#dying light x reader

[zeroth-writes]

One Person -Juan Rainer-

masterlist | request

Pairing: Juan Rainer / Fem!Reader

Summary: As they sit in the fish eye, Lawan tells Aiden a little story of how the big bad playboy Juan turned into a softie, for only one person.

Word Count: 496

A/N: Hello! I'm sorry if this is all over the place, i wrote half of this MONTHS ago and just finally started to get back into writing.

"You wanna know why he's stuck by her"?

Lawan pointed the neck of her beer bottle toward the couple at the bar before taking a short swig of the luke warm liquid. Aiden raised his eyebrows before chuckling. His gaze followed to couple before studying them.

The man was turned sideways, but when at back view he could still tell it was Juan. The jacket alone was a dead giveaway but you add in the hair and way to expensive bottle of old time liquor.

The women however, as her back was facing him had zero incline as to who she is.

"I know I'm still new the area, but even I know what he's after." Lawan shared the laugh. "Fair point, but she's different."

The sniper finished off her beverage before turning fully towards the bar, motioning the pilgrim to do the same.

"See how she's not even looking towards Juan as he talks to her? She's completely ignoring him, yet the guy's still wasting his breath on her. Which is weird for a guy like him. Normally he'd move on to someone else, try again another night."

The pilgrim took a few moments to look at the pair. Not once did Juan look around, even as a pretty girl passed right by him, his eyes never leave the women in front of him.

"So what makes her so special" The female chuckled at his question.

"She doesn't want him." Aiden's eyes narrowed before Lawan continued. "From the moment he first tried flirting with her, She wanted nothing to do with him. Didn't even make an excused - and i was there when she shut him down. If you ask him he'd say that she's just 'playing hard to get. She'll come around' "

The pilgrim's attention is fully towards the sniper as she talks. His face churning with each word the falls past her lips.

"That still doesn't answer my question." Lawan scoffed "Because you didn't let me finish. Juan is used to getting whatever he wants. Women, clothes, cigars, paintings, men. Except her. Sure this has happened a few times, someone isn't interested in him and he moves to someone else."

Lawan's finger moves to pair at each member of the pairing before returning towards the table "This has been going on for months now. And the reason he hasn't given up. He loves her."

Aiden nearly spills his full bottle of beer. " I didn't think he was capable of loving another human." Though is was just a mutter, the insult hit Lawan's ears, causing the women to bout out a laugh.

They turned they attention back to Juan and his 'partner' only to see her getting up to leave and Juan staring slack jawed.

Aiden was about to make a smartass comment, but before his lips could part, Juan had slapped a stack of cash on the counter before jogging after her while yelling something.

"Maybe one day prince charming with get the princess"

[mymreaderlibrary]

Maybe it's just cause I'm replaying Dying Light but with Cod zombies being a thing I'm thinking about the TF141 in an apocalypse type scenario. Just a blurb idk if I’ll do anything with this.

Gonna lean heavily into the story of Dying Light here because I love it. Note that mc/ reader takes a combined role of Bracken, Jade, and Kyle C. That being said there is no Bracken, Jade, or Kyle in this universe and Rahim is reader’s younger brother.

[TF141 x male reader, no relationship (yet), zombies, death and gore, ramblings/ lore skimming]

[Length: 1,480 words]

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The 141 are given a private mission to infiltrate the city of Harran and hunt down a terrorist residing in the area. He's stolen highly sensitive documents and is threatening to have them released through an informant if something happens to him. A standard deal where the task force is concerned however Harran itself is the dangerous part of the mission.

A disease has ravaged the city, being the first documented case of what is now known as the Harran Virus. It is a strain of rabies that zombifies any of those infected, making them instinctively hunt down other warm blooded creatures to spread. The city has been completely quarantined and the virus has not gotten outside of it yet, but this also makes the area a cesspool, concentrated with death and disease. Reports say there are no living (or at least non infected) residents remaining aside from the terrorist group which have holed themselves in an unknown location. Because of this a strike has been permitted to raze Harran in hopes of destroying the virus or at the least any violent infected. A counteractive medicine is in development with its prototype being given to the task force in case of emergency, however there is no solid solution beyond massacring infected. It's not pretty work but the world can't risk this disease breaking out.

The 141 are given specialized equipment, thick gear, loads of medical equipment, and a collection of high end firearms. The team are air dropped into the lower city and instructed to start their search immediately.

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The sun is already beginning to set by the time they land. It would almost be pretty if it weren’t for all the viscera in the streets creating a sour rotten stench. Both Gaz and Soap wretch but do their best to push through, keeping their eyes peeled for any signs of life. It doesn’t take long for them to find hostiles except to their surprise it’s not infected. Instead a group of well armed thugs attempt to corner them. They’re all carrying machetes and nail bats, some with masks while others have paint creating three jagged stripes across their face. Ghost notes their lack of firearms as odd but chalks it up to lacking proper equipment (even if their body armor told otherwise).

Regardless it goes about as well as you expect for the thugs against such well trained soldiers, however hell breaks loose when Soap decides to fire his pistol. A banshee like scream is heard from across the street and their attackers scatter without hesitation, even leaving behind their wounded. Quickly a horde of infected begin rushing towards the task force, mouths gaped wide and moaning. The zombies they were told of were slow and bumbling but these were ravenous. They ran, yelled wildly, clawed at the 141 with a fervor, and with each shot of the team's firearms another horde would soon follow. It was clear they were overwhelmed and the fear that the mission was over before it even began quickly hit. A pained hiss sounded from Ghost as a zombie managed to pull off his glove and bite into the calloused flesh of his hand. Another slammed Gaz onto the pavement and began chewing into his shoulder. Price and Soap just barely threw off their friend's attackers but the assault only continued.

As another infected went to claw at Price's face the zombie's head flew clean off. The corpse flopped down to the side, convulsing wildly, but unable to keep attacking. A group of young men and women, wearing uniforms unlike the thugs from before, began dragging the team out from the horde. They threw firecrackers over their shoulders and onto the street, catching the infected's focus and separating their numbers. A man in particular seemed to be leading the 141's saviors, giving quiet orders through hand signals to his comrades.

They got a solid distance before the same man began looking them over for injuries in a building. The lowered visibility from the growing dark made it difficult but not impossible. Gaz and Ghost were the only ones bitten meanwhile Soap and Price were scraped from their scuffle with the thugs. Despite the bites being small they bled heavily and the two men had already broken out into sweats. Shaking violently Gaz’s legs buckled and he began to cry out in pain. Ghost faired no better his eyes looking dazed and unfocused as he could only hiss out panicked breaths. Gaz's pain seemed to recapture the attention of the infected outside as banging began on the door of their refuge. A young woman went to barricade the entry but the vicious sound persisted. A fist broke through the wood and scratched at the woman's eye but she didn't falter, using her back to block the entry.

In the commotion Price recalled the prototype medicine he had been given by their contractor and quickly pulled out two small syringes. Their rescuers gave them an odd look before the leader snatched it out of his hands and injected both men without question. It took a moment for the medicine to take effect but the pair began to go lax, heartbeats slowing to a normal pace. However they were still too weak to stand and the door was beginning to buckle. The woman barricading it was grabbed and dragged out into the dark street by the vicious creatures. The rescue leader tried to pull her out but it was too late.

With a pained look in his eye the leader commanded the remaining men and women to take the 141 back to "The Tower" while he distracted the zombies away from them. He left no room for argument and they were whisked away quickly from the regrowing horde. The now nearly black streets greeting them as they ran, carrying their fallen comrades.

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The journey to this tower, which turned out to be an apartment complex covered in UV lights, took a lot of climbing but eventually they were welcomed through the front gates. Or well, welcomed was an overstatement, it was more like begrudgingly let through after some convincing from their rescuers. The guards at the door glared at the men and Price could hear them scoffing about their missing leader and how “Rahim is gonna be pissed”. Seems that man wasn't just a leader to those runners but to this tower as a whole. And well if that wasn't a way to instantly ruin your reputation.

They were transferred to the medical ward where Gaz and Ghost stayed, far too out of it to get out of their cots. It was honestly quiet odd seeing the two laying dazed and pale. While the medicine seemed to have some sort of effect, there was no saying for how long. It was still only a prototype.

Soap and Price on the other hand could leave after getting bandaged, only suffering superficial wounds. They were instructed to rest, guided to some rooms a floor below where they saw several civilian types. Men, women, children... a mother in the corner cradling her crying baby trying to convince him to go back to sleep. A father sitting beside his two daughters resting on a cot covered by a thin sheet. A teen boy sitting alone, curled up on a chair shaking. Life. Something they were told didn't exist down here outside of terrorists.

One day on and the mission was already a mess, two soldiers down, emergency meds already in use, a whole community of civilians discovered, a possible ally MIA, and they had not an ounce of info to show for it. Sleeping after that just didn't feel right but the two men supposed there was nothing they could do as the tower was locked until morning. If the screams and yowls of dead were anything to go off of, it sounded like the infected were more active in the night. Who knew if this tower’s leader was even alive out there amongst the savage undead.

It took what felt like a year for the sun to rise again but just as daylight cusped the window Price could hear commotion downstairs. Cheers, shouts, panicked calls for a medic. As him and Soap peered onto the floor above they spotted that same leader from before now being dragged in to the medical ward from the stairs. Blood trailed behind him, his arms littered with cuts, bruises, and bites, but he was conscious and attempting to walk. A thick stream of red pooled from his temple down his chin and for a split second his gaze caught Price. His eyes were near unreadable, murky like Ghost's but still alert enough to be aware of what was going on. He seemed almost satisfied seeing the captain alive and well but quickly was taken away to be bandaged.

This mission was already hell.

[deepdrownlamentt]

Hello !! I'd like to req for Lumen and Enforcer kissing hcs (separate) if possible 🥺🙏

↬ enforcer and lumen kissing hcs

content warnings: none

note: ofc u may!!!! i love the welfare boys sm ♡ however their skins are sucking my wallet dry to make up for the fact that they're free ...... i'm sorry this took so long to get to, but i still hope you enjoy!! - ̗̀( ˶'ᵕ'˶) ̖́-

note part 2 (2024 edition): did u know i had this in my drafts since february? wow. crazy. i am so sorry

↬ if you ever happen to catch ENFORCER during work hours, he's fond of sparing a moment to press a little kiss to your lips before he scurries over to his next task, his signature cup of coffee in his hand and a little smile on his face that was much less noticeable a moment ago. he's sorry, he doesn't mean to make you feel neglected, he says — he just has something to finish before he can go on break.

↬ it's during his off-time that he feels like he can spend time with you in earnest. just as he has a habit of kissing you before he goes on his next mission, he also enjoys kissing you as soon as he hangs up his coat for the day. it's less rushed this way, and some days he seems just a little tired, but he's always slow and gentle as he kisses you, as if savouring the feeling of your lips against his, and he always leaves the slightest taste of coffee lingering on your lips as he pulls away.

↬ enforcer is also very fond of peppering your face with kisses, or kissing the backs of your hands or the crown of your head. it's one of his favourite ways to wind down for the day, making a cup of coffee for you both and letting you go on about your day, or telling you about his own. sometimes he might trail off, tracing circles onto your hand with his thumb, and he'll lean forward, just a little, to press a kiss to a blemish on your cheek. it wakes him up better than a sip of his void of black coffee, and is much sweeter to him, too.

