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i'm not gonna lie y'all, i did fuck all on monday, but I've done somewhere between 12k and 17k words worth of work tuesday and today, so i'm feeling pretty good about productivity this week
here's to the writing gods, who are letting me get shit done right now đ„
#don't get too excited#a decent chunk of that word count is just variables changing up very similar scenes#depending on how the variables are presenting it can be easier to code separate passages rather than separate if statements#for ease of both writing and formatting#so that inflates the word count a little bit#but i just finished a variable passage that gives CAIT some more agency#which i love#i eat up the tension between CAIT and MC when they have a disagreement#can't wait for that to come back around#i'm hopeful i will be able to finish this particular branch by friday
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⊠cw ; heian!sukuna. gn!reader. fluff! crack.
Your husband Sukuna often spends his time relaxing in the garden while you tend to the various trees and flowers in the courtyard. Even as you work in silence and pay him little mind, he simply enjoys being in your presence. Heâs a particular fan of sitting alongside the creek and enjoying the babbling of the brook, finding peace in the white noise.
Today is a different story.
Today, your husband is beyond restless. Heâs gone back and forth between different areas of the garden, scowling down at anything his crimson gaze finds, only ever moving to scratch at his shoulder. That is, until he finds himself standing behind you as you water a patch of red wisterias.
Satisfied with your work, you get to your feet, eyes scanning the deep scowl etched into his face.
âWhatâs wrong, Ryo?â
âNothing is the matter,â he grumbles, one of his upper arms reaching up to scratch at his shoulder blade. He crosses his lower arms, his brow twitching with a deeply unsatisfied expression.
Tilting your head, you study him as he stares off to the side, suddenly uncrossing his lower arms to scratch at his lower back when it suddenly clicks.
âFour arms and you canât even scratch your own back, hm?â You tease, grinning as you circle around to scratch at the center of his back. The tension in his muscles dissolves under your touch as you ease whatâs been bothering him this whole time. Stubborn as ever, of course he wouldnât ask for help.Â
Both pairs of his arms cross over his chest as he glowers at your teasing. âSilence. I could have reached it, had I needed to.â
âMhm,â you agree, the teasing lilt remaining in your tone. âIâm sure you could have. Thatâs why youâve been so grumpy for the past thirty minutes. Because you can reach your back.â
You reach your hand higher, your nails scratching just beneath his shoulder blades and he hums lightly in satisfaction.
âJust ask for help next time, silly,â you grin.
âYou grate on my nerves.â
âAnd yet, you keep me around,â you circle back around to face him once more, noting that his scowl has lessened in spite of his grumblings.
He sets a single hand on the crown of your head as if he isnât quite sure how to respond, because he is grateful, but you are also teasing him. Still, the hand slowly slides down to cup your cheek, his large thumb running gently over the skin.
You canât help your smile at the subtle show of appreciation, one fitting of the harsh man whose heart youâve found a place within. It may be a small action to someone observing from the outside, but you know better. Because nothing means more to a man like Sukuna than slowing down and enjoying the peace you bring him.
masterlist
writing & format © starmapz. dividers © adornedwithlight.
#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen#jjk fanfic#ryomen sukuna#sukuna#sukuna drabble#ryomen sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x reader#sukuna x y/n#sukuna fluff#sukuna fanfic#ryomen sukuna fanfic#jjk#sukuna ryomen#sukuna ryoumen#ryomen sukuna drabble#jjk x reader fanfic#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jjk drabble#drabble#dividers by @/adornedwithlight and @/cafekitsune#jujutsu kaisen drabble#starmapz works#starmapz drabble#starmapz
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Hi...I love your writing so much, Big Fan >_< âĄ
Can I ask about what it's like to shower with LNDS men?
Thank U
Showering With Them- The Love And DeepSpace Men
parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre/ tags: MDNI, 18+, suggestive content. short NSFW is right below the SFW ! (p.s sorry if this format was confusing ! just wanted to add both in this one) a/n: hihi anonnie! thank you for supporting my work i always appreciate it so much ! âĄâž(Ë á” Ë )âž i hope this was okay and that you enjoy reading this and my other future works ! Ù©(ËáË*)Ù âĄ i dunno but i might make a shower smut after writing these LMAO anyways gonna post another headcanon in a few hours after this (â©ËoËâ©)⥠any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!
âïœĄâ§ËÊâĄÉËâ§ïœĄâ
Xavier: (SFW)
More of a shower person than a bath person because there were too many times to count on how many times you saw him asleep in the bathtub.
Almost falls asleep when you massage his scalp with soap as he wraps his hands on your waist to keep balanced. It just felt too relaxing and he couldn't help but flutter his eyes closed
Has a fair share of wash products but he ends up using yours because yours smell better and it smells like you.
He loves it when you clean him, it feels such a safe and intimate space between the two of you. You hum softly as you work gently against his scalp that you lathered. He felt so safe, so warm, in the space that you two created that he eases into the relaxation.
Loves the feeling of you every time he grazes his hands over your body. Obviously heâll make sure to wash you as well. Heâll make sure that the soap doesnât get in your eyes. Sometimes the two of you stand and hug, enjoying each other presence, while the water pours over the two of you-until the water gets cold.
Xavier: (NSFW)
He can't help it. You'll feel his hard-on when he's pressed up behind you. Ruts into you very slowly against your ass as he wraps around you while his hand is planted on your thigh to control the lazy pace. His moans would invade your ear as shaky breaths escape your lips.
Zayne: (SFW)
Another intimate time for the two of you.
When heâs coming home from work, heâs basically putty in your hands. You didnât need to ask twice. He would barely have any energy to eat dinner or shower. Heâs so touchy when youâre helping him wash him off while he lowly murmurs in your ear âthank youâsâ
The type of man that would admire your body as he washes you with the body soap and shampoo. He has seen your body many times and has memorized every detail of you. But each time he sees you, it's like discovering you anew again. His eyes trail down as his hands lower, lower, and lower down your body as he washes you with the body soap.
