#but please give me space to work at my own pace
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has anyone else noticed that homestuck is getting kinda long?
(page 1145-1148; some thoughts on pacing and accessibility)
Jade’s bass playing to grow or move the lilypads works, and was well foreshadowed – in addition to both her bass playing pages where the garden atrium grows because of the amp in there (p.822, 1026), Jade captchalogues the bass (p.823) and the narration specifically notes ‘You take the PORTABLE AMP from the WALL SOCKET too.’ It feels like Act 3 has been entirely leading up to Jade entering these ruins.
In ‘[S] Jade: Pester John’ (p.1073), Bec guards the mystic ruins on Jade’s island, and a glowing white spirograph in the ‘same’ location mapped onto Prospit. So it’s a fair guess that the white spirograph was also present on ancient Earth, and may have been the cause of the ruins’ construction. And that means it might still be within the ruins, and could act as a portal to Skaia, which would allow Jade to go there while she’s awake. If she did that, could she travel to Prospit and find her own dream self? Or is her dream self only present on Prospit when her waking self is asleep? Either way, I think these ruins will be Jade’s backdoor into Sburb.
I love all three of these Jade pages for the visuals – 1145 because it’s cool when two panels match up into one bigger one (and interesting to think about why this was chosen instead of one bigger panel – maybe because one is Jade and one is the amp, and they’re two separate focal points?) and 1146 because Jade imagining herself as a frog as she jumps over lilypads is so fun and silly. I checked Wikifur and apparently amphibians such as frogs are classified under scalies, which is different to her interest in a ‘proud snout’, ‘the hunt’ and ‘claiming the night’ (p.797) but still fits with her desire for ‘a more visceral sapience’ and escaping the confines of humanity. So I feel like Jade doesn’t have one specific fursona, and wants to keep her options open with different animals.
And 1147 is just incredible – the glowing green symbols look like something from a hacker movie, like Jade’s entering a digital space, but at the same time we know this is physical stone and ancient hieroglyphs. Those things being meshed is very cool to me, and it makes me wonder just how much of all human technology was originally from Skaia. The mesmerizing soft glow gives the page a dreamlike quality, a reminder that Jade doesn’t have a plan, she’s just following instructions from her dreams and acting on faith.
John told Dave ‘i think you should use your copy of the game to help [rose]!’ on page 294, and it has taken 854 pages and over half a year in real time for him to install the game and help, but they are finally making this transpire. I was saying yesterday how Jade challenges Rose, and today I’m saying that Dave doesn’t challenge Rose at all. They have great banter, but Rose always has a leg up on it – and I think she types and/or thinks faster too, as she gets in her ‘Go on.’ before Dave can finish his ‘where making this’ sentence, when usually he’s the one to send a bunch of messages in a row.
Here’s the thing. I am speaking directly to Rose Lalonde here. Hi Rose, I understand that your house is burning down and things suck right now and you should not have to be the person who has to micromanage all your friends and deal with this entire situation alone. However. You are being dumb as shit by not giving Dave some basic instructions on exactly what to do the second he loads the game. You know that kid is not gonna read your GameFAQs. You know he can dish out those giant long monologues but he cannot take them. Please Rose, for your own safety and possibly the future of humanity or something, give the guy like three bullet points.
...no? Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff reference instead? Okay then.
This update also comes with a newspost, which I’m going to quote in full below.
That's my cue to disappear. Time for me to vanish into the animation abyss for a while. Let's give it a week, tops. If you're one of those people who has trouble keeping up with all the updates I bury you with, maybe now's a good time to catch up. And if you're one of those people who's finding everything going on in the story to be somewhat confusing and overwhelming, then maybe now is a good time to go back and reread it all. I'm pretty sure about 95% of all MSPA readers huddle somewhere beneath this umbrella. (/news 8 January 2010)
I have been thinking about the update frequency, and thought I was projecting because I definitely put an above average amount of time into Homestuck, but maybe this is a bigger issue. People only have so much time in the day, but some people do have more time than others. Relative to other webcomics, Homestuck asks readers to put a lot more time into it, a lot more frequently – both because the updates come fast and because the story is complex. It rewards people who do put a lot of time into it, because the small details, patterns and parallels, time loops, etymologies, and opportunities to predict and even influence (via user commands) the story encourage people to stay up to date, to read closely and reread often. The more effort you put into reading Homestuck, the more you get out of it, and that’s incredible, but it’s definitely made by and for people who have a lot of leisure time. So, young middle class people, especially teenagers and college students who don’t need jobs, and people who are socially isolated for whatever reason, will be way overrepresented. (I do this project because I love it and I do it by choice, but balancing this with work and school and relationships and my other major hobby is not easy especially with what’s felt like a recent increase in update frequency!)
This quality also makes it more competitive with other webcomics – someone might have time to keep up with, say, 20 webcomics that post a once per day or three times a week strip that stands alone or is part of a relatively simple story. If that person wants to follow Homestuck, they might have to drop down to 15 or even 10 other comics, because this one takes up such a disproportionate amount of space. This idea of creators putting out constant content to stay afloat on a transient internet, such that it could be a full time job to keep up with it (and sometimes is – there’s franchises that have in-house lore experts because creators themselves struggle to keep track of stories) will become huge in the future. And when we can all only pick a couple pieces of media to stay up to date with, life gets harder for smaller, newer and part time creators, who can’t provide that yet. And yeah I’m probably part of that problem.
I might also disappear for a few days to work on end of act 3 stuff! or I might not! if I have anything to say in the meantime or any fun asks then I will post. but at the absolute latest I will post on the day EOA3 drops and if I don’t do that then send an ambulance to my house.
> John: Ascend to First Gate.
#homestuck#reaction#potentially 1 whole week without homestuck coming up#the longest hiatus there has been so far. and surely the longest there ever will be!#chrono
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#I love all who read my fics#I do#but if I have one more person demand I write more#or post another chapter#or really demand anything from me I might just be done#truly i am sorry that I'm not writing fast enough and posting enough for you#but having to worry about my internship along with ten other things going on in my life on top of a thirty hour work week#as well as full time uni classes all online so I'm teaching myself because I can't afford to drive back and forth forty minutes both ways#is so much as is and having people dming me and sending anonymous and regular messages on every platform I post on is stressing me out to#the point I'm constantly anxious to even message my mutuals back bc I'm afraid to even look at my inbox and messages.#I love you all so much#but please give me space to work at my own pace#that is all I'm asking lol#sky gets personal#skyrants#sky talks wips
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My mom just sent a message to the family group chat suggesting that my siblings download the 'For the Strength of Youth' magazine on their Gospel Library app and talked about how much the youth magazines helped her testimony growing up and like, cool. Fine. Don't know why the 'sending random spiritual thoughts in the gc' thing started out of nowhere when it hadn't been a thing for a decade but this is just another one of those, and you're ofc allowed to talk about things that are significant in your life.
I don't think sending the 'What I Did When Someone Close to Me Challenged My Faith' article right afterwards was strictly necessary though 🙃
#hi bg mutuals 👋 i'm gonna vent about this from time to time. if any mutuals dont want to see it block the 'apostake' tag#trying not to read too much into it b/c I think I did last time something like this happened#and i dont want to make an ass of myself even if neither time would actually be in front of my parents#but like...i know that they know that one of my sisters is clearly PIMO#they went through her phone a couple weeks ago and i have no idea if they read my texts w/ her#but if they did they probably saw the conversation i had with her about some of the really common shelf-breakers#and telling her to take looking into it at her own pace b/c it's scary and overwhelming#(a conversation SHE started btw)#and when i talked to my parents about the larger context of that whole situation i talked about not having space to step back#and their response was that they give plenty of space b/c they dont make her go to seminary???#that's not the same thing as letting her openly question & potentially leave the church idk what to tell you#like. besties i dont know for sure what caused it (which is NOT making things better. it just feels potentially passive aggressive)#but from my end? it sure looks like it might be a reaction to that. probably not JUST that (friends exist) but.#if you think I'm whispering anti-mormon rhetoric into my siblings' ears just ask me. i'm very much NOT doing that#i'm just. talking? to them? when and if they come to me with questions?#and not making my answer 'well there's a reason our parents raised us in the church! ☺️'#(an actual argument given in the article my mom sent)#hate it. thanks#apostake#jay rambles#ok to interact#im not challenging anyone's faith. my patience though? INCREDIBLY challenged#gotta figure out how to work my way around a 'hey please dont send spiritual thoughts to the gc *I'm in*' talk tactfully#they've been pretty chill about me leaving over-all?? at least to my face#haven't pushed me to go to church w/ them; was fine with me not visiting for easter; didnt try to convince me to not drink coffee; etc#it's just. frustrating that they're not giving my siblings that still live with them that same grace#my sister's 17 ffs#it's very possible im way overreacting to the article. but what is tumblr for if not screaming into the void#religion#mormonism
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Innocence Loss - König x Reader
Delayed Kinktober Day 3: Virginity loss - König x Reader
CW: Virginity loss, jealous König, rough sex, pussy eating, creampie, breeding kink if you squint.
"So wet for me, spatzi." König muttered softly, shaky fingers teasing your wet slit up and down, gathering your juices before his hand went back to his cock, soft groans escaping his lips as he used your own wetness to lube himself up. His mouth latched up to your cunt again, your whiny moans being rewarding enough as he worked up and down his long, veiny shaft.
"König... need you." You managed to speak between soft gasps and moans, the sensation of his long, flat tongue licking you up and down for the past 10 minutes was starting to become too much— he already made you cum twice, using the excuse that he needed you all wet so you could handle his big cock, yet in reality, he simply liked your taste. Like a starved man, König latched onto your clit, rubbing his cock so hard he already felt on edge.
"Beg for me." He said softly, his cockiness in the battlefield rubbing off on his regular life, yet surprisingly, he wasn't embarrassed about it.
"Please— fuck, I need you inside me. Please, baby?" Your pathetic begging went to his head, yet the look in his eyes betrayed just how much this man adored you. Messy hair, lips parted as you waited for him, a thin layer of sweat covering the body he was so enamored with, and your legs open, revealing the sweet cunt he craved so bad it hurt.
"Pretty girl." He muttered softly, pure affection on his voice as he joined you in bed, opening your legs even more to give his behemoth body enough space. He lined himself up to your cunt, gently pulling his foreskin down to rub the tip of his stupidly big dick up and down your wet entrance, slowly going in until he's bottoming out.
"Scheiße—" He grunted softly, voice going deeper as he grimaced under the mask. König was used to using his own calloused hand to cum, doing it only because he was bored and horny, which he grew out of the more years he spent in the military, yet the feeling of your tight, warm walls swallowing him up hungrily hit him like a tidal wave. You felt too damn good, and he had to resist the urge to cum already, not wanting to embarass himself.
"Are you okay?" He asked you gently, his hand slowly running up and down the length of your hair worriedly when he noticed the slight grimace on your face. König knew he was big in every single way, and his cock was not the exception.
"I'm good, just— move, please." Feeling the stretch of his massive shaft was just as painful as you imagined, yet the pleasure that came from it couldn't be denied. He builds up a pace, slowly going more and more intense as his thrusts get rougher, deeper, harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills his private quarters, and you're secretly glad he's a colonel, as it gives you both more privacy.
"You've been bad, haven't you? Desperate for my cock, letting others flirt with you..." He mutters out between clenched teeth, his thrusts only getting rougher as he recalls what happened earlier. You didn't have the heart to tell him a member of KorTac simply was asking you for advice, the feeling of his tip slamming against your cervix was way too good to ruin the moment. He can believe whatever his jealous and possessive mind told him, as long as he keeps on angrily fucking you.
"No one else gets to touch you like this." He growls out, sitting on his knees while his massive hands easily hold onto your hips, lifting you up with him while he pounded into you, your moans mixed with his as he used you like you were simply a fleshlight— compared to his massive frame, you are.
König shows no mercy anymore, slamming his entire nine inches of meat into you with primal force. Despite the way he's being so rough, his light blue eyes are completely set into your face, looking for any signs of discomfort yet all he can see is pure bliss. His already big ego grows more and more as he hammers into you, all the pretty noises and faces you're making because of him, him and no one else, are getting to his head.
He moves your hips away as he pulls out, suddenly slamming himself all the way back in before you can protest. He drags a whiny moan out of you, pain and pleasure mixing as you can feel a familiar warmth building up in your stomach. He leans down, his breath hot against your ear as he mutters out pure nonsense in German. You can barely make out "Hure" between whatever he's whispering. His German sounds hotter than ever and you listen intently, dumbly nodding your head to his words despite not understanding him.
With each powerful thrust, he claims you, marking you as his own. The pleasure builds, coiling around your naked, sweaty bodies until it's way too much to bear. And when you finally release, his arms wrap around you protectively, holding your tiny body close to his as your bodies explode in a shared release. His thick, white cum fills up your womb, painting your velvety walls with his fertile sperm.
#konig mw2#cod mw2#cod mwii#konig cod#konig x reader#konig#cod konig#könig mw2#könig x reader#könig cod#könig call of duty#könig#konig call of duty#könig smut#konig smut#cod mw#kinktober
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SEX WITH THE MASSEUSE | back
starring: oc (Adam) x male reader
summary: Adam is a masseuse who works at an infamous massage place. Adam himself is known to be quite infamous for what he does to his clients. However you don’t Adam nor the massage place. Being it your first time, Adam takes advantage and gives you the best mass of all time
nsfw
a/n: this is inspired by the Japanese massage videos. Iykyk. It’s a long fic
As you enter the dimly lit massage clinic, the air feels thick with tension and unspoken desires. The receptionist, a sultry vixen with a knowing smirk, directs you to the private room where your masseuse, Adam, awaits.
Stepping into the candlelit space, you're greeted by the soft sound of ambient music and the faint scent of essential oils. Adam, a handsome man with strong hands and a mischievous glint in his eye, welcomes you warmly. "Welcome, I’m Adam. Please make yourself comfortable and disrobe. I'll give you a few moments of privacy."
As the door clicks shut behind him, you slowly undress, feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation. Sliding onto the heated massage table, you drape the flimsy towel over your bare bottom, leaving little to the imagination.
A few minutes later, Adam returns, his presence filling the room with an electric charge. He begins at your shoulders, his skilled hands kneading the tense muscles with firm pressure. As he works his way down your back, you feel the towel shift slightly, exposing more of your smooth skin to his touch.
"Just relax," he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “Let the tension melt away." His hands dip lower, ghosting over the curve of your ass before moving to your thighs. With each pass, the towel rides up a bit more, until it's barely covering your most intimate areas.
Suddenly, you feel the heat of Adam's body press against your backside as he straddles the table. His clothed erection nestles between your cheeks, sending a jolt of excitement through you. "My, my..."
Adam grinds subtly against you, his hardness evident even through the fabric of his pants. One hand slides around to your front, teasing along the edge of the towel. "It seems like someone is enjoying the massage already," he purrs suggestively in your ear.
The towel is suddenly whisked away, leaving you completely exposed. Adam's calloused hands caress your bare ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh. “Such a perfect, ripe peach," he groans appreciatively. “I simply must taste..."
Without warning, he leans down and drags his tongue along your crack, circling your tight hole. The wet heat sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body. "Mmm, delicious," Adam hums, lapping at you like a man starved.
Emboldened by your lack of resistance, Adam quickly sheds his own clothing, his impressive cock springing free. He positions himself at your entrance, the swollen head nudging insistently against your puckered hole. “Tell me what you want," he demands huskily, one hand gripping your hip while the other traces teasing circles around your rim. "Beg for my cock like the needy slut you are."
He punctuates his words with shallow thrusts, just entering you before pulling back out. The maddening tease has you clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled. "Please...", you whimper, too far gone to care how needy you sound. “Fuck me, Adam. Use me. Ruin me for anyone else!"
With a triumphant growl, Adam pushes himself fully inside you with one powerful thrust. Your walls stretch deliciously around his thick girth as he starts up a relentless pace, pounding into you with animalistic fervor. “Fuck yes, take it all!", he moans, adjusting his hips to nail your prostate dead-on with every snap of his hips.
The obscene slap of skin on skin fills the room, mingling with your moans and Adam's grunts of exertion. He leans over you, blanketing your smaller frame with his larger one as he ruts into you like a man possessed. “This tight little hole belongs to me now," Adam pants hotly against your neck, biting and sucking dark marks into your skin.
You are feeling a next level of ecstasy. You had no idea that a simple massage session would turn like this.