↬ when LUMEN kisses you, it almost seems as if he's equal parts eager and shy. he has a tendency to ask you each time before he does, too; while it might ruin any chances of surprising you, there's something endearing in the way he asks, may i kiss you? isn't there?

↬ his kisses are always light and gentle and sweet, like an early morning breeze. he's long past the days when he seemed afraid of coming off too strong — how could he have any sort of worries around you, when you make him feel so at home? — but he can't quite help it when it makes itself known in the barest brushes of his lips against your cheek. it's just how he is, he supposes, and he has to admit that he loves the way you laugh when his breath tickles your skin.

↬ lumen loves kissing your lips, of course, but he also has a habit of kissing aaaall over your hands, over your wrist, your thumb, every scar and callus and bruise. if not that, he might massage your shoulders while pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck. little moments like this at the end of the day are what he looks forward to the most, no matter how tired or haggard the both of you look — he adores you more than he has words to tell you with, but in this, at the very least, he hopes to somehow convey it to you.

[lovelykil]

「 All Nighter 」

main 4 x reader older ver.

cw; silly 😭😭

note; someone requested this and I am here to deliver, also this is what I would see with the main 4 lacking slumber from an all nighter... chaotic

Your eyes hung low, blinking slowly.

Kyle's eyes twitched, his hair in a mess looking like he was going insane.

Cartman fell onto Kyle's shoulder closing his eyes to rest but then opening them back up and shook his head awake.

Stan was spiraled out on the ground, his eyes looking up at the white ceiling in thought soon letting his eyelids close on their own while Kenny read through a playboy magazine, laying down with one leg over his knee 'oohing' every once in a while with a flip of a page.

It was around 3 and it looked like 2 or maybe 3 people were going to throw in the towel.

"Cartman stop laying on me."

"I'm not even laying on y‐"

"Yes you are quit it and go sit somewhere else!" Kyle poked Eric's shirt with a harsh tone. Fighting the urge to get some sleep in was making him crankier than ever.

You rubbed your face chuckling a bit, "Yall all are like an old couple fighting all the time." You snickered, sitting up on your bed. The two looked at you almost like you were insane.

Kyle just rolled his eyes as Cartman folded his arms.

"He started it."

"No fuck you, you did."

"Nuh uh."

"Yeah huh."

"Nuh u-"

The ginger groaned out loud having enough, he pushed Eric away from him causing him to tumble off the small bed.

He crashed to the ground with a thud that was so loud it immediately made Stan wake up from the noise and the floor shifting some bit.

"YOU started IT FATASS"

"AYE! WHAT THE HELL KAHL?"

"What the HELL WAS THAT?"

"BAHAHAAH" the sound of cartman hitting the floor so rough made you burst out laughing to the point where you couldn't breath, curling up into a ball as your stomach ached.

Lord the lack of sleep was really getting to you lmafo (me)

"I- CANT.. BREAATHHH-"

"WHYD YOU PUSH ME ASSHOLE?" Cartman picked himself up, standing infront of Kyle. Kyle explained himself yelling at the fatass which made Eric yell back pointing his finger in his face. They both went back and forth, using the last of of their energy to bitch at each other.

You rolled around in your bed holding onto your stomach for dear life hollering for help.

Stan rubbed his eyes, groaning from all the rucks, he gave up on the all nighter challenge and just deciding to crash but now he wanted to leave your house and sleep on the street than deal with this shit.

With tears in your eyes you pleaded to Stan for help, Kenny was quite literally in his own world at this point being so unbothered by what was happening behind him.

"Oh my god.. Y/n stop laughing please."

"I AMM-... FUCKING.. TRY- INGGG HELP MEEE PLEASE." Stan watched as you held out your hand for him to grab. He looked at your hand then at you.

Blinking slowly, his movements slow and tired.

"No."

"WHAT"

"goodnight, I'm sleeping in your bathroom. Kenny wanna come?" Stan walked passed Kenny, his hand motioning him to follow along. Kenny shrugged, getting up to follow the emo with the magazine in his hands.

"I call tub!"

"What? no I want the tub."

"I called dibs on it first though." Kenny ran passed Stan to reach the bathroom first. Stan ran after him after standing still from shock.

"KENNY I SWEAR"

"You even got YOUR DROOL ALL OVER ME STUPID!"

"You are such a LIAR, FUCK YOU"

"NOOO, FUCK YOUU"

Eric and Kyle began to swing hands on each other now, the both of them standing up then falling onto the floor together.

You gripped your stomach, dying on your bed with tears trickling down your nose and onto the sheets.

"LORDD I'm gonna die here on this BEDDD"

Lesson learned you should NEVER have another all nigher sleepover with these 4 IDIOTS

[eddiescorrodedcoffin86]

Dying light is seriously lacking in fics and it should be a crime😭

[asche237]

You were just a bet (pt 3)

Description: You’re dying and you can’t kill demons and do your job and the hashiras get worried… Especially Tengen

Tw: blood, death, cursing, etc I think ^^

Tengen = Red

Doctor = Orange

Shinobu = Shinobu

Giyu = Blue

You finally managed to get home after having to stop multiple times since you wouldn’t stop coughing blood & flowers. You run a bath and you take a shower but you ended it early since you started to lose more blood and it ruined the water. You got dressed but you soon started to realize you were starting to feel weak and you could barely even stand but you still were able to get to bed.

3 days go by and you didn’t have the energy to do anything so you decided to not move and just throw up in the little trash can you had in the corner of your bed. You try to eat some things but you aren’t eating as much as you used to. In the Butterfly Mansion Tengen went to Shinobu and asked her if she knew about where you were. “Tengen you asked me 10 times already. I don't know where she is or what she has been doing!” Shinobu says annoyed. “Okay I’m sorry I’m just worried okay!” Tengen said worried. “Didn’t you only date her for $30 or something, why are you so worried now?” Shinobu said. Tengen looked shocked and said “H-how do you know about that…?” Shinobu raised a brow and said “Giyu told me, he felt bad and he didn’t want to keep it to himself and apparently I was the first person he’d tell.” Tengen stayed silent before rushing out the mansion.

Tengen goes around to find Giyu and he finds him eating ramen. Tengen goes up to Giyu and says “Why would you tell Shinobu about the bet?!” Giyu calmly looked up at Tengen and said “Because I couldn’t keep it to myself plus it’s fucked up and you should know that…” Tengen sighed and said “come on! It’s all just a joke. I mean I’m not fake dating you so why do you feel bad?” Giyu stopped eating and looked angrily up at Tengen “The reason i feel fucking bad is because they(referring to you) had a fucking crush on you! That’s why I feel bad and yet here you are messing with their feelings. You’re an asshole Tengen.” Tengen looked shocked and asked “Do you know where they are…?” Giyu responded saying “No, I do not and even if I did I wouldn’t tell you just so you could go and mess with their feelings more.” Tengen got frustrated and screamed “Don’t you care about them?! Find out where they are!” Giyu splashed his ramen onto Tengen. “How about you go look for them since you’re their oh so brave boyfriend who everyone thinks is amazing.” And with that Giyu walks off.

Tengen is left stunned and so he goes back to his home and washes up telling his wives that he’ll be right back in a couple of minutes there’s something important he had to attend too. His wives all said okay and for him to be safe and with that Tengen left. Tengen went to your home to see if maybe you’d be there. “I hope they didn’t get killed by a demon…” Tengen says to himself. He calls out your name and no response so he slowly opens the door and goes inside. He looks around until he hears harsh coughing. Tengen decides to follow the coughing and he finds you… You were pale and some blood was on the floor next to your bed. Tengen said “Y/n..? What happened to you..?” You do not respond and Tengen walks closer to you and sees you passed out. Tengen panicked and took you into his arms and rushed you to a doctor.

When Tengen got to the doctor the nurses and doctors all took you away to a room. 5 hours later one of the doctors came out of the room and told Tengen “Sir who are you to this patient?” Tengen looked at the doctor and said “I-I’m a lover.” “Alright then, so I’m sorry to let you know that this patient is very sick and is diagnosed with Hanahaki Disease.” The doctor says. “Okay… thank you doctor…” Tengen says in disbelief.

To be continued >:))

As you know in the next part Tengen will suffer and you will die ^^

Taglist: @k-cris

Also pretty sure I messed up the colors a bit so sorry🥲

[gwiyeounsonyeon]

Take A Little Time For Me

Pairing: Kyle Crane x male reader Summary: reader gets some much needed alone time in a freshly cleared safe house Words: 1,065 Im so happy i actually wrote something today!! Warnings: dick, cock, balls Notes: idk if anyone actually reads anything with kyle but i finally wrote something so I'm not going to complain.

Pussy Words Version

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you sigh as the last zombie falls to the ground with a heavy thud, there weren't as many in this safe house as all the others you've cleared out today. You wrinkle your nose in disgust when one of the biters twitch, yeah, you definitely needed to clear this place out before you could rest.

It didn't take nearly as long to clear the apartment out, the splatter of blood on the ground after you threw the bodies out of the window was almost enough to make you sick but before you could delve too deep into your thoughts crane’s voice rang loud and clear over the earpiece.

“yo y/n, you alive?” he sounds so tired but god does it suit him, his husky drawl made something in your belly tingle pleasantly. “sadly” you reply wryly, it isn't long before he replies sounding unamused “That isn't funny y/n.” THAT makes your cock twitch, he sounds so done with you. your belly flutters as your mind wanders, you've been the recipient of his demands before but what would he sound like if he were ordering you to suck his cock, or fuck yourself with your own fingers.

With those thoughts rolling around in your perverted brain you quickly find yourself getting embarrassingly hard, you swallow hard and shift uncomfortably, your thighs are already sticky with your own sweat, you don't want to imagine the kind of mess your underwear would be in if this continued. “What’s got your panties in a twist crane?” You look down at your walkie to make sure you're on a private channel.

Crane gives you the honor of hearing him scoff before hes telling you off, sleepiness getting him agitated. Your cock throbs at the sound of his voice and before you can think rationally your hand gains a mind of its own and you find yourself rubbing your growing bulge through your pants, you're immediately met with the uncomfortable sensation of your sweat-stained boxer briefs. you curse and look around for some kind of wipes to at least clean your hands before you do anything else.

You come up with nothing so in a last-ditch effort you try the faucet and miraculously there's running water, the stream is weak, and its probably draining what little water is left from the pipes so you waste no time in shoving your pants down your thighs and getting your hand wet enough to half-ass cleaning your cock and balls before the water dries up.

“earth to y/n… are you okay? where are you?” Crane's voice breaks you out of your mindless stroking, you clear your throat before pressing the button on your earpiece, “Yeah, I'm okay… sorry” you curse yourself at how stupid your voice sounds “Uh… where are you?” You add meekly, hoping it could get him talking longer. “I’m back with the quartermaster just dropping some shit off” You shouldn't get so turned on by the sound of crane cursing but your dick throbs anyways.