Helps you wash your back and any hard places for you to reach and you do the same for him as well.
When you offer to help him wash his hair, he leans down, and you lather it with extra soap, laughing at how cute he looks. He doesnât mind this at all, he finds your reaction to be adorable whenever you do this.
When he washes your hair, he is always so gentle. âClose your eyes for me, my love.â Heâll say softly as his hands carefully knead shampoo into your hair before washing it all away. He'll make sure none of it goes into your eyes.
Once you both finish washing, he turns off the shower and steps out to grab your towel. You both dry each other off, making sure every drop of moisture is gone and helps you put on your robe.
Zayne: (NSFW)
One finger would be rolling on your nipple while the other hand works through your folds. His mouth would be sucking and swirling on your breasts.
He'll use the shower bench to sit and to meet your height to suck on your breasts but will also use that opportunity to let you ride him.
Rafayel: (SFW)
Takes a long shower and Iâm talking hours. He most definitely hogs the water and leaves you cold behind him. Has way too much showering products than you but heâll definitely share them with you
Jokes aside, he would not stop caressing every inch and curve of your body when he sees you glistening with the water.
Loves to wrap his arms around you from behind. Heâll trail kisses on your shoulder to your ear while whispering how cute you look before burying his face in the crook of your neck.
Lets you try all his expensive washes and you two would experiment every shower on which is the best
Would tell you to wash him and he loves it when you wash his hair. The way your fingers scrub the shampoo and your nails massaging his scalp, felt like heaven to him. Heâll rest his head on your shoulder as you wash the suds out and heâll have a content smile resting on his lips.
When the two of you are finished drying up, he'll make sure to pick the best moisturizer for the two of you before you both get dressed
Rafayel: (NSFW)
Round two. After you both finish having sex in bed or wherever, youâll find him against you again all naked and wet. His arousal is more heightened in the water. He just needs his pretty girl again after the mess you made on his cock
Loves how the water slides and glistens down between your bodies
Sylus: (SFW)
The type to say, âWhy waste water when we can just shower together.â And I fear he does have a point so thatâs why you both shower together often.
He likes to stand behind you most of the time because this allows him to place his chin on your head as the water falls onto the both of you.
He is most definitely going to get handsy using the soapy water. Heâll moves his hand further down to rub your butt and give it a light squeeze
He loves to put the lather of soap on your nose or place a bunch on your hair just to see your reaction. He also finds it amusing to see you try to do the same with him but you canât because of your height difference. It usually ends up in a bubble war between the two of you.
He helps dries you off first before you help him dry him off. He'll lower his head so you can ruffle the towel on his head.
When it was his turn to wash his hair, he would lean down, a smile curling on his lips as he gazed at your face while you carefully shampoo into his hair
âSy close your eyesâ
âWhy would I do that when I want to stare at my pretty girl?â
Sylus: (NSFW)
You turn him on easily so showering with him feels like he has a permanent hard on. Once you step in the shower, heâll let you get warm and wet before he starts rubbing up on you. He just loves the feeling of your bodies pressed against each other, especially since you both are wet.
Pins you against the glass door of the shower and takes you from behind. His right hand finds your breast, squeezing them and pinching your hardening buds in the warm water while his left hand is on the plush of your ass. Sometimes he'll press you up against the wall and have your legs wrapped around him so you don't slip, just let him do all the work as he ruts into you
#xavier x reader#xavier x you#xavier x y/n#zayne x reader#zayne x you#zayne x y/n#rafayel x reader#rafayel x you#rafayel x y/n#sylus x reader#sylus x you#sylus x y/n#xavier love and deepspace#zayne love and deepspace#rafayel love and deepspace#sylus love and deepspace#xavier lads#zayne lads#rafayel lads#sylus lads#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace fic#love and deepspace scenarios#lads x you#lads x reader#lads smut
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THIS MEANS WAR I

Dick Grayson x Reader x Jason Todd
divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto word count: 3.6k synopsis: Gothamâs youngest neuroscience lecturer never planned to get tangled up with two of its most eligible bachelors. Both are determined to win her overâwithout revealing they know each other⊠or that theyâre vigilantes. But when the Joker takes an interest in her, things get a whole lot more complicated. a/n: This story is inspired by the 2012 movie This Means War. I went back and forth on whether to write it with a named OC or in reader formatâand ultimately decided to try something new and go with reader-insert. I usually write in third person with original characters, so this is a bit of a different style for me. As for who the reader ends up with⊠I havenât made a final decision yetâmaybe one of them, maybe both. Feel free to let me know who youâre rooting for! Hope you enjoy the chaos! warnings: None so far except for the fact that I don't know anything about neuroscience only what my research brings up, so I'm praying the shit I write makes sense
GOTHAM UNIVERSITYÂ
The lecture hall smelled like old paper and burnt coffee. You stood at the front, spine straight despite the fatigue threading through your muscles. Behind you, the whiteboard was half-covered in scrawls of chemical structures and dopamine pathways, neatly drawn and precisely labeled. It was the kind of lecture that left half the room wide-eyed with curiosity⊠and the other half silently praying for mercy.
With a quiet click, you capped your marker and continued. âNeurotransmitter binding is not a one-size-fits-all process,â you said, voice steady as your gaze swept across rows of glazed eyes and frantic scribbles. âItâs dynamic. Itâs reactive. Itâs shaped by genetics, trauma, medicationâeven what you ate for breakfast.â
A hand shot up in the second row.
âSo⊠like, can serotonin make you hallucinate?â
You blinked. âNo. And if it does, someoneâs given you something elseâand you should go to the ER. Immediately.â
A ripple of laughter. A few groans.
Another hand roseâthis one from a sharp-eyed girl near the back. âIn Joker toxin exposure cases, have you ever seen synthetic mimicry of dopamine flood patterns?â
Now that was a question worth respecting.
Youâd specialized in Joker toxin during your postgraduate years, had seen firsthand the neurological carnage it left behind. The clown was a madman no doubtâbut a dangerously brilliant madman.
