoa, it looks just like a bed, just without a mattress.

"Wow, how'd you learn how to do that?" Steve asks, and he's almost scared to mess it up.

"Wayne," Eddie answers. "I stayed with him a lot as a kid, and he'd always make me a pallet bed. Most of the time it was better than anything I had at home."

Steve swallows. That's a depressing thought. 

"That was before he had to give me his room when I moved in officially to make the state happy, of course. He bought a roll-away at an old motel auction for himself. It was never as good as his pallets, though."

Steve bets they made Eddie feel special, because hell, this right here tonight makes Steve feel special. It's not just a pile of blankets on the floor, which is definitely what Steve would have done if he'd been in charge.

"It looks really nice," Steve says, "thanks, Eddie. I would have just slept on the hardwood floor."

Eddie laughs. 

"Just get in bed, Harrington."

They lay shoulder-to-shoulder. Steve has been feeling some feelings about Eddie for a while now and he's just pushed it all down as deep as he could hide it. Sure that Eddie wasn't interested.

But, well. Maybe. 

Everything he's done tonight feels a little bit like wooing. 

And Steve?

He'd really like to be wooed. 

It's quiet between them, only the crackling fire providing background noise. It's a comfortable silence, though. 

But Steve still can't help himself.

"Were you wooing me?" Steve asks, and immediately regrets opening his mouth.

Eddie laughs, and Steve kind of wants to jump in that fire just to escape this. He shouldn't have said anything. He feels like a fool.

"I've been wooing you for months, Harrington. You just realized that?"

"Yes," Steve says, then adds, "No. I don't know. I didn't want to assume."

"Assume away."

And Steve wants to, he really, really wants to. 

Steve rolls onto his side, so he can see Eddie better. Eddie rolls onto his side as well, meeting him face-to-face.

"You think Henderson did this on purpose?" Steve asks.

"Oh, hell yes he did," Eddie says, and Steve smiles. 

He can't be that mad about it, then.

And Steve reaches out and cups Eddie's cheek, leaning in, his lips pressing to Eddie's for the very first time.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

[veggiesxxx]

POV: You spend time with a guy "behind their back." (Part 3/4)

(reader is NOT cheating!!)

ft. Jealousy, fluff,

𝒵𝒶𝓎𝓃𝑒

3pm. Your upcoming consultation with Dr. Zayne was in about...15 minutes, give or take if he wasn't too busy with a troublesome patient. You sat in the waiting room of Akso hospital, fiddling with your fingers, waiting for your appointment with the surgeon.

"Y/N! Hey, hey... Long time no see!" The cheerful voice of your colleague pulled you from the mindless gazing around the room you had been doing. You straightened out your shirt, not wanting to look sloppy in front of an acquaintance.

"Oh, hey..!' Your lips played into a smile, quickly taking in your friend's appearance. You noticed a small box of exquisite chocolates in his hand, and they had a cute ribbon tied to it, like a gift. "Who's the lucky girl?" You teased, eyeing the box.

"Ah.. They're just for you. Don't think so much about it.. Didn't know what you liked– and I know I missed your birthday. Sorry about that." He answered sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck, eyes on the polished floor.

'Oh- me? That's sweet. Thank you so much-" you said, touched by the gesture. You were just about to take the chocolate from him, when an authoritative voice rang out.

"She can't have them."

Huh?

You raised your head, averting your gaze to the direction the familiar voice had come from. Your friend looked up, puzzled, arm still outstretched to give you the box, pausing mid-way. You blinked in confusion.

"Dr. Zayne?"

"Sorry.. who is this?" Your friend's confused voice echoed your own perplexed remark.

"I'm her doctor," He replied coolly, expression somewhere between subtle annoyance and false politeness. He placed himself a little between you and your coworker, effectively joining the little exchange. Your friend's outstretched arm fell to his side, the chocolate box hanging loosely in his grip.

"Is she sick? Y/N, are you allergic? I'm so sorry-"

"No- no, I'm not." You quickly clarified, not wanting to tell an untruth to someone who you didn't meet too long ago. The man tried to hand you the box again after your confirmation, only to be blocked by Zayne.

"She can't have sugar.. You'll have to keep them." Zayne used a gloved hand to push the chocolate box back firmly towards the other man, his words telling him one thing, but his eyes were telling a different story.

"She says she's fine, though." Your friend tilted his head, obviously skeptical.

"Sorry. Doctor's orders."

After a moment, you sighed, defeated, shifting in your seat to make eye contact with your friend. Apologetically, you shook your head. "Uhm.. You should go, I'll see you another day."

At a loss of what to do, he heeded your advice and nodded, bidding an awkward goodbye to you and Zayne before heading out of the hospital.

"What was that about?" you frowned, standing up.

"Your health."

"Really? Well then, I'm sure everything is alright now." Your eyes narrowed, tone sarcastic, moving to look Zayne in the eye. He turned around to face you. 'You can't just do that," you added.

He didn't respond, expression softening, though his posture remained unyielding. He gestured for you to follow him to his office for your consult. You first wanted to refuse, and not follow until he apologised or something, but you also wanted to have the freedom to chide him.

"I 'can't have sugar'? Aren't we going to a dessert café right after your shift?" You replied, trailing behind him.

"It's different."

"How?"

"I'll supervise whatever you consume."

You realised it was quite impossible to argue with Zayne a long time ago— this man could be so very stubborn if he wanted to. Like an unmoving ice wall.

"You could've let me handle it-"

"I could've," he acknowledged. "But that would have also included you accepting the gift."

You sighed, shaking your head, though a small, fluttery feeling bubbled up in your chest despite your annoyance. “Zayne, you can’t just scare off everyone who gives me a gift.”

“I didn’t scare him,” Zayne said defensively, his voice lowering as he leaned in slightly. “I just… prioritised your health."

"Right.. because doctor's orders.." You mocked lightly.

"I did him a favour. He just doesn't know it yet." He answered nonchalantly, pushing open the door to his office, letting you in. You took a seat on his little sofa.

"A favour?" You repeated incredulously, raising a brow. "For what, exactly?"

"To not waste his time on someone he can't have." Zayne sounded calm, casually adjusting the stethoscope into his ear, pressing the cold chest piece over your heart. After a minute, he removed it. "It's fast,"

"What?"

"Your heart. But there's no fluctuation. Still, would be safer if I conducted a quick test."

"You're being ridiculous.. You can't scare off my colleague then proceed like nothing happened-!" you complained, but not resisting when his fingers lightly pushed against your shoulder, lowering you to lay on the sofa. He pushed up his glasses, expression unchanged, raising his eyes to look at you.

"Consider this an official prescription then: No accepting gifts from other men." He had a little smile on his face, like he was very happy with himself.

"...Why do I put up with you?" you asked, exasperated.

"..Because you know I'll always take care of you."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧༶

Hope you enjoyed!!

Next :

╰┈➤ Xavier (Part 4/4)

Previously :

╰┈➤ Sylus (Part 2/4)

[carolmunson]

blood machine.

emperor geta x senator's daughter!reader songspiration: in keeping secrets of the silent earth 3 | coheed & cambria

did not once plan to write for this guy but here we are. also like, is it historically accurate? no. like, not even a little. (hell is mentioned and technically hell wasn't 'a place' until 400 BC but like WHATEVER.) am i making a semi effort? sorta kinda. have i been a little stoned every time i've worked on this? well, yes.

summary: when what was supposed to be a diplomatic dinner before a much bigger and lively feast becomes a marriage offer, all of the wine you drank turns to ash in your mouth. haters to haters, bay-bee. tw: 18+, drinking but like -- idk it's ancient rome, tension, fighting, some mild body shaming (??), a literal threat of domestic violence but again it's ancient rome so like i don't think they cared, two stupid little bitches who hate each other. mentions of war and ultimate distaste for the poor. reader kind of has lady macbeth vibes. my little evil queen.

Wine is poured, golden chalices exalted. You are a vision and he is a toad looking creature of a man that only his mother could love. Not quite his brother, never quite measuring up the same way -- always trying to puff his chest. It was easy to tease him, ego easy to bruise -- little brother. You’d spent time in your childhood tagging along with your brother and the other kids to taunt him, pathetic and whimpering. 'Tale teller!' you'd jeer, every time he'd run off to his mother to blubber over how mean you all were. And you were mean.

But people grow, as they do. And so did you -- still mean, but in a different way. Listening to meetings, reading maps, keeping tabs on new republics, on potential uprising. The poor -- the fucking poor. Finding new ways to keep them occupied so that they'd stop trying to find ways to be powerful. Powerful like you. Powerful like the man at the head of the table with a plum to his lips. And as it has been said, a man in possession of a good fortune and power, must be in need of a wife. It became clear when you arrived that this was not a business dinner before a grand feast, your parents simply forgot to mention what this was really about. Your best linens, your hair coiffed, your best jewelry, you should have known it had been a ruse the moment you got there. His home on Palatine just sparkling the way the gold on your fingers did, candles in the halls and stairways glittering when they hit the rubies and pearls on your chest and ears. When your father veers the conversation from politics and business to marriage you both choke, stern eyes glued to your mother's painted face. A business dinner where you are currency -- more than worthy. Just a few months shy of being eligible when Caracalla was, regrettably, forced to marry Flavia at the last moment. It would've been nice to have the gang together again in some capacity. Could've bullied the toad to assasinating himself if you were lucky enough. Total power. Complete upheaval. The more you thought about it, the more of it your craved. The pit in your stomach grew, if it wasn't with his brother -- even though you bore no attraction -- there was not a point at all. Geta didn't think nearly as critically, didn't hit hard enough, didn't strategize correctly. You'd never even seen him pick up a sword -- but then again, that made sense. You very rarely spent time in his palace, much prefering the festivities of Caracalla's close by.

You listen while your mother goes on and on about his grace, tongue dipped in honey while she blabbers. She mentions how handsome he is, his valiance in leadership, how honorable he's become as he's taken the place of his late father -- you can't help yourself but laugh. The giggle echos and bounces through the high ceilings, floating against the archways, getting caught in the drapery by the open hall. His eyes flick to you over his goblet, catching in the candle light, an aggravated sneer plaguing his face. He looks like a pig when he does that, you think to yourself.

You know that business, for the most part, is a man's game. But it does not deter you from doing your best to try and wager yourself out of this. Ideas drip into your mind while the drone of the conversation turns to fuzz in the background. How can you sell that this is a bad idea? It will bring less publicity, less of a threat, less resposibility if married to someone with equal nobility. Certainly not an emperor. Especially not one like this. So petulant, so competitive, so eager for a war he does not know how to plan, so temperamental, so weak, so conniving, so consumed with the colosseum that he doesn't think of what should be done around him. It's his voice that brings you back to attention.

"And why is it she hasn't been taken for a wife then, at this age?" he asks, brow quirking in your direction. You let out of huff of offense while he sips his wine, metal clinking as he places it back down. A smirk flits across his features at the remark, "Is something wrong with her?"

Your father, sweating with embarrassment, looks over at you and back at the emperor, "Well she, she's of course beautiful." Geta winces, cocking his head to the side with a shrug. Your father sighs, desperate to try to find a better angle, "She um, she -- she has great wits, Ceasar, unmatched. She knows her duties as a wife, but -- a great thinker. She could -- she could be helpful!" "Wits," he mumbles sourly under his breath before leaning back leisurely in his chair, "Great thinker? Very surprising." "August--" your father starts. "Co--" you correct over a sip of wine, "Co-Augustus."

Geta tosses you another sour look, tongue running over his teeth before clicking it behind his lips. You shrug while swallowing. "Semantics, Publius," you wave a hand at him. A hush falls over the room as his gaze snaps up at you, blanching at the disrespect of being called by his first name. Your mother hides her face in her napkin with a groan. Your father leans his temple against his fingers, eyes closed in frustration. "Mind how you address me," Geta corrects with a stern pull to his lips, eyes glittering with rage. Your eyes catch over the mountains of food before you, holding your glass out as one of his servants pours you another glass of wine. "Is that not what your mother calls you?" your voice feathery, but certain. A vein begins to raise and pulse in his neck while his shoulders round forward.

"Please apologize, dear," your mother mutters, putting the napkin back on the table, "Tell -- tell the emperor what it would mean, to be -- to be wed to someone of such calibur."

Your eyes stay on his, challenging him while your mother begs you to say something to make amends. Another sip of wine passes your lips, "No, shan't."

Your mother scolds you, your full name escaping her with embarrassment tainting her tongue. Sweat beads at your father's forehead while he changes the subject, doing aything to try to keep his good favor with both sides of the imperatorship.

You grin into your goblet at the sight of Geta's face -- reddened with anger and frustration at the brazen disrespect. But it was fine to continue to be an enemy if it meant you would leave these regal walls and never have to step foot in them again. And if you did, it would be as another senator's wife, visiting his brother in another house where you'll laugh and drink wine and cheer when he's killed.

Even his posture is revolting, hunched over while he listens to your father speak. Now going on and on about paper work that doesn't interest you if it doesn't have a say on who is next on the list to conquer. Your eyes glaze over in boredom while pomergranate, honey pudding, and dates are placed on the table. Rose wine replaces the red to sweeten the tongue -- you're sure your parents wished it were true.

It's not very long after dessert is served that your parents start again.

"As you know, she does come from a family of very fertile women," your father encourages. You quickly swallow the bite of date you'd taken to interrupt, nearly choking, "Excuse me, I'm not sure this is appropriate dinner conversation."