Adam's rhythm becomes erratic as he nears his peak, his balls tightening against your taint. With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you and stills, his cock pulsing as he empties himself deep in your guts. “Fuuuck, take my load!" he roars, painting your insides white with his thick seed.
Panting harshly, Adam collapses onto your back, his softening member still plugging you up. After a moment, he carefully pulls out, a trickle of cum leaking from your well-used hole. "Stay right there," he instructs, giving your ass a sharp smack before moving to grab something.
You try to catch your breath after that amazing sex session.
Returning, Adam drizzles warm oil over your reddened cheeks and abused entrance.
Adam begins to massage the oil into your skin, his slick fingers probing and stretching your sensitive hole. He works the combined fluids - his cum mixed with the oil - into your passage, ensuring you're thoroughly coated and relaxed.
"That's it, nice and loose for me," he teases, scissoring two fingers inside you. You feel extremely relaxed as he lathers his cum and oil on you. "Gonna make sure this greedy hole is ready for round two."
Removing his fingers with a lewd squelch, Adam flips you over onto your back. He takes a moment to admire your debauched state - hair mussed, skin flushed, cock hard and leaking against your stomach.
"Look at you, covered in my cum and practically begging for more," he taunts, giving your shaft a few teasing strokes. "Such a perfect little fucktoy."
Adam settles between your spread legs, his renewed erection prodding demandingly at your slick entrance. With a wicked grin, he reaches out to grab your thighs, pushing them back towards your chest to expose you fully to his hungry gaze.
“Keep these legs spread for me," he orders, lining himself up once more. “Wanna watch myself disappear into this sloppy asshole again and again until you're overflowing with my seed."
His words are so filthy that it makes you hard instantly to the point you’re almost leaking precum.
Without further preamble, Adam oushes himself inside you to the gut in one smooth glide. He sets a deep, rolling rhythm, grinding against your prostate with every pass. The new angle allows him to reach even deeper, hitting places that make stars explode behind your eyelids. “Fuck, could stay buried in this sweet ass forever," he groans, picking up speed.
Lost in a haze of pleasure, you can only moan and writhe beneath Adam's relentless assault. Your neglected cock bobs with each powerful thrust, smearing precum across your stomach. Adam notices your desperation and reaches out to wrap his hand around your shaft, stroking in time with his increasingly frantic hips.
"That's it, let go," he urges breathlessly, his thumb swiping over the weeping slit of your dick. “Paint yourself with your own cum while I fill this hole to the brim. Wanna see you absolutely drenched in our juices when I'm done wrecking this hole."
Adam angles his hips sharply, determined to push you both over the edge. The obscene squelch of his cock plunging into your slick channel mixes with your broken cries and the rhythmic slap of skin on skin.
The coil of tension in your gut winds tighter and tighter, your balls drawing up close to your body as your impending orgasm builds. Adam feels you start to flutter and clench around him, your body betraying your imminent release.
“C'mon baby, give it to me," he growls, his hand flying over your cock as he pistons into you with wild abandon. “Soak yourself in it while I pump you full!"
With a strangled cry, you come undone, your vision whiting out as ecstasy crashes through you. Thick ropes of white cum erupt from your twitching shaft, splattering across your chest and face.
At the same time, Adam pushes himself one last time and explodes, flooding your spasming channel with what feels like gallons of his hot seed. “FUCK YES, TAKE IT ALL!"
Panting heavily, Adam collapses on top of you, his softening cock still nestled inside your cum-filled hole. He nuzzles into the sweat-damp crook of your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your racing pulse.
“Mmm, so good," he mumbles, voice rough with satisfaction. “Knew this ass would feel amazing wrapped around my dick."
After a long moment, Adam carefully pulls out, watching with a smug grin as another gush of his release leaks from your gaping, puffy rim. He scoops some up with his fingers and brings them to your lips.
“Clean up the mess you made, slut," he commands, tracing the sticky digits along your bottom lip. “Then get that pretty mouth on my cock. Gonna fuck your throat raw next."
With a submissive whimper, you part your lips and suck Adam's fingers into your mouth, obediently cleaning them of your shared essence. The musky taste of sex explodes across your tongue, stoking the embers of your desire despite your recent climax.
Once his fingers are spotless, you release them with a wet pop, looking up at Adam with lust-hazed eyes. “Yes sir," you breathe, voice hoarse from your earlier cries. “Want your cock in my mouth. Want to choke on it like the dirty boy I am."
Sitting up, you shuffle closer on your knees until you're eye level with Adam's already rehardening length. You nuzzle into his pelvis, inhaling deeply of his heady scent before dragging your tongue along the underside of his shaft in a slow lick from base to tip.
Adam shudders at the sensation of your tongue trailing along his sensitive flesh, his cock jumping and beginning to swell with renewed arousal. He tangles a hand in your hair, gripping the strands tightly as he guides you to take him into your mouth.
“That's it, worship my dick like the eager little cockslut you are," he praises huskily, slowly pushing past your lips to rest on your tongue.
He sets a steady rhythm, rocking his hips to fuck your face with shallow thrusts. The thick head of his cock nudges the back of your throat with each pass, making you gag slightly around his girth. “Take it deeper, slut. Relax that throat for me," Adam demands, applying gentle pressure to the back of your head.
“Wanna feel those insides wrapped around my cock as I use your mouth."
Taking a deep breath through your nose, you force yourself to relax your jaw and throat, allowing Adam to sink deeper into the tight clutch of your throat.
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the intensity, but you maintain eye contact, silently urging him to use you harder. The bulbous head of his cock pushes past your tonsils and lodges firmly in your gullet, stretching you deliciously around his throbbing shaft.
"Fuck yes, just like that," Adam groans, holding you in place with your nose pressed to his pelvis. His heavy balls rest against your chin as he grinds into your face, savoring the exquisite heat engulfing him.
"Such a good little cocksucker, taking me so deep. Bet this is what you were born for, isn't it? To be a set of holes for me to ruin?"
Adam holds you there, buried in your throat, relishing the feeling of your muscles fluttering around his aching cock. After several long moments, he finally releases his grip on your hair, allowing you to pull back and gasp for air.
“Again," he commands roughly, fisting his dripping shaft and slapping the slick head against your swollen lips. “Choke on my cock like you mean it this time. Wanna feel you struggling for breath as I fuck your face raw."
He uses his hold on your hair to yank you forward, immediately setting a brutal pace. Adam's hips snap forward violently, driving his thick meat down your spasming throat over and over. Drool escapes the corners of your stretched mouth, running down your chin and coating your heaving chest.
Adam continues his relentless assault on your throat, grunting with exertion and pleasure as he uses your mouth like a fleshlight.
Your eyes water profusely now, tears streaking down your cheeks as you struggle to accommodate his punishing pace. Just as spots begin to dance in your vision, he abruptly pulls out, allowing you to collapse forward and gulp down desperate lungfuls of air.
“Nngh, fuck... so close," he pants, giving his spit-slick shaft a few quick pumps. “Gonna paint that pretty face with my load. Open wide, slut - here it comes!"
Throwing his head back with a loud moan, Adam aims his cock at your features. Thick, creamy ropes of cum erupt from the flared tip, splattering across your forehead, cheeks, and parted lips.
As the last spurts of Adam's release paint your face, he smears the excess into your skin with the tip of his softening cock, marking you thoroughly with his scent and essence.
“Look at you, covered in spunk and drooling all over yourself," he taunts breathlessly, admiring his handiwork. "Such a perfect little cum dump. I think I'll keep you like this - glazed and used, ready for the next round whenever I want."
Adam tucks himself away and flops onto the bed beside you, pulling your messy body flush against his side. He captures your lips in a filthy kiss, tongue delving into your mouth to taste himself on your lips and tongue. “Rest up, pet. When I wake up later, I expect this ass ready and waiting for more."
©️ flowerbunnyboo 2024. all rights reserved to me. please don't copy my work or reshare without my permission and credit
#bottom male reader#male reader#flowers fics#male x male#x male reader#bottom male reader smut#oc#oc x male reader smut#oc x bottom male reader#oc x male reader#oc x reader#oc x male#oc smut#massage sex
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Too good
PAIRING : Park Sunghoon x female Reader
GENRE : smut
Warning : MDNI! unprotected sex, morning sex, reader is a too good at everything, use of the petname 'angel', spanking, morning wood, no prep, sunghoon
Word Count : 1.3k
Yukki's Notes : finally got to finish this after my trip
It was 10 in the morning, sunlight peeking through the curtains woke you up. You had stayed up late at night — at least it was late for you — waiting for Sunghoon to come back home.
He had been extremely busy the past month, barely any time for you as you slept in a cold bed every night. But he promised you that he'd return early yesterday.
He couldn't keep the promise, coming home smelling like alcohol, whiskey prominently. He was extremely apologetic but you were tired and sleepy out of your mind to even get angry at him.
You just wanted his strong arms around you as you slept soundly.
You were — as Sunghoon claimed — too good for him, you were everything parents wish their children were, everything a boss looks for in his employees, everything a teacher looks for in his students. But also everything he ever wanted.
Sunghoon was still asleep, his warm breath hitting your neck. Your back to his chest, his arms seemed to get tighter around you when you shuffled.
You tried to lift his arms to get out of bed, you heard a groan and Sunghoon held you impossibly close. His lower half pressed flush to yours, your cheeks warmed at the feeling of his semi hard cock pressing against your ass.
���Where are you going, angel?” he whispered in your ear, his hot breath making the hair on your arm stand. His voice was low, deeper than normal.
“We gotta wake up, baby. You have work.” you mumbled, squirming at the feeling of his hands slowly wandering around.
His hands slipped inside your shirt, fingers ghosting over your sensitive nipples. He rolled his hips, grinding his almost hard cock on your ass. He peppered kisses down your nape, licking and sucking once in a while.
He pinched and rolled your nipples in his fingers, groping your breasts once in a while.
You whined, your clothed pussy throbbing from his actions. As if he read your mind, Sunghoon slithered a hand down, palming your cunt through your panties.
You knew where this was going, and as much as you wanted to get to work on time, how could you say no to this?
“Sunghoon, please.” you whined at the lack of friction to your cunt.
His fingers pressed against your clothed clit, sliding them down to rub at the wet patch on your panties. He slipped his hands inside.
“Fuck, so wet baby. Who did this to you, hm?” he said, rubbing slow teasing circles on your clit. “Y-you, oh my g-god hoonie, please…” you whined, gripping his hand, wanting him to go faster.
“Please what? Say it, angel.” he said, going just a tad bit faster. He wanted nothing more than to be buried in your cunt, but hearing you beg him was making him so hard.
“Fuck me, please. I need you.” you said, whining when he took away his hand. You felt him shuffle around, getting rid of his boxers and throwing them somewhere in the room.
Sunghoon didn't bother to take off your panties, he hiked up your leg to give him space, pulling away your panties just enough to slide in.
He rubbed his tip along your cunt, moaning at the pleasure. His tip was rubbing against your clit, slowly he pushed in, but just the tip. You whined, reaching behind you to grab the base of his cock, pushing him inside.
He started slowly, savouring the moment, feeling more sensitive than usual. You whined, feeling annoyed at how slow he was going.
“Baby, faster please.” you said, pushing your ass against his hips, grinding at your own pace.
You gasped, feeling a sharp pain against your ass cheeks, Sunghoon's hand came up to soothe the pain, apologetic but not quiet.
“Stop being so impatient angel.” he said, rolling his hips faster, giving you what you want. His hands continued to grope at your chest, rolling your nipples in his fingers.
You moaned, your eyes closing and body going lax at the onslaught of pleasure. Sunghoon slipped his hand down, rubbing harsh circles on your clit. You were close, clenching hard on him, but how could he give you what you want so easily?
He pulled out of you, pushing you down, making you lie on your stomach. You pushed your ass out, arching your back the way he likes. He placed a pillow under your hips.
Sunghoon pushed your ass cheeks apart, gazing at your wet cunt. He placed a tight slap on your ass, rubbing his palm on the skin, which was turning red.
Wordlessly he pushed his cock in your pussy, he moaned feeling you tighten around him immediately.
“S-such a perfect pussy, angel. So good for me.” he moaned, leaning down so that his chest was pressed to your back. He intertwined his fingers through yours, pressing soft kisses on your back, contrary to his thrusts.
You moaned his name like a mantra, his hips pistoning into yours at a maddening pace. The sounds of your moans, the slapping sound and the squelching of your cunt reverberated through the room.
“Hoonie, o-oh my god, mph f-faster” you said in between moans. You weren't sure if you could take more, but at this point, that sentence was just a reflex.
“Yea? Faster, you sure you can — oh my god s-stop clenching —” he cut himself off to let out a string of moans. “you sure you can t-take it, angel?” he said, moaning in your ear.
Sunghoon took both your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. With the other hand he grasped your hip, stopping you from any movement.
He angled his hips, thrusting in and out, hitting your sweet spot continuously, his ball smacking against your clit.
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, feeling his tip rub against your g spot feverishly. You arched your back, the angle making him go deeper.
Sunghoon moaned, resting his head on your back. His hips pick up speed, bucking his pelvis against your ass.
He let go of your wrists, both of his hands grasping your hips, pushing you in a deeper arch. He pounds into you like his life depends on it, his fingers leaving marks on your hips that would last days.
Your mouth falls open, sounds reduced to mere whines and babbles. A sound akin to a sob rips out of you at how good he feels.
You feel a knot build up in your stomach, his thrusts pushing you closer and closer to your release.
Sunghoon starts rutting his hips into yours like an animal, desperate to feel that high.
“S-so fucking tight, fuck angel, you're gonna cum? Yea, cream all over my dick?” he pants and moans obscenely loud.
You grasp the bed sheets, clenching down on him as your orgasm is ripped out of you. Your whole body starts convulsing.
His eyes rolled back feeling your tightness around him, he grinds his hips into yours, hard. Sunghoon stops after a couple thrusts, his cum painting your walls as you weakly moan at the feeling of him filling you up.
He pulls out of you slowly, careful not to overstimulate you, although he isn't against the idea he knows you're tired.
“You okay, angel?” he asks, leaving fluttering kissing down your back, rubbing the red skin of your ass cheek that he hit.
You roll over to lay on your back, “Yea, ’m fine.” you say, voice hoarse from previous innuendos.
Sunghoon laid down, pulling you closer so that your head was buried in his chest. You wrapped your arms around him, leaving a peck on his chest. He in turn pecked the top of your head.
It seems that Sunghoon had yet again managed to distract you from your daily routine, but who's complaining?
#enhypen#enhypen smut#enha scenarios#enha imagines#enha hard thoughts#enha smut#enhypen sunghoon#enhypen scenarios#enha sunghoon#sunghoon#park sunghoon#park sunghoon smut#park sunghoon x reader#enhypen sunghoon smut#sunghoon imagines#sunghoon scenarios#sunghoon smut#enha x reader#enhypen x reader#park sung hoon#sunghoon park
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Anal with Hee!
Anal with Hee!
Anal with heeseungie!!
hard anal with heeseung and this is what the bed sounds like
-
Heeseung’s favorite girl lets him do anything he wants to her.
It’s been three months since the two of you started hooking up and Heeseung’s already cut the amount of other girls he sees in half because you match him in every carnal way possible and have never backed down from trying anything. He wants fuck your throat? Absolutely. Sex in his car? Without a doubt.
Anal? Well, it took a bit of time to work your way up to get pounded by him, but you got there eventually.
Your neglected pussy drools with your arousal as Heeseung’s lips descend on yours, chasing you in a wet and messy kiss while you spread your legs wider. He feels that slick that’s managed to touch his abdomen and relishes in the tightness of your ass the more he thrusts in and out of the tight space.
“Knew you’d love it,” Heeseung whispers against your mouth. “Who loves a good anal pounding?”
“M-Me!” you manage to stutter. Your bed frame squeaks from underneath you but you can’t say you aren’t pleased to hear the noise. It reminds you just how fast Heeseung is fucking you.
“So. Small. And. Tight.” He punctuates his thrusts by changing his pace and slamming into you as he speaks.
Your ass has become so wet mixed with Heeseung’s spit as he prepped your wrinkled hole and with the first time he came just a short while earlier. Heeseung always cums so much when you let him slip it inside of your ass and you know you’re in for a long night when he tries to convince you to let him eat it instead of your pussy.
The feeling of his tongue on your tightest hole turns you on more than you’d like to admit. It feels so forbidden like walking in uncharted territory. It’s the place Heeseung loves the most because he sees you in another light, as if you’re somebody who’s just as horny and filthy as him.