Your mouth tugged into a faint smirk. âYes. And no. But thatâs a topic for next week.â
The clock ticked toward the hour. You fielded three more questionsâone insightful, two exhaustingâbefore dismissing the class.Â
Backpacks zipped. Conversations stirred. As the last student filed out, you finally exhaled. Slowly. The silence was a relief.
Rolling your shoulders, you gathered your coat and bag, the weariness catching up to you in waves as you made your way toward the doorâhungry, tired, and vaguely craving something that didnât taste like caffeine or sugary energy drinks.
Gothamâs streets buzzed with their usual chaosâhonking cabs, barking vendors, motorcycles weaving between traffic like they were flirting with death. You walked with familiar ease, the city noise fading beneath the throb behind your eyes and the pressure at the back of your skull.
Your hand drifted up to your bun. It had been tightly wound since six in the morning, and now it felt like a migraine on a countdown. Mercifully, you didnât have to be in the lab todayâno microscopes, no sterile gloves, no post-doc breathing down your neck. Just freedom. Glorious, unwashed, unbothered freedom.
So you didnât hesitate. One by one, you tugged the pins from your hair, each metallic clink falling into your coat pocket like a tiny rebellion. The strands spilled down, wild and full of indents, but you didnât care. You tipped your head back, rubbed at your aching scalp with slow, tender fingers, and sighed like youâd been holding your breath all day.
You looked like hell. You felt like hell. But you were done. No lectures. No lab reports. Your appearance be damned you just wanted to spend the rest of the day in comfort.Â
Your boots clicked along the sidewalk as you headed toward CafĂ© Nero, already imagining the warmth of a latte in your handsâdespite your earlier claim about cutting back on caffeine. A lie, obviously. Caffeine was practically your lifebloodâ and something carby in your mouth.
But the universe had other plans.
You turned the cornerâand nearly collided headfirst with a ghost.
Jake.
Three years of your life bundled into one name, one face. One half-curved smile that looked exactly like it used to and somehow worse now that it was being directed at someone else.
Three years of your life compressed into one name. One face. One irritatingly familiar smirk. His arm was around a tall blonde, her smile radiant and far too trusting. He wore the same smug charm he always had as he said something that had her giggling.Â
He noticed you first.
âHey!â he said, voice way too bright. âY/N. Wow. You lookâŠâ his eyes flicked over your rumpled sweater, your wild hair, ââŠgreat. Still at the university? Tinkering away in your little lab?â
You straightened instinctively, spine snapping to attention like your body was trying to make up for the indignity of the moment. Of all the days to run into him.
âI am,â you replied, polite but clipped.
Three years together, and he still couldnât grasp the importance of your workâor the lives it affected. Your research had been groundbreaking, and heâd always referred to it like you were tinkering with science fair projects.
The blonde leaned into his side with a warm smile. âYou didnât tell me your ex was brilliant and pretty.â
You wanted to hate her. Truly, you did. But unfortunately⊠she actually seemed sweet.
He laughed. âI forget sometimes.â Then turned back to you with that same infuriatingly casual smirk. âOhâuh, Y/N, this is my fiancĂ©e, Hannah.â
The word hit like a slap.
Fiancée.
Only a year ago, youâd walked in on him and his yoga instructor, limbs tangled and guilt nowhere in sight. Heâd thrown away three years with you like it was nothingâand now, not even twelve months later, heâd found someone new and locked her down with a ring so big it probably needed its own insurance policy.
You managed a smile. A real one, for her sake. Sort of. âItâs nice to meet you.â Your eyes dropped to the large, glittering ring on her hand.
âWow,â you said with a tight smile. âThatâs⊠thatâs a big rock.â You let out an awkward laugh, trying muster the slightest bit of enthusiasm you definitely werenât feeling on the inside. âYouâre engaged. To be married.â
Jake grinned. âYeah. Things just⊠clicked. It was like fate.â Then he reached out and stroked her cheek with the kind of performative tenderness that made your stomach churn.Â
God. How had you ever loved this man?
âIsnât that right, baby?â he murmured.
Someone gag you with a spoon.
You stood there, frozen in place, as Jake pulled Hannah in for a kissâdeep as if he was trying to fit his entire tongue down her throat. Screw you, you thought. Screw you for rubbing her in my face.
You cleared your throat, the sound awkward and a little too loud. âWell, I should get going,â you beganâexcept your mouth didnât stop there.
Your brain screamed abort, but your tongue had other plans.
âI actually have to go meet my guy. Yeah, heâs a neuroscientist too. We, uh⊠met at work.â You nodded like that somehow made it more convincing. âAnywayâŠâ
You cleared your throat again, silently begging yourself to shut up.
âIt was⊠great seeing you. And congrats. On the ring. The upcoming wedding. Your whole⊠life. All of it.â You winced inwardly. âWell⊠Peace.â
And if that wasnât humiliating enough, you topped it off by flashing a peace sign like some glitching robot before turning and briskly walking away.
The second you were out of sight, your smile collapsed. You pressed your lips together, debating whether to scream into the sky or crawl into the nearest sewer.
âSomeone kill me right now,â you muttered under your breath.
CAFĂ NERO
You finally made it to the café, and with it, your mortification began to loosen its grip. The familiar scent of roasted beans and fresh pastries wrapped around you like a warm blanket, softening the sting of everything that had come before.
Inside, it was calmâthe gentle hiss of the espresso machine, the clink of ceramic, the low murmur of scattered conversations. A peaceful hum that felt like the complete opposite of Jake and his nauseating tongue display.
You slipped into your usual seat at the counter, letting your bag slump to the floor, and leaned against the worn wood like it might hold you up a little longer.
âAh! Doctora!â Juan greeted you with a bright smile from behind the bar.
He was a sweet kidâmaybe nineteenâwhoâd moved to Gotham from Mexico about six months ago. His English was improving steadily, though every now and then heâd still stumble over a few words. Youâd quietly helped where you could. While he knew your name, he aways insisted on calling you Doctora like it was your superhero title.Â
You snorted at the thought. You, a superhero? You couldnât even save yourself from an awkward conversation with your ex.