“I’m heading out now, there's a lot of shit I need to get done before dark” he sounds like he's mumbling, he's probably outside. your hand moves back down to your crotch “Could you stop by here? I need some help” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can think, you curse yourself but before you can get too deep into your self-pity crane sighs, his voice is rough and he sounds a little out of breath when he speaks again “I dunno, I'm pretty fucking busy.”

his voice goes straight to your dick, you run your thumb over the sensitive head and then over the slit lightly to make yourself shudder, a soft whine forces its way out of your throat. “What was that? y/n?” Crane's voice cuts back into the silence and you come to the horrifying realization that you had the button pressed, he heard you whine. you cough and press the button again “y- yeah… yeah I'm fine” you curse your voice for being so shaky.

“alright, im coming” He’s totally not convinced, your heart thuds against your ribcage, and your belly tingles at the thought of Crane coming over and seeing you like this. would he laugh? would your body gross him out? would he pin you to the wall and fuck your brains out? your cock throbs as your anxiety-ridden thoughts take on a hornier tone. your fingers slip down your shaft to caress your aching “Kyle” it comes out more as a moan, your heart feels like it's going to leap out of your chest.

You're being so stupid, when have you ever been this risky? the channel stays quiet for a long moment, the static feels deafening and you start to clam up, anxiety taking over but before you could start groveling the static cuts out and you can hear Crane clear his throat “That was so fucking hot.” your breath catches in your throat and your cock throbs hard, pre dribbling out over the head of your needy cock.

Before your nerves settle in you press the button on your earpiece and blurt out where you were, “hurry” you add meekly. Crane takes just long enough to arrive that you're already cringing at how you were acting but he drops down from the hatch on the roof faster than you can get your pants back up, you don't have time to react before he's crowding you into the counter and thumbing at your wet slit, you choke out a surprised moan and cant your hips up into his hand. Kyle doesn't give you enough time to think about hygiene or get anxious before his hand circles your touch-starved dick to give a firm stroke, you shudder and groan and he chuckles breathlessly at how desperate you are.

“We gotta be quick, okay?’ he whispers darkly against your lips, his hand tightens around your throbbing shaft and he strokes faster, the feeling of his warm palm nearly making your knees buckle. Your arms fly up to wrap around his shoulders tightly, your knees wobble as he beats your cock mercilessly, never letting you catch your breath and after an embarrassingly short time you’re body tenses with the best orgasm you've had in forever.

[dalgikiss]

'Til Kingdom Come

princess diaries totally lied about what happens when you become a princess btw

index

genre: romance, coming-of-age, royalty

i. start of something new

You can’t help but stare in awe at the palace building in front of you, with the dark blue and white flags dancing in the air to a rhythm that you cannot hear. 

The palace towers above you, white stone marble glinting from the sunlight. You crane your neck, almost falling backwards in a sore attempt to catch the top of the castle. Your grandmother’s guard, Akira, catches you with a reassuring hand to your back, holding back his laughter while you struggle to catch your footing. 

The wooden doors open the second the guards see your grandmother ascending the marble stairs, and you hurriedly follow behind her, ignoring the way some of the guards openly gaped at you. Your grandmother glances over her shoulder, taking note of the unease on your face. 

“You needn’t worry,” She reassures you, a hand gently pushing your shoulders back to straighten your posture, “You will do a fine job of being our princess” 

The words are meant to be comforting, you know, but the pressure bears down harder on your chest instead. 

Becoming a princess at the age of 18 is not something that you were even mildly prepared for. It’s something out of a fairytale, a dream that many young girls have. You were no different, especially after watching ‘Princess Diaries’ starring your all time favorite actress, Anne Hathaway. 

However, something twisted in your gut as you stared at your grandmother’s tiara, glittering diamonds reflecting in the sunlight casting a shadow over your figure as though to warn you, your experience would be nothing like the beloved coming-of-age film. 

Akira gestures for you to walk down a hallway, large oil paintings adorning the walls depicting the past rulers of Aoba Johsai and their family members. You can’t help but pause at a photo of your father when he was younger, dressed in a black uniform with gold buttons and different colored ribbons decorating his chest while he grinned wildly at the camera. Your grandmother stood in the background, a soft smile on her face, while your late grandfather mimicked your father’s expression. 

“You know,” Your grandmother suddenly appears behind you, gazing fondly at the photo, “You have your grandfather’s eyes”

You can’t help but gently reach up towards your eyes, staring intently at the photo of your late grandfather. The longer you stare at the photo, the more the realization dawns upon you. 

I’m a princess 

These people are my family

This is not a game

Your grandmother seems to sense your inner turmoil, turning to face you as your expression begins to morph into something akin to fear. 

“I’ve said it before, and I will say it again,” She pulls your hand away from your face, tilting your chin up, “You will make a fine ruler of this country. You will not let me down”

[saintship]

Hi!

Recently I’ve been playing some different games, and I’d love to start doing requests again; make sure to take a quick look at my guide and don’t be afraid of getting specific!

[kormiato]

Well, I guess it's time? I'm nervous af and I'm not sure this'll gonna work, but I've got to try, right?

So...

Requests are open!

What I WILL write:

Fluff

Angst (I'm bad at this, but I'll try)

NSFW (Also bad, but why not?)

Headcanons, alphabets, kinks, and that sort of things

Male!Reader, F!Reader, GN!Reader, Child!Reader(platonic)

Character x character (depends)

Selfharm (maybe)

Different types of reader (like black, white, chubby, skinny etc., also depends)

OCs (maybe, but I know how hard you want content about your OCs sometimes, so 80% that I'll do it

What I WON'T write:

Pedophilia

Zoophilia

BDSM

FANDOMS I'll write:

Resident Evil

Haikyuu

MHA (BNHA)

Detroit: Become Human

Dying light 2: Stay Human

Infamous: Second Son

House of ashes

Kimetsu no Yaiba (Demon Slayer)

Life is strange

Honkai: Star Rail

You may ask about if I'll write some themes or fandoms that you interested in and I'll gladly reply and add that theme in this post. Thank you!

[zeroth-writes]

Dating -Rais- -Headcanons-

masterlist | request

Prompt: So I was wondering if we could get dating headcanons with him? Sfw and/or nsfw?

Pairing: Rais x Reader

Summary:

Word Count:

Warning: NSFW Under the cut! Mention of bodily harm

Rais will respect you in his own way

while he wont necessarily be ‘nice’ to you

he will protect you from his men and the zombies outside

if anyone flirts or tries to pick you up

he’ll cut off a body part

or leave them outside at night

wants everyone in harran to know that you are his

and only his

as your time together goes on

he’ll begin see you like his brother was to him

the only one in the world he actually cares about

slowly be

but wont hesitate to punish you

if you disobey or disrespect him in anyway

wont do anything extreme

likely just ties you up in his room and leaves you alone

only allows tahir or karim to bring you food and water when necessary

not surprising but is 100% dominate

on occasion will let you top

but will still have at least some control over you

loves to tie you up

him completely in control

you completely at his mercy

loves choking you and knowing your life hangs in his hands

occasionally goes overboard and you end up unconscious

but it wont stop him from doing it again next time

marking.

wants to see you covered in purple and red

hates when you cover them up

[washingmachinegirly]

Dying Light 2 Hakon x OC Drabble

i cannot for the life of me find any Hakon fanfiction so i wrote some myself.

————————————————————————

“Just entertain yourself while I try to fix the generators. Don’t touch anything. Got it?”

Frank told them the community was running out of supplies, and the surrounding areas were dry.

Sabine said that she knew somewhere untouched by any other survivors. She offered to go and retrieve the supplies.

Hakon said he would go along with her.

Now that they were here, it was clear she did not want to be here and didn’t want Hakon here either.

“Yes, ma’am.”

That’s how the man found himself in the woman’s bedroom. It was untouched for 15 years, like a time capsule. Looking around, he could see both the personality and the lack of personality in the room. The walls are stark white and only hold a handful of decorations, but the room holds many CDs, DVDs, and books. The CDs and DVDs intrigue him but are useless unless the generators work. So he makes his way to the bookshelf.

Looking through the bookshelf, he sees a variety of books. LSAT practice books, D.I.Y. books, law books, history books, and romance books. He would have never pegged Sabine to be the romantic type. He takes a book off the shelf titled “A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime” and opens it to a random page.

“It’s been three years, four months, two days, and a handful of hours since the first moment I set my eyes on her. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. The absolute bane of my existence.” He reads aloud from the book and then laughs to himself. The lines are cliche, but he can’t argue against them. They were romantic and something he probably would say himself.

Above the bookcase, he finds a dead plant. Peering around the rest of the room, he finds many dead plants. Most likely unwatered. Who would have stayed around to water them anyways? On top of the bookcase is an ornate tea set. Picking up the teapot and dusting it off, he realizes it is handmade and old. It would probably sell for a pretty penny. Juan would practically salivate over it. He would never tell Sabine about selling to Juan, though. That guy is her number one enemy. The stick up her ass.

Walking along the wall, he comes upon a dresser. On top of the dresser, he finds a music box. After cranking the knob on the back and opening the box up, hoping for music. Unfortunately, no music sings, and the ballerina remains stagnant. Inside the box, he finds only a plastic rhinestone choker and plastic diamond earrings. The type of jewelry competitive performers would wear back in the day. He then picks up a violin case and opens it. Inside sits a beautiful, untouched violin. It shines against the sunlight peeking through the window. He wonders if Sabine would play for him and if she is as good as she claims. Beside the violin is a picture of a girl and a dog. He picks up the photograph to get a better look. Upon inspection, he realizes it is a picture of a much younger Sabine and a dog. The dog looks to be an Australian Shepard. Sabine had the massive dog in her arms. They were both smiling at each other.

Hakon has never seen her smile like that. He smiles to himself and places the framed photo back onto the dresser. Walking away from the dresser, the man comes face-to-face with a large mirror that takes over almost an entire wall. It had been long since he’d seen his reflection so clearly, in broad daylight. He takes in how greasy his hair and skin look.

“My god, am I graying?” He asks himself as he steps closer to the mirror and ruffles his hair around.

He takes in the new scars on his face, neck, and hands. Some are faint and will probably disappear in a week or so. Others are deep, leaving an indent in his skin. One scar, in particular, is deeper than the rest. It goes from the top right of his forehead, through the eyebrow, past his eye, over the nose, and stops in the middle of his left cheek. Despite the lasting mark, he supposes he should be thanking Sabine. If not for her, it’d be a hell of a lot more than a scar.

Hakon was cornered between two skyscrapers by a pack of renegades. He had thought it was an easy enough job to handle alone. Obviously, he was very wrong. As the renegades approached him, they laughed and sneered in his face.

“No one to save you now, runner.”

Soon enough, Hakon felt the cold concrete hit his back. He could have and should have gone the other way, but no, he’s always looking for trouble. As he scolded himself, a renegade approached him with a knife. Hakon imagined that behind the mask, the man was smiling as he raised his blade. Hakon closed his eyes, ready to face his death. Only a fool like him would perish like this.

Yet the blade only scratched him. When he opened his eyes, in front of him, he found the guy dead on the ground. Looking up, he saw Sabine fighting off the other four.

“Are you going to keep staring at me like an idiot, or are you going to help me?”

Hakon chuckles to himself as he thinks back on the memory. Despite his gray hair and ugly scars, he must still have charisma if he’s lucky enough for a girl like Sabine to save him.

He moves to the other wall, gazing at all the items hanging upon it. While the trophies and medals are pretty shiny in the sun, Hakon’s eyes draw toward the other ornaments on the wall.