Your ass is the only place he’ll forego a condom with too. He always replenishes his stash and never fucks girls without them for the sheer purpose of boosting his own ego when these other girls beg him to take it off or to have sex without it. The minute you let him stretch your ass out was when Heeseung wanted to give you a reward for letting him do it.
He swears he might be addicted to your asshole and makes it his mission to give it as many creampies as he possible can in one night. You let him take you anywhere with his cock in your ass—doggy, riding him, missionary—and you seem to like it too because you cum every single time.
“I think I might love you,” he whispers semi-seriously when he slows down.
“Me or my ass?”
Heeseung kisses the corner of your mouth. “Your ass, baby.” You nip as his lip.
“Can’t have us complicating things.”
“Didn’t we do that when you said you’d let me try anal?”
You pretend to think. “Maybe…” Heeseung twitches inside of you and resumes thrusting.
“My little hole forever.” The squelches start to make your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Can’t believe I trained your ass to fuck you as hard as I am. Oh shit—I’m cumming.”
He squirts his white ropes within you but doesn’t stop his hips from moving. It makes your hole incredibly wet and lubricated and Heeseung moans like an animal from above you. You’ll gladly let him fuck your ass as long as he sounds like that.
#enhypen smut#heeseung smut#lee heeseung smut#enha smut#enhypen x reader#heeseung x reader#enha hard hours#enhypen hard hours#enhypen hard thoughts#enha hard thoughts#heeseung#hard thought
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Feel the Heat - Grid x F Driver! Reader
Plot: All the moments that Y/N has just absolutely lost her shit.
Warnings: Lots of swearing, mentions of sexism (undertones) which I do not condone at all, its just for the plot and what i see some celebrities are burdened with in the limelight.
Moment 1:
"So Y/N how do you feel about the 10 second time penalty?" Martin asks you in the post race interview. You were now starting P20 in the race tomorrow and it wasn't even your fault.
"Yeah superb the FIA did a really good job determining who was at fault!" you grit out with a strained smile on your face.
"Oh really? Because your team seem to be arguing against the decision as we speak, they've been very vocal about it"
"Yeah it was sarcastic of course I'm not happy, any other driver who did that would have been let off... but I don't? My team have clips of Hamilton, Ricciardo, Leclerc, Stroll, Gasly and Norris all doing it and getting away with it. So why not me?" you ask before storming off. You didn't want to do media anymore and your PR manager could tell.
"Y/N we are trying to get that penalty lifted so that you start P4 tomorrow. I don't know what else to say, the team are trying" she says rubbing your shoulders, but the scowl on your face says otherwise.
"It's not fucking right though Cathy!" you exclaim kicking the side of the Red Bull hospitality wall.
"I know, i know. And they are working on it!" she exclaims trying to calm you down.
"They wont change their decision now though, the other teams will get pissed that they've gone back on their word..." you seethe.
"Fucks sake" you scream.
"I'm going" you grunt out, before storming through the AlphaTauri garage and grab your bag that you'd brought to the track. Everyone could see how hacked off you were, even once you put the sunglasses on and your team cap to cover the look currently on your face.
"Y/N are you okay?" Yuki your team mate asks, as he too exists the paddock behind you. You tried to ignore him, not wanting to turn round and snap at one of the most genuine and sweetest people here.
"Okay, you don't want to talk and that's fine, but please let me drive. Angry Y/N is scary driving" he advises, trying to beeline ahead of you so that he could get to the drivers door before you.
"Sorry Yuki, yeah you should drive" you manage to get out slowing down your own pace so that the poor male didn't have to run so he was ahead of you.
Aftermath:
You proceeded to not have the time penalty knocked, and you started the race in P20, however you managed to climb all the way up to P5 in a victorious come back race.
Your team were celebrating the come back and you were beyond happy in the interviews.
Moment 2:
"Y/N over here! Can you sign this?" another voice shouts at you, you were in the airport and your manager said that he would be there for you and your girlfriend when you got off the plane with security.
However no-one was there to collect you apart from fans who somehow worked out what flight you were on.
Slowly more and more people were flooding around you both and your girlfriend. Your girlfriend was a smaller streamer and therefore wasn't used to the Paparazzi.
"Guys can we back up a little, just to keep us all safe" you tried being nice to get the fans to back up a little further to make sure your girlfriend was safe.
However, as you went round with the sharpie, more and more people were pushing and you were so out of it from the pushing and pulling, the cameras in your face and things being thrusted at you that the tight grip that was once on your forearm was gone.
"Emma?" you shouted your girlfriends name, now noticing you couldn't see her.
"Emma!" you shouted in an angrier tone, people still not backing up and giving you space.
"Right, I've tried to be nice, everyone please leave. NOW!" you say sternly, and for the first time not only the fans but airport staff notice the commotion and security help you out of the circled crowd around you.
You immediately went to twitter.
'Please, if you are a fan and you see a celebrity in a public space with no security... DONT bring attention to them and DONT mob them. That was the scariest moment of my life in Heathrow Airport just now. Have some fucking respect for your idols'
You shut your phone off, your face still angry most definitely being caught by the paps. They also caught as you ran up to your girlfriend pulling her into a hug, checking over her making sure she's okay, before your hands travel up to her cheek and pull her into a kiss.
"I'm so sorry baby" you apologize as soft tears start to fall down her face.
Aftermath:
Your girlfriend had ended up breaking up with you the week after the race, the pressure of everything getting to her. You cried to Charles and Pierre for an entire weekend as your 3 year long relationship had just come to a close because of your fans not having respect for personal space and boundaries.
You were fuming and had written many tweets and Instagram story's explaining why you guys broke up and how utterly heartbroken you were, however you wanted Emma to be happy and that this is what was for the best.
For months, you were cold and off with any media duties and PR had to tell every interviewer not to bring the breakup up in the questions or they'd cut the interview.
Moment 3:
"Well, Lando... you've been here for six years now and you still haven't got your first win yet... do you feel like your going to be the next Nico Hulkenberg or Kevin Magnussen?" An interviewer asks looking down at his notepad.
"Erm" Lando says unsurely looking down.
"What the actual fuck" you spit, looking at the interviewer that asked him.
"Y/N you have input on this matter?"
"Go fuck yourself. Get yourself in a F1 car and see if you can even fucking start it. Lando has worked hard for what he has achieved so far, in and no hate to Mclaren, but a midfield car. How dare you sit there and ask him that question. Kevin and Nico have also worked hard for where they are, even just being in F1 is a phenomenal achievement considering there are only 20 seats in the world. So to answer your question, no Lando is Lando Norris and that's fucking iconic enough as it is, with or without a win. Have a good fucking rest of the panel" you rant, before standing up with so much force that your seat goes crashing back, a bang sounding throughout the room making the interviewer flinch.
Aftermath:
Everyone actually sat there for a minute reviewing how you'd just stormed out of media duties and slammed the interviewer six feet under.
"So Y/N no longer will be participating into todays panel. So Martin i believe you had a question for Lewis?" the director advised but the rest of the vibes for the interview weren't there as everyone agreed with your previous statements.
Moment 4:
"Y/N are you okay?" your race engineer asks.
"FUCK! FUCKS SAKE. WHAT A PRICK" you screech.
"Copy that. But are you okay?" they asks once again.
"No I'm not fucking okay. Tell Leclerc when i see him, I'm going to shove his wheel so far into his mouth " *cut off*
"Did you guys just fucking mute me?" you scream, but after not hearing anything you jump out the car handing the wheel to one of the pit teams that had come out to collect your battered car.
You kicked at the gravel, yelling at one of the crew asking if they saw how Leclerc had literally gone into you and used you as his crash barrier, yet he was still able to the continue the race pitting for minor wing damage.
Aftermath:
You had yelled at Charles after the race, who completely admitted to you that he was at fault and he was sorry to be the cause of your DNF. He went on to say in the interviews that he was sorry to you that he'd caused such a collision.
Moment 5:
"WOMEN SHOULDNT BE IN MOTORSPORT" you hear from the stand behind you as your signing a little boys hat that he had offered you asking for a picture and a signature.
However, something metallic not only hit you but hit the little boy that was stood to your left. He immediately raised his hand to his head, holding the bit that the can had hit before bursting into tears.
In a moment of shock you spin round looking for the men that had thrown the empty beer cans at you through the fencing.
"Oiii you two get the fuck down here now!" you point at the two laughing gents, who still at being called out.
"Don't ever pull shit like that again or I'll get you permanently banned from every sporting event you could possibly attend" you say looking up at them. They looked at you in shock.
"Oh, I'm sorry if its not the consequences of your actions ..." you laugh.
"But ..."
"No, you hurt a little boy! And me... So I'll be letting bar staff know to no longer serve you" you say before turning away and talking to security.
They ended up finding the little boy and his father. You came up to them with a gift bag each and upgraded paddock passes. They hugged you thanking you for the opportunity and saying it was too much.
You made sure the little boy was okay, carrying him on your hip touring him through the paddock, introducing him and his dad to the other drivers and then showing him around the garage. You let him sit in your car while you took a picture of him and his dad. A mechanic then took a picture of the three of you.
Aftermath:
The media went crazy seeing you stick up for the little boy and his day around the paddock with you. People knew you were sweet despite how short tempered you could be and these interactions proved it.
The little boy and his father ended up actually becoming closer friends of yours and would often be seen in the paddock or when they had general tickets people would wave as they recognized them.
Taglist:
@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula 1#formula one#formula one fanfiction#charles leclerc#charles lecrelc x reader#kimi raikkonen#max verstappen#lewis hamilton#lando norris#oscar piastri#sebastian vettel#lance stroll#fernando alonso#carlos sainz#daniel ricciardo#yuki tsunoda#zhou guanyu#sergio perez#george russell#kevin magnussen
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she's not me - JK - FF - ONE SHOT (M)
pairings : ex!jk x ex!fem!reader
sypnosis : He said he moved on, but why does your toothbrush still stand next to his, even when he has "someone new" already?
genre : ex2l, cheating, smut, fluff if you squint
content/warnings : oral(male recieving), smut, making out, bitch!oc, oc is not very nice, blowjob, missionary, lingerie, cheating! jk and oc.
disclaimer : this fic is completely fictional, i do not know any of the idols personally nor assuming that this is how they act in real life. this fic is for entertainment purposes only
People think they know what it’s like to have everything. They think it must be easy, having the world at your feet, getting anything you want with a single demand. Well, they’re right. It is easy. Easy, effortless, perfect—just how I like it.
And Jungkook? He was no different.
From the moment he laid eyes on me, he worshipped me. He bought me anything I asked for, made time for me whenever I needed him, and spoiled me in ways even my parents never could. He used to say I was everything he ever wanted, everything he couldn’t resist. But that’s the thing—people always want you until they can’t have all of you. And when Jungkook realized just how much it took to keep me, he broke. He said I was “too much.”
I laughed at him. Too much? He knew who I was from the beginning, knew that I don’t do “less.” I don’t tone it down. I don’t bend for anyone. He thought he could change me, make me softer, more agreeable, more manageable.
Pathetic.
So he left. Said he needed space, that he couldn’t handle my demands anymore. I told him to go, told him I didn’t care. If he couldn’t give me everything, then I didn’t need him. There’s always someone else who can. At least, that’s what I told myself.
Yet here we are—him, in my apartment, like nothing’s changed.
I stand at the foot of my bed, my arms crossed as I watch him pace around the room like he’s trying to convince himself he shouldn’t be here. But he is here. And that says more than any of his excuses ever could.
“You really thought you could move on from me?” I taunt, my voice dripping with amusement. “Please, Jungkook. You know how this works. You always come back.”
He glares at me, his jaw clenched tight. “You think this is funny? You think this is some kind of game, Y/N?”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, come on. Don’t act like you’re the victim here. You knew exactly what you were getting into from the start. You chose this.”
“You haven’t changed at all,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Still the same spoiled, selfish—”
I cut him off with a smirk. “And yet, here you are.” I take a step closer to him, watching the way his body tenses as I invade his space. “If you really hated me so much, you wouldn’t be here. But we both know why you came.”
He doesn’t answer, but I can see it in his eyes. He’s struggling, caught between the version of himself he wants to be and the one he can’t escape. The one that always finds its way back to me. He’s with someone else now, or at least, that’s what he’s told everyone. He’s “moved on.” He’s “happy.” But if that’s true, why did he come here tonight? Why did he show up at my door, knowing exactly what was going to happen?
Because I still own him. No matter who he’s with, no matter how much he tries to deny it, he’ll always come back to me.
I run my fingers along his jawline, feeling the tension beneath my touch. “You’re still mine, Jungkook. You can lie to yourself all you want, but we both know the truth.”
His breath hitches, and for a moment, he falters. I can see the struggle in his eyes, the fight between wanting to leave and wanting me. But it doesn’t last long. It never does.
Without warning, he grabs me, pulling me closer, his hands rough against my skin. He’s angry, frustrated, but I can feel the need beneath it all. This is what he wants. This is why he’s here. And no matter what he says, I know I’m still in control.
I don’t even have time to smirk before he’s on top of me, his lips crushing mine with a desperation that’s almost laughable. He hates me, or at least, he wants to. But that hate only makes him want me more.
I give in, letting him take what he needs, because this is what I wanted from the start. He thinks he’s the one in control, that he’s the one making the decisions, but the truth is, he’s doing exactly what I want him to.
And then, just as I knew it would happen, the sound of his phone interrupts us.
His body goes rigid, and for a second, I think he’s going to stop, going to pull away and regain whatever shred of dignity he thinks he has left. But he doesn’t. He keeps going, ignoring the buzzing in his pocket as it continues, relentless.
I smirk against his lips, pulling back just enough to whisper, “Your girlfriend’s calling.”
He freezes, his breath heavy against my skin. The phone keeps buzzing, the screen lighting up with her name. I glance down at it, the smirk never leaving my face.
“You gonna answer that?”
He doesn’t respond, but I can see the guilt flicker across his expression. It’s almost endearing, how he still tries to pretend like he’s better than this. Like he’s not exactly where he wants to be.
The buzzing stops, and for a moment, there’s silence. But I’m not done yet.
I brush my lips against his ear, my voice soft but biting. “You’ll really always come back, won’t you? No matter how many times you try to run, no matter who you’re with… you’ll always end up here. With me.”
He’s silent, but the look in his eyes tells me everything I need to know.
The phone buzzes again, and this time, I laugh. A low, mocking sound that cuts through the tension between us.
“You should really answer her, you know. She might start wondering where you are.” I pull away from him completely, walking toward the bed with a casual grace that I know drives him crazy. “Or maybe you’d rather stay here. With me.”
Jungkook doesn’t move at first. He’s still standing there, conflicted, torn between two worlds that are pulling him in opposite directions. I can see it in his eyes—the guilt, the frustration, the longing. He wants to leave. He should leave. But he can’t. He never does.
And that’s the thing about Jungkook. No matter how much he tries to fight it, no matter how many times he tells himself he’s done, he’ll always come back.
Because I’m the one thing he can’t let go of.
I sit down on the bed, crossing one leg over the other as I watch him wrestle with himself. The phone buzzes again, louder this time, as if it’s demanding an answer. But he’s not going to pick it up. He’s not going to leave.
Jungkook’s phone buzzes again. This time, instead of ignoring it, he lets out a frustrated sigh and pulls it out of his pocket. His eyes flicker to the screen, and for a moment, I think he’s going to silence it like before, but then his thumb hovers over the answer button.
Interesting.
He presses it and brings the phone to his ear, his voice changing, softening in a way that makes me roll my eyes.
“Hey, Sewon,” he says, his tone so calm, it’s almost disgusting. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be home tonight… I’m at my mom’s house. She’s sick, so I’m staying over to take care of her.”
I arch a brow, barely able to hold back a laugh. Your mom’s house? Of all the lies he could’ve told, he picked that?
He glances at me while he speaks, and I can’t help but smirk. His lies are so obvious, so transparent. Sewon must be a fool if she buys this.
“I know,” Jungkook continues, running a hand through his hair, trying to sound convincing. “I’ll check in tomorrow, okay? Don’t worry about me.”
He nods as if she can see him. “Yeah, love you too. Get some rest.”
When he finally hangs up, there’s a brief moment of silence between us. The phone in his hand feels like an invisible weight between the two of us, heavy with the guilt and deceit that’s been left hanging in the air.
And then, just like that, he tosses the phone onto the dresser and turns back to me. His eyes darken, the softness from his voice with Sewon gone in an instant, replaced by the hunger that’s always been there. The one he can never hide when he’s with me.