Geta looks at you while you speak, scanning you and then lingering on the dessert in your hand, "Her hips are quite sizeable -- big enough to bear multiple childen, that's certain. Is that her only sell?"

Anger bubbles under your chest, but warning looks from both of your parents keeps your sharp tongue between your lips. The grip on your goblet tightens, jaw clenching while your pass another sip through gritted teeth. You let a seething breath out through your nose. "As I tried to explain before," your father continues, "She is very on the pulse in terms of the political climate and, and, and great with strategy." "I'm not looking for a wife who tries to strategize for me--" he responds coolly. "From how the empire has not expanded since your father's death I would guess that perhaps you should be," you snap back smartly. His posture straightens, chains and medallions across his chest glinting in the candle light. The room quiets itself again, only the sound of untensils and cups being put down or collected filling the dead air. The soft scrape of metal, the rustle of linens while servants and guards alike avert their gaze downward.

"Leave us," he states, voice pungent with authority. You stretch your neck on both sides while the servants depart, already bored with the back and forth. Already moved on from the eventual scolding and potential exile that won't get put into motion because you are simply too friendly with the rest of the upcoming generals and politicians. One rogue idiot who barely has the power his brother has, that his father never trained into him, could not dole a punishment that is worth your genuine fear.

You sigh, hearing the staff make their way down the long stone corridors into the grand halls to prepare for a more formal party with other higher status families. More likely a collection of offerings for him to choose from, other parents trying to arrange a marriage with the empire's most powerful and eligible bachelor. It would be one of the few times the brothers would have to engage with each other, which you're sure put Geta more on edge than normal.

"Senator, please take your wife to the grand hall to be seated," he commands, his voice lower, delving darker. The vein in his neck continues to pulse, forearms straining against the golden cuffs over his wrists, "The guards will accompany you."

You watch as your parents rise, bowing their heads before following the guards out of the room and through the blood red drapery hung from gilded valances. Geta's eyes stay hardened on you, and yours him, while you rise as well, taking a few steps around the large wooden table toward the exit. "Not you," he says, not turning to face you, "You will stay." "It is not appropriate for me to be unaccopanied in the pres--" "Do not speak," he huffs, hand coming up to silence you, "Your voice grates on me." "Then you can imagine what your own voice does, Augustus," you say without thinking, letting the insults flow out of you like the fountain water in the courtyards. He pushes away from the table, steadily walking towards you with enough vigor that the bottom of his cape starts to billow behind him. On his way, he pulls a sword from a guard's holster, dragging it so the tip grinds against the stone, making your jaw clench at the shrill sound.

"What happens to those who speak against me?" he asks, steps clicking against the floor from the studs on the bottom of his sandals. He begins to stalk around you, circling while he waits for an answer. "Execution," you respond, keeping your eyes on the drapery just twenty feet ahead of you. "What else?" he asks, you can feel his breath behind you, the whining grind of the sword against the stone making your shoulders tense. "Exile," you answer, a laugh bubbling out of you, "But I can't imagine your brother agreeing to either of those. You'd really banish me, Publius? Because I was a little mean to you?" When he appears in front of you again, your lips stretch into a sickeningly sweet smile, sarcasm staining your tone, "But we're such old friends."

He cocks his head to the side, taking a step closer with the sword between you, "Oh, I wouldn't do that to you."

He leans forward, enough that you can smell the rose wine on his breath. His voice quiet and menacing, "Though -- it could be that the senator said something to offend me tonight at dinner. It could be that perhaps he -- spoke poorly of my dear brother or my late father. Something just dastardly enough to sour my brother's respect for him." "And you expect Caracalla to believe that?" "In what way does it benefit me to lie about it?" he challenges, "And even more so -- with your father exiled, where does that leave you?"

You swallow thickly, not giving him the satisfaction of replying while your look into his now wild brown eyes. Flashing with mania and endless possibility.

"A peasant," he spits.

"If it keeps me out of these halls I should be lucky, no?" you fire back, looking at him from under furrow brows. He continues to circle you, dragging the sword again. The click, click, click of his shoes keeping time in your head. "I'm sure my brother would be happy to keep you as a pet in the meantime," he laughs to himself, "Or we could put you in the colosseum, you think you'd fare well?" "Better than you could, that's certain," you cross your arms over your chest, "Could never stand up and fight like a man, even as a kid. Your father would be embarrassed."

The grinding gets louder as he presses harder down, causing small sparks to fly from the edge of the sword.

"If you were to be chosen, would ever even attempt to learn respect?" he asks sharply, "Or would it have to be beaten into you?" You snort, "At least you're the funnier brother, you have that going for you." You can see him out of your periphery, the way he pulls his cheeks in, the roll of his shoulders -- he's losing patience. "What, would you prefer I called you Geta? Augustus? Ceasar?" your eyes roll. A soft cackle comes from his through, canines showing in a gleeful smile, "No, no -- from you? I'd much prefer something more respectful." Click, click, click. The grind of the sword. The rose on his breath. "Dominus," he nods with the threat, "Dominus et Deus."

"You disgust me," you respond quickly. "As a husband and as emperor is that not my title, already?" he shrugs, looking at you like it's obvious.

"You are nobodies Lord and God, you are a petulant -- sniveling -- repulsive little brother who is only where he is by being lucky to be born," you glower.

"You still see me as a child, femina," he tuts, "I promise you, what ever Caracalla has told you is a tapestry of made up stories. You could hang it on the tallest arch and it would hit the floor ten times over."

"I do see just a whining child before me," you hiss, "I'm sure you'll run to your mother after this, too."

His chuckle turns to a low, dark laugh from deep in his chest. It crawls up your spine and rings in your ears, mixing with the grating 'shhhhhhinnnngggg' of the sword on the ground.

"If it were fate that there was union between us," he asks from behind you, "What would you say to that?"

You look straight ahead, hearing the click of his shoes. The heat of the torches on the walls billowing onto your face while you keep your eyes on the drapery, still closed -- still keeping you here.

"It would be a fate worse than the hottest hell," you confess, your voice not wavering.

The whine of the sword stops, sheathed into his belt. The click of his shoes halts.

Quiet.

Rose wine on his breath, you feel it on your skin now, his chest against your back while he closes the space between you. A hand reaches up to push the hair from your neck, the other gripping the fat of your hip to pull you ruthlessly against him in a thud. Your eyes shut, bile crawling up your throat in disgust. His nose coasts against the shell of your ear, making you tilt your head away while goosebumps rise on your arms. Through a knowing grin he whispers, the words burrowing deep in your chest in loathing and a glimmer of fear: "I pray every moment of it burns you."

[wolverigrl]

Hormonal

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

A/N: I can't anymore with this man. I'm not quite sure with this part, bit I still you enjoy it!

Warnings: mentions of Body Dysmorphic Order, angsty, a bit of fluff

Enjoy!

Previous Part

---------------------------------------------------

It had been almost two years since Hugh and I started dating, and life had finally settled into a wonderful routine. After the initial whirlwind of being labeled Hollywood's Power Couple, the constant media attention had finally calmed down. But even though the paparazzi had shifted their focus to new drama, we were still very much the couple that people looked up to - whether we liked it or not.

Hugh and I had been filming The Greatest Showman together, and it had been a dream come true for both of us. Playing Charity Barnum alongside him as P.T. Barnum was not only a professional highlight but a personal one. Every day, we got to share scenes, rehearse, and spend quality time together on set.

I'd also gotten close to his kids, Oscar, who was 15, and Ava, who was 10. Oscar was a typical teenager - sometimes distant but warm when it mattered. We bonded over our shared love for movies and music, and I had taken him to a few smaller premieres, which was pretty cool for him. Ava, on the other hand, was full of energy, always dragging me into whatever creative project she had going on. She loved to ask me about the costumes on set, always asking if I could sneak her something "cool" from the wardrobe department. We'd grown really close, and I adored being part of their lives.

Even Hugh's ex-wife, Deborra, had been nothing but gracious. I was worried about how our relationship might affect things with her, but she was kind and supportive from the start. We'd even had a few chats over coffee, which eased any awkwardness. There was no competition or resentment - just a shared love for Hugh and the kids.

But lately, something had shifted inside me. It started with the paparazzi photos. They had caught me in unflattering poses or oversized sweaters, and suddenly, the media was speculating that I might be pregnant.

One morning, while Hugh was making coffee, I decided to make light of the rumors.

I sat at the kitchen counter, scrolling through my phone and looking at the latest article headline: 'Is y/n pregnant? Signs Point to Yes!' I rolled my eyes.

"Hey, babe." said casually, glancing at him as he poured his coffee, "Apparently I'm Pregnant."

Hugh, mid-sip, immediately choked on his coffee, sputtering as he tried to regain his composure. "What?" he coughed out, his eyes wide in shock before a laugh escaped him. "What are you talking about?"

I snickered, showing him the article. "According to the tabloids, we're expecting!"

Hugh’s eyes sparkled with amusement, but then he tilted his head, a hint of concern creeping into his expression. “Well, your period’s still coming, though... right?”

I froze. The smile on my face faltered for a moment, and I realized, in that split second, that my period hadn’t come. It was late. Very late. I hadn’t even thought about it properly until now.

I must’ve looked shocked, because Hugh’s smile faded slightly, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Right?”

I snapped out of it quickly, forcing a nod. “Yeah, of course. It’s just late.”

He stared at me for a moment, searching my face as if trying to figure out if I was serious. Then, with that signature Hugh charm, he broke into a grin, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me close.

"How do they come up with this stuff?" He came over and kissed the top of my head. "You think they'd run out of things to speculate about?"

I laughed along, but something about the rumors hit closer to home than I was letting on. My body had changed recently. Despite working out regularly and eating well, I had gained a little weight. It wasn't much, but enough to make me feel insecure. And with the tabloids dissecting every detail of my appearance, it had started to eat away at me.

Hugh didn't seem to notice - or, if he did, he never mentioned it. He was as loving and affectionate as ever, but for the last few weeks, I had started pulling away from him, especially when things got intimate. I couldn't help but think about my body every time his hands roamed over my skin. I wasn't the woman I was when we first met, and I hated that it was getting to me.

That night, after we'd finished filming, we finally had some quiet, time together. Hugh was in a playful mood, and as we curled up on the couch, a glass of wine in my hand, I could feel him inching closer. His fingers brushed lightly along my thigh, and I leaned into him, enjoying the warmth of his body against mine.

"I miss this, love." he murmured against my ear, his voice deep and sultry. His lips trailed soft kisses along my neck, and I shivered under his touch. His hand slowly slipping under my shirt, inching up toward my skin.

My breath hitched, and for a moment, I wanted to lose myself in him. But as his hand started to lift my shirt, I tensed

"Hugh.." I whispered, grabbing his wrist to stop him.

He slightly pulled back, his brow furrowed. "What's wrong?" I swallowed hard, unable to meet his eyes. "I can't right now."

His frustration was palpable as he sat up, running a hand through his hair. "You've been pulling away from me for weeks, y/n. Every time I try to be close to you, you shut me out."

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I blinked them away, trying to keep my voice steady. "It's not you." I said quietly. "It's me."

Hugh sighed, his expression softening as he reached for my hand. "Then tell me. Talk to me. What's going on?"

I hesitated, my heart racing in my chest. I didn't want to burden him with my insecurities, but I couldn't keep bottling it up either.

"I've gained weight." I admitted in a small voice, my fingers twisting nervously in my lap. "I've been working out, eating right, doing everything I'm supposed to, and my body's still changing. I feel.. different. And every time you touch me, l just.. I don't feel like myself."

Hugh's face softened as he pulled me into his arms. "Y/n." he whispered, his voice full of love, "you're beautiful and I don't care if your body changes. I love you, all of you. always will."

Tears slipped down my cheeks, and I buried my face in his chest, grateful for his warmth, his understanding. "I know." I whispered, my voice breaking. "But it's hard. The media the comments, the expectations.. just don't feel like I measure up anymore."

Hugh tilted my chin up, his eyes locked with mine. "You don't have to measure up to anything. You're enough, y/n. You've always been enough."

I nodded, wiping my tears away. His words brought comfort, but the insecurities still lingered in the back of my mind. I knew I had to work through them, but having Hugh by my side made it feel a little less scary.

The next morning I woke up feeling lighter as though a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I decided to take control of the narrative. If people were going to speculate about my body, I will be the one to set the record straight.

I grabbed my phone and took a deep breath before snapping a photo of myself in my workout clothes. I wasn't hiding anything. No filters, no posing to hide the weight I'd gained. Just me, as I was.

I opened Instagram, uploaded the photo, and typed my caption:

>>y/n instagram: Alright, let's clear some things up. No, I'm not pregnant. Yes, I've gained some weight. And honestly? That's okay. Bodies thange, hormones do their thing and sometimes despite working out and eating right, your body just decides to go through a phase. I've been feeling insecure lately, and I know I'm not alone in that. But here's the thing - I'm still me. I still love my body, and I'm working on being kinder to myself every day. So if anyone else is out there feeling the same way, just know you're not alone. We're all more than our appearances, but we're allowed to love ourselves in every stage we go through.

Now, if you'll excuse me, l'm off to eat a piece of cake. No guilt, just love.😋<<

I hit post, my heart racing as I watched the comments flood in. The outpouring of support was immediate.