âThe usual?â he asked, already reaching for your cup.
âSi, please,â you nodded.
He glanced up with a curious smile. âLong day?â
You let out a soft groan, dropping your face into your hands. âYou have no idea.â
The door chimed behind you, but you didnât bother looking up. Not until you felt someone hovering a little too close to the seat beside you.Â
You prayed your luck wasnât that shitty.
But of course, it was.
Jakeâs familiar chuckle slid into your ears like nails on glass. You closed your eyes for half a second, steeling yourself, before slowly peeling your face from your hands.
âThis is too funny,â he said with a grin. âWhat a coincidence.â
âRight! Absolutely hilarious,â you replied, forcing a smile that you hoped didnât look as fake as it felt as you saw Jake and Hannah standing there.
âIâm assuming this is your boyfriendâs seat?â Jake asked, eyes glinting with amusement.
âOh, yeââ
Before you could finish, Juan slid your drink across the counter, cheerful as ever.
âNo, Doctora,â he said, accent warm, words slightly clipped at the edges. âOrder for one. Always order for one. Seat is free.â
You nearly choked on air.
Hannah giggled while Jake said nothing. Just raised his eyebrows slightly, in that smug little way he used to do when he thought heâd won something.
God, you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.
You smiled tightly. âIt is. Iâm meeting him back at work. Just stopped in quick. Juan, I thought I said I needed this to-go?â
Juan frowned, brows pinching together. âMmm⊠no, I donâ think so. You say you finish work. You always sit here, like always.â
âNot this time,â you saidâtoo sharp, too fast.
Juanâs face fell a little. Guilt bloomed in your chest like a bruise, he didnât deserve that. It was your own damn fault for digging the hole in you were now.
You sighed, softer this time. âLo siento, Juan. Can you make it to-go, please?â
He nodded, already reaching for the paper cup and bag.
You turned back to Jake with a forced laugh. âSeatâs all yours.â
The second Juan handed you the new cup and pastry bag, you thanked him quietly, paid, and practically sprinted for the doorâmortified, humiliated, and more than ready to go home and bury yourself under ten layers of shame.
MILO & ANTHONYâS APARTMENT
âUgh! I wanted to die right then and there,â you groaned, collapsing dramatically onto Milo and Anthonyâs couch, a glass of wine already halfway gone. Their apartment was across from yours, and youâd made a beeline for it the second you got home, desperate to drink your embarrassment into submission. âI fucking peaced them.â
Anthony winced. âYeah, thatâs⊠pretty bad.â
âThatâs because you need to go out more,â Milo said, waving his wine glass like a pointer. âMeet someone. Rub him all over Jakeâs face like a human flexâsame way heâs doing with that girl, Hayley.â
âHannah,â you corrected automatically. âAnd she seemed sweet.â
âShe could be as sweet as cotton candy dipped in honey and I still wouldnât give a shit,â Milo snapped. âI give a shit about you. And you cannot keep letting that asshole rent space in your head.â
You opened your mouth, but Milo steamrolled right over you.
âFine if youâre not ready for anything serious, but girlâyou need to go out and get some good dick. That pussy is drier than the Sahara.â
You choked on your wine. âHey! I get some!â
Milo deadpanned you. âYour vibrator doesnât count. Honestly, it should start charging you. Thing looks like itâs about to file for workersâ comp.â
You blinked. âHave you been going through my drawers again?!â
He shrugged without shame. âI was looking for your face cream.â
âAnd you thought I keep that in my underwear drawer?âÂ
âLook, the point is,â he said, sitting forward, âyou need to go out. Date. Even just a casual thing. I hate seeing you mope over that troll.â
âIâm not moping,â you muttered.
Anthony gave you a soft smileâtoo kind for this earth. âWeâre just worried about you. And hey, for the record, weâre glad you moved here. Youâre part of our chaos now.â
You exhaled, guilt and warmth stirring in your chest. âI know. Itâs just⊠I canât believe I was that blind. I nearly gave up everything for him. I even moved back to this shit-hole of a cityâwhere clowns and penguins blow up buildings and guys in capes fight crime in full spandex.â
âWell, at least Gotham has a certain⊠charm,â Anthony offered.
âI mean, itâs great if your idea of charm is daily arson,â you deadpanned.
âWe are happy youâre here,â Milo agreed, his voice softer for once. âBut youâve gotta stop beating yourself up. Even I thought he mightâve been your personâbut he wasnât. Thatâs on him. His loss, not yours. Youâve gotta move forward, babe.â
âI am dating,â you said weakly.
âNo, youâre talking to people. You donât even give them a real shot.â He raised his brows. âYou canât test chemistry without mixing the liquids.â
You rolled your eyes. âItâs more complex than just âmixing liquids,â Milo. Thereâs neural signaling, oxytocin regulation, attachment frameworks, behavioral conditioning⊠Timing alone can throw everything off. You canât just drop two people into a room and expect chemistry. Thatâs not chemistryâitâs chaos.â
âWhy not?â Milo shrugged. âPeople do it all the time. Youâre overthinking itâas usual. But if it helps, just treat it like another one of your experiments.â
âItâs not that simple,â you argued. âMy experiments have structure. Charts. Data. Equations. Control groups.â
âExactly!â Milo clapped his hands. âWhich is why you should try online dating. They have charts and shit.â
You let out a snort. âPlease. In this city? Knowing my luck, Iâd end up matched with a serial killer. Or worseâthe Joker.â
Anthony tilted his head thoughtfully. âDoes the Joker even online date?â
Milo groaned. âYouâre both insane. There are plenty of semi-normal people on those apps. Itâs how me and Anthony met.â
You gave him a flat look. âExactly.â
You gave him a long, pointed look. âPoint proven.â
âNo.â Milo leaned in. âThe point is you need to get back out there. Whether itâs for a wham-bam-thank-you-man kind of night, or you end up calling me crying because you just met the father of your future babiesâI donât care. You just canât keep living in Jakeâs memory. Not everyone is like him.â
You groaned, tipping back the rest of your wine in one go. âI know that.â
He raised an eyebrow, giving you a look.