I laugh quietly, shaking my head as I lean back against the pillows, propping myself up with my elbows. “Your mom’s house?” I mock, biting my lip to keep from outright laughing. “That’s the best you could come up with?”
Jungkook doesn’t respond. He doesn’t need to. The look in his eyes says everything.
He crosses the room in two quick strides, grabbing me with a possessive force that sends a thrill through my body. He pulls me to him, and before I can say another word, his lips crash against mine.
There’s nothing soft or gentle about the way he kisses me this time. It’s desperate, raw, and full of frustration—everything that’s been simmering between us since the moment he walked through the door.
The kiss deepens, and I feel the heat radiating between us. Jungkook’s hands grip my waist, his fingers digging into my skin, igniting every nerve in my body. I can taste the urgency in his kiss—the need, the desire, the pent-up frustration from the distance we’ve kept between us.
He pulls away just long enough to look me in the eye, and I can see the battle raging inside him. “i shouldn't be here” he says, his voice a low growl. But there’s no conviction behind his words. I can see the truth lurking just beneath the surface.
“you shouldn't..” I reply, my tone dripping with confidence as I pull him closer. “but aren't tired of her?”
With a sudden burst of determination, Jungkook’s hands slide down to the hem of my dress. In one swift motion, he tears it away, the fabric ripping apart like it’s made of paper. The cool air hits my skin, sending chills down my spine, but the thrill of being exposed to him makes me gasp.
My lingerie, black lace and delicate, is now the only thing standing between us. I can see the way his eyes darken, the way his breath hitches as he takes in the sight of me. I can feel his desire, raw and intense, radiating from him.
“God, Y/N,” he breathes, his voice thick with lust. “You drive me insane.”
And just like that, I know this is what he wants—what we both want. The boundaries of our past and present melt away in the heat of the moment, and all that matters is the connection between us, the electric tension that fills the room.
I can’t help but smirk as I lean back, teasingly inviting him to explore what’s beneath my lingerie. “Then stop talking,” I whisper, “and show me just how insane I make you.”
"take this off, please" i whined "desperate that much? all for cock?" he hissed under his breath chuckling "your cock" murmured breathly.
"unbuckle it then. show me how much you're a slut for this cock" he demanded me. ofcourse our sex was always great, no matter what happens he'll always come back to me. i got up on my knees and start unbuckling his belt while keeping eye contact.]
i palm his obviously hard bulge teasing him. "Feel this? It's just for you." he mutters "ofcourse it is" i give him a look "who else is it supposed to be for?" i laugh hysterically, enjoying every moment i'm in control.
I slip his pants and boxers down in one smooth motion, exposing him fully. His breath hitches as I continue palming him, watching his reactions with satisfaction. His head tilts back slightly, his jaw clenched in restraint, but I can see how much control I have over him in this moment.
"That’s right,” I purr, my voice low. “No one else can make you feel like this.”
Jungkook lets out a low groan, his hands gripping my waist, pulling me closer, but I keep the pace slow, teasing him. His frustration is palpable, but that only spurs me on. I love seeing him like this, powerless beneath my touch despite how dominant he tries to be.
"You're enjoying this way too much," he mutters through gritted teeth, his eyes narrowing at me.
I laugh softly, leaning in just enough to whisper in his ear. "And you're going to let me, aren’t you?"
For a moment, there’s only the sound of our breathing, the heat between us overwhelming. His hand moves to the strap of my lingerie, tugging at it roughly. “Take it off,” he demands, his voice a growl, filled with need.
I look up at him, my eyes glinting with defiance. “Make me,” I challenge, knowing full well what it’ll do to him.
The tension between us crackles
His eyes flash with a mix of frustration and desire, and I can feel the heat radiating off his body as he grapples with the control he’s trying to maintain. “You think you can play games with me?” he challenges, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, betraying his eagerness.
With a swift motion, Jungkook grips the strap of my lingerie and pulls it down, exposing my skin to him. The cool air sends a shiver through me, and I let out a soft gasp. His gaze darkens, drinking in the sight before him, and I can’t help but feel empowered by his reaction.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, a hint of pride lacing his voice as he watches me, eyes burning with hunger. “Now, let’s see how much you really want this.”
I bite my lip, reveling in the control I have. I shift my weight back on my knees, arching my back just a little, offering him a glimpse of everything he craves. “You want me to beg for it?” I tease, my tone laced with playful challenge.
He chuckles darkly, shaking his head as if to say he’s not going to give in that easily. “I want you to show me, Y/N. Show me how desperate you are.”
With a sly smile, I lean forward, keeping my gaze locked on his as I lower my mouth to his hardness. I let my breath ghost over him, the teasing anticipation making his muscles tense even more.
“Feel this?” I ask, my voice sultry as I glance up at him. “she can never ever make you feel this way”
“uhuh- y-yeah” he retorts, his voice strained.
I laugh softly, enjoying the way my teasing drives him wild. The power shifts back and forth between us, but for now, I hold the reins.
I wrap my hand around him, giving him a few teasing strokes. His eyes widen, and a groan escapes his lips, making my heart race. The rush of power I feel is intoxicating, and I lean in closer, taking him in my mouth slowly, savoring the moment as I begin to work him with my tongue.
“God, Y/N,” he gasps, his hand threading through my hair, encouraging me to take him deeper. I can feel him fighting to maintain control, but the way he pulls me in tells me he’s losing the battle.
I look up at him, watching the way his face twists in pleasure. “You love this,” I whisper, pulling back just enough to let my words hang in the air between us.
“Don’t stop,” he growls, the command wrapped in desperation. “You know I can’t resist you.”
I smile, knowing I’ve pushed him just where I want him. The thrill of our back-and-forth dance adds another layer of heat to the moment, and I relish in the chaos we’ve created.
With renewed determination, I take him deeper again, swirling my tongue around him while my hands continue to work his length. The sounds he makes spur me on, igniting the fire within me, and I can feel my own body responding to the thrill of the moment.
“God, Y/N, i-i'm cumming” he admits, breathless and raw, his eyes wild with need.
I pull away slightly, my lips glistening. “Then don’t. Let go,” I encourage, my voice low and sultry. “I want to see just how far you’ll go for me.”
His breath catches at my words, and I can see the battle within him intensifying. Jungkook's eyes darken with a mix of desire and urgency, the tension crackling between us as I watch him teeter on the edge of control.
“You’re insane,” he mutters, his voice rough. “Do you know that?”
“Maybe,” I tease, a playful smirk on my lips. “But you love it.”
Before I can say anything else, he grips my hair tightly, pulling me back up to meet his gaze. The sudden shift catches me off guard, but there’s a wild glint in his eyes that sends a thrill down my spine.
“I want you, Y/N,” he growls, and it’s a statement, not a request. “Now.”
With that, he shoves me back onto the bed, his hands exploring my body with urgency. The way he caresses me is both rough and tender, his touch igniting every nerve ending as he hungrily takes in the sight of me beneath him. I feel alive, electric under his gaze.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice low and laced with a possessive edge. “So fucking perfect.”
As he leans down to kiss me again, his lips find mine with a fierce hunger. I feel myself melting into him, our bodies pressing together, a collision of heat and desire. It’s intoxicating, and I can’t help but lose myself in the moment, all thoughts of Sewon and the outside world slipping away.
“Please, Jungkook,” I whimper, the need pooling within me, begging for release. “I need you.”
He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching mine, as if gauging my sincerity. “You really want this?” he asks, a hint of disbelief coloring his tone. “After everything?”
I nod, desperation spilling over. “You know I do. You always come back to me, Jungkook. We can’t fight this.”
He grits his teeth, his grip on me tightening. “You’re right. I can’t fight it.”
And just like that, he reclaims his dominance, his lips crashing against mine once more, the kiss deepening as he settles himself between my legs. I feel the heat radiating from him, the raw energy making my heart race faster.
“Then let’s stop pretending,” he murmurs against my lips, his breath mingling with mine. “Let’s give in to what we both want.”
With a swift motion, he pulls my lingerie down, leaving me completely exposed to him. The thrill of vulnerability sends shivers through my body, the anticipation of what’s to come making me dizzy with excitement.
“Jungkook,” I gasp, my heart racing as he moves closer, his warmth enveloping me entirely.
He leans in, kissing down my body, his lips trailing fire across my skin. Each touch ignites a desperate longing within me, pushing me closer to the edge. “You deserve this, Y/N,” he whispers, his voice low and raspy. “You deserve everything.”
His hands explore every inch of me, igniting sensations I’ve only ever dreamed of. The pleasure builds, a wave of heat that makes me writhe beneath him, and I can feel myself teetering on the brink, the tension coiling tighter and tighter.
“Jungkook, please,” I plead, my voice trembling with need. “jungkook..please- fuck!! i'm cumming- im cumming”
He looks up at me, his expression a mix of mischief and determination. “go” he commands, his voice deep and commanding, sending another wave of desire coursing through me.
With one swift motion, he positions himself at my entrance, and I can feel the heat radiating from him, the promise of everything I crave.
“wanna cum again?” he asks, searching my eyes for any hesitation.
I nod, my heart pounding. “yes! fuck- yes please!!”
As Jungkook fills me, a gasp escapes my lips, a mix of pleasure and relief washing over me. Every inch of him feels like home, like the part of me I didn’t know I was missing until this very moment. It’s intoxicating, the way he moves, his body melding with mine as if we were always meant to be this way.
He begins to move, slow at first, savoring the moment. Each thrust sends ripples of pleasure coursing through me, and I can feel the tension in my body tightening. My nails dig into his back as I pull him closer, urging him to go deeper, to give me more of what I crave.
“Y/N,” he breathes, his voice strained and filled with desire. “fuck. you're so tight”
I can’t help but smile, the rush of excitement and control coursing through me as he loses himself in the moment. “You like this, huh?” I tease breathlessly, my hips meeting his with every thrust. “You like coming back to me, even after everything.”
He groans, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine, driving me wild. “I can’t help it. You drive me crazy.”
With each movement, the rhythm between us builds, and I can feel the way his body responds to mine, the way he lets go of everything else that exists outside this room.
“More,” I whisper, my voice barely above a breath. “I want more, Jungkook. Don’t hold back. fill me up”
His gaze sharpens, and there’s a flicker of something dark in his eyes. “You asked for it,” he warns, but there’s no hesitation as he picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming deeper and more urgent.
The world around us fades away, and it’s just the two of us—lost in our own little universe. I feel every sensation magnified, the pleasure building with each movement, spiraling higher and higher until I feel like I might burst.
“Y/N,” he gasps, his voice thick with desire. “You’re so fucking perfect. I can’t get enough of you.”
I can feel my walls tightening around him, the pressure building, and I know I’m close. “Jungkook,” I breathe, my voice trembling with need. “I’m going to—”
“Let go,” he urges, his breath hot against my ear. “show me who's making you cum like this.”
His words push me over the edge, and with a cry, I let the pleasure take over. It washes over me in waves, pulling me under until I can hardly breathe, and I can feel him following me, the way his body tenses, the deep groan that escapes his lips echoing in my ears.
“Y/N!” he cries out, and the sound sends another rush of pleasure through me as we both ride the waves of ecstasy together. The connection between us is electric, and I can’t remember ever feeling so alive.
As we both come down from the high, Jungkook collapses beside me, panting heavily, his chest rising and falling with every breath. I turn to him, a smile spreading across my face, knowing that despite everything, we always find our way back to each other.
“See?” I tease, nudging him playfully. “I told you you’d come back.”
He chuckles, looking over at me with that familiar warmth in his eyes. “You make it impossible not to.”
And just like that, the playful banter flows between us, the tension easing as we bask in the afterglow of what we just shared.
But then, the moment is interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing, cutting through the air. Jungkook’s expression shifts, and I can see the annoyance etched on his face as he glances at his phone.
“It’s Sewon,” he says, and I can’t help but roll my eyes at the interruption.
“Shouldn’t you pick it up?” I challenge, raising an eyebrow, trying to gauge his reaction.
He hesitates, his thumb hovering over the screen. “I don’t want to,” he admits, his voice low.
“Then don’t,” I reply, my heart racing at the thought of him choosing me over her, even if just for a moment.
But Jungkook sighs, and I can see the conflict in his eyes. “I have to,” he says reluctantly. “She’ll worry if I don’t.”
“Why should you care?” I shoot back, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “You’re here with me, not her.”
“I know,” he replies, running a hand through his hair. “But I don’t want to deal with her drama right now.”
“Then don’t,” I urge, my tone softening as I reach out to touch his arm. “Just be here. Be with me.”
He looks torn, glancing back at his phone before finally silencing it. “You’re right,” he says, his gaze locking onto mine. “I’ll deal with her later.”
I smile, feeling a surge of satisfaction. “Good. Now come here.”
He chuckles, leaning in to kiss me softly. “You always know how to get what you want, don’t you?”
“Of course,” I reply, smirking. “It’s what I do best.”
taglists : @crazyovayou @sinfullygay @minghaosimp @pitchblack0309
#rispwr#jungkook ff#bts#bts x reader#jungkook#jungkook smut#bts smut#jungkook bts#jeon jeongguk#jeon jungguk#bts jk#jeon jungkook#jeon jungkoooook#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x oc#jungkook x original character#bts ff#bts jungkook#bts fanfic#bts fic#bts army#bts au
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Meet the Family 1
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.
Characters: Lloyd Hansen
Note: um I woke up to this in my head. Sorry.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.
Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖
You honk your horn as another driver slowly veers toward the line. You’re not letting them in. If they can’t weave in, then they aren’t fast enough to leave the slow lane. You sigh and gesture at them as kindly as you can in that instant. You have enough going on.
Your phone starts to ring. Again. You tap the button on your steering wheel to answer. You would know who it is even without his custom ringtone. Your boss allows no space for breathing, even on a call.
“How far out are you, pixie?” Lloyd asks as you growl and lean on the gas pedal. You hate driving on the highway, especially at night, and the sky is steadily dimming.
“Close,” you assure him. “Next exit,” you flip your blinker on.
“Thank god. You got everything?”
Yeah, everything you forgot. You don’t give the dry retort aloud. You know better. Where your boss has no filter to be found, you find yourself often censoring yourself. As much for his ego as for others’. Arguing never gets you anywhere.
“I believe so--”
“You believe or you do?” He asks impatiently.
“Mr. Hansen, I got everything on the list,” you assure him. “All with a bow on top.”
“A life saver, pix, I swear,” he praises, but a compliment from him is rarely genuine, more transactional. You did him a favour so he’ll give you a treat.
“Alright, I need to get over, ramp’s coming up. So--”
“Yeah, yeah,” his ends rustles and you hear a muffled female voice, “I got shit going on too. You got the address, text me.”
He hangs up first. You can never be the first to end the call. He has to make the decisions. You just know how to guide him to the right one. You merge into the exit lane and follow the ramp away from the whirring stream of headlight. Finally.
You’re less than pleased to be within minutes of your destination. This isn’t how you envisioned your holiday. A last-minute itinerary change to fix yet another of Mr. Hansen’s oversights. It’s never a mistake, he’s just a man with so much going on that it slipped his radar. Another bandage for his ego.
The slower pace feeds your agitation. At least on the highway, you felt like you were getting somewhere. The lazy roll of the cars in the town tweaks at the nape of your neck. You just want to be in one place and that won’t happen even when you get to Mr. Hansen.
You’ll be lucky to have two hours of sleep before you have to catch your rebooked flight. Yep. You’ll play Santa and drop off your lot before hiding at the hotel long enough to dread the airport jungle. Then it’s off to your own familial obligations. Those are rarely enjoyable and being a day later than promised will hardly please your mother.
Your phone announces your arrival at the destination. The long drive of the over-sized suburban mansion is full. You park on the street and turn on the interior light. You get out and open the back seat. The whole medley of shiny paper and quaffed bows stares back at you.
You text Mr. Hansen and wait, huffing and puffing with impatience. Of course, you have to upheave your plans to meet his deadlines, but he’s taking his time. It’s not a surprise, not even a disappointment, you expected as much.
“Pixieee,” Lloyd drags out the last syllable, “there you are, pretty pixie.”
Pretty Pixie? He’s drunk or he’s going to ask for something else. You brace yourself as his shadow struts up the long driveway and passes beneath the cone cast by the tall street lights. Coloured lights glimmer over him from the eaves of the surrounding facades.
“Mr. Hansen, wrapped, labelled, everything you requested,” you gesture to the backseat.