>>logan1noir: Thank you for being so real! You're beautiful no matter what!<<

>>celesty634: This made me cry, I've been feeling the same way, and it helps to know I'm not alone❤️<<

>>dcxmrvl22: You are GORGEOUS! Keep shining, girl🫶🏻<<

>>chrisevans: Proud of you!!❤️<<

>>blakelively: How do you look good in everything??<<

>>vancityreynolds: As your humble friend, I demand you to stop setting impossible standards for the rest of us!<<

>>zendaya: QUEEN👑<<

>>thehughjackman: Always proud of you my love❤️<<

Later that evening, Hugh and I hosted a small dinner at our house. Just a few close friends - Blake, Ryan, Zendaya, Zac Efron and some other close cast members were there.

The wine was flowing, and the laughter was contagious. But all day, I had been feeling a little off. I was moody, switching from happy to sad in the span of minutes, and I was feeling unusually hormonal.

Hugh noticed, of course. He always did. And I couldn't help but tease him throughout the evening. Little touches here and there, suggestive whispers when no one was looking. His reactions were priceless, the way his jaw would clench, his eyes darkening with desire.

"You're playing with fire, darling." he whispered in my ear, his breath hot against my skin as we stood by the kitchen island.

I smirked, leaning closer to him, my lips brushing against his ear. "What are you going to do about it?"

Hugh shot me a look that sent a chill down my spine, his hand resting on my lower back, his fingers teasing the hem of my dress. But before he could answer, Ryan came strolling over, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Ryan teased, raising an eyebrow as he eyed the two of us. "You two seem a little preoccupied tonight."

I laughed, pulling away from Hugh slightly, but not before I felt his hand give my waist a playful squeeze. Hugh shook his head, his expression amused but clearly flustered by the interruption.

"Just enjoying the evening." Hugh replied with a chuckle, trying to act casual, though I could see the heat still lingering in his eyes.

Ryan leaned in, lowering his voice dramatically. "I hope you two are careful, though. With all that tension, you might just end up giving those pregnancy rumors something real to work with."

I rolled my eyes, but before I could respond, Blake sauntered over, a knowing smile on her face. "He's right, you know.: she said, her eyes twinkling with humor. "You two have that look - like you're up to something."

Blake's eyes lingered on me a little too long, and I noticed her frown slightly, as if reading something in my expression that I hadn't yet figured out myself.

Later in the evening, after dinner was served and the conversation had flowed naturally from movie projects to family gossip, I excused myself to the kitchen for a moment to gather my thoughts. I was feeling off - moody, emotional, and kind of disconnected.

Blake followed me, her eyes sharp as she leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. "Okay, spill it."

I blinked at her you talking "What are you talking about?"

Blake tilted her head, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. "You've been acting... odd tonight. Are you sure you're not pregnant?"

I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head. "Blake, no! I'm definitely not pregnant! I even joked with Hugh about that this morning."

She studied me for a moment, her gaze still concerned. "It's just... I've been pregnant three times now, and I can spot the signs. You're giving off all the vibes."

I sighed, leaning against the counter and rubbing my temples. "I don't know.. I mean I've been feeling weird lately, but I just thought it was stress. l've gained some weight, my moods are all over the place, but I don't think I'm pregnant."

Blake softened, placing a hand on my arm. "If you ever wanna talk about it, you know I'm here, right?"

I smiled at her, appreciating her concern. "Thanks, Blake. I think I just need to figure out what's going on with my body."

The night ended on a good note, with everyone laughing and chatting as they left. Ryan, of course, couldn't resist making one last joke. "Don't go making any little Jackmans tonight, okay? Or at least wait until we're gone."

I rolled my eyes, waving them off, "Shut it, Ryan!"

Once the house was quiet and the dishes were done, I finally let out a deep breath, grateful for the silence. But as soon as I sat down on the couch, I felt a familiar cramp in my lower abdomen.

I froze, my eyes widening. "No way!"

I hurried to the bathroom, and sure enough, there it was. My period had arrived. I wasn't pregnant.

Relief washed over me, mixed with an odd sense of joy. After all the speculation and confusion, my body had finally given me an answer.

I returned to the living room, finding Hugh still in the kitchen, cleaning the last wine glasses. He looked up as I entered, and I couldn't help but grin.

"What's with the smile?" he asked, setting the glasses down and coming over to me.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, standing on my tiptoes to kiss him softly. "You're going to laugh." Hughs brow furrowed slightly. "Why?"

"Well I just got my period!"

Hugh blinked, then laughed softly, pulling me closer.

"Well, that's good to know. l'm glad you're not stressed about it anymore."

"Me too!" I said, leaning into his embrace, feeling lighter than I had in weeks.

He kissed my forehead, his hands resting on my hips as he looked down at me, his voice soft and teasing. "So, since you're really not pregnant and everything's fine.. does that mean we can stop avoiding each other now?"

I looked up at him, biting my lip playfully. "You know I was thinking the same thing."

Hugh's eyes darkened with that similiar heat, and before I knew it, he had me pinned against the kitchen counter, his lips crashing into mine.

His hands roamed over my body, pulling me closer, and this time, I didn't stop him. I didn't feel the need to. I felt confident, desired, and most importantly, loved. As his hands slipped under my shirt, his touch igniting a fire inside me, I let myself give in to him completely.

"Hugh..." I whispered, my voice breathless as his lips trailed down my neck.

He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, his own filled with love and desire. "I've missed this. I've missed you."

I smiled, my heart swelling with affection for the man in front of me.

"I'm not going anywhere."

And with that, we lost ourselves in each other, the weight of the past few weeks melting away as we found comfort and passion in each other's arms. The insecurities, the rumors, the stress - it all disappeared as we reminded each other of what really mattered.

In the next morning, the world felt a little brighter. I've got an overwhelming support after my post and Hugh was by my side through everything. We spent the morning lazily wrapped up in each other, laughing and talking about the future.

Hugh kissed me softly, his hand gently tracing patterns on my skin.

"You know, I love you just the way you are, right? No matter what."

I smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest.

"I know and I love you too. Always."

Our love had been tested, but we came out stronger than ever. And as I lay there in his arms, I knew that no natter what life threw our way, we would face it together.

---------------------------------------------------

@spectorrrhgf @tinawantstobeadoll @appetencyfortacos @weskerussy @kellyxo1 @larkkyoris @shukirschtein14 @corvusmorte @carefree-flowerchild @rexmeshlasblog @melmel-fandom @needz1nk @nonamevenus @morganlolitta @angelofthorr @pickuptruck01 @inlovewithcharmers @gaulty74 @mega-kittyglitter-1 @sylviavf @bethexo07

Next part

[anni-writes]

intimacy limbo

Miya Atsumu x MSBY PR manager! reader

Warnings: nsfw, suggestive convo, dirty talk, drunk atsumu, drunk call, nothing very explicit though

word count: 1106

@ anni says: I'm a sucker for this dynamic, probably will write more, let me know if y'all liked 🤲

“hello?”

you pick up the annoying phone buzzing under your pillow without sparing much time to check the name on the screen, assuming it's an emergency, since nobody would sanely call another person in the middle of the night if it wasn't important, right?

… wrong

“did I wake you up?“ — the voice on the other side said and you wondered if he was joking

you sat on the bed, looking to the clock on the bedstand

“it's 2am, Atsumu. Why are you calling?”

you asked in a deep hoarse sleepy voice, your forehead frowning while your brain tried to make the sinapses of why Atsumu Miya would call his PR Manager at such hour.

all the answers sounded terrible

“fuck, don't tell me you're screwing a married actress again? or you fought someone at a party? it's fucking friday Atsumu you're gonna make me work on the weekend again—”

“God, your voice is so hot when you wake up…”

he interrupted my rambling with his own and immediately I realize he might be drunk.

“where are you?” — I asked, a little more soothing now

“uhhh… home?”

“since when?”

“since… ten minutes ago”

“where were you?”

“i— at a pub? with Bokkun and some others”

“why are you calling?”

the line went quiet, I can feel the hesitation lingering, but I don't push it, just hearing his deep breathing for some long seconds

“i— wanted to hear your voice… you…”

he stops suddenly, and I let him be, laying back down on my bed, keeping the phone on my ear, looking at the ceiling

“are you drunk?”

“no. maybe? a little. but not much” — enough to call me in the middle of the night, I think to myself. but also don't comment on it

I stay quiet on the line for a few seconds, enough for him to protest.

“hey”

“hm?”

“talk to me”

he say, a demanding tone, and I can't help but snort.

“what do you want to talk about, Miya?”

“when was the last time you fucked somebody”

my breath hitched in a silent surprise, not expecting this question

“what the fuck, Atsumu—”

“answer me”

I stop on my track, narrowing my eyes and shaking my head, trying to remember when was the last time I—

“that'd be… three months ago? on a blind date”

“did you cum?”

my eyebrow raise on an impossible force, but I can't bring myself to be uncomfortable with his questions. a sick dynamic that blossomed after the Olympic games, when I cleaned up all of his messes

“I didn't”

“And when was the last time?”

I narrow my eyes, not quite catching

“Last time…?”

“That you came?”

“uhm… Last night? I mean, I don't need a man to cum, do I…?”

He hissed on the phone, that was the only answer I didn't antecipated.

“Atsumu, are you getting off from my voice?”

I ask bluntly, expecting an equal blunt answer. And how was my surprise when I didn't get one

“I— no, I don't… I just… that's not…”

“You're such a slut"

this time he graced me with a whimper from the back of his throat,

and somehow, in a sick way, I was starting to like

“… you drive me crazy, you know that?”

he said, his voice clearly deeper, darker

“how do I drive you crazy, Miya?”

“don't… dont call me that... not now”

“i’ll call you whatever I want, Miya”

he hiss again, and I almost chuckle. but I hold back, just asking

“what was that?”

silence on the other way, I hear him sighing, and I mend, testing the waters

“Atsumu?”

“Yes!”

he say immediately and exhasperated, and I smile

“you like how I say your name?”

“I… very much”

“what if I moaned your name?”

“… ah… fuck… don't say shit like that…”

“Okay, I won't…”

“But please do”

this time I can't hold back, I crack a laugh on the phone

“Miya, there's only so much mixed signals someone can handle”

“You speak like you'd let me fuck you even if I beg”

“We can't, Miya”

he sigh deep on the other side, I can hear the frustration in his voice

“I'll send my nudes to a sports journalist and create the biggest PR scandal MSBY has ever seen”

he say in a petty act and I crack another laugh, knowing he doesn't actually would do something of such magnitude. not purposefully, at least.

“You know that would only obligate us to stay in the same meeting room for long hours until I fix it, don't you?”

he sigh, frustrated again, on the other side of the line, and I hear muffled sounds of something soft, probably him shifting on his bed

but the silence linger again, and before he can protest, I break it

“You should go to sleep, you have practice tomorrow”

“… can't. ‘m hard.” — he say and I snort, biting my tongue to not ask for proof

“take a cold shower, masturbate, dunno. go to sleep, Miya”

I hear him sighigh frustrated again, another set of shuffling noises

“okay, I'll go”

he say and part of me feel bad, not wanting to end the call, used to this sick twisted intimacy that I cultivated myself

“You go, and don't get late for practice tomorrow. G’night”

“night”

his answer is dry, and before he (or I) can hesitate or say anything else, I press the red button, putting my phone down on the bed.

I sigh, throwing my arms on my face, knowing I'm in the wrong for indulging Atsumu antics,

but this dynamic, once settled, it's impossible to go back. The rush of dopamine is too delicious, making both of us stuck in a middle term limbo of attraction and curiosity, leading to a twisted intimacy.

after tossing and turning on the bed for a while, in a failed attempt to go back to sleep, I decide to take back my phone, seeking some brain distraction

and I see a lost text from Atsumu

i knew opening his message would only make things worse for me. But I do it either way. And the sight makes my mouth water.

“fucking hell” I think to myself, grumbling while opening the bedstand drawer where my toys are, preparing for a couple more hours of perturbation

[spongeyspot]

Toxic Traits/Red Flags HC

Characters: Arthur, Javier, John, Lenny, Dutch, Micah, Charles, Sean, Hosea, Mary Beth, Abigail, Tilly, Karen, Sadie, Molly

(A/N): WE WERE JUST TALKING ABOUT THIS DAWG. I LOVED @cowboyfromh3ll 's take on that shit sm and these hcs have literally been swimming in my head for weeeeeeeeks bro

Edit: some of these were kinda hard because there's not a lot of bad in the characters themselves... I had trouble with specifically Charles, Lenny, Mary Beth, and Tilly. Sorry if they may be OOC. IM EVEN DOING THE GIRLS BECAUSE IM IN A SILLY GOOFY MOOD

Content Warning: female reader, jealousy, self hate, narcissism, gaslighting, physical abuse, verbal abuse, mental abuse, mentions of murder and violence, mentions of infidelity, mentions of sex (Sean, Micah, Sadie kind of) (MINORS DNI)

Not edited btw

The boys

Arthur Morgan

- Honestly, I feel like Arthur would have this insane, crippling fear of rejection, especially when it comes to dating. - His self hate/deprecation plays a huge part in this, and quite honestly, him and Mary not working out probably also probably contributed to it. - Very emotionally distant. Has a hard time expressing his feelings openly due to that same fear of rejection.🚩 - Bottles shit up until he feels like he's gonna explode 🚩 - His impulse control is almost nonexistent 🚩 - Will resort to saying things that he doesn't even mean. He just says things when he's angry🚩 - Will hate himself even more if he makes you cry - Won't hesitate to run away from camp for a while to cool off. This isn't necessarily a bad thing per se, but he usually takes his time away to overthink the fuck out of everything - Prone to acting violent. (not to someone he cared about, but to other people, absolutely)Also due to his poor impulse control. 🚩

Javier Escuella

- Has a flirty personality, but around women, it just seems to get worse. 🚩 - Tells you you're overreacting if you tell him it bothers you🚩 - Overprotective of you. Always has his eyes on you, and practically orders you to stay in camp where it's safe. - As if you step one foot outside the camp without him, you'll spontaneously drop dead - Jealous asf. Are you laughing at what Bill just said? It wasn't even that funny. Why are you standing so close to him? You should be at least 6 feet away from him, not 5 and a half. 🚩 - Also has a problem with how you dress sometimes. God forbid your shirt is ever low cut. He'd probably ask you to change. 🚩 - And if you get offended or upset, he'll lie and tell you it's because he can't stop staring at your chest, and he'd like to focus of whatever it was he was doing.🚩

John Marston

- Stubborn as all hell. Doesn't listen to anybody for anything.🚩 - Commitment issues up the ass - Says mean things out of anger and sometimes actually means them 🚩 - Won't apologize half the time. He thinks kissing it better actually makes it better 🚩 - Regularly ignores his own bad habits instead of actually facing them 🚩 - Will run away from problems like Arthur, but worse. He'd be gone a really long time.🚩 - Gets annoyed with you if you get angry at him for leaving and staying away for a while. He told you he needed space, didn't he? What else do you need from him?? 🚩 - Ignorantly clueless half the time. Head empty, no thoughts.