First, he finds the drawing of the dog. It must be the same dog from the framed photo on the dresser. Getting a closer look, he notices the message on the bottom.

“For my favorite sister. P.S. I miss you! And so does Clementine. Please come home soon! - Chrys”

The man chuckles to himself. He can’t imagine the 15-year-old Chrysanthemum he knows being so young. She couldn’t even spell her name! She must have been around 4 or 5. Despite the childlike innocence, it makes him sad as he remembers how young she was when it happened. Still, in spite of all the world’s hardships, Sabine’s sister was able to keep a bit of her childishness. Hakon’s eyes wander over to the family photo.

A childishness Sabine never seemed to have.

All the people in the photo seem to be emotionless. They were all flat-faced yet held the smallest air of contentment. After a closer inspection of the 15-year-old Sabine, Hakon decides that Sabine is and was nothing like her sister. She sat in front of her parents, knees together, back straight, and heads in her lap. Her lips were a flat line, slightly curved at the edges, and her eyes seemed sad.

Hakon decides to move on to the collage of photos.

When looking at the photos, a gust of déjà vu hits his face.

The collage contains four photos in total. The first photo was a group photo with three girls in a cab. Hakon recognized Sabine in the middle of the other two girls. The taxi cab and scene looked all too familiar. In the second photo, he realized why it was so familiar.

It was his taxi cab, the one he drove before all hell broke loose.

He is looking at a photo of his younger self with the three girls. As he stares at the picture with the seriousness of a detective, the day returns to him in broken fragments.

The girls had all hopped into his cab, giggling with each other. He was a bit weary of them, but Sabine claimed they had money and to just drive. Despite his weariness, he was bored, so he obliged. As he “drove” through the traffic in the city, he eavesdropped on the girls’ conversation and watched their theatrics. He would have been lying if he said it wasn’t entertaining. Sabine caught onto him and asked if he wanted in on the photos and fun. He should have said no and done his job, but he was never that kind of guy. He was young and looking for something fun to happen, so he said yes.

Sabine dragged him into the photo, smiling cheekily. She leaned over the console to take over his radio system to change the music. She told him he had shit music taste, which he scoffed at, but she was right.

Sabine also dragged him and the girls to a karaoke bar. At first, they had just ordered a few drinks and watched the other drunk barhoppers sing on the stage. Within 10 minutes of being at the bar, the girls found themselves on the stage, performing an America’s Got Talent-worthy performance of Wannabe by the Spice Girls. That’s when Hakon took the third photo with Sabine’s camera. After that, the girls all took turns performing solos, allowing the other bar-goers to squeeze in once in a while.

A couple more drinks in, Sabine convinced Hakon to sing with her. That’s where the fourth photo came from, courtesy of one of Sabine’s friends. He never learned their names. After his and Sabine’s first performance, the night got a little blurry.

Hakon is amazed that he remembers that much from almost 15 years ago. He is even more amazed that he’s known Sabine long before the fall. He thought he would have remembered a girl like her, but life gets busy. Extremely busy, according to the events of the last 15 years.

Static comes from his left, and he’s broken from his stunning trance. Looking over, he finds an old TV turned on. Sabine must have got the generators on. While the TV is on, Hakon doesn’t suppose there’s cable TV anymore. To delight, he does find a collection of DVDs and VHS tapes under the TV. He kneels to get a closer look at the collection. Most of the tapes seem to be performance videos, most likely of dances. Sabine had never talked about it, but judging by the trophies, medals, and dance equipment, Hakon could guess she used to be a competitive dancer. He was very familiar with those girls and their families, having to drive them around in his cab during competition season. None of the tapes interested him, but a CD labeled “My Final Bow: Video Diary” sure did. He isn’t normally one to go through people’s diaries, but he is willing to make an expectation for a closed-off girl like Sabine. Besides, a photo that falls out of the CD case tells him the video probably has to do with him. The photo is a blurry, candid picture of Sabine and Hakon. Her short arm stretched out to fit them both in the camera’s border as she leaned over to kiss his cheek. Hakon doesn’t remember that part of the night. He doubts Sabine does either. After one last glance at the photo, he puts the CD into the TV’s CD port.

The video was a simple collection of clips taken on the same night as the photos. It showed the girls racing toward the cab and jumping inside. They were giggling the whole time. The clip transitioned to the girls in a heated conversation about god knows what, but Hakon heard himself laughing in the background. The video then jumped late into the night. It showed various moments of the group’s karaoke performances. Sabine’s show to the song Circus by Britney Spears. Hakon and Sabine’s duet to Love Shack by The B-52’s. One of the other girl’s performances of Love Story by Taylor Swift. The rest of the video was a blur of the night, the liveliness of the filmers altering the video. It showed Sabine and the girls jumping around and laughing. Soon enough, the clips were coming to an end. Each clip showed Hakon dropping off the girls at their respective hotels. At each stop, Sabine would hug the girl with all her might and wave goodbye to them until they were out of the camera’s sight. Sabine was the last one to be dropped off. The final clip shows Sabine waving toward Hakon as he drives away. Then the video cuts to black.

“ I thought I told you not to touch anything.”

Sabine’s voice causes Hakon to jump from his seat on the ground. Behind him, Sabine stands leaning against the doorway. She crosses her arms, and her eyes look angry, but she has a small smile on her lips.

“How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to watch the entire video with you.”

Hakon stares at her as he stands up. He looks past her, deep in thought, then turns to look at the TV and back at her.

“Do you remember any of that night?”

“I didn’t recognize the guy was you until now if that’s what you’re asking. You look a hell of a lot uglier now.” She smirks at him. “You’re a hell of a lot more annoying too.” He rolls his eyes.

Hakon has a million questions rolling through his head right now. What happened to her after that night? Who are the other girls? Does she remember anything from that night that he doesn’t? Why aren’t other photos of friends and adventures in her childhood bedroom? Despite his million questions, he knew Sabine wouldn’t answer them. Looking up at her, he sees her fiddling with the straps on her jacket. She was scared he would ask her questions. Try to pry into her personal life. Something she’s been clear about not wanting since the day she joined his group. He’d respect her wishes, but still…

“Why’d you keep this photo?” He questions as he picks up the photo off the ground.

It was unlike the Sabine he knows now to keep a photo like that. It was unlike her to take that photo or to kiss him in the first place. He imagines Sabine would gag at even the thought of getting close to him. He hopes his question will tell him a bit about her without directly asking her about her past.

Sabine approaches Hakon to take a look at the photo. After a glance, she scoffs, rolling her eyes before snatching the photo from his hand.

Still, he looks at her with probing eyes.

“…I think if things went differently after that night, I’d be a fun girl to be around. I’d be the life of the party.” Sabine contends as she stares around her old bedroom, reminiscing.

Certainly an odd answer from the Sabine he knows. He feels like that may just be the most backward, vulnerable answer he could have gotten from Sabine, but he’ll take it. Any glimpse into her as a person was a win to him.

“I think you’re pretty fun. I wouldn’t be here with you if I didn’t, would I?”

Sabine looks at him for a while, pondering his answers. Just when Hakon thinks he might get another genuine answer from the woman, she laughs while rolling her eyes and then turns her back on him.

“Come on. We need to clear the basement and the rest of the house now if we want to leave before nightfall. I don’t want to spend the night here.”

Hakon chuckles to himself as he follows her out the door. He’ll have to remember to grab the photos and violin before they leave. Though Sabine insisted her room be left alone, he feels these items are worth her ripping him a new one the next day.

————————————————————————

disclaimer: i know nothing about dying light 2 besides minimal research on the wiki and watching slimecicle play it. i know even less about dying light, having never watched, so there are probably a lot of inaccuracies. i just wrote this bc i thirst for hakon and i needed a muse for my creative writing assignment. also the format may be weird bc i copy and pasted it from my creative writing draft.

[exbeaut]

ok yes loving daisy jones so far bc i did just re read the book today so i’m back in it but my one qualm so far is that daisy is not unhinged like?? i don’t mind what minor plot/story changes they have made so far in fact i like it bc the book is completely told by multiple unreliable narrators that’s the whole point esp with the “plot twist” billy’s version (and daisys to less of an extent but still close to it bc she cared about camilla so she wouldn’t want to hurt julia) of things can’t be believed at all lmaooo so i don’t mind the changes i feel it’s a good way to frame it more real or whatever but my issue is why is Daisy so like put together??? she was insane and off her shit from age fourteen but so far three eps in she’s so ?? composed?? even in daisys unreliable pov of the book she knows she was an addict and a disaster and billy too on the first tour but in the show it’s so toned down maybe for viewer rating sakes? like maybe they can’t show heroin on prime shows idk lmaooo

[rafestify]

need a rafe fic please where reader is part of the pogues, her and rafe have been on and off for forever obviously due to everything he’s done but deep down he’s so down bad for reader and maybe she’s pregnant instead of sarah and he doesn’t find out until morocco because the pogues are hovering over her idk angst fluff whatever you feel!!!

Two lines — Rafe Cameron

Summary : Fem!Reader is pregnant with Rafe’s baby, but he doesn't know until pope accidentally mentions her baby (season 4 ep 10 spoilers!! ⚠️)

Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings : mentions of vomiting & language (english is not my first language)

A/N : as requested 😉 hope u like it anon!

Two lines, and the father was long gone, off doing god knows what. Rafe was the last guy I'd hooked up with, and even after we broke up, we somehow kept finding our way back to each other, especially after the Kildare Enduro. He knew no one else could satisfy me the way he did, and so it became this endless cycle, break up, hook up, make up. What Rafe didn’t know was that I was pregnant. I hadn’t planned on telling him, at least not until we made up.

There I was, back on Rafe’s boat with my friends, setting off to Morocco in search of the Blue Crown and Chandler Groff. My friends had locked Rafe up, tying him up in a small room, just in case. We all knew better than to trust Rafe Cameron, not after everything he’d done.

I walked into the dimly lit room, carrying a tray with a glass of water, a plate of food, and a couple of aspirin for his black eye. The sight of him, bruised, tugged at something deep inside me.

“Here,” I murmured, setting the tray down on the table beside him. “I brought some aspirin, just in case you’re feeling dizzy or something…”

He snorted, cutting me off. “What? You’re just gonna throw it in my mouth like I’m a fuckin' seal?” He wasn’t exactly wrong, but his sharp tone made me bristle. “Nobody trusts you, Rafe,” I replied, my voice steady. “Not after what you did.”

His jaw tightened, and a flash of anger sparked in his eyes. “I saved your asses!” he shot back, his face flushing with frustration. “And not even a thank you was said.”

I took a slow breath, steadying myself. “I know, Rafe. I know,” I said softly. “Thank you, really.” I offered him a small, sincere smile.

He looked at me for a moment, his gaze softening just slightly. “You trust me, right?” he asked, his voice quieter, a bit more vulnerable. I bit down on my lip, feeling the pull he always seemed to have on me.

“Yeah,” I admitted, almost reluctantly. God, he knew exactly how to get to me.

He looked at the ropes binding his wrists and nodded toward them. “Then untie me. Get this shit off me.”