“An angel. A true saviour, pixie,” he surprises you as he grabs your head, his palms pressing to your cheeks as he bends to kiss your forehead, “did I ever tell you you’re immaculate?”
“Mr. Hansen,” you gently pull his wrists until he drops his hands. You smell the alcohol radiating off of him.
“It’s the holiday, call me Lloyd, sweet cake,” he insists.
“Right,” you tut and turn to drag out the largest gift bag, “here, you better just take all this, I have to check-in--”
“About that,” he ignores the gift as you hold it out. “We’re just about to start dinner, you should pop in, have a bite.”
“I can’t, Mr. Hansen--”
“Of course you can,” he insists. You look up at him. His eyes gleam in the spectrum of lights shining from your car, the houses, and the tall poles. You sniff. He’s only tipsy, there’s still the hint of authoritarianism firmly implanted in his tone. “I told everyone you would.”
“Everyone?” You echo anxiously.
“The family,” he exclaims as if it should be obvious.
“Okay, I can come say hello but--” you wiggle the bag at him.
“Damn right you can,” he catches your hand and takes the bag. He drops it on the ground carelessly.
“Mr. Hansen, that’s fragile,” you say.
“Shhhh,” he grabs your hand and you curl and unfurl your fingers desperately, “Lloyd, remember?” He feels around in his pocket as he keeps you in his vice, “now, you just need to slip this on.”
He struggles to line up the ring with your finger as you squirm in confusion. What is he doing?
“Mr. Han--”
“Lloyd,” he growls, all humour trickling away. He squeezes until you whimper. “Look, I just need you to smile and bat those long lashes of yours, alright?”
“What’s going on?”
“As far as anyone knows, I proposed to you on Thanksgiving,” he says.
“Proposed?!” You nearly shriek.
He hushes you again and finally rams the ring down to your knuckle. “Look, pixie, mommy’s being a real pain in my ass so you just need to play along.”
“Mr.--”
“If I have to tell you one more time--”
“Lloyd,” you gulp, “please. I... this is... strange. What? Why? I have a flight in eight hours.”
“Cancel it,” he sneers. “Double time and a half for holiday overtime. See the family in the New Year.”
“What? That’s-- This is insane--”
“This is your job, honey,” he clings to your hand. “To do what I say or you can spend your January trawling the job boards.” He squeezes until the band digs into your flesh. “Now, I know Mr. Walker thinks you’re darling and he offered you a role last year but once I tell him about your little defiance issue, I don’t think he’ll be interested--”
“Huh?”
“I know a lot more than you think,” he grits. “Alright? So let’s start getting this shit inside. That’ll give you a chance to get yourself together.”
“Lloyd,” you gasp. “Why--”
“No more fucking question. Since when did you get so uppity,” he barks.
“Sir--”
“Ah, none of that, either,” he lets you go and waggles his finger in your face. “Relax. Have some eggnog when we get inside and take the edge off.”
“This can’t be happening,” you murmur.
“It’s fucking happening, alright?” He picks up the bag off the ground. “I keep you around ‘cause you’re quick on your feet, Pix, so let’s get to it.”
“Oh god,” you utter.
“Keep it to yourself,” he warns.
Your disbelief has you a bit dumb. You’re panicking. He knows you have an insurance policy with Walker and you have no doubt he’ll do all he can to spoil your future if you fuck around with his present. You’ve worked long enough for him to believe his threats, even when everything else is dubious.
You turn and grab several gifts from the backseat. You move out of his way and he gathers some more himself. He backs up and uses his knee to close the door. He nods you toward the house.
“Smile, act like you’re excited,” he commands.
You pass him and stare up at the blaze of holiday lights. The lawn is decorated with a Santa and sleigh, complete with all his reindeer. You make the march up the walk and towards the glowing windows that trim the front door.
Lloyd comes up next to you and kicks it, “open up.”
It isn’t long before obedience appears from the other side. You do a double take at the man who answers the door. He looks a lot like Lloyd but not. He doesn’t sport the same bristly stache and his hair neatly combed, the sides unshaved but tidy. He rolls his eyes.
“Was hoping you got lost in the snow,” the man scoffs.
“Shut up,” Lloyd shoulders through, “always a fucking prick, Hugh.”
The other man snarls, “don’t fucking call me that.”
“Aw, I’m sorry, baby boy,” Lloyd puts the gifts on the bench against the wall, under the large mirror with an elaborate frame. “Why don’t you go suck on mommy’s teat?”
“You’re disgusting,” the other man, Hugh, hisses.
“Speak for yourself. We’re the OnlyFans thot? She not joining us?”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“Fuck you, fuck me, we already did this, remember?” Lloyd faces him.
“And who’s this slut?” The man tosses you a sharp glare.
“Woah, man, that’s my future wife,” Lloyd lies so easily it startles you. He sounds almost genuine and you’ve never heard him sound like that. “Not a slut, so keep your eyes and your hands to yourself.”
“Huh, I didn’t believe it,” the man puts his hand on his hip as he looks you up and down, “she’s tiny.”
You narrow your eyes, speechless as they talk about you like a new lamp.
“Ransom,” Lloyd gestures to him derisively, “Pixie. Now you’ve met so you can skedaddle back to the liquor cabinet.”
The man, Ransom, snickers, “good luck, sweetheart,” he scoffs. “If you need a drink, just look for me. You probably will. At least for the next forty years.”
He struts off through the archway behind him and you look at Lloyd. He takes the armful of gifts from you and grumbles. He stops and crosses his arms.
“Well, get your boots off. Mom will kill you if you’re tracking salt all over her freshly polished floors,” he shakes his head. “And a bit of advice, stay away from my cousin. Ransom’s a fucking pest.”
“Right, sir.”
He tilts his head and you show your palms, “Lloyd.”
“Good girl,” he says and slips free of his loafers. “Now, you’re going to have to meet my parents before anyone else or I won’t hear the end of it. I’ve already got an earful. I know I shoulda booked that resort...”
You unzip your boots and set them aside on the rack. You stand and he beckons you past the open archway and down the hallway. You take in the decor; gold on beige on ivory. It’s all very luxurious.
He pushes through a white birch door and warmth enshrines you along with the smell of turkey. There’s a clattering beneath a shrill voice snapping out orders, “oh, not mashed, whipped!”
A tall blonde woman crosses her arms as she hovers like a vulture over the aproned staff crowded around the large marble island. Lloyd grabs your hand and drags you after him. Your socks slip on the tile as dread coils up your limbs.
“Mom, she’s here,” he announces as he gets close to her.
“Ugh, about time, they already set the table and I was dreading the empty plate,” she slithers. She turns her chin down to see you, “Oh, look at her. She’s so... petite.” She levels her hand with the top of your head, “much different than I envisioned.”
You look at Lloyd as he pushes his shoulders back. You’ve never heard anyone talk to him like that and you’ve never seen him so uptight. You turn your attention back to the woman.
“Hello, Mrs. Hansen, it’s nice to meet you,” you offer your hand.
She considers it then grabs it, turning the ring up. You examine the jewel as she does the same, your first glimpse at the thing. She harrumphs, “that’s the ring?”
“Mom,” Lloyd utters.
“Mm, very well. Dear, you may call me Gwenyth, not Mrs. Hansen,” she lets you go. “Now, dear son, out of my way. I’m trying to get dinner done.”
Lloyd stares at her, almost expectantly, the takes your hand again and leads you away. He pulls you back through the door. You don’t dare say a word. He leads you away from the kitchen and the wall of voices buzzing from the front room. He guides you through the archway opposite and around to another door.
He knocks and there’s a lull as you wait. He taps again. There’s coughing from the other side. “What do you want?”
“Just me, Dad,” Lloyd answers.
“Ugh, get in here then,” the timbre calls back.
Lloyd twists the knob and urges you in ahead of him. The smell of cigar smoke blows in with the cold wind. A gray-haired man puffs by the window, his efforts to puff through the opening sabotaged by the wintry gusts.
“Close the door. I don’t need the banshee sniffing me out,” he growls.
“Sure,” Lloyd shuts the door. “Dad, uh, this is her. The woman I told you about. My fiance.”
“Took you long enough,” the man sneers. You flinch and his grey eyes soften, “him, I mean. Forty-three years--”
“Dad,” Lloyd rasps.
“Well,” his father looks you over, “she’s young. Bit small...”
You do your best not to let your annoyance show. So you’re a little shorter than average.
“William,” he introduces himself, “and you are?”
“Pixie,” Lloyd answers for you.
“Didn’t ask you, boy,” William rebukes and keeps his eyes on you. “You smoke?”
You mull his question and sigh, “never tried it but I guess it’s never too late to start.”
William snorts, “truer words.” He puffs, “I don’t recommend it. Horrible habit.” He tamps out the stogie in a copper tray. “Well then, is the food ready, or did you just come to show me your woman?”
Lloyd stiffens and touches your lower back, “guess I just came to do that.” He mutters, “come on, let’s go get something to drink.” He turns and opens the door.
“Don’t let the smoke out,” William snips as you spin around.
#lloyd hansen#dark lloyd hansen#lloyd hansen x reader#series#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#the gray man#dark!lloyd hansen
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I’m so glad you’ve finished your school! I know school can be rough especially end of the year. Speaking of free time. 🥺👉👈 How about (surprise) angst/hurt with Han this time (at this point I’m trying to go through all the members at least once) Y/N is having just like, the worst day. They come home to Han for comfort but he is also having just like, the worst day. So they argue and Han walls out, but later there’s a fire at the apartment complex and when he comes back there’s like a whole scene and he freaks out. Y/N is already in the back of an ambulance and they’re fine but Han takes five ever to find them and is freaking out the entire time.
Calling you clingy
Han Jisung x Reader 한지성
a/n: Hi! I’m sorry if this took so long but I’m kinda struggling with my emotions lately and I don’t really like the way I write… hope you’ll like it tho
The day felt doomed from the moment you opened your eyes.
Your alarm hadn’t gone off, leaving you scrambling to get ready. You spilled coffee on your only clean shirt, missed your bus, and when you finally arrived at work, it was like the universe conspired against you. A project you’d poured your heart into was torn apart in a meeting, and the snide comments from a coworker still rang in your ears. By the time you walked through your apartment door that evening, you felt like a frayed wire—one spark away from snapping.
Han sat on the couch, earbuds in, a notebook balanced on his lap. His pen moved furiously across the page, his frustration evident in every stroke. Seeing him there, a small part of your tension eased. He’ll make this better, you thought. He always does…
“Hey,” you said softly, closing the door behind you.
He didn’t look up. “Hey.”
You hesitated, unsure if he’d even heard you. “Han… I’m sorry to bother you but I had the worst day. I don’t even know where to start. I just… I really need you right now. Please…”
You had always been nice to him, always making sure to give him his space. And he knew.
But this time, he sighed, setting his notebook aside but still not meeting your eyes. “Y/N, I can’t do this right now. I’m kind of drowning here myself.”
His words hit you like a cold wave. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he said, rubbing his temples, “I’ve been dealing with my own stuff all day. I’m exhausted too.”
You stared at him, your throat tightening. “I’m not asking you to solve anything, Han. I just wanted… I needed you to be here with me... I’m sorry-”
Finally, he looked at you, irritation flickering in his eyes. “Stop saying you’re sorry! It’s like… you can’t handle anything without me. You’re always leaning on me, and it’s—” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “It’s clingy, Y/N.”
The word sliced through you like a knife. “Clingy?” you echoed, your voice cracking.
Han stood, pacing in the small space. “Yes, clingy. Every time something goes wrong, I’m the first person you run to, and I can’t—”
“And what?” you interrupted, anger bubbling up. “You can’t handle that? I thought that’s what relationships were for—being there for each other!”
His voice rose to match yours. “It is! But I’m not your emotional punching bag! I have limits too!”
Your chest tightened, tears prickling at your eyes. “Fine. If I’m so clingy, maybe I should stop coming to you altogether.”
“Maybe you should.” His voice was cold.
He grabbed his keys from the counter and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The silence that followed felt deafening. You stood frozen, tears spilling over as his words echoed in your head.
You’ve never seen him like this. It hurt so bad it felt like you were drowning in your own tears.
You decided to listen to some music to distract yourself, until..
*Sniff sniff*
The smell of smoke was faint at first, so faint you ignored it. You thought it was coming from outside—someone burning leaves or a neighbor cooking. But then the fire alarm shrieked through the building, and the panic set in.
When you opened the door, smoke poured in, thick and choking. Flames flickered at the end of the hallway. Grabbing your phone and bag, you stumbled into the chaos, your heart pounding as the smoke burned your lungs.
By the time you made it outside, the cool night air felt like relief, but your head swam, and you couldn’t stop coughing. Paramedics found you, guiding you to an ambulance. You barely registered their words as they placed an oxygen mask over your face, the world spinning around you.
While you were fighting for your own life, Han wandered the city, replaying your argument in his head. At first, he felt justified—you’d been overwhelming lately, hadn’t you? But as the minutes stretched into hours, guilt started creeping in. You weren’t clingy; you trusted him enough to lean on him when things got tough. And he’d thrown that trust back in your face.
He turned toward the apartment, ready to apologize, when he saw smoke curling into the sky. His heart stopped.
“No. No, no, no,” he whispered, breaking into a sprint.
The fire was massive, consuming the upper floors of the building—your floor. His lungs burned as he ran, panic rising with every step. By the time he reached the scene, fire trucks and ambulances surrounded the complex.
“Y/N!” he shouted, shoving through the crowd of evacuees. “Have you seen Y/N?”
No one answered. He called your name again, louder this time, his voice cracking. His legs felt like they might give out, his thoughts racing to every worst-case scenario.
Finally, he spotted you in the back of an ambulance. Relief hit him so hard that he nearly collapsed.
“Y/N!” he cried, rushing to your side.
You looked up, your face pale but alive, the oxygen mask resting on your lap. “You came back,” you said hoarsely.
Han dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands shaking as he reached for yours. “I—I thought—I thought I lost you,” he stammered, tears streaming down his face. “I’m so sorry. I never should have left. I was selfish, and I was wrong. I’m so, so sorry.”
You stared at him for a moment, your expression unreadable. Finally, you pulled the mask down, your voice trembling. “You called me clingy, Han. You left me when I needed you most. Do you know how much that hurt?”
His face crumpled. “I know. I was an idiot. I didn’t mean it—I was overwhelmed, and I took it out on you. But I’ll never do that again. I swear. You mean everything to me, Y/N. Everything.”
Your lip trembled, tears welling up in your eyes. “You made me feel like I didn’t matter to you. Like I was just… too much.”
Han cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. “You’re not too much. You’ll never be too much. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you if I have to. I’m so sorry.”
For a moment, you hesitated, the pain still fresh in your chest. But the sincerity in his eyes—the fear, the guilt, the love—broke down your walls. You nodded slowly, leaning into his touch.
“Okay,” you whispered. “But it’s going to take time.”
He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his hands steadying as he held you close. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here.”
That night, you stayed together in your apartement, after making sure you were all right at the hospital, the weight of the day still heavy but no longer unbearable. Han didn’t let go of you for a second, whispering soft reassurances until your eyes closed.
You weren’t sure how long it would take to heal, but as you drifted off, you knew one thing: Han was willing to try.
@intartaruginha @hannamoon143 @omgsecretsecret @inlovewithstraykids @whoa-jo @madirye062 @vixensss @sseawavee @emilyywhyy @halfwinterhalfuniverse @velvetmoonlght @flourishmoon
#stray kids#skz#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#stray kids fluff#stray kids x y/n#han jisung#han jisung x reader#han x reader#stray kids imagines#han stray kids#han jisung angst#han jisung fluff#han x you#han x y/n#han angst#han fluff#han jisung comfort#han comfort#jisung stray kids
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‘1-800-fix it felix !’
in which; When your boyfriend has a problem he knows who to call! Can you fix it? featuring: s.gojo x afab! reader contains: masturbation, face time s3x , reader shows her br3asts over the camera, bathroom masturb@tion, pet names (babe, baby), reader being a tease, gojo being js a little bit subby
Satoru thinks of you all the time. He thinks of the new perfume you bought last week, of the pretty dress you wore to your last date. He thinks about how pretty you look when your hair is done all up, and about how sweet your voice sounds in this voice note you just sent him.
Fuck. He’s hard.
Can you blame him? You just woke up and for some inexplicable reason thought sending him a voice message while he’s at work is a good idea. Do you not notice the way you sigh your half-coherent words? Do you not notice the way you sigh out your words, barely coherent? Satoru swears he can feel his ears tingling at the longing in your voice for him.