Lenny Summers

- Not assertive in the slightest, and usually, respectfully, keeps to himself. -Takes orders without verbal complaints but inside he's annoyed as fuck 🚩 - Even if he hates doing something he'll probably just go "Okay" and do it anyway, and he'll sulk all day afterwards - Refuses to tell you what's wrong because he thinks he'll sound childish.🚩 - If you push the issue, he might snap at you out of annoyance like "Would you just let it be??" - Immediately feels guilty and shameful, and he'll hide away until he's ready to apologize and face you again - Also kind of a know-it-all... He'll correct you a LOT. It would get annoying 🚩 - Would blatantly tell you you're wrong before correcting you🚩 - Not necessarily an asshole about it but he still tends to get under your skin sometimes

Dutch Van Der Linde

- The BIGGEST Narcissist you'll ever meet.🚩 -He loses another piece of his mental state with every breath he takes. Slowly but surely losing his mind.🚩 - King of gaslighting🚩 - How could you even think that about him? He could never do anything wrong! You must be crazy...🚩 - Tries to recite his "pretty words" from Evelyn Miller to try and sound smarter than he actually is 🚩 - Expects you to just feed his ego without him actually doing anything to earn it🚩 - Will try to correct you even when he's wrong🚩 - Refuses to admit he's wrong. He can never be wrong. That word isn't even in his vocabulary unless he's talking about literally anyone but himself🚩

Micah Bell

- Where do I even start with this guy - Not above putting his hands on you if he doesn't get his way. Let's be honest here.🚩 - Mega Narccisist, almost as bad as Dutch 🚩 - Will brag and share every sexual encounter you've ever had with him like he's talking about the weather🚩 - VERY prone to Violence 🚩 - NO impulse control. Murders people for fun.🚩 - Backhanded and borderline abusive compliments 24/7 "You'd look so good if you weren't so fucking fat..." 🚩 - Selfish lover. Thinks just sticking it in will do the trick, and it does, for him at least.🚩 - Little to no affection. What are you? His girlfriend? Wait...🚩 -If he actually does show you affection, and you react in surprise, he'll tell you to go fuck yourself, and that that's the last time he ever does anything nice for you.🚩

Charles Smith

- Impossible to read sometimes - Like Arthur, Charles tends to keep a lot of his emotions bottled up until he feels like he's gonna pop 🚩 - Like most of the men in the Van Der Linde gang, Charles is also prone to acting violently. I mean, he started a bar fight with a fucking chair, and he fights in street fighting rings, let's be real for a second.🚩 - He's incredibly quiet and reserved a lot of the time, and sometimes you just assume that he's listening to you when you talk, but a lot of the time, he's lost in his own thoughts. - Will do everything anyone asks him to at the expense of his own free time and energy, and sometimes he works himself to exhaustion just to try and please everyone.🚩 - In doing so, he sometimes doesn't have time for himself at the end of the day. It also seems like you spend time together less and less as the days go on. - If he ever got himself hurt and you tried to help him, he'd decline any help with anything to save his own pride. The last thing he needs is you thinking he's weak. 🚩 - Extremely Overprotective. Like to the point where he'd beat the shit out of anybody you asked him to🚩

Sean Macguire

- An Alcoholic🚩 - horny 99% of the time, but half that time he probably has whiskey dick. Still asks you to try but doesn't understand that it's like trying to play pool with a rope... - If he can manage to be sober enough to actually get it up, and you're not in the mood, he'd get pissy and annoyed with you for "wasting his boner" 🚩 - Will probably also brag about having sex with you to everyone🚩 - Needy as all hell - Bro sulks on purpose - Low key loves the attention you give him when you continue to ask him what's wrong, but he never actually tells you and constantly says "I'm fine..." or "It's nothing..." 🚩 - But then sighs dramatically and continues sulking and dragging his feet so you keep giving him more attention 🚩

Hosea Matthews

- Ignores his physical health until he's practically dying. You've told him to get that cough looked at for literal years and he just says "I will" and does nothing 🚩 - sometimes talks to you as if you're a child especially if he's around Dutch -low key gaslights you sometimes 🚩 - and he says it with such a gentle tone, its hard to catch it 🚩

The girls

Mary Beth Gaskill

- Daydreams way too much - Likes to live in her romance novel fantasy land rather than face reality 🚩 - Cries a lot - Tries to be angry but can't help but cry instead - If crying makes you feel bad for her, she'll probably do it on purpose so you comfort her and give her attention🚩 -If you're in a fight, she'll turn on the crocodile tears to get you to stop being angry with her or whatever it is you're arguing about.🚩

Abigail Roberts

- She can be verbally abusive if she's pushed far enough 🚩 - Holds in a lot of her emotions🚩 - Neglectful of her own personal needs to make sure you or Jack are fully provided or cared for🚩 - a lot of the time, when she's upset with you, you're probably given the cold shoulder and the silent treatment - incredibly protective. Not necessarily a bad thing, but she can sometimes be super overbearing.

Tilly Jackson

- Tells it how she sees it, sometimes accidentally sounding a lot colder than she means to 🚩 - Too sarcastic for her own good 🚩 - Laughs a little too much sometimes when you tell a joke, and you can often tell it's actually incredibly fake🚩 - gets irritated really easily, especially if she's bothered while doing her chores. The last thing she needs is Grimshaw on her ass again.🚩 - irritable a lot of the time, unintentionally becoming short or snapping at you - like john, she also believes that kissing it better is better than actually apologizing

Karen Jones

- An alcoholic 🚩 - picks fights with you for fun, finds it entertaining to see how red your face can get from anger 🚩 - Screaming matches are a regular occurance between you guys, and she starts it almost every time 🚩 - Pretty jealous when it comes to the opposite sex🚩 - Has self doubt and believes that she can't give you everything a man probably could

Sadie Adler

- The nosiest woman in America. No chill. She reads everyone's mail. - Makes a lot of loose threats 🚩 - Anger issues🚩 - Low impulse control🚩 - Can be a little too rough sometimes 🚩 - If she's upset with you, she'll either yell or storm off. Sometimes both. 🚩 -(She tends to walk away a lot more often because she's actuall self aware that her anger issues are a problem) - She'd never admit that to you though.

Molly O'Shea

- Even more jealous than Javier🚩 - Glares at and envies anyone you talk to that isn't her🚩 - Has immaginary conversations with people in her head🚩 - Rubbing her hands together when the real life conversations are following the script she had planned out in her brain - Needs constant reassurance - "D'you even love me anymore?!"🚩 - Overthinks everything 🚩 - Paranoid as hell about infidelity - Gets mad at you when she dreams about you cheating on her🚩

[stardustlixie]

hyunjin, the heartthrob

[pairing: fem!dom!reader x sub!hyunjin]

[warnings: smut, degradation (like a lot), mean reader, lowkey pathetic hyunjin, dumbassery, confusion about feelings, angry sex (kinda?), unprotected penetration (don't do this), choking, hair pulling, bondage, cunnilingus, light slapping (like twice)]

[REPOST FROM MY DELETED SMUT BLOG]

[author's note: i can't do this anymore, the grip he has on my brain is insane. this is kinda weird?? read at your own risk lmao, not responsible for the brain damage, pt.2 might be written?]

hyunjin as the type of guy to be the uni heartthrob annoying you for no apparent reason. he keeps following you around, trying to talk to you, even tho your replies make it quite clear that you want him gone. you're the quiet, scary and academic type and he's the loud, funny and popular type. the entire campus questions why he's following someone like you around, but they're afraid of saying anything because his friends always keeping lurking, glaring down anyone who tries to question him.

even tho his friend group looks quite intimidating in the distance, they're just a bunch of dorks. and so is he. but with a massive crush on you. he finds you quite scary tho, your almost neutral expression and no bullshit attitude intimidating most people that come your way. he saw just a glimpse of your kindness once, when you baby-talked to your friend's cat, he almost lost it. but he mostly sees your other side, the undefeatable one that shows in the debates in your sociology class that he sneaks in to watch, the mean one that you once used to make someone cry when they targeted your bestfriend.

he gets off to that meaner side of you, that's his dirty little fantasy. he wants to be degraded by that side and be used for your amusement while he's unable to do something to help himself, and your softer side to soothe him afterwards.

but that just stays a fantasy.

until..

you're in the library one weekend, just to return some books and pick up new ones for your research, you walk out to the corridors to see none other, than hwang fucking hyunjin. he wasn't expecting to see you there, but he bursts into a smile, pulling his attention from whatever he had in his hands.

"hey, yn!" he waves at you, you shove your stuff into your bag and walk the opposite of his direction, also opposite to where you need to go. you can't do this right now.

it's not like you hate him, you think he's cute, you're beginning to get used to him following you, maybe you'd even give him a chance on a good day. but your day has been shitty enough as is. you can't bring yourself to interact with him just now.

"heyy, you didn't wave back." he jogs up to you and starts walking alongside you. oh how you wish he'd just be his own way for once.

he doesn't like your lack of reaction. you're not even sparing him a glace!

"come ooonnn, stop ignoring me!" he pouts at you with a whine all too dramatic.

"leave me alone, hyunjin" you hiss at him. you really don't wanna say something worse, but it's like he trying to........ provoke you? he's being much more pushy than he usually is, and there's no one in the corridors on a godddam weekend and you're very fucking close to snapping.

"ynnn!! pay attention to me!" he whines again, really wanting to provoke you. he's not blind, he notices you're not in a mood to be messed with. but a tiny, little parts of him wants to push you further, to maybe make you snap at him.

and when he crosses the line and touches your waist, you do.

you snap.

pushing him to nearest wall with some force, drawing his breath out of his lungs. you pin him there and your anger flows out, in sharp, hurtful words.

"the fuck do you think you were doing? what makes you think you can touch me? is this another dare from your group of fuckboys? or are you just a little attention whore who thinks he's entitled to everyone?"

you didn't mean a word you said, your anger was making up stuff on it's own, but he was flushed, a wild red on his face, that's when your gaze dropped to the floor, looking at whatever he dropped when you shoved him. you lean down to pick them up.

pictures. of you. not too many, not pictures taken by invading your privacy, but a few snaps of you in the corridors, or the canteen, or the library. times when you were fully aware he was there, from that one polaroid phase he had, he used to carry that thing around for a full two weeks.

the pictures flip something in you, you take your chances with him. you wanna test him, you know it's risky, but your brain isn't weighing it very well currently.

"god, hyunjin. look at you-" your voice drops an octave without you even realising it, and it does things to him that can't say out loud. you wave the photographs at him.

"-taking pictures of me like a little creep? so filthy. following me around like a desperate little slut. were you hoping to be discovered?"

you didn't expect him to be as affected as he was. breath uneven from your jump scare a second ago, ears red, with some of redness bleeding into his face, still affixed in the position you pinned him in. your leg shifts between his legs and his boner brushes against your thigh. what a surprise. he likes this. he looks away from you, but you turn his face to you with your forefinger, him gulping at the action. adorable.

"you really are an attention whore aren't you? following me around like that? clicking pictures of me? bothering me and hoping I'll take notice? pathetic." you tsk at him, he looks on the verge of tears but his boner says a different story, you experimentally press you leg over it, recieving a small whimper in return. yup, he's definitely enjoying this.

"you got hard just by me yelling and shoving you huh?"

he's torn, his brain sending him mixed signals, he's embarrassed, he wants to go back to his dorm and hide and never show his face to the world ever again. but he likes this, part of him wants you to humiliate him more, maybe do things to him that he won't be able to forget. and a part of him is even more embarrassed at the route his thoughts are taking.

you're not thinking straight. he's hot, you shouldn't be doing this, but some predatory instinct inside you wants to. you use him as a catalyst to get your mind off of whatever has been bothering you. it probably shouldn't be a big deal, he wants this anyway.

"tell me hyunjin, do you really think i don't notice? you think i didn't notice you staring at me when I was with Lin and her cat? do you really think i didn't see you when I had to drive that asshole away from her? you think i don't notice how you sneak into sociology and watch me from the corner? i do. how will you explain all that huh?"

fuck. he didn't think you noticed. he really has no explanation. he's fucked. you could report him, or worse, out him infront of everyone, you even have the photos with you. he should have thought this through. he's done for. he's pretty sure you're gonna report him-

"i'm sorry! please don't-"

"make up for it."