âI do!â you insisted. âLook, can we table this for now? I just want to drown my feelings and make future-me regret the hangover Iâm definitely earning tonight.â
GOTHAM ROOFTOPS
Boots hit the edge of a rooftop with a soft scrape of gravel. Jason Todd scanned the streets below, hands resting at his sides, jacket collar tugged up against the bite of the early spring cold. He moved with restless energyâagitated, impatient, ready for something to go wrong.
âThis is a bust,â he muttered into the comms. âThree blocks, no action. Not even a wannabe thug with a pocket knife and poor life choices. Iâm starting to think Gotham forgot how to be Gotham.â
There was a beat of silence before Dickâs voice came through, dry and amused.
âOr maybe youâre just scaring the criminals too much, Hood. Ever consider early retirement?â
Jason rolled his eyes behind the mask. âOnly if you go first, Nightwing. I thought BlĂŒdhaven was where all the action wasâwhatâre you doing slumming it with us Gotham bottom-feeders?â
âIt is,â Dick replied. âBut every now and then I like to slum it with my baby brother. Make sure youâre not burning down half the city in my absence.â
Jason snorted. âYouâre only older by what, five years and a moral superiority complex?â
Before Dick could answer, Barbaraâs voice cut in over the channel, sharp and clear.
âSeems like youâre about to get your wish, Jason. Iâve got eyes on suspicious movement down at the docksâeast side, Warehouse Eleven.â Barbara drawled through the comms.Â
Jason was already moving, boots hitting gravel as he took off across the rooftop. âNow weâre talking.â
Dick followed a step behind, vaulting over a low pipe with practiced ease. âArms deal?â
âMost likely,â Barbara confirmed. âThermal scans show at least four bodies. No confirmed ID yet, but one of them matches a known associate of Black Mask. âBe smart. And try not to level the building, Jason.â
âNo promises,â he said, grin audible.
WAREHOUSE ELEVEN, EAST DOCKS
The docks were dead quiet when they arrivedâtoo quiet. The kind of stillness that always meant something was waiting to go wrong. The air smelled like oil and sea rot, and the only sounds were the soft lapping of water and the occasional creak of aging chains swaying in the wind.
Jason crouched at the edge of a container stack, pistols holstered at his thighs, his gaze locked on the warehouse below. His breath clouded in the cool air.
âEast lotâs clear,â he murmured into the comms. âNothing but rats and roaches.â
Dick landed beside him in a soundless roll. âSo, your usual crowd.â
Jason didnât glance over. âThatâs twice tonight. Keep it up and Iâll tell everyone you cried during that Pixar movie.â
âI was twelve. And it was Up, you heartless bastard.â
âStill counts.â
They moved in silence, slipping through a broken window high on the warehouse wall. Their boots hit the rafters without a whisper. Below them, four men circled a battered folding table strewn with crates, unmarked cases, and haphazard stacks of cash. A single overhead bulb flickered overhead, casting shifting shadows across the concrete floor.
Jason zoomed in with his HUD. âI know that oneâleft side. Carlo Mancini. Low-tier runner for Sionis. Looks like heâs about to piss himself.â
âMight mean he knows something,â Dick murmured.
They listened.
âIâm tellinâ you,â Mancini hissed, voice tight and shaky. âItâs gonna be big. Joker-level big.â
One of the others scoffed. âThe hell you talkinâ about? Jokerâs been off the grid for months.â
âYeah, and now heâs back. Lookinâ for someoneâsome guy who used to run with him, then bailed. Word is, he took something. Something important.â
Jasonâs fingers curled slowly around the grip of his pistol.
âItâs not his usual stuff either,â Mancini went on, voice dropping to a whisper. âHeard itâs from Scarecrow too. Some freak chemicalâdonât kill you right away. Makes you laugh yourself insane. Till your heart gives out.â
A beat of silence.
âNo cure for it, either.â
Jason exhaled. âShit.â
Beside him, Dickâs jaw flexed. âYou thinking what Iâm thinking?â
Jason gave a tight nod. âIf the Joker and Scarecrow teamed up and made something newâand someone stole itâŠâ
Dickâs voice was grim. âThen Gotham just became a countdown clock. And weâre already late.â
Without another word, they moved.
Jason dropped from the rafters like a shadow cutting through fog, landing hard enough to make one of the thugs flinch. Dick followed a breath behind, graceful and quiet. By the time the first man reached for his weapon, Jason had already disarmed him with a sharp twist of his wrist and sent him sprawling with a solid elbow to the jaw.
Dick swept the legs out from under another, zip-tying his wrists with practiced ease. The other two barely had time to shout before they were taken downâone with a stun baton to the ribs, the other with a boot to the sternum.
Mancini tried to run.
Jason caught him by the collar, slammed him against a crate with just enough force to knock the air from his lungs. âGoing somewhere?â
The runner gasped, eyes wide with panic. âI didnâtâlook, I donât know anything!â
âYou know enough to be scared,â Jason growled, pressing his forearm into the manâs throat. âSo start talking.â
âOkayâokay!â Mancini wheezed, both hands raised in surrender. âI just heard whispers, man. Word on the street is Joker and the âcrow are lookinâ for someoneâmost likely one of his old runners. Said he took something. Chemical notes, maybe the whole damn formula. Whatever it is, itâs important. Real important. Jokerâs tearing through people trying to get it back.â
Jasonâs gaze darkened. âYou know who this guy is?â
âNo name,â Mancini coughed. âJust that he used to run logisticsâbackdoor stuff. Quiet type. Smart guy. Kept to himself. Real ghost.â
âNot smart enough if he got himself tangled up with the Joker and Scarecrow,â Dick muttered.
Jasonâs hand tightened. For a moment, Dick thought he might snap.
âJason,â he said, quiet. A reminder.
Jason let go.
Mancini dropped to his knees, coughing and trembling. Jason stepped back into the shadows, tapping his comm.