I shook my head, feeling a pang of guilt but holding my ground. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” I pressed my lips together, trying to keep my resolve. “Just… eat the food. We wouldn’t want you dying in here.” With that, I turned and walked out, the door closing softly behind me, leaving me with a sigh that I didn’t even realize I’d been holding back.

As I stepped out of the room, I was met by Kiara’s anxious expression, her arms folded tightly as she waited. The moment she saw me, her face softened slightly, though worry still flickered in her eyes.

"How’d it go?" she asked quietly, as if afraid to hear the answer.

I shrugged, trying to mask the mixture of emotions stirring inside me. "Same old Rafe," I replied, keeping my tone light, but my gaze drifted, unable to meet hers directly.

Kiara studied me for a moment before speaking again. "Soo... did you tell him?"

I frowned, genuinely puzzled. "Tell him what?"

She raised an eyebrow, giving me a pointed look. "That you’re pregnant, with his child."

Oh, right. That one.

I swallowed, feeling a sudden knot in my stomach. "Uh—no, not yet," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "I just… I don’t know how he’d react." My hands found each other, my fingers nervously fidgeting as I tried to imagine how that conversation would even go. "What if he doesn’t want to keep the baby?"

Kiara sighed softly and reached out, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Her warmth grounded me, pulling me back from my spiraling thoughts. "Look," she said firmly, her gaze locking onto mine. "You have us. We’ll help you through every single part of this. That’s what friends are for, right?"

I looked at her, the tension in my chest easing slightly. Her words held a strength that I so desperately needed. "Yeah," I whispered, a small smile breaking through my worry. "Thank you, Kie."

She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a hug, and for a moment, the uncertainty and fear faded. In her embrace, I felt a flicker of hope—a reminder that I wouldn’t have to face this alone.

After battling fierce winds and waves, we finally arrived in Essaouira. The coastal city spread before us, its whitewashed buildings with blue shutters gleaming under softened storm light. Narrow streets twisted through the medina, lined with shops selling handmade crafts and drenched in a timeless, rustic charm.

The Atlantic crashed against the ancient medina walls, sturdy and weathered, while blue fishing boats bobbed in the harbor—just like the skiffs in the Outer Banks. The salty air and easy warmth of the locals, the slow rhythm of the sea, and the hum of daily life brought back memories of home, as if Essaouira was a Moroccan echo of the Outer Banks.

We continued to wander through the narrow streets of Essaouira, the sound of bustling market vendors and the distant call of seagulls filling the air. John B and Sarah led the way, their steps light and carefree, like they had no care in the world. Following behind them was Cleo, Pope, and Kiara, their conversations flowing easily as they walked, with JJ and I bringing up the rear. But it was Rafe who trailed behind, his presence almost ghostlike, like a lost puppy, following silently in our wake.

As we strolled through the maze of alleyways, I felt a sudden, sharp wave of nausea hit me. It was sudden, and intense, as if something in my stomach was threatening to rise up. I let out a soft huff, pressing my hand to my stomach, trying to hold back the overwhelming feeling of sickness.

JJ, who had been walking beside me, must've noticed the change in my posture because he looked at me with concern. "Y/N?" he called, his voice laced with worry.

"Oh god," I muttered under my breath, the nausea worsening, my head spinning.

"What's wrong? You okay?" JJ asked, his voice low, concern evident on his face.

I shook my head, barely able to focus on him. "No... I need to sit," I said, my voice strained. I felt like I was going to collapse if I didn’t stop moving.

JJ quickly guided me to a pile of carpets that were stacked outside a shop. The soft fabric felt like a relief under me as I sat down, trying to steady my breathing. The rest of the group quickly noticed, and soon I was surrounded by their concerned faces. Kiara dropped to her knees in front of me, her eyes searching mine, her hand resting on my knee in a comforting gesture.

"What's up? What are you feeling?" she asked, her voice soft and filled with genuine concern.

"I'm really nauseous," I managed to answer, my hand covering my mouth, just in case. I didn’t trust myself to hold it down any longer.

Cleo, who had been standing off to the side, stepped forward, her arms crossed over her chest. "She probably needs food. It’s been like two days..or what?" she said, her voice tinged with practicality.

"Yeah, the baby’s probably hungry too," Pope added, offering a casual shrug, as if it was just an obvious conclusion.

I froze, my stomach twisting. The mention of "the baby" caught me off guard, and suddenly, all eyes turned to me. Rafe, who had been hanging back, still distant, looked like he was suddenly paying attention. His gaze shifted from me to Pope and then back to me, his brow furrowing.

"What baby?" Rafe asked, his voice sharp, as if something about the situation didn't sit right with him.

Oh god, here we go.

Pope went silent, and I could feel the tension rise in the air, thickening around us. I glanced up at Rafe, who was now standing a few feet away, looking at me with an expression that was hard to read. His eyes narrowed as if trying to make sense of what he had just heard.

"No, seriously, what baby?" he repeated, his voice insistent, even stern now.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over me. There was no easy way to say it, but it had to be said. "I’m pregnant, Rafe," I said quietly, locking eyes with him. "With your baby."

The words hung in the air between us, like they were too heavy to carry. For a long moment, Rafe didn’t say anything. He just stood there, silent, his expression unreadable. The others were watching him closely, waiting for a reaction, but he remained eerily still.

I could feel the tension growing, an awkwardness settling in the space around us, as if everything had just shifted. My hands were shaking slightly, not from the nausea anymore, but from the weight of what had just been revealed. And Rafe, he was just staring at me, his mouth slightly parted but no words coming out.

"Go get her something to eat," Rafe suddenly snapped, his voice cutting through the tension that still hung thick in the air.

Without another word, he dug through his small waist bag, the leather creaking under his movements. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but then, with a small grunt of satisfaction, he pulled out a wad of cash—several bills, all stacked neatly together. As he unfolded them, I saw that he had about $400 in his hand, a small fortune for street vendors in Essaouira.

"Wait what?" JJ’s voice broke the moment of disbelief. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "They don’t take dollars, you idiot—"

"I said go," Rafe interrupted sharply, his tone hardening. There was no room for argument, no sign of hesitation in his voice. It was almost as if he was trying to regain some control over the situation, and in doing so, he completely dismissed JJ’s protests. His words were a command, not a suggestion.

The rest of us exchanged uneasy glances, the shift in Rafe’s demeanor catching everyone off guard. But without further discussion, John B, Sarah, Cleo, Pope, and Kiara reluctantly turned to start walking back toward the market, their steps unsure but obedient. JJ hesitated for a moment, clearly frustrated by Rafe’s abruptness, but eventually followed along as well.

Rafe’s eyes lingered on me for a second, his expression unreadable. He stood still for a moment longer, his gaze momentarily drifting over to the group before returning to me. He didn’t say anything else. His words had been clear, and I could tell that something about the situation had shifted for him.

"I don’t care whether you want the baby or not, but I’m keeping them," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. My heart pounded in my chest, the weight of my decision pressing down on me. The truth was, I had made up my mind. I had to keep the baby, and nothing anyone said or did would change that. Not even Rafe.

Rafe’s eyes widened at my declaration, and for a moment, he just stood there, staring at me, his face unreadable. Then, he kneeled down, and he let out a sharp breath. "Hey, hey, hey—who said I don’t want to keep the baby?" His voice was calm, but there was an underlying tension to it, as if my words had hit a nerve.

I blinked, caught off guard by his response. The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, and I wasn’t sure what to say next. His eyes were fixed on me now, intense, searching. It felt like something was shifting between us, and I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it.

"We’ll take care of them," Rafe continued, his tone softening just a fraction. "I’ll be with you throughout the whole journey, Y/N. You’re not doing this alone." His voice held a kind of resolve, as if he had already decided, as if he was offering something that felt almost too good to be true.

For a split second, it felt like the world around me had stopped moving. The noise from the market faded into the background, and all I could hear was the steady beat of my own heart. The words he said felt surreal, like they were echoing in my head. "I’ll be with you, 'aight?"

I blinked again, almost feeling like I was in a dream, like I had slipped into some alternate reality where everything suddenly made sense. But when I looked at Rafe, his gaze never wavering from mine, I felt a wave of disbelief wash over me. It felt like a nap dream, a momentary illusion that would disappear when I woke up.

"What?" I said, my voice coming out in a whisper of disbelief. "Sorry—"

Rafe seemed unbothered by my shock. He placed his hands on my knees, his movements deliberate. "You heard me, Y/N." His words were firm, and there was no mistaking the sincerity in them.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was thick with unspoken thoughts, and I could feel the weight of what he had just said settle in my chest. It was almost too much to process. I had always expected Rafe to pull away, to make this harder for me. But here he was, standing before me with something I hadn’t expected, a promise. A promise to be there. A promise to face this together.

My mind spun, trying to make sense of it. I glanced away for a moment, as if hoping the world would shift and reveal the truth. But when I looked back at him, his expression hadn’t changed. He was still looking at me with those steady, unwavering eyes.

"You’re serious," I murmured more to myself than to him.

Rafe didn’t flinch. "Yeah," he said simply, as if there was nothing more to discuss, as if the decision had already been made. "I’ll be there for you. For us."

For the first time, I didn’t know what to say. My heart was still racing, but for a different reason now. There was a part of me that wanted to believe him, to hold on to this moment, to trust that things might actually be okay. But there was also a part of me that was terrified of what this all meant, of how my life was about to change in ways I couldn’t predict.

I stared at him in utter disbelief, barely able to process the reality unfolding before me. It felt like some kind of miracle. My vision began to blur as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, the emotions welling up and spilling over, probably caused by the pregnancy hormones, but I couldn’t stop them. I tried to blink them away, but they only gathered faster, until a warm tear rolled down my cheek.

Rafe’s expression softened when he noticed, his gaze never leaving mine. He reached out and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close in a way that felt so natural, so steady. He didn’t hesitate for a second, and his embrace was warm, reassuring, holding me together when I felt like I was on the edge of falling apart, and God, it felt good to be back in his arms.

His hand rubbed gentle circles on my back as he murmured, “We’re gonna be parents.” His voice was soft, filled with awe and disbelief, as if he was speaking the words for the first time and couldn’t quite believe them either.

I nodded against his chest, clutching onto him as tightly as I could. The weight of his words settled over us, the reality of what lay ahead, and as much as I wanted to be brave, I couldn’t shake the fear that started to consume my mind. I let out a shaky breath, my voice coming out in a whisper, “I’m scared, Rafe.” The words felt small, vulnerable, but they were the truth.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands gently cupping my face as his thumbs brushed away the stray tears still slipping down my cheeks. “I know,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I am scared too.” There was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored my own, a glimmer of uncertainty about the unknown future that lay ahead.

“But we’re in this together,” he continued, his voice growing stronger, as if he was convincing himself as much as he was reassuring me. “I don’t have all the answers, and I don’t know what’s coming… but I’m not going anywhere.” He leaned down and rested his forehead against mine, closing the space between us. “I’ll be there every step of the way.”

His words washed over me, filling some hollow place I hadn’t realized was empty. In that moment, his presence felt like a lifeline, pulling me out of my fears, giving me a glimpse of something that felt almost like hope. The future was terrifying, yes, but it felt a little less daunting with him by my side.

I looked up at him, my voice steadying as I replied, “I’m glad it’s you.” And as I said the words, I realized just how much I meant them.