"w-what?" he's pulled out of his trance.

"well, since you've behaved like a pathetic slut, make up for it by actually being one. maybe then i'll forgive you"

he gulps, he would do it without second thought but he doesn't know if you're kidding or mocking him. he even has no idea how to say it, so he just sighs and nods.

"that's what i thought. follow me."

he follows you on shaky legs as you lead him outside of campus, and the next thing he knows, he's being pinned to the door of your apartment while you unbuckle his belt and whip it out of it's place. he has no idea what to expect when you detach yourself from him and seat yourself on the couch.

"come here." you order and he follows, walking over to you.

"strip." you say, he feels exposed under your intense gaze, even with you sitting down on the low couch while he stands in front of you, he feels like he's on display. he can't say he doesn't like it tho. so he puts on a show for you, peeling of each piece of his outfit one by one, jacket, followed by his shirt, then his pants, all in quite sultry a manner before he stops, only his boxers on, and looks at you uncertainly.

"off." is all you need to say before he's kicking them away, his erection springing free. you look at him for a good while, soaking in details of his body, pretty neck and collarbones, lean arms and torso and such a slutty waist, further down to his painfully hard dick, red and leaking, body supported by strong and pretty thighs. and for a guy like him, he has a big dick.

he's aware of your intense stare on him, suddenly feeling very conscious of his own appearance.

you get up from your place, his belt still in one hand, the other going to his shoulder, making him shiver before it glides to his back as you make your way behind him, gripping his hips and pressing your front to his back, as if to tease, making his breath hitch. you bring his wrist his wrists together behind his back and tie them together with his own belt.

"i'm giving you a chance to back out, i'll throw those pictures away and you can walk out like this never happened. do you wanna stop?" you whisper into his ear.

"n-no."

"good, then kneel" you smirk, pushing him down onto his knees and resuming your place on the couch.

you take a moment to admire how pretty he looks like this, kneeling infront of you with his hands tied back, breath uneven and so disheveled. so, so pretty.

as you take your pants off, his eyes fly to your covered heat, cute. you can't help but slowly press your foot down onto his dick, drawing a pained moan out of him because he's been neglected for so long.

you part your thighs and your eyes are enough to order him to get to work. he shifts to you and licks a long stripe on top of your wetness before you shift your panties to the side. he can't help but drool at the sight.

he starts working immediately, licking and sucking like a man on a mission. and he's on a mission indeed, a mission to prove himself somehow, because he knows this is probably the only time this is happening and he wants to make you feel as good as possible, make you remember him, because he sure as hell will never forget this. and certainly never forget the sudden moan from you as his tongue laps at your clit, noticing you're the most sensitive there. he keeps that in the back of his mind as he sticks his tongue inside of you, quite literally making out with your cunt. your hand comes down to grip at his hair, drawing a moan that vibrates straight into your core.

his tongue moves in and out of you while his button nose touches your clit with each movement, he pulls his tongue out only to attach his mouth onto your clit enveloping it in warmth and sucking on it, making you pull stronger at his hair before he resumes his work inside of you.

he's too good at this, it doesn't help that it's been a long while since you last did anything sexual.

you push him further into yourself by his hair and he moans right into you, the vibrations bringing you awfully close to your high. you release a breathy curse which motivates him to speed up.

when you cum, it is with slight spasms, chasing down the delicious feeling as your thighs close around him, burying him into you, almost suffocating him, but he keeps going nonetheless.

you yank him back by the hair to look at his drenched face, he finally catches his breath, making his chest heave as he looks up at you with hooded eyes. you give his face a slap, not too hard, yet he only moans at the impact.

"you like being slapped, slut?"

"y-yes" he nods as well as he can with the grip you have in his hair. you slap him, the redness resulting just adding to the erotic look on his face.

"up." you instruct, he stumbles up onto his feet with a wince and you move to free his hands. his wrists are red, almost bruised by how hard he's pulled against the belt.

you lay back on the couch, beckoning him over.

"fuck me." you order. "if you can that is." you add after seeing the uncertainty on his face, he nods frantically.

"i c-can."

he says he can, but he melts the moment his dick enters you, he's too sensitive, having waited for so fucking long.

"feels so good. fuck." he moans into your ear at the feeling as he hovers over you. he starts to move, his length stretching you out and drawing heavy breaths out of you by the sheer size, his tip touches your g-spot without much effort, hitting it repeatedly as he starts moving.

his arms shake at your sides, everything becoming too overwhelming for some reason, your warmth wrapped around him, the stimulation suddenly making his head spin.

"f-fuck... " the poor boy is trembling, voice slurring as his hips move in an erratic manner, although it's taking you time to get used to him, you take the chances you get to mock him. your hand moves to wrap around his throat like a necklace of sorts.

"you can't even fuck me, so pussydrunk already? i'll have to all the work myself huh?" he looks at you with glossy eyes as your fingers press down on the sides of his neck.

"please yn" he whimpers out, with no real context as to what he's asking for, his eyes screwing shut. his arms are barely keeping him up anymore, sweating and trembling like he'll fall.

"you're too fucked out to even use your brain huh? begging and you don't even know what for. it's okay tho, since that's all a dumb slut can do. i'll show you how you're supposed to make me feel."

you push him onto his back, getting a yelp in return and waste no time in grinding down onto him, resulting in a loud gasp from the boy. your hand finds it's way back to his throat. he lets go completely, hands falling to his sides and head pressing back into the cushions as he releases a string of broken moans while you ride him into oblivion.

"o-oh, fuckfuckfuck. oh god."

you laugh at his helpless sounds, suppressing your own becoming difficult.

"god isn't gonna save you here, baby."

that makes him let out a loud, almost sob like moan.

"please." he whines as his hips buck up in the slightest. you're getting closer with every passing second and it looks he is too.

"please what, sweetheart? want me to stop? because your pathetic self can't take it? or want me to fuck you dumb until you're left a babbling mess?" these words make him let out the loudest moan you've heard from a man. he really does get off on degradation.

"c-close. oh god, please. please. fuck." he's physically restraining himself from reaching out to you, hands grasping at whatever purchase he can find on anything around him.

"fuck. i'm close. you there? cum with me." you breathe out to him and he cums with a broken sob, his high hitting him like a train as his breath falters and his back arches beautifully, you keep moving throughout, riding out your own orgasm which hits in sweet waves, you keep going for a while after, just to overstimulate the boy a little, getting small, pained whimpers from him.

"c-can i touch you? please?" he asks, still in his post orgasm haze, his voice so adorably small that it makes you give in.

"go ahead." you say, expecting him to touch you tits or ass, but you didn't expect him to pull you body down to lay on top of him as you both catch your breath from your orgasms. he was holding on tight, like he'll fall if he let go. that little action did something to your heart but you pushed it back, not wanting to ruin the moment.

you originally planned to fuck him and kick him out, getting rid of those pictures anyway, but you think you don't mind if he stays for a while, you let him cling to you for a few minutes before the stickiness and stench of sex gets to you.

"hey, hyunjin? let's clean up hmm?" he makes a small noise but unwraps his arms anyway, but winces with you when you get off of his dick.

you pay no attention to his cum dripping out as you get yourself and him towels to clean up and put on some clothes.

he lets you drag him to the kitchen and accepts the water you give him, you're busy observing his features when his small voice snaps you out.

"i'm sorry." why is he apologizing? you find him looking down on the floor.

turns out he's sorry for clicking those pictures without your consent, it takes a while to convince him that you actually saw him taking those, just chose not to protest. well since you noticed him in places he didn't think you would, this didn't surprise him either.

you send him off with a warning not to die on the streets in a car accident.

fuck, you really need to get him out of your brain.

he's gone and you suddenly remember you need to clean your apartment before Lin comes over, you rush to find a way to get rid of the very obvious smell of sex in your living room, while you clean your brain goes on autopilot with it's thoughts.

so he's clingy after sex-

wait, what?

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 5

[prompt: face sitting]

male reader x ahn yujin

3.5k words

Yujin is giving you shit when it happens.

It’s been a little over an hour since she turned to you, bored and pouty about it, and asked if you wanted to fuck again.

She gives you shit in the way only the prettiest girls can get away with. Perfect smile, like she's innocent. And all low and breathy in her throat. Hitched around the vowels of your name. Threatening enough that you thought about just immediately capitulating. It was tempting. 

"Or you could stay on the floor like a lame loser bummin’ around in your pajamas." She leans up on the arm of the sofa. "Either way."

Yujin stretches and her sweater is huge. One of those cozy campus crewnecks that everybody seems to have, oversized and inviting and right. Her shorts are ridiculously small, just enough of her stomach peeking out over her waistband for you to want to feel it, touch it, have the pleasure of sinking your tongue into the shallow groove.

She's teasing you because she never quite knows what to do with her energy. Lacks an outlet big enough, really, but is also selfishly delighted in getting any response at all, no matter how halfhearted it might be. You stare at her. You watch and don't speak when she runs her fingers up her stomach to pull her sweater up with it. You groan. She grins. She is pretty, her lips full and eyes soft. The laugh that follows her is because it's always obvious when she's won and you wish your body wasn't so prone to giving away your weaknesses.

"Hey." She blinks slowly, lifting one leg up. Her bare foot, warm, toes flexed, against your thigh, nudges against you once, and again.

"How many orgasms until I feel a little more forgiving towards my good friend who, I know, is super super sorry that he can't afford the pizza money because he chose to use his own allowance to do something as silly as pay rent, I wonder?"

"I paid half last time."

"Doesn't make sense because you ate it all.

"You said you weren't hungry." You start to object because you do have an objection. A list, actually, prepared, of instances you think you're owed. But Yujin arches, and when a separate but related complaint rises swiftly to the foreground, your throat goes dry -

"Orgasm tax."

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” she asks, and you’re struggling to answer truthfully, honestly.

She rolls over, lets you see everything she has, the tiniest shorts in the world tugged even higher, the generous curve of her ass and thighs in silhouette. You didn't ask for this but you weren’t about to die without it, you think, looking up from the floor and staring, wetting your lips, absolutely sure. She does it all on her own and it takes an absurd amount of effort to peel your hands off the ground.

"Stay where you are," she snaps, seeing it too - and in a second of deliberate slowness, hooks two fingers into her shorts, tugging them aside before looming over you. "Or you're not fucking me today. At all."

You let your head thud down against the rug beneath you. "That's not fair."

"You've gotta come up with something better than that. You could suck up, beg, maybe I'd forgive you if you just told me how much better I was than the cash I could use on literally whatever."

Your eyes cut down.

Part of you wonders if you've always been such an easy mark - whether being here has changed you, if all these months of dangling carrots in front of you are paying off or if you're just a willing accomplice to your own exploitation.

Part of you isn't stupid. Yujin's taken an almost disturbing amount of pleasure in flaunting herself since the first night you drank too much, said too much, resisted too little - you can tell the way it starts, a smile toying in the corner of her mouth, before she taps the band of her bra, waits to hear you swallow - to hear how hot you get - before she casually asks what it would take, "to convince you", to change the conversation from whether she wants something from the vending machine, or she just forgot it was laundry day, or where the hell that note from Wonyoung had gone, to what she'd like the answer to be. What would you let her do if it got you another chance to get under her shirt, see her all bared, eyes dark and hair like a veil across her collarbones, pretty nipples and swells of her breasts pushed up, until you put your mouth on her.

Yujin tilts her hips so it's easier for you to follow, her hand snaking beneath her body as she speaks. A gentle grunt gets muffled in her sweater, her toes curling into the space between your knees and it hurts, stings a little, the desire you're holding back, and then it goes right through you like fire, sharp.

(Part of you is incredibly stupid - but you think the truth is it doesn't matter.)

Yujin's kneeling over your chest, and her bottom lip, plump and lush, catches between her teeth. "Can you think of anyway to be useful?"

"A lot," you choke. It's true.

Yujin makes a noise. "Proof. Evidence. Put up."

The movement she makes - twisting of legs and stomach flexing and the fabric of her shorts down off her ankles - is one single, fluid motion and for a second you're distracted by how quickly she's gotten you there. Thighs resting over your shoulders, the only thing your lungs seem to remember how to do is want.

"Come on." She bounces her knees a bit. "Dick or mouth, get going."

You should really say something smart, show her how clever and charming you can be, how you've actually got a lot to show the hottest girl in the world - and sometimes Yujin giggles like she's shocked  about it all herself, but right now her eyebrows are raising, expectant and challenging and it makes it difficult to think when there's an open invitation inches away for you to bury yourself in. Your lips feel like sandpaper when you kiss the inside of her thigh. Her hips stutter and drop an inch as your tongue works its way out, thick and obscene and it shouldn't be so thrilling to hear her so low, so urgent when you have no say, really, in how this is going to go -

"Take care of me, yeah?" she practically whispers the words - all while your fingertips drag along her outer thighs until her spine straightens, gets her shoulders pushed back, her breathing louder, somehow, as if you couldn't feel her need without knowing already exactly what you can do for her.

And the most honest thing you could say in the moment, because Yujin has her panties stretched to the side, revealing the inviting creases where her long legs meet her hips - for god’s sake, her pussy is right fucking there, inches in front of you; glistening slightly in her own slick and looking so, so pretty - the words get kissed right into the curve of her thigh: "It's not fair."

The look she gives you makes it worth it. "Excuse me?"

"You asked, didn't you. It's not fair that your pussy's so good that I can't think about anything else."