You’re not making this at all easy.
Just as you start to drift back to sleep, there's a buzz somewhere around your head. Curses slip from your lips as you grope around the duvet, trying to locate your device with your half-asleep senses. With your eyes barely open, you try to read the contact name.
Of course it’s Satoru. Of course it’s a facetime call. He can’t settle for a damned text. It’s his brand at this point. You appreciate the attention, of course. But you’re sure you told him you’re going back to sleep in that voice note.
As soon as your finger swipes the little green icon to answer the call, you begin to speak, “I swear to god Satoru-”
“Hey baby,” he cuts you off. It sounds like he's in a confined space. A toilet stall, maybe? You're too sleepy to dwell on it. “I missed you”
“Mhmm..” You yawn. “‘Missed you too…”
The camera on his end is slightly shaky, and so is his breath. But in this sleepy state you can barely notice it really.
“What's up...?” you ask, flipping over and adjusting the phone, ”is everything okay?”
“Yeah—fuck—” his eyebrows furrow, giving you a moment of confusion. "You're looking so pretty—hah��baby."
“Satoru…” realization dawns on you, excitement stirring within. “Show me.”
The camera trembles as it takes him nearly a minute to respond to your request. Finally, his finger hits the flip camera button, giving you a shaky view of his fist wrapped around his length, stroking himself vigorously.
Pearly precum oozes from his tip, a thumb moving to spread it slightly before he goes back at it again.
“Oh? Is this all f’me?” You grin, observing his subdued grunts. It would be such a shame if someone were to come into the bathroom right now. “This early in the morning, too? Couldn’t you wait to get home at least?”
“Sh– hah– shut up,” he picks up the pace, starting from the very base, “at least make yourself– useful.”
Your tongue glides across your lower lip, considering your next move. While you love watching Satoru struggle on his own like this, relishing at the revelation that it’s the thought of you that makes him like this, you also think a little assistance wouldn’t harm.
“What do you wanna see?” You smirk smugly, enjoying this ordeal.
“Fuck– fuck– baby,” he’s quiet resilient with it, strokes increasing in pace little by little. “Sh-show me your tits, baby.”
“Hmm? What if I don’t?” Undeniably, you’re gonna regret this later. You savor the moment nonetheless. There’s a certain sort of zest in the control you have over this moment.
“Fuck you,” his fist tightens around his dick, veins popping out. You love the view. God, you wish you were there to help. Your thighs tighten to squelch the heat growing in your core. “Please, baby, ‘wanna see my girl’s pretty– shit– tits”
That’s enough to convince you. More than enough, actually. Without hesitation, you lift your t-shirt up, showing him a view that nearly makes him faint. He can almost feel the warmth of your skin against his. He feels his climax reaching. You move your fingers, massaging your breast. That was his endgame.
A string of curses begins to slip past his lips, along with a grunted “I’m gonna- fuck- I'm gonna cum-”
Your grin widens, biting your lower lip. “Mhm… so hard for me, ‘Toru..? Wish I was there to help…” Your words come out stretched, all on purpose. It causes a robust groan to thunder through him. The view begins to totter. With a final groan, milky robes seep out of Storu’s shaft, running down his white knuckles and onto his thighs. His breathes even out as he comes down from his high.
“You’re welcome,” you hum, satisfied. You put the phone to your side, pulling your shirt back down. When you picked the phone back up, the call was hung up. You almost feel offended, rushing to text him a ‘what the fuck?’
Before you could text him the half-angry message, your phone vibrates again.
‘sorry babe someone came in’ - 8:46 am ‘ill call u later’ - 8:46 am ‘love ya’ - 8:47 am
You roll your eyes, definitely planning on bringing this up later. Going back to sleep will be hard with the stain on your underwear.
Maybe you’re going to be the one to call this time so he could fix it.
#bella writes#gojo satoru#jjk#gojo x reader#jjk smut#gojo#gojo smut#gojo x reader smut#jjk x reader#jjk x reader smut#gojo satoru x reader fluff#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x reader smut#satoru gojo#satoru gojo smut#satoru gojo x reader#gojo satoru smut#one more time hopefully
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Snowbound Warmth – Tom Bennett x female!reader
Pairing: Tom Bennett x fem!reader
Summary: You and your boyfriend Tom had actually planned an evening at the pub. Meeting friends and spending a nice time together. But a snowstorm threw a spanner in the works. But that's just how Tom is: he doesn't let it spoil your evening.
Warnings: 18+ NSFW, blowjob
Author’s note: English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:
Word count: 1.7k
Other stories of mine
12 Days of Smuffmas
12 Days of Smuff
The snowstorm has descended on Manchester with a ferocity that neither Tom nor you had anticipated. By the time the first flakes started to fall, Tom had been pacing about his room, eager to take you to his favorite pub, a snug little spot tucked into a side street. It was the kind of place where the laughter of patrons mixed with the clink of glasses and the occasional strains of a piano. He’d planned to get you both a few drinks, maybe even dance if the mood struck him.
But now, the world outside his window is nothing but a swirling blur of white. The snow comes down so heavily it obliterates the view of the cobblestone streets and gas lamps he loves. It frustrates him; plans dashed by something as uncontrollable as weather.
He lets out a low sigh, exhaling smoke from the cigarette perched between his fingers. The warmth of the room contrastes starkly with the winter’s chill seeping through the cracks in the old building. His gaze shifts from the window to you, sitting cross-legged on his bed, casually flipping through a magazine. You look so at ease, lost in the glossy pages, and it brings a soft smirk to his lips.
“Y’know,” he says, his tone teasing as he flicks ash into a tray, “I was really hopin’ to show off my fancy moves at the pub tonight.” He turns fully to face you, leaning against the windowsill, the cigarette dangling lazily between his fingers. “Turns out, Mother Nature’s got other ideas.”
You don‘t look up immediately, still engrossed in an article, but you hum in acknowledgment. That only spurs him on.
“Oi,” he says, stepping closer, his cheeky grin growing. “Don’t go ignorin’ me now. It’s bad enough the weather’s givin’ me the cold shoulder.”
Finally, you glance up, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sulking, Tom?”
“I’m just sayin’—seems like a shame for two good-lookin’ people like us to waste a night doin’ nothin’.”
You close the magazine and set it aside. “Well, what do you suggest? Unless you’ve got a snowplow hidden somewhere, we’re not getting out of here anytime soon.”
Tom takes a long drag of his cigarette, his eyes narrowing playfully as he considers his options. He blows out the smoke slowly, then stubbs out the cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside table. “Well,” he starts, his voice dropping into that familiar, mischievous lilt, “if we’re stuck here, we might as well make it… interesting.”
You tilt your head, intrigued. “Interesting how?”
“Oh, I dunno,” he says, sitting down beside you on the bed, his knee brushing yours. “Thought maybe we could find a way to keep warm. You know, since the snow’s got it freezing in here.”
You laugh softly, but his tone wasn’t entirely unserious. He leans back on his elbows, watching you with a glint in his eye, the kind that always spells trouble—or fun, depending on your perspective.
“You’re terrible,” you say, shaking your head.
“And you love it,” he shoots back, grinning. “Come on, what else are we gonna do? Sit here and stare at the walls? Nah, I reckon we make the most of it. Could even have our own little dance—no pub required.”
He pushes himself upright again, extending a hand toward you. “What d’you say? Give us a twirl, eh?”
You laugh again but take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. There isn‘t much space in his modest room, but Tom doesn‘t care. He starts humming a tune, spinning you around with a surprising amount of grace.
It doesn‘t take long for his lack of rhythm to become glaringly obvious. His steps are clumsy, a bit too eager, and he nearly trips over his own feet as he spins you around. You can’t help it—you burst into laughter, doubling over as he fumbles to regain his footing.
“Oi, what’s so funny?” he protests, though his grin is wide. He catches your hands to steady himself, his eyes twinkling with playful defiance. “I’m a bloody brilliant dancer, I’ll have you know.”
“Brilliant?” you repeat through giggles. “You’re all left feet, Tom!”
He gasps in mock outrage as if you’d just wounded his pride. “That’s rich, comin’ from someone who hasn’t danced a single proper step tonight!”
“I can’t when you’re stepping all over me,” you tease, dodging his attempt to pull you closer.
“Alright, alright,” he says, raising his hands in surrender, though the smirk on his face tells you he isn‘t done. “If dancing isn’t your thing, maybe we ought to try somethin’ else.”
You narrow your eyes, wary but amused. “Like what?”
He doesn‘t answer immediately, letting the question hang in the air as he wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you close again. His other hand rests lightly on your hip, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your skirt. The touch is casual enough to feign innocence, but the cheeky glint in his eyes betrays him.
“Oh, I dunno,” he says after a beat, his voice dropping an octave. “Reckon I’ve got a few ideas.”
“You always have ideas, Tom. Doesn’t mean they’re good ones.”
His hand on your waist tighten just slightly, pulling you even closer. “I’ll have you know, my ideas are bloody brilliant. Genius, even.”
“Right,” you reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Let me guess—this one involves me doing all the work while you sit back and enjoy yourself?”
“Now you’re catchin’ on,” he quips, his grin widening. He leans in, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs, “What d’you say, love? Thought you might fancy makin’ me feel better after all this weather ruined our plans.”
You shov him playfully, laughing as he tumbles back onto the bed. “You’re ridiculous,” you say, shaking your head.
Tom props himself up on his elbows, watching you with that same cheeky smirk. “Ridiculously charming, maybe. Go on, admit it—you love me for it.”
You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrays you. Snowstorm or not, Tom knows exactly how to keep things interesting—and keep you laughing, even as his hands wandered in hopes of turning the evening decidedly in his favor.
When you finally collaps back onto the bed, Tom props himself up beside you, his face inches from yours. “See?” he murmurs, his voice softer now. “Told you we’d find a way to pass the time.”
“Still terrible,” you tease. He leans in just slightly, his nose brushing against yours. “And still irresistible,” he whispers.
You giggle slightly, “Go on, tell yourself that,” you whisper teasingly and he growls slightly while his hand moves up your thigh. He kisses the tip of your nose, almost a gentle gesture if you didn't feel him gently pressing his growing hardness against you. You giggle again, “Somehow I think I know what you have in mind for how we can pass the time,” you whisper, and he pretends to be clueless. “I dunno what you mean...“ he mumbles with his typical grin. ”Ah... okay...“ you say and straighten up to slide off the bed. Tom watches you and raises his eyebrows slightly. ”Mhm... I think I like the way you think,” Tom says, leaning back relaxed, his arms behind his head, watching you.
You kneel between his legs, your hands gliding up his thighs, and you know how his cock is throbbing with desire in his pants. You bite your lip slightly, your hands sliding higher. Tom responds with a small growl as he watches your fingers play with the button of his pants. You slowly unbutton them, his hardness obviously pressing against the fabric of his pants.
Slowly, you push down his trousers, his length springs free. You reach for it, your teeth still not releasing your lower lip. You let your thumb slide over the tip of his cock, smearing the precum. Your eyes focus on Tom's face as his cock twitches in your hand. His eyes are closed and he moans slightly. You love these moments when his cheeky nature fades into the background and you just see pure emotion flowing through him.
Slowly, you lean forward and your lips close around the tip of his cock. “Fuck,” Tom growls, his hips twitching involuntarily as you gently suck. The salty taste of his precum spreads across your tongue. He slides one hand into your hair, gripping it lightly, while you try to take in as much of his length as you possible.
Your teeth slide gently over his skin and he grunts softly. Your muffled moans fill the room as more precum fills your mouth. His hips thrust up slightly, but this time deliberately, and you gag slightly. Your throat tightens around the tip of his cock and Tom groans.
Your mouth slides up and down, trying to get all of his length into your mouth. You try to breathe relaxed through your nose, but the thrusting of his hips prevents you from doing so. The hand in your hair pushes you down slightly and you moan again, feeling the throbbing between your thighs intensify. Your head bobs, lewd, wet sounds fill the small space you both occupy, accompanied by Tom's grunts.
“Yeah, babe... take me deeper in your mouth...” he grunts and you let your lips slide up and down faster. The thrusting of his hips becomes sloppy, his cock twitches violently in your mouth, almost impatiently. You continue to suck his twitching cock, swirling your tongue around the slick head, while your one hand starts pumping his length and then you hear the moan.
Tom’s legs tensed, driving himself deep into your salviating mouth once more, hot cum spilling down your throat as you eagerly swallow his cum. He is panting and gruntin while his cum is filling your mouth. His hand clenches in your hair and you moan, trying to swallow all his cum. When his cock stops twitching and you have swallowed everything he has given you, you release his cock from your mouth with a pop and wipe your mouth clean.
You look up at him and smile. He is breathing heavily, his eyes closed, a slight smile on his lips. You slowly get up and crawl back onto the bed. Even before his eyes open, you gently kiss his lips.
He hums contentedly, his breathing still heavy.
“Have you thought of something like that?“ you whisper and you feel him smile slightly.
“This is pretty close...” he mutters and suddenly grabs you. You squeal slightly, but giggle as he pushes you onto the bed and rolls on top of you.
#12daysofsmuff#12 days of smuff#tom bennett#tom bennett x you#tom bennett x y/n#tom bennett imagine#tom bennett fanfiction#tom bennett fanfic#tom bennett smut#tom bennett fluff#world on fire#ewan mitchell#tom bennett x reader#12daysofsmuffmas#12 days of smuffmas#tom bennett fic#tom bennett world on fire#tom bennett x oc
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Retirement Party
Chapter 6 - The Butterfly Effect
Read on AO3
<<First Chapter - < Prev Chapter - Next Chapter >
Contains: No Y/N (2nd POV but Reader is an OC), Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Dubcon, Plus-sized Reader/OC, female Reader/OC, Everyone learns new things about each other, Manipulation, PTSD, Doll has a tragic backstory, Poorly translated Spanish, Lots of introspection
~4.2k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above but honestly nothing particularly bad happens this chapter.
John gives you space for the next few days, letting you settle in around the edges of his own routine. You’ve always been an early riser, and so is he, but he starts every day with a run, and you prefer a slower pace. You’ve taken to coming downstairs after you hear the front door close, and stretch on the living room floor (you wouldn’t call it yoga, but you’ve spent the last few years keeping up with the Kinsey kids, and you know how important it is to maintain flexibility), and make coffee before you go back upstairs to get dressed and ready for the day. John always showers first thing after his run, but after the second day he starts taking off his shirt before he drinks a glass of water at the sink, watching you from the corner of his eye to see if you’re looking.
And maybe sometimes you are. It would be a useless endeavour, pretending that he’s not nice to look at. He’s big, barrel-chested, with thick, muscular arms, and he’s hairy in a way that’s unbelievably attractive, and he gleams with sweat after his runs. If he didn’t look so damn smug every time he catches you looking, you’d probably gladly spend a few long minutes studying him. Something about the man makes your fingers itch to pick up a pencil.
You just orbit around each other for those first few days. He’s working on some project outside, and you putter around the house a bit and look for new jobs online. You were surprised that he didn’t confiscate your laptop to keep you from calling for a rescue, but he made no effort to stop you from using your laptop or your phone. Perhaps he’d really listened when you’d tried to set boundaries. He’s certainly given you space to adjust.
On Wednesday, you video call your Lola— It’s been routine for ages, since you always had Sundays and Wednesdays off from work— and catch up. You start the call shortly after John leaves, to give yourself some time to talk privately. It’s nice to see her familiar, wrinkled brown face, even if she’s half the world away from you.
She clocks that you’re not at home right away, and gets that sly, knowing smile when you tell her you’re staying with a friend. “¿Estás viendo a alguien?” she asks. “¿Un joven tal vez?” Are you seeing someone? A young man perhaps?
“No nada de eso. Sólo quedarme con un amigo.” No, nothing like that. Just staying with a friend. Once again, lying to make it seem like you’re not in trouble. It’s not like your Lola would be able to do anything about your situation anyway. You would just worry her.
Of course, Lola is much too observant not to see that you're hiding something-- Even if all she sees of you is a video call once a week, you're her granddaughter and she knows you. "Dalisay," she says, her tone a mocking approximation of sternness. "Eres una mujer adulta. Me gustaría saber que eres feliz, que estás saliendo con alguien agradable. No tienes que mentirme. Mientele a tu otra abuela.” You are a grown woman. I would like to know you're happy, that you’re seeing someone kind. You don't have to lie to me. Lie to your other grandmother.