âYou catch all that, Oracle?â
Barbaraâs voice filtered in, sharp and efficient. âEvery word. Red Robin and B are already digging. If this guyâs in Gotham, weâll find him. But until then, you two are off the clock. Get some rest.â
Jason exhaled through his nose. âYeah. Sure.â
Dick shot him a look. âTry to actually listen for once. Not everything has to be solved in one night.âÂ
With that, he clapped Jason on the shoulder and nudged him toward the exitâjust as the distant wail of GCPD sirens broke the silence, growing louder with every passing second. Cleanup crew was on its way.
Jason didnât answer. His jaw was tight, his thoughts already miles aheadâbacktracking whispers, dissecting clues, remembering the sound of laughter that still echoed in the corners of his nightmares.
It was rare for the Joker to get invested in anything. He thrived on chaos, not consistency. But if he was serious enough to go out of his way to hunt down some nobody, then whoever had the formula was sitting on a bomb.
Next Chapter â
#dick grayson#jason todd#dick grayson x reader#jason todd x reader#jason todd x reader x dick grayson#batfam#batman#red hood#nightwing#dc universe#dcu#this means war#dick grayson x you#dick grayson x y/n#richard grayson#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x you#robin#dc robin#red robin#joker#dc joker#scarecrow#batfam x reader#batfamily x reader#nightwing x reader#damian wayne#tim drake#nightwing x you#nightwing x y/n
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vying your attention
synopsis - they've never gone this long without a trace of you in their day, is it so wrong for them to want your attention?
including - jing yuan, jiaoqiu, mydei
warnings - gn!reader, fluff, maybe ooc, wc - 1.7k
a/n: argh i shouldn't of taken this long off writing ;; had to turn to writing for some favourites to ease back in... also newish format maybe.. what do we think?
jing yuan â
â·
all it took was a small glance around his office for the general to decide he was too lazy to do anything else for the day.
it took him an extra few seconds to decide that it would be the prime time to find you but jing yuan was quick to reluctantly backtrack on that idea. while he deeply longed to do so, like usual, he knew today was rather busy for you so he respected your other commitments.
although, he would come to regret that the longer the day drew on - not that he would admit that openly with words.
however there was only so much that jing yuan could do to control himself from disturbing you, mainly seeing as it was such a common occurrence for the both of you that it felt too weird for him not to. fortunately for you, he was considerate enough to wait long enough to where he was sure you weren't as busy anymore.
which meant in the meantime he would shrug off most duties and take what he deemed a well deserved nap.
jing yuan would then come to wake up way too eager than usual, the simple prospect of being able to finally see you after all this time was enough to motivate him to shake off his drowsiness as quickly as he ever had. it didn't take him long to find you either, and as soon as he did you were well aware of his presence.
he was subtle with it at first.
you noticed him lurking around where you went, an occasional glance on your end would end up with your eyes meeting before you'd look back to what you were doing. you knew he was waiting for the very second you finished up to swoop in and take your attention and time for the whatever was left of the day.
his subtle hints to you that told you he was waiting for your attention soon morphed into blatant displays. so much so to the point that jing yuan took the initiative and dragged you away from whatever was keeping you occupied.
at your complaints, jing yuan would assure you that he'd get it all cleared up for you at some point before rambling on about how much he missed you and how you needed to make up the time he went without you.
all you could do was sigh in defeat - although if you were being one hundred percent honest you were glad he dragged you away especially as now you could spend your time with your lover.
jiaoqiuâ
â·
it had become a rather âbad habitâ - depending on who it came from - from jiaoqiu to be beside you at all times, or as often as he could as naturally there were occurrences where that would be impossible. most of the time, the times you two could be together would be at home or on mundane trips out and around the yaoqing.
and despite how pleasantly often those times occurred, the times in between were arguably the worst, even more so when they were well extended beyond jiaoqiu's liking.
he understood that you could both be busy but sometimes that was against his best wishes - today was one such time.
it started the moment you both began your day, he knew he had a pretty average day ahead and judging by your lack of presence, he knew you would have a very busy one. it already felt odd to jiaoqiu that you weren't around in the morning, he didn't quite know how long that would last but he didn't dare dwell on it too much.
the day already seemed to drag on in his mind. every minute felt like an eternity. he began finding himself doing every single meaningless task and such to keep him occupied. and when he ran out of things to do, he found himself seeking moze's company to fill some time and getting him to accompany him to some basic daily tasks he started building.
every so often, jiaoqiu would leave you a voice message just to grow slightly impatient when he would receive no response - a slight downturned flick of his ear would be a clear sign that he was becoming irked even if he tried to play it off.
moze was convinced that at some point jiaoqiu was counting down minutes and seconds, mainly judging by the fact that he kept asking what time it was within too close of a time span.
even when jiaoqiu returned home, he kept himself close to the front entrance just so he was as close as he could be when you eventually returned. so as soon as jiaoqiu heard the front door close and recognised the sound of your footsteps, he knew this was his chance to get his repayment from you for making him wait all day.
he began finding his way to you but was quickly met by you finding him first since your need to see him rivalled his to see you as soon as possible. the very moment you were in range, you brought him into your embrace- something he very quickly reciprocated.
even as you began to let go, you noticed the ever present subtle feeling of jiaoqiu's tail being wrapped around your waist remaining. it had crept round during the hug and it appeared it wasn't letting go anytime soon, much to the owners happiness. not that you minded either.
jiaoqiu was yearning for some of your attention all day and now that he had the chance to receive it, he certainly wasn't passing up the opportunity.
mydei â
â·
he was never really one to actively seek out somebody for small, needless acts - although that wasn't to say it wasn't an entirely impossible occurrence.
and rather admittedly, it happened too often nowadays for mydei's likeness. especially now that you had become so integrated into his daily life, a permanent constant that left him feeling like he was missing something detrimental in his life if he so happened to not see you on a day.
so he'd always make the minimal effort it took to see you, or vice versa, whichever one came to see the other first.