He offered me a small, crooked smile, a warmth in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before. “We’re gonna figure this out together,” he promised. “One step at a time.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. And in that moment, held in his arms, I felt a little less afraid.

Suddenly, as if on cue, the rest of the group appeared, each carrying an assortment of food and drinks. It was almost comical, watching them return all at once, each of them holding something different, John B with a handful of pita bread, Cleo balancing a bowl of yogurt, JJ carrying bottled water, and Sarah clutching a small bag of fruit, including a shiny red apple that she immediately extended toward me.

“Here,” Sarah said softly, her face easing with relief as she offered the apple. I took it gratefully, feeling the cool skin of the fruit in my hand, and took a tentative bite. The crisp, sweet flavor flooded my senses, soothing the nausea that had been twisting in my stomach. They watched with eager anticipation, and as they saw me begin to nibble, their worried expressions started to relax.

“Feeling better now?” Pope asked, his voice gentle but laced with concern as he studied my face.

I swallowed another bite and nodded, a smile creeping onto my face. “Yeah, yeah… thank you,” I replied, glancing at each of them.

They exchanged glances, visibly relieved, and a sense of warmth spread through me as I looked around at their familiar faces, each one showing their own brand of care. I realized then just how much I’d come to rely on them, not just as friends, but as family. I felt a comforting wave of gratitude for each of them, knowing they’d been there for me without question, supporting me in ways I hadn’t even thought possible.

As I took another sip of water, Rafe moved a little closer to me, his hand resting gently on my thigh. His touch was subtle, but the gesture was enough to let me know he was still there, holding his promise to stay by my side. There was something calming in his presence now, something steadying that I hadn’t noticed before.

The others began chatting among themselves, sharing their own stories of haggling with the vendors, laughing about who’d paid the most for what they’d brought. They were giving Rafe and me a moment, I realized, a chance to talk without the pogues’ attention fixed on us.

Rafe leaned down slightly, his face level with mine, his voice low and steady. “You really okay?” he asked, his hand still warm on my thigh.

I took a deep breath, the initial dizziness and nausea fading, leaving behind a feeling of clarity I hadn’t expected. “Yeah, I think so." I paused, looking up into his eyes.

He smiled, a soft, almost vulnerable expression, and for a moment, he seemed like a different Rafe—one who wasn’t weighed down by pride or bravado. “That's good” His voice was filled with a sincerity that softened something inside me. "Don't want our little one and her mommy to starve, do we?" He smiled making me let out a low chuckle.

In this quiet moment, I knew, deep down, that I wouldn’t want anyone else to be the father of my child. Everything just felt right. Despite all the chaos, the ups and downs, there was a steady comfort in knowing me and Rafe would face it together.

likes and reblogs are appreciated! 🐇

>゜))彡 taglist — @rafecamerons-national-anthem @ts1mp0ne @vheavxly @enjoymyloves @tv-girllover07 @husherstan @smthabsolutelyunhinged @multisection @onlyrealjoy @hoelesslyt @nina357

[k-hotchoisan]

backseat serenade

<mingi x fem!reader>

Getting stuck in the backseat of your friend’s car after a night out with your drunk friends wasn’t how you thought of ending the night, especially not on Mingi’s lap.

Genre/warnings: smut, pwp, forced proximity, technically exhibitionism but not because no one ends up noticing, fingering, light choking and wrist pining, riding, cream pies, orgasms, something is going on in the backseat…, furcoat mingi

word count: 3.3K (what the fucK)

a/n: y'all be eating fucking good fr. Also shout out to my loml @bro-atz for helping out with the plot a little <3 shout out to mingi brain rot!

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie  @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess  @woojirang @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @jeon-ify @itza-meee @miss-fallon @hwallazia @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @yunhogrippers @watermelon2319 @vampiregirl215 @kibs-and-bits @s-h-y-a @liyahbug05-blog @luvt0kki @httpseungmxn  @voicesinmyhead-rc @woojirang @wlv-asteria @jjoongstar @comicnerd557 or @kpopwrites @vic0921

networks: @atzhouse @cultofdionysusnet @cromernet

“Who else is here?” You ask. 

She shrugs. “My boyfriend and a couple of his friends. You know them.” Well, you’ve definitely met a couple of your friend’s boyfriend’s friends before. Your eyes scan the crowd and sure enough, you spot familiar faces. 

And then your eyes rest on a particular male—his hair dyed platinum and slicked back, already drawing attention because of his height alongside his fur coat that hung over his shoulders. You never thought someone could pull off a fur coat that well actually. A pair of glasses sits on his nose bridge, which seems to somehow accentuate how sharp his eyes are. He’s been on your radar since he appeared on a mutual friend’s Instagram. 

“He’s pretty cute isn’t he?”, your friend’s date pushes, lightly bumping his arm against yours. 

You cast him a glance. “Just surprised that there are people who still wear fur coats in this economy.”

“That’s-“

“Song Mingi”, you reply, not taking notice of your friend’s boyfriend’s surprised expression. 

“You know him?”

“Came across him”, you reply a little too quickly. You sure as hell were not about to spill the truth. 

He definitely looks and is intimidating for sure, especially when he opens his mouth to speak, his voice so low that it tickles your ears. You could hear him talk forever, you think. You could imagine how he moans in your ears.

You blink. The fuck?

And so, for the past hour or so, you’ve been stealing glances at the blond male, but unfortunately, there was only so much staring could do, and it was not helping you get the male’s attention. Sure, the both of you actually followed each other (you were surprised when he followed you back), and the way he liked your stories sometimes made your stomach grow butterflies, but you never actually interacted with him in real life. 

It wasn’t until the party was slowing down, when you came back from being distracted by another friend, was when you realise Mingi was gone. A ping of disappointment fills you up, but it’s not as horrendous as the feeling of regret—for not just going up to talk to him. You wonder when you’ll see him again.

You decide to find your friend and call it a night.

“Do you wanna hitch a ride with us?”, your friend asks, uselessly trying to balance herself, her partner holding onto her waist. 

“The driver didn’t drink, I promise”, your friend’s partner assures. 

You open the car door and your eyes widen when you spot Mingi. 

You whip your head to your friend to ask her sincewhen Mingi came with the friend group but you realise you wouldn’t be getting any concrete answers from a tipsy person. 

You glance back at the male donned in the maroon fur coat, who seems rather surprised when he sees that you were the one who opened the car door. 

But Mingi’s expression remains indifferent—god knows what he’s thinking about but you swore you saw a tint of something in his eyes when your friends told you to just sit on his lap because “the car had no space”. 

“Hi, y/n”, Mingi’s deep voice calling your name is kept in a bottle and stored at the back of your head. 

“Hey Mingi”, you greet back, cautiously approaching him. 

“Are you okay with this?” You ask, testing the waters by putting your weight on his left thigh. 

“It’s fine. I’m just worried that it’s gonna be uncomfortable for you since it’s gonna take a while to reach your place right?”

Right. You nod in defeat. 

Your body jolts slightly when you feel Mingi’s touch burn against your skin—especially your thighs. 

His friend on the passenger seat has the aux cord and he’s picked out a song to blast in the speakers. You feel goosebumps bloom across the nape of your neck when Mingi’s voice hits your ear from behind. 

“Sorry, you might need to move in a little more, Princess. We have three more squeezing with us at the back.”

You blink, processing the information before internally thanking the universe that the car is dark so the red flushing against your cheeks gets hidden. 

Soon you find yourself fully on Mingi’s lap, and although you try not to lean too much against him, you realise the position feels awkward, and when Mingi personally shifts you with his hands instead, you decide to stay put. 

The energy in the car is high, even after all that partying, which you easily deduce to be due to the alcohol. Unfortunately, you couldn’t be singing along at the top of your lungs, not when you’re subconsciously aware that Mingi is just behind you. 

Sitting on someone’s lap was definitely not as comfortable as sitting on a car seat, and that was a given, so you find yourself shifting constantly, not realising Mingi closing his fists every time your ass shifts against him, particularly his crotch. 

Suddenly you feel the weight below you shift. Mingi’s arm wraps around your waist, his weight pressing against you. You stay put the moment you feel his lips barely inches away from the shell of your ear. 

“I strongly suggest you try to stay still, y/n, or it’ll become a problem for the both of us.” 

You turn your head slightly, barely enough to capture him within your peripherals. At first, you wonder if you’re starting to annoy him, but when you feel his hands slide down to your thighs and something hard pressing against your ass, you get your answer. 

And you wonder how far you should take this. 

Your face is heating up, at the idea you’re just sitting on Mingi’s thick erection, separated by the fabric of his pants and the ridiculously thin fabric of your body con dress. You wonder about his size, which only gets more vivid since you’re literally sitting right on his fucking cock—how thick he would be, how much he would stretch you open, and it’s making you slowly drench your panties. 

The more his erection is blatantly pressing against you, the more you can’t help but fidget on his lap. You’re wondering why Mingi hasn’t said anything, you wonder if he even felt it at all. The moment that thought forms in your brain, you pick out what sounded like low groans from behind you. Then you feel Mingi’s fingers press against your bare thighs, just this fucking close to lifting your dress. 

Mingi shifts against you, his hard cock now even more prominent against your ass—directly below your pussy if it wasn’t for the fact that there were layers of annoying fabric keeping them apart. 

His deep voice is like a melody in your ear,  “I’m closing an eye if you’re just doing this on accident, but there’s only so much more grinding I can take princess.”

You glance over to the company seated just right beside you—they are still singing their hearts out thanks to the self-assigned DJ of the car. The music was still blasting, and you realise you and Mingi are slowly forming another world—one growing of hot and heavy air. 

You’re trying to weigh your options and risks, but the constant friction of Mingi’s cock just poking you through his pants mixed with the light buzz from the alcohol earlier is keeping you less than logical. 

You lean back, the back of your head resting on his shoulder, feeling the thick coat tickle your cheeks, taking in the scent of his cologne that you swear only he could pull off, the boldness rushing into your veins like adrenaline.

“And if I said it wasn’t an accident?”

You don’t know what he might do next, but it’s making your legs tremble by the second. Your clit is fucking throbbing from the sheer anticipation. 

Mingi’s eyes dart to glance at you while his head remains positioned straight, before he presses himself onto you with a smirk against your ears, “Right. Glad we cleared that up, princess.” 

His hands press on the sides of your throat, two fingers tipping your jaw to turn your head to face him as he clashes his lips against yours, and you’re ready for him to just take whatever the fuck you have left. You’re doing your best to muffle your moans through the kisses, but as every second passes, you’re ready to give into it—mostly scream his fucking name into the night at this point. 

Your eyes are so glazed out, your pussy throbbing and drenched, your mind so sexually frustrated the more Mingi keeps you waiting. Mingi’s fingers trail along your bare thighs, his legs forcing yours to stay open, easily letting the gather of your dress push upwards, while his fingers push your panties to the side. You hear him mutter fuck when your wet cunt drenches his fingers. He barely drags his fingers over your clit, yet you already feel like you’re about to burst. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl and stay quiet for me?” Mingi asks, sinking his gaze into yours. You swallow hard and nod, so fucking entranced by his sharp eyes behind the glasses, and alongside the fact that his fingers are rubbing circles on your clit. 