You laugh. "¡Es complicado Lola! Él es—" It's complicated Lola! He's—
The door opens, and John limps back in, early. "Rolled my ankle," he explains, taking your wide-eyed look as concern. "Just need some ice."
"Muéstramelo," Lola demands, laughing. "Tiene una voz hermosa.” Show him to me. He has a handsome voice.
John turns toward you, frowning. "I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"
"I always call Lola on Wednesdays-- John, sit down, you need to ice your ankle, what are you doing?"
He's standing on one leg, in the middle of the kitchen, fishing a mug out of the cupboard rather than getting something cold and sitting right down. "I--"
You're not sure what possesses you, but you get up, and you make him sit, and you go to make him his coffee and wrap a bag of frozen peas in a tea towel. When you turn around, he's reached across the table to pull your laptop closer, smiling at the camera when Lola claps he hands together, beaming.
"Es guapo, Dalisay. Pero no joven, ¿eh?" She says, laughing. He's handsome, Dalisay. But not young, huh?
"No," he agrees, "soy demasiado viejo para ella. Todavía soy lo suficientemente egoísta como para intentarlo de todos modos.” I'm too old for her. I'm still selfish enough to try anyway. Lola laughs at his honesty, pleased with John already.
You set down the coffee and glare at him. But you gently set the ice pack on his raised ankle. He pulls you into his lap, sitting you on his other thigh. "John!" You protest.
"Oh, relájate, apo,” Lola chides, unhelpfully reading the situation just the way John wants her to. She seems impressed by John's accented Spanish, happy to not need to translate her words to English to speak with him. She speaks English perfectly well, but she prefers Spanish, calls English clunky and ungraceful. "Yo también fui joven una vez. Me preocupaba que ella nunca encontrara a alguien.” Oh lighten up, apo. I was young once too. I was worried she would never find someone.
"No es que ella no pudiera,” John says. "Ella es tan hermosa, pero mantiene la distancia." It's not that she couldn't. She's so beautiful, but she keeps her distance.
“John, stop that,” you say, and you do mean the way he’s talking, but you also mean the hand that’s firmly gripping your hip, kneading your soft flesh. It’s not hard enough to bruise, not even enough to hurt, but it’s distracting, and makes your heart flutter. The movement is also hitching your skirt up a little higher on your thighs.
The innocent, laughing look he gives you is no help. “Sorry, love.” He kisses your shoulder, his hand sliding up to your waist instead.
You glance over at the screen, wincing when you see two of your cousins crowded into the screen with Lola, all of them stifling laughter and one of them holding a chubby baby.
“He needs to buy you a ring, cuz,” Ligaya says, waving her baby’s chubby hand at you. “Say hello Berting, that’s your auntie Dalisay and her boyfriend.” She and her sister, Ceci dissolve into giggles. The baby laughs too, although he doesn’t have any idea what’s going on around him.
“He’s too old to be anyone’s boyfriend,” you grouse.
“He looks more like husband material to me,” Ceci crows. She points a threatening finger at the webcam. “You’d better be good to her! She’s our favourite cousin.”
“Y mi nieta favorita,” Lola says, And my favourite granddaughter, cupping her hand around her mouth as if that would keep Ligaya and Ceci from hearing her. They both laugh, unoffended, Ceci batting Lola’s shoulder lightly.
“I will,” John promises. “She makes it easy. She’s much too good for the likes of me.”
“And don’t you forget it, English!” Ligaya agrees. “Are you coming to see us for Christmas this year, Lisay? There’s at least four babies you haven’t met yet.”
“I’m not sure I can afford to this year. We’ll see if I can find work—”
“¿Qué pasó? ¿Perdiste tu trabajo?” Lola asks. What happened? Did you lose your job?
“You practically raised those niños!” Ligaya protests, as if that would change the facts of the matter. “They love you!”
You grimace, and haltingly explain that Mr. Kinsey had made a pass at you, and you’d been fired so that he and his wife could work out their marital issues. Apparently you’d been just too tempting to have around, despite the fact that you had less than zero interest in your former employer. By the end of your explanation, Lola looks ready to fight, and Ligaya and Ceci both look furious too. “It’s alright,” you say, trying to convince yourself as much as you are them. “I wouldn’t have been able to leave if they didn’t fire me. And I didn’t want to be raising someone else's’ kids forever.”
Ceci wiggles her eyebrows at you. “Yeah, Lisay, you want your own babies, eh?”
“You should start painting again,” Ligaya suggested, flicking Ceci with the hand not currently supporting her son. “You could sell prints online, portrait commissions. You’re as good as your mother, and she made it into that London Gallery.”
Lola notices the way your smile strains and shoos your cousins away. “El consejo es bueno aunque graznan,” she says. “Eres demasiado buena para dejar de pintar.” The advice is good, even if they quack. You’re too good to stop painting.
You change the subject, and Lola talks some about the children, about neighbourhood gossip, catching you up on everything before you end the call. You sigh, sinking into John unconsciously. He’s so big, and so solid, you wish you could do away with that undercurrent of fear ruining the little comfort his arms would provide you otherwise.
“Why’d you stop painting?” he asks.
“It’s not the same anymore.”
“Is anything ever the same?”
You twist to look at him. His eyes are too blue, piercing though you like he’s able to read the thoughts in your head. You have to remind yourself that he can’t, that he doesn’t know you well enough even to guess. You’re getting to know him pretty well though, and you recognize this earnestness, this plea to let him in, to let him help. John is a man who needs to do something all the time, that needs to focus on a task. You wonder what it is that nips at his heels so sharply— Is is inherent, genetic, something unavoidable, written in the core of his very deepest, truest self? Or is it just that he’s running from something, and must stay in motion, driving himself ever forward to keep it from catching up?
“Have you ever lost anyone, John?”
Surprise widens his eyes for a flickering second, before he hides it behind a tight smile. “Think we’re talking about you, Doll.”
“You don’t have to answer. I think it’s just easier to understand, when you have. Painting just reminds me of my mam. It’s like trying to swim with lead shoes on. It’s so hard to keep my head above the water that it’s easier just not to swim.”
“Maybe you could try takin’ off the lead shoes,” he suggested, his arms tightening around you. Levity and reassurance, like he knows exactly what you need. “Or maybe you just shouldn’t go swimmin’ alone.”
“A lifeguard,” you say, rolling the thought around in your head. Maybe that was the problem, the empty space was too apparent when there was no one around to fill it. You’d painted the flowers on the credenza with Ripley there, and that had even been nice. You’d thought it was just a fluke, but you hadn’t really thought about why it had been different. “That’s an interesting thought.”
“Did you have everything you’d need? We can look through the boxes for your supplies.”
You shake your head. “No. Yes. I have watercolours somewhere. Just no acrylics. But I could start with watercolours.”
“Yeah? We can look now, if you like.”
“Maybe in a bit. I’ll make breakfast first.”
“I can do it,” he offers quickly. “I want to take care of you.”
As much as you aren’t quite ready to admit it, he already is. “No, I think it’s my turn. Just give me a minute. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, but this is kind of nice.”
He hums his agreement, picking up his coffee. You think he’s doing it so he can’t kiss you, and you’re so pleased that he’s starting to get it that you almost consider kissing him instead.
But you don’t. You just let yourself enjoy the moment.
Maybe that’s enough, for now.
You decide that having him sit and watch you painting would be awkward, so once you hunt down your watercolours and a sketchbook with heavy paper, you set up outside while he works. He’s constructing some kind of frame over a concrete pad, a covered porch, you think. You sit out of the way, facing the copse of trees that surround the house, and the overgrown, weedy garden. It looks like it had been set up early in the season with the best of intentions, but you suspect that it was too hard on his knees and back. He’d made the mistake of planting everything straight in the ground— You probably would have suggested planter boxes, if you’d been here in the spring. Then he could have sat on a stool— It would have helped keep the bunnies out too. The few tomatoes left on an abandoned vine have little bites nibbled out of them— Almost everything has little bites taken out of it.
It makes you smother a laugh. It’s easy to imagine John railing against nature— He’s so stubborn, there’s no way he gave up for a good long time— Cursing the rabbits and deer, leaning over the once-neat rows until his back ached. There’s a pair of rusting garden shears stuck out of the ground, evidence that he quit in a fit of pique some months ago.
He’s looking at you— He has a sense for when you let happiness slip through, like a hound picking up a rabbit’s trail in the woods. You can feel the burn of those bright blue eyes on you, the heavy weight of his attention. Does he make note of everything you smile at? You wonder how long the list is now. Puppies, the Stuart kids, Lola and your cousins, and now his poor attempts at gardening. You haven’t really let much else get past your careful, polite mask, knowing full well that stone-walling him is your best defence. He’s searching for an opening, and once he finds it, he’ll pop you open like a clam.
It seems inevitable. Still, he’ll have to work for it, if he wants you to let him in. He’s already set himself the first of his Herculean tasks, to get you painting again. It would be easier to face the Nemean lion. Your grief has sharp teeth, unblunted even after a decade, still dug deep into your heart.
“You aren’t painting,” John says in your ear. His hands settle on your shoulders, holding you in your seat when surprise would launch you a few centimetres into the air.
You turn your head to look at him, and he’s far too close. “You aren’t working.”
“Takin’ a break. You look like you’re thinkin’ hard about something. What’s on your mind, Doll?”
“Your garden. Must have been a storm of misfortunes to make you give up.”
“Few things get the better of me, but this was one of ‘em. Have to settle for buyin’ produce at the shops like everyone else.”
“It’s not really so hard.”
“You the expert in gardening?”
“No, I just used to help my gran with her garden. Picked up a thing or two about keeping green things alive.” You take a dry paintbrush and dust it over his fingertips idly.
“That the one we talked to today?” he asks.
“No, that’s Lola. Gran is the Scottish one.”
He hums, smooths out tension in your shoulders with his thumbs, catching the slightest touch of your skin at the collar of your sweater. "Didn't think you had family in the UK."
You tip your head back, looking up at him. He shifts, leaning his forearms on the back of the chair, hanging over you. "Just my Gran, she got remarried a bit before we moved to Manchester. She thought her husbands-- Well, I'll say kids, but they were full adults, older than my mam already-- She thought they were more respectable than my parents. Wouldn't categorize her as a real warm and fuzzy lady."
"You don't talk then?"
"No. Not since my parents died. We had a proper row at the funeral and she's never apologized, and I'm certainly not going to."
"Learnin' a lot about you today, Doll."
“That I’m stubborn and that I distance myself from the people that love me?” you ask, flicking the paintbrush at the tip of his nose. His whole face scrunches, and it’s kind of endearing. You’re already feeling soft about him from this morning, because Lola liked him, and because he didn’t ask if she spoke English, just launched right into Spanish that was a maybe a little rough around the edges, but good enough.
“That,” he agrees. “But I think it’s good that you hold your ground. You’re not stubborn for the sake of it, you say what needs to be said. I’d bet good money that you were in the right.”
“It doesn’t always matter who’s right and who’s wrong, John. Sometimes you have to set aside ego to make things right.”
“Tryin’ to teach an old dog new tricks?” he asks.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll teach yourself. Now go on, get. You’re distracting me.” You wrap your hands around one of his, and press a fleeting kiss to a spot between his thumb and his wrist before releasing him. “And be careful of your ankle. If you need to carry something heavy, let me help you.”
He laughs and withdraws, his shadow sliding over your page as he moves away. “Yes ma’am. You’re pretty cute when you’re bossy.”
“I’m always cute,” you say blithely.
You don’t look at him, so you miss the way he glances back over his shoulder, blue eyes burning. “You’re damn right about that.”
Ducking your head down to hide your smile, you pick your pencil up and look back to the garden. Something about the red-handled shears stuck in the soil speaks to you, so you lightly sketch it out on the page, humming to yourself quietly. The next things you need to hunt down are your headphones and the old mp3 player so you can listen to music while you paint.
There’s something soothing about hearing John work anyway. The whirr of his drill as he screwed framing lumber into place, or the buzz of his saw when he cuts pieces to size. He’s methodical, exacting— What makes him so good at building probably made him a poor gardener too. He can cut and fit pieces of wood together to make any shape he pleases, he can make a plan and nothing will fight back against it, beyond a warped bit of lumber here and there, but a garden grows as it will, and there’s no controlling the wind or the sun or the rain, let alone the creatures that might come looking for something tender and green.
That same struggle plays out between the two of you. He sees a map and a destination where you see a landscape. The journey, the exploration, is what matters to you, the light and shadow, the soft growing things and the hungry teeth that nip at the roots. In his mind he’s already built a house at the top of the hill, and he wants to pull you inside, lay you down, plant his seeds in a different garden, watch something new grow. It’s not simply impatience, but a need for control, for surety.
He exerts that control outwards, bending the world to the shape he likes. You’ve always turned it inwards, pulling in on yourself, turning your life into a safe little cocoon, turning deprivation and isolation into an art. Constructing masks to get you through, reliable scripts, being whomever you need to be to make things easier.
And perhaps it was easy, but it was lonely too.
Maybe they really had done you a favour. By pulling you out of your comfortable routine, they’ve forced you to face yourself, for the first time in ages, to ask yourself what it is that you want, to see who you are.
You feel like a butterfly, wings still damp and unfurling, perched in John’s hand. He could risk letting you fly away, or he could force you to stay by destroying some integral part of you. There’s no telling which path he intends to take, not yet.
You can just hope.
It might be insane— It certainly feels insane— but you really want him to be a good man. Not just out of self-preservation, although it probably weighs something in the equation, but because you want him. He’s right when he says there’s something here, something that’s been rolling around in the back of your mind since Ghost dumped you in his lap. It hasn’t even been a week, but it feels longer.
You keep half an eye on him while you put the first pale washes of colour onto paper. A few small versions first, to get a handle on light and shadow, colour values, just to remember how to mix colours the way you want to, and then start on the larger version, feeling a little more confident.
You’ve just blocked in the base colours when you notice that John’s limping again, and showing no sign of stopping his work. Sighing, you set your paintbrush down and stand. “John,” you say gently, putting yourself in the path between the saw set up and his lumber pile. “It’s time to take a break.”
“No, I’m fine, Doll. Get back to your painting.” He tries to move around you, but you side-step and block his path again. “It’s just a sprain,” he says, exasperated. “I’ve worked through worse.”
As if that was a good reason to ignore pain. “And you never considered that maybe you shouldn’t have had to?”
He frowns down at you. The difference in your heights has to be at least a foot, but he has a funny way of tucking in his chin and hanging his head when you’re standing close like this, and looking at you straight on anyway. A soft little hand settles on his stomach, unbidden— You’re not sure that you’ve instigated contact with him before, it’s always been him reaching out for you, his big hands achingly gentle. Is anyone ever gentle with him? Is he ever gentle with himself?
“The work will still be here tomorrow,” you remind him. “You have time to rest.”
A raindrop splashes on your outstretching arm. The two of you look up in tandem, at a heavy grey cloud that’s rolled over head— It hasn’t blocked out the sun yet, and neither of you had noticed it creeping up— and then at each other. “Guess the weather agrees with you,” John says.
You both scramble apart and into action. John covers the pile of lumber and the saw with tarps, weighed down with a few odd bricks so they won’t blow away, and you quickly pack up the water colours and your paintings. You don’t get there in time to stop a few splashes of rain from hitting the page, but you get everything inside before it’s completely soaked and set it on the kitchen table for the moment.
While you’re filling the kettle and looking outside, watching the rain splash against the window, John comes in too, and looks at your work. “The rain ruined it,” he says. “I should have been paying more attention to the weather.” There’s guilt in his voice, as if it’s his fault that the rain chose to fall where and when it did.
You set the kettle to boil, and join him, studying the paintings. Each of them unrefined— The smaller ones are just work-ups anyway, but the raindrops have warped the colours, creating voids with saturated edges. You wouldn’t say they’re ruined. There’s an artistry to incident, story preserved on paper in a way that your art wouldn’t do alone.
“No, I like it better this way,” you say decisively. “It underlines the theme of futility, don’t you think? How we’re at the mercy of the weather, whether we like it or not.”
“S’pose so,” he admits grudgingly.
His mouth is set so it almost disappears under his moustache. He really does hate the reminder that he has no control over some things. You dash upstairs and grab a couple of towels and tuck them under your arm, and take John’s hand, leading him out onto the front porch.
He follows you without resistance, although there’s a funny, curious look on his face. “What’re you doing?”