however, today you hadn't reached out to him once nor had you even asked if you could see him. mydei chalked it up to you being occupied and left it, it was only the first half of the day after all, you might become freed up later. so he sent a small message to you in hopes of you seeing it eventually and responding to let him know when you were.
the day seemed to draw on despite who he talked to or what he did to fill the time - mydei became too subconscious for his liking about checking for a message from you.
he sent another message and got on with his day yet again.
while he wouldn't exactly call himself impatient or even pressing, he definitely felt that way when he noticed the day drawing to a close and he'd sent a few more messages than he felt necessary to you in hopes of any response from you. even though he reasoned that he you were extremely busy and that was understandable, a part of him was hoping for a small indicator that you were doing well.
it couldn't even be classed as vying for a fragment of your attention in your busy day, well at least he wouldn't, but at some point, when the day finally turned to night, mydei decided to go see you in person.
he managed to learn from a few others where your last seen whereabouts were, which was a small relief for him to know that his suspicions about you being bust were right - and the small idea of something horrid happening to you was obsolete. but mydei certainly wouldn't rest until he saw you himself.
you were completely exhausted to say the least. the day had taken quite the toll on you, draining you of practically all your energy. it was only when you collapsed into the sanctity of your accommodation that it dawned on you to check for messages - namely as you realised you hadn't spoken to mydei at all, which is normally a staple of your day.
being greeted with quite the few messages from him was not so much a surprise but more of a slight guilt inducing moment. one that was made worse by the fact that before you had a proper chance to read and respond, the commotion of someone knocking caught your attention.
however that quickly morphed into a welcome surprise when you found out it was mydei himself knocking. immediately upon seeing you, he seemed to visibly perk up but that may be insisted upon by someone that it was your imagination. you barely had the chance to greet him before you practically felt yourself being picked up.
mydei mumbled something that you caught barely, along the lines of both being tired, you not being around him at all today and needing some time with you.
and all of a sudden you were both caught in a cuddle. mydei held you close in his arms and you staggered for a second before reciprocating. the tiredness combined with being held in his arms led to you drifting off before you knew it and the last thing you remember thinking was something along the lines of mydei being like a catâŠ
#âstellaronhvnters.#x reader#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#x gender neutral reader#hsr x gender neutral reader#honkai star rail x gender neutral reader#hsr jing yuan#jing yuan x reader#hsr jiaoqiu#jiaoqiu x reader#hsr mydei#mydei x reader
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Thinking about needy bartender Jungwon who always gives you extra strong drinks, his eyes roving hungrily over your body as he mixes your cocktails with practiced ease
Needy bartender Jungwon who pulls you into the stockroom during his break, roughly pushing you against the shelves and capturing your lips in a searing kiss that tastes of whiskey
Needy bartender Jungwon who drops to his knees, hiking up your skirt and burying his face between your thighs, his talented tongue lapping at your folds like you're the most intoxicating drink he's ever tasted
Needy bartender Jungwon who fingerfucks you to a quick orgasm, muffling your cries with his other hand as the bar bustles just outside the thin door, the thrill of almost being caught making you clench around his digits
Needy bartender Jungwon who bends you over a stack of crates, yanking down your panties and plunging into you without warning, both of you groaning at the exquisite feeling of him stretching you wide
Needy bartender Jungwon who sets a punishing pace, his hips snapping against yours as he fucks you raw, the sound of skin slapping skin barely covered by the muffled music from the bar
Needy bartender Jungwon who reaches around to rub your clit furiously, determined to make you come again before he loses control, his breath hot on your neck as he whispers filthy words in your ears
Needy bartender Jungwon who feels you tightening around him and increases his tempo, driving into you with abandon as you both chase your release, the rickety crates creaking beneath you
Needy bartender Jungwon who pulls out at the last second, painting your ass and lower back with thick ropes of cum as he groans your name, his body shuddering with the intensity of his orgasm
Needy bartender Jungwon who helps you clean up quickly, a mischievous glint in his eye as he promises to mix you a special "off-menu" cocktail later, just for you
Needy bartender Jungwon who can't keep his hands off you for the rest of the night, constantly brushing against you as he serves drinks, his touch lingering longer each time
Needy bartender Jungwon who pulls you into the bathroom after last call, lifting you onto the sink and dropping to his knees once more, eager to taste you again
Needy bartender Jungwon who makes you ride his face, his strong hands gripping your thighs as you grind against his talented mouth, your fingers tangled in his hair
Needy bartender Jungwon who stands and enters you in one smooth thrust, filling you completely as you wrap your legs around his waist, urging him deeper
Needy bartender Jungwon who fucks you with long, deep strokes, hitting all the right spots as he whispers how tight and perfect you feel around him
Needy bartender Jungwon who increases his pace, pounding into you relentlessly as you both near your climax, the mirror behind you fogging up from your heated exertions
Needy bartender Jungwon who feels you clenching around him and lets go, spilling deep inside you with a guttural moan, his hips jerking erratically as he empties himself
Needy bartender Jungwon who helps you down on shaky legs, already planning how he's going to take you again on the pool table before you leave for the night
A.N: idk if you'd like this format (i wrote almost something like this for all the members (and a fluffy one for Riki) but m not that sure about them), also wrote this at 5 am (again! cause my sleep schedule is pretty fucked up m just gonna kms) so it's not proofread and i'd probably wake up and regret posting this (plz i've been super insecure about my writing these days i can't bring myself to post anythingđđ). Anyways let me guys know how you like this and if i should add some dirty talk in it for the other members or not.
#enhypen#enhypen smut#enhypen jungwon#enhypen jungwon x reader#enhypen jungwon smut#enhypen jungwon imagines#jungwon smut#jungwon x reader#jungwon enhypen#jungwon imagines#jungwon hard thoughts#jungwon hard hours#enhypen hard thoughts
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hi hi, iâve been watching older skz yt videos and had the thought of being jisungâs girlfriend but also being apart of the skz film crew so being there for every single mv shoot, skzcode, etc. and jisung being so excited and waving cutely towards you while youâre behind the camera!