“Fuck me. You’re so fucking wet for me”, he hisses, eating up your moans as he fits his thick fingers into your pussy, filling you up instantly. Oh god. You feel your mind completely blank out at the sensation of Song Mingi stretching you out. 

You swear that the wet sounds of Mingi’s fingers fucking your sopping cunt were louder than the music, but for some reason, and thank fuck, no one else seemed to notice. Yet. 

His other hand clasps over your mouth as he watches your eyes roll back, your desperate and satisfied moans muffled every time his thumb presses against your clit while his fingers fill you up again and again. 

You shouldn’t have agreed to stay quiet. 

Mingi’s legs are strong as fuck because his knees keep your legs from snapping shut as you let the feeling build in your stomach. Your hips are involuntarily bucking against his fingers, craving for him to fuck his fingers deeper. Shit. You can’t seem to get enough. He releases his hand off your mouth for a while, letting it wander to your tits, rolling your nipples over your dress with his fingers, listening to you pant and whimper.  

“Can’t wait to fuck your tight cunt once we get off”, he mutters into your ear, increasing his pressure on your clit. 

“Please… fuck! Mingi…” you trail, not even sure what you’re begging for at this point. But the knot tightens hard and taut. You’re about to snap anytime soon. 

“Cum on my fingers for me, y/n. Show me how your cunt is gonna feel like when my cock is gonna stuff you full.”

His hand goes back to clamping over your mouth to muffle your cries while your orgasm rips through your body. Your eyes roll back, and your back arched against his abdomen, the pleasure spreading through every nerve while he’s still fucking you with his fingers, enjoying the way you’re completely undone because of him. Your cunt can’t seem to stop spasming and it’s only from his fucking fingers. 

But it slowly wears off, and he releases his hand from your mouth, letting you catch your breath. 

His fingers slowly leave your spent and creamy cunt, and for a split second, you’re almost disappointed. You turn your head, watching Mingi slide his stained fingers past his lips, licking them clean, and his eyes locked onto you. 

“You taste so fucking good, Princess”, he whispers, before his hands are on your throat again, pulling you in for a wet kiss, and you taste yourself on his tongue, your face heating up at his words once more. 

The split second you pull away from him is when the music stops, and you hear your name being called.

“Y/n!”

Your eyes widen, and Mingi lowers his knees, letting you quickly shut your legs, letting his arm rest close to your legs, blocked by his fur coat. Thank fuck you’re in the dark. 

“This is your stop right?” Your friend asks before she turns on the interior car lights. You glance at the apartment building and sure enough, it is your apartment building. 

“Right”, you manage to answer with a forced smile. 

And as you are about to leave the car, Mingi suddenly announces, “I’ll send her up. Don’t wait for me.” He takes off his fur coat, draping it over your shoulders, quickly turning away as he pushes the car door open, ignoring the suggestive looks his group of friends were giving him before curtly saying his goodbyes and shutting the car door. 

Mingi is pretty much gentle with you as the both of you head up to your apartment, asking if you’re feeling cold, even though he’s only in a black tank top. You can’t help but gawk at how he looks even under shitty elevator lights—still so fucking hot. His fingers haven’t let go of yours yet since the both of you left the car, and he sure isn’t letting you go when the both of you reach to the door of your apartment. 

You feel so ridiculous in this oversized fur coat, but the fact that Mingi’s smell is just all over it makes you turn a blind eye to it. 

You unlock the door, pushing it open, the post nut clarity hitting, but the realisation of Mingi in a private space with you sending you mind into the gutter. 

And suddenly you feel your cunt throb again. Fuckin hell. 

“Cute place you have there”, he comments, slipping his shoes off. 

“I try to make the most out of it”, you return, taking off the fur coat, handing it back to him. 

Mingi pauses, staying near the door.

“I got no clue why I left the car like that, y/n. If you want me to leave, I can just call a cab and-“ 

His mouth runs, watching the way you’re walking towards him, and his lips snap shut when you pull him in for an open mouth kiss, his thoughts completely disappearing like they never existed. 

“Finish what you started, Minki”, you whisper when you pull away. 

For once, you like the way red looks on his pretty face, the red that disappears when he catches on, eye fucking you while thinking how fucking hot you look under normal apartment lights than the dim lights. 

His hands cup the back of your neck before his fingers are on your scalp, tugging your hair to face him, letting his lips collide with yours. You taste him so much more intensely now, and fuck does he taste like heaven. 

You feel his hands leave your head, going for your wrists instead, and he backs you up against the wall, deciding to pin your fucking wrists against the wall while stealing all of the oxygen you have left in between pants. 

His fingers trail down so lightly across your skin, you feel like you’re about to combust. 

“Is the couch fine for you?” He asks. You nod, just internally begging him to do anything to you. 

His hands slip down to your thighs, carrying you up in his arms, kissing and sucking against the skin of your neck while he navigates through your apartment. When he does find the couch (rather quickly), he lets you fall onto it, watching the way your dress rides up higher to your hips, your soaked panties coming into view, and his cock growing hard once more. 

“You know, you’re honestly killing me with that dress”, Mingi comments, his fingers tugging off your drenched panties, almost salivating over your glistening cunt. “Had to hold back from just pulling you out and fucking you.”

Oh, fucking gods. 

“That’s why we’re here now, aren’t we?” You tease, watching his satisfied grin grow bigger. 

You can’t wait for him to fuck your brains out. 

Mingi squats, letting his face press against your bare cunt, giving licks up, his tongue pressing against your clit while holding your legs apart. He thinks your whimpers and begs are like a fucking symphony—and he could listen to them over and over again while he breaks you, over and over again. 

It doesn’t last long, unfortunately, because he feels like he’s about to burst the longer he waits, his cock bulging against the fabric of his pants. 

So Mingi unbuckles his pants, pushing them down along with his underwear, his thick and long cock springs from his apparel, wet and decorated in thick precum. He gives himself quick strokes, amused by the way your face is turning a soft shade of pink. 

His thick fingers once again hold your wrists above you, lining his cock up to your pretty hole and pushing himself in, his girth taking up all space instantly. You see stars splatter beneath your eyelids as his cock stretches you out—thick and heavy. 

“Fuck. Song Mingi-“ you cry out, struggling against his grasp. 

“So fuckin tight, princess. Fuck, you feel so fucking good”, he sighs, letting himself bottom out in you, relishing in the way your face completely contorts into pleasure when he’s fully seated in you. 

And when he starts fucking you, your eyes roll back—the feeling of his cock pumping in and out of you switching off most of your senses. 

You sense his arms pining your wrists are growing tired, so you do your best to tap his arm, and Mingi lets go, watching you slide his wrist down to your throat. 

You sure know how to push his buttons. 

He applies pressure and it hits all the perfect spots. A choked moan escapes you while he fucks you dumb. 

“I’d love to choke you more, princess, but I really need you to ride me right now”, Mingi whispers, his fingers leaving your throat, and he pulls his cock out. 

You climb onto his lap, lining his cock before you push yourself down, his fullness knocking the wind out of you once more. 

“Are you gonna take all of my cum like a good girl?” He hums, wiping away the tears from your eyes. You nod weakly, biting your lip. 

“That’s my good girl”, he compliments, and it makes your heart fucking soar. Mingi bounces you on his cock, groaning at the way you’re squeezing around him. “Fuck, squeeze me just like that. God, your pussy feels so fucking amazing, princess.”

“Mingi, I’m so close. Oh fuck I’m gonna-“

Mingi only holds your thighs down, watching you shake, feeling your cunt just clenching down and flutter on his cock, cream seeping down his shaft, and he groans in your ear, keeping himself deep in your pussy, his thick cum flooding into your tight cunt, listening to you curse while he forces you to ride out your high. 

“So fucking good. Mingi…” you mutter through tears and hiccup, letting Mingi kiss your tears before he slowly pulls his wet cock out of you, satisfied at the way his cum slowly trickles out of you while you catch your breath. 

Mingi waits for your mind to slowly clear, and you climb off him, but your fingers stay interlocked with his. 

“We can wash up and order food if you want”, you say, trying to avoid the fact that you’re still flushing slightly considering Song Mingi made a wreck out of you. 

But he pulls you along with him. 

“An invitation to shower together? I’ll gladly fuckin take it, princess.”

[moonlight-prose]

a request, if i may, of praising old man logan as he filfthly eats you out and it makes him combust the more you praise him? okay running away again

speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life

a/n: look at him taking off his glasses in absolute shock of this ask- no okay does old man logan have a praise kink? i would raise it higher and say every version of logan has a massive praise kink. this is a man who wants to know he's doing good in life. his love language is acts of service so he might get to hear a pretty thank you. also i'm not sorry for how feral this got. i have no explanation.

summary: he knew he loved you when your words begin to piece his heart back together. he knew he loved you when he flourishes at your praise. he knew he loved you when nothing in this world could matter but the sound of your voice telling him you love him too.

word count: 3k+

pairing: old man!logan x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, oral (f receiving), praise kink, logan is obsessed, dirty talk via reader, he is so pretty when he blushes, manhandling, cumplay, cumeating, overstimulation, crying, he's needy in this one, angst, tortured soul of an old man, reverence, religious trauma + greek mythology hints.

He can feel the strings of fate pull tight around his broken heart. In a failed attempt to draw him back together. To piece together an organ that barely beat for him anymore. He might have felt it once, before it broke. Before it gnarled itself like the branches of a dying tree, one half twisting away from the other in a desperate attempt of survival.

He deemed it a useless part of his body until you came along. You with your smile that held enough cloying sweetness to choke him as he stood helpless. Silently begging for you to say his name. To bring him back to life.

Whatever horrors that plagued his mind—endless nightmares that promised nothing but anguish—suddenly came crashing to a halt at the sight of you. So pretty in your denim jeans and velvet top. An angel seated in the center of a bar that held more filth than you deserved to be near. Logan couldn’t fathom that luck struck him this hard.

Not when death had already claimed his soul; notched yet another tally in the endless wall of people that came before.

He felt the dirt pack under his nails as he clawed his way out of the grave he put himself in. Years spent alone—a man lost to the ravages of time—had turned him bitter. With rough edges and biting words that stung far more than he intended. How could he believe he deserved to live after he contributed so much to the endless pool of blood that tainted his soul? How was he allowed such softness after biting off bits of brutality his whole life?

Logan was pretty sure he survived on borrowed time that had already run out. He could feel death breathe down his neck as the days went on. A reminder that what little of his life remained would be spent suffering. And he found that accepting it was easier than battling against the will of God, or whoever toyed with his lifeline.

It was far easier to die than find a reason to live.

Until you said his name.

Softly. Sweetly. Reverence wrapped in a tight grasp of need.

You brought him back from the edge—took his hand and refused to take no for an answer. You and the safety of your touch; the promise in your kiss. You dragged him into a life he didn’t earn; one that almost tasted too sweet—too sour.

After near a decade of being buried beneath the dirt, he felt himself collapse above ground and suck in his first real gasp of fresh air. Alive, once more. Hell spit him out with a vow of love and who was he to argue against it.

His fingers dug into your plush thighs, tugging them open to see what lay between. He marveled at their softness, eyes wide and awestruck at the sight of you spread beneath him. You practically glowed in the dim light of the bedside table. Yellow, musty, yet angelic when it caressed your body with its heavenly touch.