She huffs, her thighs shaking just a little with the effort of staying put. "So, what," and your mouth closes in, kiss deep, your nose pressed in right at the peak of her folds, her entrance, and you try not to drool as you inhale and drag the flat of your tongue in, hard, where she's desperate for you, "you think this should all go in reverse or something, like I should worship your dick until you stop being a useless perv - "

But the insult dies in her throat. A moan comes out instead, harsh, deep, loud and enough that Yujin slaps her palm over her own mouth before throwing an impatient scowl down at you.

Here's what you'd tell her, if you weren't busy licking circles into the ache leaking from her core, eating her cunt like a starving man, if you had the audacity. Yujin can't control herself. Doesn't help that she's sloppy. When her orgasm hits she will get louder and she doesn't even like the things that come out. That's the thing about Yujin, really. She says all this shit, and really, in the end, she wants a good fuck so bad she can't keep her mouth shut, but the noises she makes are exactly the same as the sounds that you choke on -

Because as pretty and easy and fun to kiss as she can be, the absolute best thing about your relationship is that the more orgasms she gets the less she can breathe, much less control what the fuck she's saying to you. It's cute and hilarious and beautiful, when she forgets, when she gives everything up because in the end it's never any competition, the way she fucks, is so desperate. Her hips work themselves into your grip, over and over and over again, like they are meant for this. 

For getting off on your mouth alone.

All you know right now is that with the way you have your hands on her - one still holding her panties open and the other squeezed tight around the muscle of her outer thigh - it's like her clit's directly in line with the back of your throat. If you press your lips around her pussy and hold them firm, just like the way her knees are starting to tighten around your face, she's going to come. It will hurt her and it will leave her completely boneless, and you've fucked this much to the point where you have learned, well, she can never complain.

Not that she would. The slick dripping down your cheeks and throat and down to the front of your shirt - it's fucking everywhere - makes it obvious: any ability to talk is replaced with her just grinding her pussy against you, bucking and shouting, riding and writhing until you decide her pretty little pink slit can have another taste. 

Her only other option, really, is clenching and throbbing and cumming as hard as she can all over your waiting tongue.

"Hey. Get your fucking mouth back down," she breathes, taking her fingers out of her cunt and then promptly pushing your head back in, "and - uhnn, I - yeah, exactly. Mmmnghh - "

You smile, muffled and hot against the fabric of her thighs, her fingers twisting in the hair behind your ears and tugging firmly. "Oh."

"What did you want again?" she asks - except her body tells a different story, all flushed and keening and, fuck, absolutely soaked from your touch - she rocks against the base of your chin, slumping and dropping down and letting gravity do its work. You work your tongue over her throbbing clit, again, again, and Yujin moans loudly. So pleased.

Just this mess she's made of you. The smell that coats your nose, and chin, the way it feels when she ruts her whole body against the place where she's worked the hardest. Her breath stalls where you start to breathe in, and looking up at the cinched look in her face you press further.

It’s every little circle lick and lave and gentle nudge of the tip of your nose, where the feeling makes her cry out, where the sensation, overstimulated, is close to that perfect balance between too much and not quite enough, all while working your fingers into the swell of her ass, and finally her hips make small, greedy, selfish thrusts into your mouth.

She sobs for you. You sigh, contented, because you don't even need to ask.

"You're so fucking good," she murmurs, heel of her palm pushed into her eyes like she's struggling with a headache. "God, fuck, do that again."

It's so wet on your chin already, but you do it again, just for the way she bucks into it.

You give her the closest thing you have, your thumb riding the rim of her ass, tongue rubbing, stroking her pussy faster. Yujin's teeth work against the insides of her mouth as her hips shift forward, and she is clenching and begging for the cock you know would make her scream if you just stood her on her hands and fucked her from behind - it's such a cruel way of making her work to feel so fucking amazing - but you're here to indulge, and really, when she shivers and pleads the exact way she does, your mouth still full, how are you supposed to do anything besides fucking obey.

Yujin reaches up to grab onto the edge of the couch, anything to brace herself as her cunt sloppily gets wetter. The thickest part of your tongue is good enough for this. Everything about her clit is just this dull, swollen throb. Begging to be worked over the way you're licking at the entrance to her pussy, inside and all, kissing, sucking, kneading, pulling, - fucking her just right - until she starts fucking cursing up a storm.

"Oh god, god, oh fuck fuck, fuck," her hips shift until she's the only one riding, the only one fucking. Until you just get to lay there with your lips slack, drooling open, hands a frame for her entire body while she works your face, and nothing could be better - "yeah, oh, fuck, fuck yes - yeah - fuck, hahhh. You're going to make me fucking cum-"

And you almost say it: that's your line - it's not enough, you'll never have enough of her cunt - her clit or the slit, where she leaks, thick and sticky. Her slick tastes heavy on your tongue, and you can't swallow fast enough. Your fingers are so deep into the pliable skin of her ass - digging and needy and reaching for where she's tightest. Her hands pull sharply at your hair. You feel her, tightening her ass around your finger, cumming wet across your cheekbones and -

It goes on, her body pressing into you, until with a sudden snap of a cry, she cums.

“God, fuck-”

If Yujin doesn't have to see the look on your face after getting her off this hard, it's only because the pressure in her body has her knees across your eyes forced shut. A spasm clenches, almost rhythmic, through her thighs, and god, Yujin just cums her brains out. It's pretty hot. You make it count: pushing your fingers just as deep into her pussy, working, exploring - right as her whole body is tensing and coming apart and your other hand circles, two fingers, dipping down and through the cleft of her ass and into her tightest, hottest hole -

You know better than to rub at her entrance once the ripples and waves start - instead, it's more pressure.

Pushing up as deep as you can and your lips mouthing at her folds while her hips squirm for something harder, something stronger and with intent - like, maybe, if she thinks she is trying to push away, she will start to believe that the mess running from her hole isn't hers. It's yours. All that liquid heat pooling below her and what could ever make sense other than she needs more? She needs the way she trembles and shakes, the way her pussy weeps as you wring it for the pleasure that's well on its way -

You always feel like an idiot after, stupid with how much you enjoy this, what she gives you, but how could it be anything but fantastic, your vision dizzying when it swims from lightheadedness and the lack of oxygen to your brain. Yujin's holding you right where she needs, right between her thighs and next to perfection, just tight enough for you to groan, to make a low whine build in the back of your throat and that gets her, too.

There is the rush and a wave, the heat, of something that crests and breaks in her that has to match the absolute loss of control she seems to have all along - the only part you feel you are sure about is that Yujin always rides her cunt - all dripping lips and aching holes, swollen and flaring and practically begging to be fucked harder and more thoroughly - into every orgasm she's taken from you, until there's no where to run.

Even through your nose, and you're suffocating, her legs trembling with the rush of it all. You're gasping and shaking but she's shaking apart and you need that: to feel her melt from where her body collapses all its weight onto you and the way the aftershocks have to make it seem, at least for a moment, that she’ll never, ever recover.

"Fuck," Yujin sighs, "I fucking hate you."

(Translation: she can't fucking live without you.)

"Any time," you murmur and her entire body falls into you, straddled across your chest and slumped there, sweaty and spent. Your heart beats the moment, trying to remember when it was you could stop feeling this way about your roommate.

A part of you believes that, once upon a time, before all of this started, that your desire, your lust was rooted in seeing a friend who was beyond hot and simply unavailable.

A bigger part of you knows that asking for clarity isn't the point - because maybe, right now, in the way your hand has started massaging the soft skin under the curve of her spine, you should realize you can't live with it never happening again.

"What's my balance," you ask, rubbing your thumb into the crook behind her knee.

"Mm?"

You exhale.

"Two. I think you're good for two."

You laugh. "For real?"

She stretches.

"Or I suppose we can go for four or five, but that means you're paying for dinner, too." Yujin does this thing with her hair when she's excited. Swings it back, smiling wide.

Which is fair, you think, given the pulse between your legs throbbing and twitching as you picture it: the curve of Yujin's waist and the drop of her lower back, her bare ass. Her soaked little slit that can't help but beg to fucked and fucked and fucked, until she's trembling and quivering and leaking-

"Then I'm gonna eat," you promise her, "every last inch. Going to taste you and swallow."

Yujin shifts, sitting astride you.

You hum. "Still interested."

She simply kisses you - breathes you in - tasting herself on your lips and tongue, before leaning back with her palms flat against your chest and taking it slow as she starts to ease you into the kind of sex that doesn't leave either one of you with a throat quite so raw and dry.

So it's quiet in your apartment, just for a little while, when the afternoon starts to settle in and she rolls back onto her heels, not able to support the rest of her. You fuck her deep and it's amazing how quickly you both fall into rhythm. Yujin's clutching hard on either side of your hips. Folding herself back. Trying, by the end, to bury you where her fingers have been.

By the time she gets herself up on the couch, belly flat against the cushions and her hips arched back as she fucks herself with the length of your dick, you're just desperate. Aching in a way you know will happen any moment and even so, you can't even bring yourself to consider stopping because this is perfect - it's everything, really. To push her down, hold her still, and fuck her so thoroughly that she cries and shudders as you spill into her.

To have her.

Yujin holds a part of yourself so tender, something you have kept close for far too long, and watching her with her arm reached behind herself, clutching blindly with her fingers, as her moans go quiet with just these whimpery, little things, a thought occurs to you, of exactly how dangerous your roommate is -

Because with you fucking into her like this, this is more than sex ought to be. More than it’s ever been.

(More dangerous yet is thinking: maybe - perhaps - it is exactly what Yujin wanted, from the start.)

[averycutesalamander]

pls write yan!boothill OMG WHO SAID THAT

ohoho....!! i must confess that im quite picky when it comes to yandere content, bc i don't particularly like the extreme end of the spectrum. physical violence and straight noncon in particular don't click for me (absolutely no shade to people who like that tho, you do you!!) buuuuuuut ..... i mean, im the one writing?? so i can do whatever i want??? so alright here you go :) also check my reblog for.. a lot of rambling lmao

may i present to you: my interpretation of boothill in love, but he has a few too many screws loose. warning for relatively vague descriptions of violence and, uh... yandere stuff. you know how it goes.

In all honesty, Boothill is not a "love at first sight" type. His attraction to you is a gradual, budding thing, built over many repeated encounters. He's emotionally isolated himself, after all - built a wall thick enough to muffle the whispers of his past, smothering it in a slurry of rage and sorrow. It'll take time for him to let down his guard for long enough to even register the feelings you conjure in him - a flutter in his chest every time you smile at him, a spark of joy every time he makes you laugh, a strike of fondness every time he looks at your pretty face when you aren't paying attention.

And beneath it all, a low, simmering greed, a hunger, a yearning; the urge to bite and devour and never let go.

The pressure builds with time, as the two of you grow closer. He visits often, though not so often that it would catch the IPC's attention. You laugh and joke and tease, playfully flirting with him yet keeping a healthy, platonic distance. (He very pointedly and stubbornly ignores the way his heart soars when you look at him like that - like you want to pull him into your bed and let him take you apart, piece by ruinous piece. It's just harmless fun, after all.)

(Right?)

Despite the yawning fractures in the wall he's created, despite the increasing complexity of his feelings for about you, he still hasn't untangled whatever complicated web of feelings that's arisen around you, content to leave himself oblivious for the time being - until you make a joke about him marrying you and sweeping you away on some bizarre galactic adventure, and he damn-near bluescreens.

(He hates, hates, hates that the first thing he feels is something adjacent to the feeling a cat gets when it finally corners a particularly unruly mouse, akin to the thrill he gets whenever an enemy exposes a weakness. A sick, twisted kind of satisfaction.)

His mind churns as the wall cracks, wavers-

...and crumbles.

He panics. He makes a flimsy excuse about getting a notification through his neurochip, about needing to help out a fellow ranger - and he feels even better worse when you believe him unhesitatingly, sending him off with a sweet little "Be safe!" just as you always do.

It's only after he leaves the planet that he thinks about how much you've grown to trust him, about how damn gullible you are, about how often you give him the benefit of the doubt, about how kindly you've always treated him in spite of (or perhaps because of) his dozens of strange quirks. Everything unravels, threads spilling from his fraying mind and spilling between his fingers, and when the tattered fabric settles-

He simply can't deny it. He's in love with you.

It takes some time for him to piece himself back together - weeks of complete silence from him, your texts going unanswered. Every time he sees a fresh notification from you, his heart twists with guilt - but he's not ready to face the music. Not yet.

He comes crawling back to you, sooner or later. He knocks on your door with the most sheepish, guilt-ridden look on his face that you've ever seen, a rich bouquet laden with yellow roses and purple hyacinths tucked timidly in his arms. He lies about why he left - says it was all because of a mission that got more complicated than it should have, and it wasn't safe to reply to your messages - but when he tells you that he's sorry, he means it genuinely.

He's a bit disturbed by the sensation in his gut - that foul, wicked satisfaction when you accept his apology with barely a slap on the wrist, cheerily inviting him inside to catch up. You tuck the flowers neatly into a vase, chatting easily with him as you carefully arrange them.

"It's alright!" you say, waving dismissively at him when he murmurs another apology. "I know you're busy. I can't be your biggest priority, obviously. You've got more important things going on."

(You don't have a clue how wrong you are.)

He integrates back into your life like he never left. When he has the time, he sneaks his way back onto your planet, knocking on your door or searching for you in your usual spots. You get impossibly closer; your playful flirting goes from blatantly humorous to something foggier, something more ambiguous, teasing the line between platonic and something heavier. He matches you step by step, returning your advances with just a little extra spice, his eyes a bit darker and his smile a bit wider.