You let go, and put the towels down on the bench. “What does it look like I’m doing?” The rain is coming steadily now, the sky turned darker, sun all but blotted out, and it’s cold on your skin when you step out from the shelter and into the downpour. You throw your arms out and spin, laughing.
There are many things in this life that you can’t control. Things that are fixed, unchanged and immovable, laws of nature, the whims of weather, and Captain John Price. But you have choices too. You can try to move a mountain, but you’d be better climbing over it. You can choose to struggle against the current, or let it sweep you along. You can dance in the rain rather than wish it were sunny.
And you can hold out your hand, and invite John to dance with you.
Image Credits: Banner Dividers
#Cave Writing#Retirement Party#RP Chapter 6 - The Butterfly Effect#John Price x OC#OC: Doll#John Price x Reader#x reader#call of duty modern warfare fanfiction#It's funny to tag it that when it is like sooooo far removed from the source material#Thanks for your patience everyone! This chapter kicked my ass#transitions are hard#If the Spanish is bad please let me know it is google translated and only slightly peer reviewed
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R ur requests open??? Can I please get a gender bent Rarity, Applejack, and Twilight x fem (or gn if you don't do fem specifically) Pegasus reader headcanons pretty please 🥺 idk if you do NSFW but if you don't I don't mind just fluff
Please I'm desperate🙏🙏 ❤️❤️❤️✨✨❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🙏
Aight. No gender mentioned really :P
Dusk Shine, Elusive & Applejack w/a Pegasus Reader
1. Dusk Shine + Reader
Unicorn! Dusk will probably be annoyed if you're the type to prank him just because you can fly. But what you didn't know is that he just lets you prank him. You should know that by a spark of his magic, he can easily stop your pranks but he loves you too much that he loves to see you smile.
If you don't mind, can you help him carry or deliver things for him? Of course that is if you don't mind. He's just a little busy so he would appreciate your help in any way. Even if sometimes you have to convince HIM to let you help. He's a loner, he's used to being alone but then you swoop in into his personal space and he doesn't know what to do.
Alicorn! Dusk is a little more open. He still likes being alone but now he doesn't mind or grumble to anypony wanting to hang out with him. Therefore, you are more than allowed to be more lovey dovey with him just as long as you know how to limit them. He's still a little shy.
Now that he has wings, you two can fly together now! Which lead to a lot of fun small races against each other. More than once, ponies of equestria can see blurs of two different colours in the sky and Rainbow Blitz interrupting y'all to join in the race.
Overall, whichever Dusk is, he still loves you in his own interesting way.
"DUUUUUSK JUST LET ME HELP!"
"Fine but don't complain when you're in the middle of doing it." He proceeds to hang you books and scrolls in a bag and kiss your forehead because he's not brave to kiss your cheek.
2. Elusive + Reader
Drama King and his unbothered lover or his whipped lover. Whichever dynamic you prefer.
Hope you don't mind dolling up for him. As soon as you step into his boutique, you getting dragged immediately to dress up. You're a perfect model to test out outfits for pegasuses. However if you told him to stop, he'll stop. He knows boundaries, he has them himself. Plus, he loves you.
He'll probably ask you to help him deliver and fetch things for him. No need to ask if you could help. You probably help him immediately if you noticed how panicked his state is in. Don't worry! He'll give you a kiss or an outfit when you've done your duty! Whichever you wanted more or comfortable with.
His little brother, Poppet Bell, loves you! Can you carry him? Bring him up to fly?? PLEEEEEEEEEEAAAAASEEE! If you gave into his puppy eyes, you'd make Elusive worried sick. Please don't fall or let his brother fall, as if you would.
"My dear, you truly gave me a scare when I suddenly saw you up with Poppet while I was in the market... Why did you even do that?"
"I succumbed to his puppy dog eyes hehe."
"Goodness my dear."
3. Applejack + Reader
Oh wow you're helpful for the farm. Is what applejack thinks at first. Please don't be mad at him, his whole life is contributed to his farm and family. But hey! At least you're now part of his family.
He won't force you into work (he also needs a little convincing) but if you did help him, you'd be too focused in what you're helping with to notice how he looks at you with basically apple hearts in his eyes. You had to find that out when Apple Buck gave pretended to vomit which embarrassed Applejack greatly. Macareina even told you that Applejack looks you the way their father looks at their mom, absolutely whipped. Don't even get me started on Grandpa Smith.
If you want, you can try racing against him like that one fall episode. He'll easily beat you or if you're very athletic, you can excel or match his pace. Either way, he'll comfort you and/or be proud of you.
"Can you help collect that side of the farm, sugar cube? It's okay if you don't want to hun."
"We talk about thiss.. I'll help you with anything you ask for!"
"Thank you sugar. I'm still not use to asking for help.."
"Bleugrh can you two lovebirds get back to apple picking already?!" You and Applejack proceed to laugh at Apple Buck's disgusted face but Applejack's laugh is more bashful.
#mlp genderbend#my little pony#genderbend#mlp fim#mlp x reader#my little pony x reader#mlp#x reader#my little pony genderbend#genderbend mlp#dusk shine#elusive#applejack
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Bodyguarded // part 3 (Reader!Grimes x Daryl Dixon)
Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn, Tag: @strangerthingslover69, @ankhmutes, @yoowhatthefuck, @sseleniaa, @deansapplepie, @abbiesxox
Summary: After your little fall-out with Shane, you start to distance yourself. Daryl gives zero f*cks about you distancing yourself as he keeps himself aroud. During a heart to heart with Daryl, you might discover more of the underlying tone of Shane's attitude towards you. [series]
Crickets cricked in the bushes around the fire. Rick sat by the fire with Lori and Carl. Carl was leaning against him staring at the mesmerizing flames. Lori was in deep thought. Some had joined them but mostly everyone had an agenda of their own. Daryl stood a bit further away, leaning against a tree. His gaze turned away from the fire, but rather turned towards you. You weren’t engaging with the crowd, but keeping your distance from them.
You felt humiliated. Like a spying glass had been cast upon you. Everywhere you went, a set of curious eyes followed. Trying to figure out what was going on between Shane and you. Frankly you hardly had a clue to his behaviour towards you. Perhaps you needed to dig deep. Go way back to old memories from before the fall. Before the world went to hell.
Looking over at your brother made you smile faintly. He looked so happy yet somehow you felt like an outsider. Adverting your gaze from him, you turned your posture to take your leave. Going further away from the others to find solitude. The moment you got in motion, went Daryl after you. Leaving the others for what they were to go with you.
Hearing a second pair of feet trail behind you, you exhaled deep. – “Daryl I want to be alone.” – you told him keeping your pace up. – “Fine. I’ll just keep my distance.” – he answered slowing a bit down. Looking up with a heavy sigh, you stopped. – “Daryl you don’t understand. I don’t want you here!” – you made clear having turned around to him. – “Too bad for I’m not going anywhere.” – he made clear. – “Daryl!” – you groaned out. – “What!” – he called back going in defence.
You groaned loud pressing your palms against your eyes, feeling yourself get worked up. – “Daryl please give me some space.” – you begged. – “I’ll give you space but at least let me be around.” – he asked in return. It made you furrow your brows. – “I don’t want to lose… I mean… if a walker appears…” – he spoke swallowing a lot of his words back in. – “Then what? I can shoot Daryl, remember!” – you made clear.
“I know but you…” – he exhaled loud walking up to you. – “You are not in the right headspace right now.” – he told you, touching your elbow. You turned your head bothered away. You hated how right he was. – “Just… just let me keep you save.” – he lowered his head a bit to catch your attention.
Untensing your muscles with a deep sigh, you surrendered to him. Daryl took you by the other elbow as well, pulling you closer to his body. Sensing just how much you needed it. He wrapped his arms one by one around you. Your arms remained at your side, not feeling it yet. – “Give it a few moments.” – Daryl teased half chuckling. You scrunched your nose, hating how right he was. Not a moment later you gave in, wrapping your arms around him too.
“Good girl.” – he said chuckling. You slapped him hard on the back. – “Don’t patronize me.” – you responded grumpy. Daryl removed his arms from around you, cupping your cheek as he tilted your head a bit back. – “Never.” – he whispered staring down at you. He left a quick kiss on your forehead as it didn’t feel satisfying to you.
He let go of you, spinning you around by your shoulders. He started pushing you through the woody parts of the camp. – “Where are we going?” – you questioned. – “To be alone, like you wanted.” – he simply said, continue to push you forwards. Using you like a compass, navigating his way through.
You came to a clearing in the woods. All the cars were parked over there. Daryl guided you towards the truck opening the door for you at the drivers seat. You got inside, watching him jog around to get in on the other side. He shut the door firm behind him. – “Solitude and silence.” – he joked. – “You are still here.” – you reminded him with a tease. Daryl leaned down in the seat, getting all comfy. – “No I’m not.” – he adjusted the seating lower, leaning back.
“Go ahead and mope or cry or shout, just wake me up when you see a walker.” – he said casually flopping his arm over his head. – “Daryl!” – you said laughingly nudging him hard. – “What?” – he responded unable to hide a smile. – “You’re an idiot.” – you nudged him again with a silly smile on your face. – “I know.” – he answered all smug. He shut his eyes, pretending to take a nap.
You exhaled soft looking out of the dusty window. – “It’s a bit too quiet.” – you said out loud. – “I’m not singing any songs.” – Daryl mumbled in response without moving a muscle. It made you laugh. Daryl set himself back up with a deep exhale. – “Alright fighter, let’s talk.” – he tapped his hand on your knee.
You grabbed the steering wheel staring in front of you. – “How are you feeling with your brother being back, Y/n?” – he asked. You breathed out a laugh, looking at him. – “What I can be serious.” – he let out making you laugh even more. You then calmed letting your hands rejoice at the top of the steering wheel. – “It still feels a bit weird seeing him alive. Don’t get me wrong I am overjoyed he is alive… it is just…” – you started. – “You thought he was dead for so long.” – Daryl finished as you hummed.
“Before… before it all went down my brother was shot.” – You told Daryl. – “They were armed and shot at my brother. Shane… my brother’s partner brought him to the hospital. He wasn’t waking up so they left him in a coma. It was already then a risk if he would make it out alive.” – taking a deep breath you let your forehead rest against your hands on the steering wheel. Suddenly you were pulled back in the memories of the first strike.
Shane drove his car aggressively onto the front lawn. He stepped out all worked up when Lori appeared in the door. – “Shane?” – she said. – “Lori get your bags!” – Shane ordered pointing firm at her. Carl squeezed himself between the opening and his mom, coming in front of her. – “Lori your bags!” – Shane shouted having opened the trunk. – “What for? What is going on Shane?” – She asked feeling herself go in a panic because of his behaviour.
A few houses away broke the window with a clashing sound. Screams filled the streets when a woman tripped. A person going up to her and dropped himself to the ground. A moment later his head lifted a bit of flesh between his teeth. Blood staining his chin as he munched on the flesh. Lori covered up Carl’s eyes, shakingly holding a hand before her mouth. – “Lori!” – Shane yelled startling her. – “The bags!” – Lori nodded shockingly letting go of Carl.
Shane rushed over to Carl, grabbing him roughly by the arm. – “What about dad?” – Carl asked when Shane opened the car door. Shane pushed Carl on the backseat, closing the door on him. Shane ran into the house to help out Lori. Carl looked out of the window, crying silently at what he saw. Flesh being ripped off and blood splattering all around.
You were running horrified by what was occurring. Utter panic in the streets. People eating people. Biting bits and pieces for their own hunger. You didn’t lived far so your first reaction was running over to Rick’s house. There you saw Shane’s car parked poorly on the grass. Upon seeing Carl in the car, you started running faster. – “Carl!” – you shouted loud. Carl heard some muffled sounds before his eyes fell upon you. – “Auntie Y/n!” – he called out, pushing the car door open.
He ran up to you, bumping hard against you. He was crying loud against your body as you shielded him from the horrors. Lori and Shane came out of the house with bags. – “Y/n!” – Lori said surprised. – “Get in the car!” – Shane ordered to Lori. Lori nodded going to the car, tossing the bags in the trunk. Shane walked up to Carl, pulling him off you. – “In the car!” – he shouted at Carl, tossing him towards the car. Lori took Carl, putting him in the car.
“Where is Rick?” – you asked confused. Shane remained silent. – “You were with him! You were at the hospital so where is he?” – you wanted to know. – “Where is he?” – you shouted punching Shane on the shoulder. Shane grabbed you by the wrist. – “He’s gone!” – he shouted at you. – “No!” – you cried out.
“You are lying!” – you told him. Shane grabbed you by the arms. – “You want to go and see for yourself? Fine! It will be your dead. He is gone Y/n!” – Shane’s hands moved further around you towards your back as it made you step back before they could fully close around you. Shane’s expression hardened. – “Go chase a dead man than!” – he said rudely pushing you away.
You stumbled to the ground in shock. Shane stormed off towards his car. – “If you would just…” – he began, looking over his shoulder to you. Without another word he got in the car. Your eyes widened knowing what he was about to do. You got up to your feet running towards the car. The car got in motion as you missed it. It took a turn, driving off. – “Shane!” – you shouted running after the car.
“Shane!” – you screamed as the distance increased. You couldn’t keep up, you never could. Stopping you dropped to your knees crying and screaming. Carl on the backseat knocking against the glass and shouting was the last thing you saw.
Your head shot up making Daryl blink confused. – “Is…is everything alright?” – he asked after your long silence. – “He told me Rick was dead.” – you mumbled staring hard in front of you. Your hands tightening around the steering wheel. Knuckles turning white. – “He lied…” – you said a bit louder. – “Who?” – Daryl asked getting a bit cautious of how terrifying cold you were being. – “He lied!” – you called out.
Out of anger you started to slap your hand against the steering wheel. Hitting it repeatedly even when your hand felt sore. – “Y/n, Y/n.” – Daryl said trying to get you to stop. He grabbed your hands as you continued to slap, hitting Daryl in the process. He pulled them off the steering wheel pulling at your hands to turn your posture more towards him. He wrapped his arms around you tight as you cried your heart out against his chest.
Pressing his lips hard on top of your head. Daryl turned his head spotting a trailed off walker appear from between the trees. – “Y/n.” – he whispered. – “I’ll be right back… you stay here…” – he said as you felt his grip around you loosen. You lifted your head up as well, seeing the walker. Daryl moved his finger to his mouth, letting you know to remain silent. He then gestured for you to stay put. He was going to take care of it. Your gaze darted down to the crossbow on the floor. His arrows sticking up.
You grabbed an arrow, getting out of the car. – “Y/n!” – Daryl called out, hurrying out of the car. Clenching your grip around the arrow, you went up to the walker. – “Y/n!” – Daryl shouted as it caught the attention of the walker. The walker gaged making it’s way over to you. Daryl ran up to you trying to keep you out of harms way. You raised the arrow, jamming it into the walker’s eye. Pushing it further in, the walker fell backwards with you on top of it.
Pulling the arrow out of it, you jammed it again in it’s eye. Then again and again. Gory blood splashing up. You kept trusting it in the eye, creating a massive hole. – “Y/n! Y/n!” – Daryl called out grabbing your arm to stop you from hitting it once more. – “It’s dead.” – Daryl made clear. You gasped for air with a loud sob, lowering your arm. Daryl took the arrow from you.
You wiped some gore off your face with your arm. Getting up with a loud huff. You wanted to walk off as Daryl grabbed your wrist, keeping you in place. – “What the hell was that about?” – he wanted to know. You didn’t have to speak as he understood. Daryl searched his back pockets taking out a key with the most ridiculous keychains on them. He opened your hand slapping them in your hand.
It made you frown. – “You can drive if you like.” – he said. – “Daryl what… what do you…” – you began as he interrupted. – “I don’t need all of them! I don’t! Hell I can survive better on my own!” – he made clear with a loud tone. – “So f*ck them all and drive off!” – he continued finally making himself clear to you. He grabbed you by the shoulders with a deep exhale.
“All I care about is you Y/n. Let’s get in the car and go. Just go. Leave this pile of shit behind.” – he pulled you closer letting his forehead rest against yours. – “All I want is for you to be save Y/n. So say the word and we’ll leave.” – he finished. You closed your hand with the keys in it, smiling up to him. You kissed him tender on the lips.
Daryl held himself back knowing it was a bittersweet kiss. He knew you couldn’t leave Carl… or Rick. – “I’ll hold you to it.” – you told him not saying entirely no to his offering. Daryl cupped your cheeks, kissing you once more. Deepening his kiss. Lips brushing against one another. A promise made underneath the moonlight.
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