He wondered if this was real life; your nails digging sharply into his shoulders gave him the answer.

"Logan," you sighed, voice high with need.

The strings pulled taught. A vice like hold that drew him to you.

Maybe that's what this unutterable feeling was. The gnawing pit at the bottom of his heart. A greed he'd never indulged before—too afraid of what it might ask for next. He wasn't a man who asked for much. Rather someone that found himself far too content with nothing. But tonight he found his lips forming the words of a false prayer that his mother taught him as a child.

Hail the angel in his bed. Hail every good fucking thing you brought into his life.

His teeth sunk into your thigh, body jolting at your responding moan. Fingers dug into his hair, tugging at the mussed locks with a high pitched whine. You were a needy little thing, but Logan found he desperately wanted to be needed.

He smiled laving his tongue over the tender spot, working his way up to where you dripped for him.

So slick. So perfect.

Saliva filled his mouth. "What do ya want baby?"

Your chest heaved; he could feel the heat of your body under his palms. "Your m-mouth Logan."

His eyes trailed along your brow covered in a sheen of sweat. The room was thick with the humid air of the outside world. But that didn't deter him from craving your skin near his. The pressure of your thighs around his head a welcome weight. If he sunk his teeth in where the curve of your leg met your hip he knew he could draw out that soft choking noise he longed to hear on days spent driving alone.

If he had his way he'd crawl into you to seek your serenity straight from the source. He'd never divulge about the ache that chewed him up on the inside, but Logan wondered if you knew. Could you tell how much he craved you? How much he couldn't live without you.

When your glittering eyes met his, the resolve he spent years building cracked like glass. You peered into him as if he was a stained glass window. A god you were more than happy to worship.

"You want me to lick this pretty pussy?" Fuck, he sounded drunk off your taste already.

His mouth hovered over your throbbing clit, your scent now filling his senses. Overwhelming him with what he wanted most. But he needed to hear it. The lilt of your begging; the soft echo of your need that washed over him like soothing river water.

He couldn't live without it.

"Yes," you sobbed, thigh twitching.

The string sliced his heart open, blood pooling onto the white bed sheets. Oh what a sweet death your love made. Oh...what a bittersweet way to go.

He'd die right now if you asked him to. Hand over his heart on a silver platter if you so wished it. Maybe that made him far too gone for his own good, but Logan couldn't remember a time in his life where he got this. Safety. The hope of love burning far too bright and far too hot for him to fly near it.

Yet there he was. Icarus happily soaring in your sun like glow.

"I got ya honey," he murmured. "Gonna take care of what's mine."

You nodded frantically—tears welling up in your eyes. "You take care of me Logan."

The breath in his chest stuttered, eyes dark as the words fell past your swollen lips. He wanted to explain why his cock twitched against his stomach. Why he now leaked into the sheet with heavy panted breaths. But every time he came up short with the words needed to form an answer.

"Yeah I do sweetheart," he breathed. "Don't I?"

"Uh-huh."

"Take care of what belongs to me."

There was no warning when his hands dragged you closer with a rough tug, mouth closing over your clit with a desperate suck. A cry wrenched from your mouth, sparks sharply traveling down your spine. He licked through your slick with a growl. Hands an unbreakable press against your thighs.

The sight of your body bowed, mouth open for small gasped breaths that never came, snapped something in his mind. He was an old man. Well past his years. But the taste of your pussy along his tongue brought back a ferocity he often tamped down in his younger age. He felt the feral want claw at his chest, and answered it with a broken snarl.

Swallowing down every drop you gave him, he plunged his tongue into your entrance, thrusting messily until a smear of your shiny slick began to coat his mouth. It covered his cheeks and clung to the hair of his beard. He'd clean it out later, taste you on his tongue until he was aching for another go. But for now he was preoccupied with the way you cried for him.

"Oh fuck!" Your thighs trembled over his shoulders, hips canting down to drag yourself along his tongue. "So good."

He shuddered, eyes rolling back at the sound of your praise. You caught it within seconds, lips pulling into a breathless smile that left him gasping for air. His teeth nipped at your thigh briefly as his hips ground into the mattress below.

"You like that baby?" you breathed, thumb smearing your own slick against his cheek.

Something hot washed over his body. A needy sick and twisted ache that he'd never indulged in before. He wanted to be a good man to you; longed to be needed. And fuck if you didn't give him everything.

You were his walking wet dream. His future handed off and wrapped in a neat little bow.

"L-Love your tongue Logan-" A high gasp tore from your throat when he dived back in. Slurping at your clit with a heady moan as you dragged him closer. "Taking care of me so well."

His hips canted down into the bed, fucking his cock along the warmth of his stomach, as you gushed into his mouth again. Eyes zeroed in on your face, pupils dilated as he growled into your flesh. You no longer could see the man you loved, but the feral side he tamped down during the day. The animal he longed to release in your presence.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum."

His arms looped around your thighs and with a sharp yank, he had his face buried deep enough to suffocate himself. You sobbed an incoherent version of his name. Nails clawed at his shoulders, but Logan could feel the pulse of your clit under his tongue.

He sucked it into his mouth with a grunt, rolling it along his tongue as you trembled with the oncoming shocks of an orgasm that threatened to destroy you.

Tears dripped down your cheeks and Logan felt the satisfying part of his heart begin to stitch itself back together. The strings were tight enough to numb his pain. To quell the flare of agony.

That used to be all he knew, all he counted on most days. When there was nothing left and he'd propped the shovel in the dirt—his grave open and waiting—he stumbled right into your arms. He found his reason for living.

Heat curled around his spine as you shook with the impending orgasm—the stimulation on your clit practically debilitating. He grunted into your soaked flesh, eyes narrowed as he chased the release that pulled his stomach taut. But this wasn't for him to indulge in; this wasn't his pleasure.

So with a throaty moan you felt reverberate along your body, he scraped his teeth along your clit and watched as your body went stiff.

"Logan!" you cried, fingers scrambling for purchase on any part of him you could reach.

You gushed into his awaiting mouth, praises of it's so good, you're so good falling upon his ears like the whimpered prayers of a devout worshiper thanking your god.

"Taste so fuckin' good," he mumbled, drunk on what you gave him.

He didn't care that you were jolting with each pass of his tongue along your pussy. He didn't care that you were shocked with overstimulation, small broken cries of his name muffled by the press of your thighs against his ears. He licked at you until he couldn't breathe. Buried his tongue into your twitching entrance and sucked out your cum with a happy hum.

"P-Please." You tugged at his hair, pulling him off you with a sob. "I-I can't anymore Logan."

"'M not fuckin' finished," he said, eyes glazed and face coated in your slick.

You made a mess of his face. The light catching along where you spilled into his mouth and along his throat. And still he wanted more. He'd spend hours between your thighs, burning your skin with his beard, if it meant he could divulge in your sweetness.

"It hurts-"

A grunt rumbled in his chest, his arms tugging you back even as your feet kicked along his back. "Just one more honey. Yeah?"

You shook your head. "B-But-"

"Thought you said it was good."

"It is."

"Then lemme be good for you." He wanted to tell you that the world went quiet between your thighs. That all his grief, all his pain, lessened when you sobbed his name.

He wanted to show you the string that looped his heart to yours—the only thing keeping him alive—and thank you for bringing him back from the dead. But words weren't his forte. Violence had become the only tenderness he knew and you didn't deserve the rough edges of an old man. You should have more.

But when you let him touch you like this—caress your skin and lick between your folds—he felt as if he was a man who finally was worthy of someone as precious as you. He could pretend he didn't bear the brunt of a fucked up soul.

The weight on his chest lifted when your tear filled gaze met his and you nodded. Small, barely there, but it was enough for him to seal his mouth back over you with a ragged moan. Your body shook as his tongue slid through the seam of your pussy. The tip nudging against your clit—careful to draw the pleasure from your body slowly.

He didn't want to give you pain. His heart wouldn't survive that. But he was a broken man; someone who begged for more even as his teeth sunk into what was already given.

You were his meal. His sacrament in the midnight hours until dawn broke across the darkened sky. You were the other half of his soul.

How could he not indulge in your sweetened tang until his tongue went stiff?

"I love you," you sighed, eyes rolled back when he sucked at your pussy, a wet low moan echoing in the air. "My p-perfect husband."

The cold press of his wedding band against your thigh drove him over the edge. You weren't officially married. Didn't have the backyard wedding with a preacher to match. But Logan had placed a ring on your finger near a year ago, sliding one over his own with the vow of forever cemented in his words.

Even if that didn't mean much in the eyes of a god who abandoned him near a century ago.

"Oh-"

Your head tipped back, mouth dropping open as his fingers dipped into your wet heat. Thrusting lazily until he found the spongey patch along your walls—driving the pad of his middle finger into it with a needy moan.

He knew it wouldn't take long for you to fly off the edge of a second release. That didn't make watching you climb to that peak any less satisfying. The sight appeased his soul. It gave him a chance to breathe; let him know that after so much bad—after so much pain—he could do something good. He could bring you to the edge of pleasure and drag you over again and again.

He could finally be the man you believed he was.

Not the animal they created.

"C'mon," he muttered. Eyes fixed on the shape of your breasts as your body curved off the bed. Hips dragging along his face with a stunted cry.

A wail bounced off the walls, piercing his eardrums with the symphony of your cries. His fingers rapidly pumped into you with a squelch that had heat burning his cheeks—lips pulling your throbbing clit into his mouth as you broke. The climax slammed into you; battering your already swollen pussy.

Logan could feel his cock swell at the sight.

"Fuckin' perfect," he grunted, teeth bared as he clambered to his knees and wrapped his fist soaked in your slick around his leaking cock. "'M gonna cum sweetheart."

Your eyes fluttered open, fingers digging into his thigh. "Please. Wanna see it baby. Look so pretty when you cum Logan."

His chest tightened, body shaking while you watched in rapture as he fucked his fist rapidly. He wouldn't fucking last, could feel the burning consume his body, but something held him back. The string around his heart yanked him away from the edge, tearing a cry from his throat when his frustration peaked.

You could see it—the glimmer of need in his dark eyes. This wasn't the first time he longed for your words. It certainly wouldn't be the last.

So you spread your legs and sat up slowly—arms wrapping around his shoulders to bring his lips down to yours. A soft moan was muffled by your mouth; the peak of his release within reach. He could practically feel the tips of his fingers graze it.

"Cover my pussy baby," you mumbled into his mouth. "Be good for me and mark what's yours."

The growl came from the very bottom of his chest when he finally came. Your name was a bitten out snarl pressed to your mouth in an open mouth kiss as he spurted over his knuckles. He pumped his cock to milk every drop; eyes fixed on the way it covered the swollen lips of your pussy. Dripping down to your entrance that fluttered at the sight of his sweaty and crimson tinged face.

"I fuckin' love ya honey," he murmured, hand cupping your chin to drag your lips back to his. "Best thing that's happened in my life is you."

You smiled, thumbs pressing to his cheeks. "Love you too Logan."

Clutching you close, he felt the string go loose. The breath finally rushing back into his lungs at the sight of your eyes glowing with the kind of light that brought him back to the first day The night he met you in that shitty bar—alcohol the only thing on his mind until he saw you.

The night you spoke his name over his covered grave and dragged him back to life with a smile.