He tries to be patient - god, does he try - but there's an itch that's bloomed beneath his metal, impossible to scratch, impossible to sate, made worse by every little joke you make about kissing him or touching him or marrying him or letting him spirit you away. The pressure builds further and further, the tension winding tighter and tighter, the anticipation bubbling higher and higher.

(He will never, ever admit that he truly contemplates stealing you away, crowding you onto a ship and carting you off so he can always keep an eye on you, can always guarantee your safety. His paranoia has been building since he recognized his feelings for you; it's taken every ounce of restraint in his body to stop himself from giving into the urge, from crowding you, from suffocating you, from locking you away like a fragile songbird in a cage.)

(He's torn between his protectiveness and his understanding that you deserve freedom. You deserve independence and a life that isn't tied directly to him. He doesn't even know if you return his feelings. But...)

(But there's that nagging feeling in the back of his head, that pestering little voice that grows louder by the day. You'll be safer with me, it says, dark and tempting, bursting behind his teeth. I can make you happy. I can keep you safe. I can show you pieces of the universe that you've never seen before. I can love you like no one else ever could. I can hold you and cherish you and consume you and-)

(He takes that little voice and wraps his hands tight around its throat, frantically trying to suffocate the noise, terrified by its allure. But it's always there, lingering, lurking - because the call is coming from inside the house.)

Something gives, eventually.

When he inevitably breaks, his lips crashing heatedly and messily into yours, there are two paths ahead - but the difference is ultimately moot, because they collide not long after.

Perhaps you reciprocate. Perhaps you melt against his lips, your arms coiling around his shoulders and drawing him further into you. Perhaps you whimper when his hands trail downward, squeezing at your hips. Perhaps you pull away with a gasp, your pupils blown wide, your heart pounding when you see the look in his eye - dark and hot and desperate and hungry. Perhaps you accept his quiet declaration of affection with open arms, returning it in full, your eyes sparkling with joy.

Or perhaps you reject him. Perhaps you freeze like a startled deer before pushing him away, your face slack with shock. Perhaps you apologize, stumbling over your words, your heart thundering in your chest when you see the look in his eye - dark and cold and empty and hungry. Perhaps you gently tell him that you don't feel that way about him - that you only see him as a friend.

Ultimately, it doesn't matter.

...Because Boothill - careful, meticulous Boothill - has slipped up, and the IPC finds you.

After he leaves next, whether that be with a broken heart or a giddy one, a trio of IPC employees pluck you up from the street in broad daylight, shoving you into a dark transport ship for "questioning." And once they bring you to an IPC space station, they do indeed question you - though it feels more like an interrogation, considering that you've been tied ankle-and-wrist to a chair like you're a dangerous serial killer and not a regular civilian.

"Suspected colluding with the criminal known as Boothill," your "interviewer" tells you flatly, idly thumbing at the knife in their hand. "Camera footage, reports from neighbors, records from his Synesthesia Beacon... All clearly show that he has made repeated visits to your planet and your home. We're in the business of knowing why."

Perhaps you keep your mouth shut and refuse to divulge anything, no matter how close that knife gets to your bare skin. Perhaps you break when it begins to slice into your flesh, drawing blood from your body and tears from your eyes and stuttered words from your lips. Perhaps you grit your teeth and bear it, unwilling to betray the man you've grown so fond of.

Or perhaps you cave immediately. Perhaps you sell him down the river the first chance you get, frantic explanations spilling from your lips. Perhaps you tell them that you had no idea he had such a massive bounty on his head. Perhaps you panic when they find the information insufficient and draw the knife on you anyway, deaf to your begging and pleading as they wet your skin with blood.

Ultimately, it doesn't matter.

...Because a distant explosion rocks the entire space station, and the flashing lights from the silent alarms interrupt your interrogation.

You're left alone when the IPC agent flees, locking the door behind them with a heavy clunk. Minutes pass as you fumble desperately with your restraints, your body pulsing with pain; a cacophony of gunshots and screaming penetrates the thick walls, growing louder and louder, your heart pounding faster and faster.

There's a noise just outside the door - a horrifically wet noise, like raw flesh on tile. You freeze like a rabbit that's just heard the panting of a starving wolf, far too close for comfort.

Silence. Your head aches from the flashing red lights.

Suddenly, steel fingers wedge into the gap between the locked door and the wall, single-handedly tearing it open and breaking the hydraulic lock with inhuman ease. Metal crunches and squeals, piercing the quiet - and there he stands, right in the doorway, a silhouette of black and red.

Never in your life have you seen him this manic.

His white hair drips with scarlet and his teeth are bared; his eyes are alight with rage, a shock of bright crimson among the dark smears of blood and viscera that coat him head to toe. In the light of the alarms, he looks like the perfect picture of a killer from a horror movie; violence and slaughter, just waiting to be unleashed. When his gaze locks onto you, there is a long moment of utter stillness; instinctual terror floods your entire body in a cold flash, because there isn't so much as a glimmer of humanity in those eyes - only pure, boiling, ravenous, frantic anger.

For a heartbeat, you're convinced he's going to rip you apart with his teeth.

Then, as if he finally registers who you are, the madness evaporates, replaced by a nearly manic sort of relief. He rushes to your side, looking you over; you don't miss the flash in his eyes - seething, smoking fire - when he spots your injuries. In the same breath, he snuffs it out, focusing instead on breaking your binds with his bare hands.

You're already crying when he takes you up into his arms, cradling you close to his chest and unwittingly smearing IPC blood onto you. "It's alright, sweetheart," he murmurs, soft and reassuring, a beacon of comfort in a sea of terror. "I'm right here. I've got ya. No one's ever gonna take ya from me again, okay?"

(Maybe if you weren't in shock, you'd be startled by his words. As it stands, though, they're like music to your ears, like a warm blanket settled over your shoulders, like a tight hug from someone you trust with your life.)

He encourages you to press your face into his shoulder - mercifully free of blood - as he carries you through the carnage he's left in his wake, the jangle of his spurs and your muffled sobs echoing through the silent halls. Your entire body shivers at the noise of him stepping into some unidentifiable slurry of viscera, and he thumbs at your back in an effort to soothe you, speaking quietly into your ear about everything and nothing.

Time passes in a blur of tears. He takes you to the ship he, uh... commandeered to get here, ducking into the bathroom and settling you gently - so very gently - onto the floor. Or, rather, he tries to - because your fingers are frozen stiff in his jacket, your grip unrelenting.

"You just wait here for a sec, alright?" he whispers softly, the chill of his hand settling lightly against your wrist; the blood there still feels warm to your delirious mind. "Gotta get the autopilot started, okay? I'll be right back."

You're both surprised when you shake your head insistently, your eyes wet and pleading. In an instant, he softens, his heart aching in his chest.

"Alright, sweetpea," he breathes, carefully picking you up again. "I've got ya."

He keeps you cradled to his chest as he walks to the cockpit, holding you easily with one arm as he gets the ship moving. Reinforcements are on the way, no doubt - but you'll both be long gone by the time they get here.

(Maybe the IPC will get the message when they find the scene he's left behind - when they view the camera footage and see the rampage he went on. Decapitation and disembowelment is a new one, even for him...)

(...but he needed to make it clear that no one, no one, touches what's his and gets away with it.)

When the engine is purring beneath his feet and the rumble of FTL travel is humming in the walls, he brings you back to the washroom and settles you to the tile again, gently untangling your grip from his jacket. You're in shock, he's sure, so he's careful to continue talking to you as he wets a towel with warm water, murmuring soft reassurances as he wipes the blood from your skin, handling you like you're glass.

Once you're clean, he messily towels himself off to get the worst of the mess off, then brings you to the captain's quarters, digging around in the closet to find something comfortable for you. Your shaking fingers cause you trouble, so he gently eases your ruined clothes off, his eyes respectfully averted as he helps you redress. He takes one look at the messy, used bedding and promptly decides to change the sheets. (Something within him stirs and snarls at the thought of you smelling like anyone else.)

Finally, when all is said and done, he eases you beneath the covers, brushing away the last remnants of your tears. His heart is torn between singing with joy and aching with pain when you reach up and take his hand in yours, your fingers wrapping tight around his.

"Gotta go wash up, honey," he murmurs, watching you closely as you sink into the protective huddle of the blankets, exhaustion painting your features. "That alright? I'll be fast."

(He tries very hard to ignore the flutter in his chest from the look in your eye - like you're genuinely considering whether or not you need to stay near him, like you aren't sure if you can bear the distance.)

(He also tries very hard to ignore the little pang of disappointment when you slowly nod, releasing his hand.)

He cleans himself up with record efficiency, resigning himself to wearing clothes that are a size or two too small until he can wash his usual outfit. The clothes are for your sake, really; it's not like he has any, uh... equipment to expose - not yet - but he's relatively sure that it would make you uncomfortable anyway.

By the time he steps lightly into the room again, you're asleep.

For a long, long moment, he's struck stupid by the sight of you, by the softness of your face in rest.

Fuck, you're beautiful. He knows it in his heart, feels it in his core, senses it in his chest - you're the prettiest little thing he's ever seen.

(And you're all his, now.)

His fists clench, and he swallows down the thought like bitter poison. (You deserve better than this - better than him. He's a broken man, he knows - a messy reconfiguration of a thousand corpses, glued together by hatred and grief. He could never love you the way you deserve. He could never-)

He's broken from his rapidly spiraling thoughts when you twitch, a tiny furrow appearing in your brow. A surge of emotion nearly bursts in his chest - the urge to comfort, to protect, to soothe - and he slowly circles to the other side of the bed, climbing into the empty space and settling beneath the blankets. Hesitantly, he wraps one arm lightly around your waist, drawing you against him with your back pressed tight to his chest.

His heart soars when he feels you instantly relax, the tension fleeing your body.

(It's fine. This is fine. He'll make everything better. No matter what he has to do, who he has to kill, he'll make everything better.)

A handful of days pass like that. When he stops by a market to get supplies for you, he gently tells you that it's best for you to stay in the ship for now; odds are that you actually have a bounty on your head as well, now.

(He's not wrong - but he also doesn't need to disable the button on the inside of the ship that opens the exit hatch. You don't need to know that; he doesn't need to acknowledge that.)

As time passes, he tries not to suffocate you, tries not to hover, wary of putting you under any more stress - but it's ultimately a useless task.

When you finally, tentatively ask him about going home, his brain goes numb, the world snapping into sharp focus. He turns his gaze to you, disturbingly absent of emotion.

"It ain't safe for ya there, now that those IPC dogs know to look for ya," he says, his voice far too even.

When tears begin to bud in your eyes, it finally sweeps up some sympathy in his chest, his entire face softening. He takes your shaking hands in his, tenderly grazing your knuckles with his thumbs.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he rasps, reaching up to wipe away your tears.

(He's barely sorry.)

"I don't like it either, but..."

(Yes, he does.)

"It's safest for ya to stick with me, alright?"

(Wishful thinking. He could find somewhere for you to stay - some quiet planet outside of the IPC's reach, where you could live without worry. He could send you credits regularly. He could make sure you were happy and secure, independent of him.)

(He could. He should.)

(He won't.)

[camilledlc]

I think Wade Wilson is way more intelligent than people give him credit for. Or, another character essay no one asked for :

This will be based both on comics and movies. Also, spoilers for Deadpool and Wolverine.

I think it's often said that Wade doesn't know how to read situations, as he often acts inappropriately during them. He doesn't seem to sense the mood of the person he's talking to, angering them more often than not, and he doesn't really care about watching his mouth around children, etc. There are tons of examples of Wade being 'stupid', and 'immature', blah blah blah. But I don't think that's quite true.

Wade has also numerous moments where he perfectly reads a situation. He is extremely aware of how others may perceive his scars, he figured Negasonic Teenage Warhead pretty easily during the first movie (when talking about sarcastic comments or whatever, if I remember correctly). He knows how people act and think, and he definitely knows how to assess a situation. When he got Johnny Storm killed, he knew what he was doing. He was into a dangerous situations, just having been kidnapped and he couldn't fight, not even knowing how strong and what powers Cassandra Nova had. But by turning her against Johnny, not only was he able to assess her, but also prove that he wasn't here to cause her trouble. It was a cruel and ruthless action, but it was smart nonetheless.

Besides, people often forgets very important facts about his skills. Wade is an extremely good fighter, and that's partially due to the fact that he's a master at almost every martial arts. He knows a bunch of them, and he is capable of practicing them with impeccable form. He's also a master at espionage, infiltrations, cover missions, etc. He knows how to handle a lot of different weapons, and he is canonically one of the best fighters in the entire Marvel Universe. All of those skills require a certain level of intelligence. Fighting demands to remember the different styles and techniques, as well as enough practice to switch between them easily. Espionage, infiltration, and cover missions demand someone who is capable of discretion and and ability to judge a situation, notice details that no one else would and invent on the spot creative ways to do things. All in all, he has to be extremely smart to be able to do all of that. That's also without counting the fact that he knows how to speak fluently five different languages.

With all of these proofs, it's impossible to say that Wade is dumb. But why does he acts like it?

There is no official answer as to why Wade is this way. The most you can get is that he is extremely mentally unstable. This is the result of both a bad childhood and very traumatizing experiences as a superhero. It is said he was already mentally unstable during his childhood, so I'm inclined to believe that it also has something to do with his brain in general.

What I personally believe is that Wade is someone who gets bored extremely easily. He has ADHD (not really official in the movies, but canon in the comics), and he always seems to jump from one topic to the other. His mind is often considered a mess, and he himself sometimes has trouble keeping up with it. I think that someone like him has to be stimulated at all times, because boredom is definitely the worst thing that could happen to him. Even in the last movie, he seemed to hate his job because of how boring it was, not hesitating to go back into action and becoming more and more himself again as he just do exciting things. He has always been like this, even before he got his regenerating factor. When he did his job, he wasn't always careful and often loud-mouthed. It didn't interest him to just kill people, he wanted a fight. He wanted a back and forth, a sort of game. He needs to feel in danger, needs the thrill of it.

But then he gets his mutation. Suddenly, he can't die, he can't be seriously hurt, nothing has any real consequences. And so the games became boring. What is the point of putting himself in dangerous situations if he's never really in danger? How boring it is to do a job where you're perfectly safe? The only kind of thrill he can find anymore is by having the back and forth verbally. That's when it has consequences, and people actually able to surprise him, to beat him even. Attacking by talking his is one way to not feel bored. He surprises, he shocks, he annoys, but it's always different. Even during the last movie, when he was with Logan, he clearly said they didn't need to fight, yet he couldn't stop edging him verbally, always finding ways to push his buttons.

Wade is a very bored person, with a great understanding of where the limits are. And because he's so good at finding the limits, he's even better at crossing them willingly, sometimes at the expanse of the people he loves, because he can't be bored.

(I also like the interpretation of him just needing to be at the centre of attention, but I think it's a bit more classical and has already been done and re-done. So, this one is a bit trickier and way funnier for me.)

[eccentricallygothic]

please i need a pedri fanfic where his gf gets horny in public and starts teasing him until he takes her somewhere private and fucks her

I love your stories theyre amazinggg

I am (was) on my period hence huge feelies so I added those to this because I am very tender on Pedri as it is. I also see him as a very dominant and caregiving person as well as lover so I hope you don't mind what I've made of your request and enjoy it <3

| Unusual |

Pairing: Bf!Pedri | Gf!You. 

Warning(s): Smut with plot, unprotected p-in-v, d/s undertones (it's literally Pedri), m!dom, f!sub, Daddy kink, suggestive exhibitionism, doggy style, spanking, hair pulling, dirty talk, creampie, marking, Pedri calling you vida because I am very fond of that idea, caring Pedri, he's also intimidating bc he's Pedri.

.

Pedri sighs as he arrests your impish wrist in his hand for the umpteenth time today and peels it off his thigh before carrying it back to your knee. 

"Vida…" Usually, a stern look is enough for you to mend your ways and start behaving yourself, but today seems to be the day where you decide to grow immunity towards his warnings.

And it usually never comes down to this tone of his because it hardly ever means anything ideal for you. 

But you just can't keep your hands to yourself today. 

You whine under your breath when he resumes his conversation with Gavi; one of his best mates, again. When you are still not paid the attention that you so desperately crave, you sigh and glance around the table at everyone present. 

It is a boring Saturday lunch that the two of you are having with some of your boyfriend's club mates and their girls. You are not to be taken the wrong way. These kinds of things are usually quite fun for you. 

The keyword is usually. 

Because the exception is days when your mind cannot think of anything other than your man's cock while your insides burn. 

The past week was a busy one for Pedri and you are a good girlfriend so you patiently waited, thinking he was gonna give you what you needed most on the night of the big game when he wouldn't have anything left to worry about for a while after. But he was so exhausted when he got home last night that you postponed the fulfillment of your need for the next morning. 

Except, you woke up to your love making breakfast and then informing you over it that the boys had invited you two for lunch. If that wasn't messy enough, he had had some errands to run before said lunch which further crushed any hopes of something quick as well. 

And now, here you are. 

Frustrated, on edge, excited beyond measure, moody, iffy and extremely noncompliant. 

Then, on top of it all, the food is taking forever and the conversations are way too mundane for you; a horny girl who was busy needily ogling at her boyfriend. 

It isn't your fault, really. He looks too fucking great to resist. You know a shave is probably coming and you love him either way but Pedri looks just so hot with the light stubble a few days of negligence has caused on his handsome face. Then his thick dark hair rests on his forehead in the most perfect way as his naturally stern eyes move along with his strong, manly hands each time he makes a gesture. And the way his lips move when he speaks… Your thighs clench at the memories of all the times they have been between them.  

You break against your forced resolve once more when he hums along to whatever Ferran is saying and leans in your direction to pour you a glass of water to drink because you can not track your hydration to save your own life. The sheer dominance in the way he does not break his conservation even once but places the Tumblr in front of you causes a wave of burning hot love to wash over you and then you just can't take it anymore. 

Where you had played with his fingers, snuggled into his arm, groped his thigh and then stroked his leg with your foot before, you think fuck all and 'drop' your napkin which just happens to fall between his feet. 

"Woopsie" of course, Pedri knows you are up to no good when you bend down to 'fetch' it and place your hand on his knee for support. You take your time with 'finding' said napkin and your hand shamelessly trails to his dick in the meantime, hurriedly taking a fat, mighty squeeze before your claw can be pried off its prey. 

Your boyfriend has realized by now to not expect anything innocent from you today because although you are the shy one between the two of you usually, your antics since the moment you took your seats have been of the naughty sort. 

Today is a very unusual day indeed. 

Pedri stills and stops mid sentence, his whole body stiffening as he realizes what is happening. Your party grows concerned over his sudden silence and his ears redden at the awareness of you not coming back up, instead choosing to remain 'searching' for your napkin while clinging your fingers to his now hard cock like your life depends on it. 

"Oh" but of course, the young man is much stronger than you and so your hand is easily manhandled into his. "I see" he pretends as though you have said something to him before standing up and facing your lunch companions. "She needs my help navigating the place for a restroom, we will be right back" the way he cares for you like one would a child is nothing weird for your close friends and family anymore. Pedri helps you out with the smallest of things and the most basic of tasks and that is just the dynamic the two of you share. 

However, there is nothing tender in the way he drags you behind him with a firm hold on your wrist. You whimper when you are taken to a deserted hallway and then pushed into some sort of a cctv-less maintenance room because unless Pedri wants whatever he is about to do to you playing on every other news channel by the evening's end, this would have to do for now. 

"Tsk, tsk, vida" you gulp as you blink repeatedly to get your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting of the room. The door slowly clicks shut behind you and you feel your shoulders jump at the sound due to how quiet it is otherwise. You want to turn around and face your lover, perhaps inquire why he's done what he has done but you're both too intimidated and excited to do so. 

Before you can decide what you want to do, his arms snake around your waist from behind to press your back into his chest as his lips brush against your ear. "What am I going to do with you, hm?" A shudder sets off in your bones as his hands begin to re-explore the bumps and crevices of your body. 

You instantly relax in his embrace and crane your neck backwards to lean your head against his shoulder. "I- I dunno…" The two of you move in a sync and his lips find the crook of your neck. "W- What are you going to do with me…?" Though you intend for your words to be one of fear and panic, what ends up dripping from them is pure excitement. 

Pedri groans before your body is pushed up against the many shelves that are mounted on the middle wall that you face. "I think a lesson in basic manners is a good place to start with" you try your best to feign consternation but the eager way in which you fold your arms over one of the shelves and spread your legs as your boyfriend raises the hem of your skirt from behind gives your intentions away. 

"Oh, no!" Yet you push on; so frustrated and needy at this point that any touch from him is good touch for you.

Pedri clicks his tongue before squeezing your panty clad cheeks. "I spoil you too much, don't I, vida?" You let out a soft sound that you subconsciously make when thinking but your boyfriend cuts off your thought process with a loud slap that catches both your cheeks at once. 

"Ow!" You found out just a few days into dating him that he was much stronger than you with how effortlessly he lifted heavy things and manhandled you when you got more comfortable around each other. So it always hurts like a bitch when he's in a reproachful mood. 

"Already?" He taunts you mockingly and lands another mean spank on your buzzing cheeks. "But vida," your eyes flutter close and you have to slither in a heavy gasp when he drapes himself over you from behind, one hand tracing its way up your side to palm one of your boobs, "I haven't even started with you yet." 

"Hnnng, please!" You push your ass backwards to try and turn him on. That is when you realize that he is rock hard already. 

Well, that explains the edge in his usually calm and collected tone. 

"Being a fussy little brat throughout breakfast" two slaps on each cheek. "Refusing to get out of the shower" you hadn't even realized that you had started 'bratting' out of your ire. You whine and bounce as he settles upon a rhythm. "Scrolling your silly little social media instead of getting ready for lunch" he suddenly yanks your panties off and despite the sting in your backside, you feel your needy hole clench before releasing a thick blob of pure hot arousal. "And then behaving like a perverted little maniac throughout–" the sound that the meeting of his unforgiving fingers with your nether lips -due to the gap that your squirming has caused between your thighs- creates is stunning enough to momentarily mum your boyfriend who is usually a composed know-it-all. 

"Hm~!" The sound is tugged out from deep within your vocal cords. Your knees tremble when you feel Pedri's prying fingers worm their way between your crack before he spreads your privates out. 

"Geez, vida" his breath is hot on your pucker and the snort he lets out when the sensation causes it to clench unconsciously makes blood rush to your face. "I know you're a horny little thing but fuck have you made a mess?" He can act as judgemental as he wants but you know that he loves every little drop of the need that he makes you feel. 

Which is all the time. 

You pout and instinctively push yourself closer to his face. "N- Need you… D- Daddy…" 

"Need me?" Your teeth trap your bottom lip between them when you feel one of his thumbs inch closer to your sopping cunt. "Where do you need me, baby?" 

You whine as your forehead creases. "Y- You know where!" 

He chuckles. "I don't think right now is the time when you push your luck, vida" your features push themselves upwards when you feel the tip of his thumb graze against the outline of your pussy lips. You let out an icy whimper in response so he adds; "Come on, if you tell me how you need me I'll give it to you" though he pretends as though he is unaffected by the sight he faces, you can hear the agitated urgency in his voice.

Your hips timidly try to move against his finger that refuses to give you anything beyond enticing yet unfulfilling strokes over your squishy petals. "I- I… n- need you i- in…" You hear clinking behind you but you are too busy in your desperation to find something pleasurable in the thumb that presses against you. "Inm- mypussy,Daddy" the questioning hum that he lets out rings in your ear when he is behind you within the next second and the way in which his cock jabs its way through your eager entrance at the same time causes for your eyes to bulge out. 

"What was that, baby?" Pedri has to clamp one of his palms over your mouth to keep you from moaning out loud. The sudden bustle that sounds right outside the wardrobe as if on cue causes him to quickly pull back and fuck into you harder as you clench to aid him. It is greedy and rushed; the both of you aware of how you are dangling by a thin thread but the franticness to devour one another so extreme in your bodies that you want to finish before you are caught. 

It is the only goal. 

"I couldn't quite catch that" the way he roughly whispers in your ear to avoid detection from the manager who is busy barking orders at the staff outside while wrapping a hand around your hair has you arching your back as you get fucked into the shelf. When you refuse to respond, he has to add with a mean fondling of your boobs; "Come on, vida. Now you know better than to disobey Daddy when he can very easily destroy you for it" your lust-drunk body springs up in alarm. 

The executions of his threats are always deadly and edging is not even the last thing that you want right now. 

"I…" His cock is too pleasurable inside you as he pushes in before pulling out its length through your tight entrance with each speeding thrust, its girth putting the most knee weakening strain on the band of your pussy as his bulging veins and coarse edges rub against your sensitive walls in a way that causes your head to spin. 

Your head is yanked back by your hair. His lips ghost over the skin of your temple that gets overwhelmed by his irregular breathing. "Go on, vida. You're doing so well taking my cock" his other hand parts from your boobs to reach for one of your knees before it is bent to be propped against one of the lower shelves. Your mouth falls open and your eyes shut to clench themselves at how far up you feel him, his thick tip colliding with your special spot as a result. "Say it for me." 

"I- I need you i- in my pussy, Daddy!" Your cry is rather loud but neither of you are in the mind to care about that anymore. Your hips tighten when the snapping of his hips escalates to full on pounding and the towels and little bottles placed on the shelves begin to rattle and tumble all over. "Always need you in my pussy, Daddy!" He rewards you with the dipping of his fingers between your thighs.

"Good girl" the digits easily find your squelching cunt and he uses his grip on your hair to pull your head to one side so he can bury his face in the crook of your neck. 

The gliding of his fingers is too much for your desperately worked up and frustrated pussy to handle so when his hand uncurls from your hair to pinch one of your nipples while his teeth nibble on that one sensitive patch of your skin, you can't help but throw your head back to let out a gut wrenching moan. 

Your vision fills with neon colors and your hearing declines. The tension within your hips is pulled loose and heat surges through every single knot that has formed in your muscles over the week. Pedri's hot cum that fills you soon after is the perfect end and you finally feel in place after days. 

Sex has the opposite effect on the both of you; while it helps Pedri clear his head, yours gets fuzzy instead. So it is him who fixes you up when he decides that he is done with you for now. You meekly stand like a baby– his baby as he pats your disheveled hair down, adjusts your bra and mends your outfit to the best of his ability. 

"Look at the mess you have made, vida" you whine and snuggle into his chest so you can hide your flushed face when he points out the wreck that you two have made of the place. Pedri chuckles as he fishes out some compensatory money from his wallet and places the bills on one of the shelves before taking your hand in his and helping you walk back to the table as you happily waddle behind him, senses numb but relaxed. No one says anything or even acknowledges your long absence but they know.

The flaming red hickey on your neck is the evidence to their suspicions. 

.