(i thought the idea was cute and i wanted to share but i literally have no one to share my skz thoughts with outside of socials and youâre the only page iâve shared my ideas with so far although iâm anon, iâve requested a couple of the angst han jisung stuff that youâve written and your writing makes my day, i hope youâre doing well and taking care of yourself riri đ„čđ€)



Behind the Camera, In His Heart
Han Jisung x Reader ; fluff
As a part of Stray Kidsâ film crew, your job was to capture the group in their element. Whether it was filming chaotic SKZ-Code episodes or sleek music videos, you were always behind the camera, steadying shots, barking instructions, or adjusting lighting. But there was one particular member who made it increasingly hard to stay professional.
Han Jisung.
Your boyfriend.
The love of your life⊠and also the biggest distraction on set.
âY/N!â
Speak of the devil. You glanced up from your camera settings to see Jisung waving at you wildly from across the set. Dressed in his MV outfit and absolutely killing it, he grinned ear-to-ear and waved both hands in a frenzy like he hadnât just seen you fifteen minutes ago.
âFocus, Han!â Minho barked, smacking Jisung on the arm. âWeâre not filming Y/N-Code. Stick to the choreography.â
Jisung pouted dramatically, tossing a betrayed look at Minho before giving you one last enthusiastic wave.
âHi, jagi!â
From behind you, Seungmin snorted. âHeâs like a golden retriever who saw their owner.â
âI think golden retrievers have more chill,â Hyunjin quipped as he adjusted his hair in the monitor reflection.
âYou guys are just jealous!â Jisung shot back, folding his arms but still sneaking little glances in your direction.
âYeah,â Chan added, rubbing his temples. âJealous of how much Y/N has to endure that.â
You rolled your eyes, but you couldnât help the smile tugging at your lips. Being around Stray Kids day in and day out meant you were no stranger to their relentless teasing, but Jisung always made sure it was worth it.
âJisung,â you called, leaning just slightly around the camera. âFocus! Youâre holding everyone up.â
âI am focused,â he insisted, running his hands through his hair to look extra dashing. âIâm focusing on you!â
âBoo!â came the collective groan from the members.
Chan clapped his hands. âAlright, Jisungâs flirting session is over. Letâs run it again before I lose my mind.â
Jisung gave you a sheepish shrug before getting into formation with the others. But, as the music started and they dove into their choreography, he still managed to sneak little glances at you every chance he got.
Later, during a quick break, you were crouched behind the camera reviewing the footage when Jisung plopped down beside you, completely ignoring his makeup artistâs protests to touch up his hair.
âSo, how did I do?â he asked, voice low and teasing as he nudged your shoulder.
âPretty good,â you replied, keeping your eyes on the screen. âBut you kept looking at the camera.â
He smirked. âI wasnât looking at the camera.â
âYah!â You shoved his arm, and he burst out laughing, the sound so infectious that even the other members glanced over with amused looks.
âYou guys are disgusting,â Changbin groaned, tossing his water bottle at Jisung, who caught it with ease.
âDonât be mad just because Iâm in love!â Jisung shot back, leaning closer to you and resting his chin on your shoulder.
âThatâs it,â Minho said, deadpan. âY/N, Iâm banning you from set.â
âHey!â Jisung protested immediately, clutching onto your arm like a lifeline. âYou canât do that! Y/N is my muse!â
Jeonginâs head peeked out from behind the snack table. âYouâre only saying that because she edits out your embarrassing moments.â
You grinned at that, tilting your head toward Jisung. âIs that true?â
Jisung straightened up and shook his head frantically. âNo! I meanâyesâbut no! I meanââ
The rest of the crew burst out laughing, and Jisung flushed as red as his stage outfit, burying his face in his hands.
Despite the teasing and chaos, being on set with him was your favorite thing in the world. Because behind every take, every chaotic SKZ-Code challenge, and every beautifully shot music video, Jisung always made sure you knew how much you meant to himâwhether it was through over-the-top waves, secret smiles, or soft words whispered when no one else was watching.
And you wouldnât trade it for anything.
taglist: @intartaruginha @hannamoon143 @inlovewithstraykids @whoa-jo @madirye062 @vixensss @sseawavee @emilyywhyy @halfwinterhalfuniverse @velvetmoonlght @flourishmoon
#stray kids#skz#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#stray kids fluff#stray kids x y/n#han jisung#han jisung x reader#han x reader#skz fluff#han jisung fluff#han fluff#han x you#han x y/n#han jisung comfort#han stray kids#stray kids imagines
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Wicked Game
Ch. 00
Y Batfam x GN Reader

featuring: platonic Tim Drake.
1.3k words
Itâs been a hot minute. I broke my hand snowboarding, then had tests. The writing for this one is significantly better, Iâm taking a creative writing class for extra credits and decided to try something new with how I formate my chapters. Iâll be posting a chapter to both my story and my concept soon. This idea has just been in my head and the story I have planned out is exciting.
Prologue -> Ch. 01
Class Schedule
1st period: Art
2nd period: Maths
12:00 - 13:00: Lunch
3rd period: biology
4th period: English
3:50 Dismissal
4:00 - 6:00: Basketball practice
(Friday 5:00 -> Basketball game)
You twirl your pencil between your fingers, lazily watching as everyone else scribbles notes, following the math equation Mr. Snyder is rambling on about. Itâs been ten minutes on the same question, and youâve checked out about thirty minutes ago. Not that itâs Mr. Snyderâs faultâGotham Prep has the best teachers. Itâs just maths has never been your thing. Itâs 2 weeks into the new semester and you're already falling behind. Probably not a great start.
You glance up at the clockâ11:53. Ugh. Lunch canât come soon enough. Mr. Snyderâs voice makes time drag on and on. You dash out of the classroom the moment the bell rings and head straight to Brandiâs locker.
âGirl, Iâm literally gonna lose it. I canât handle these people, theyâre insane,â you spill out, frustration pouring from you. Rants like these have become more frequent.
âTell me about it,â Brandi shoots back, her voice sharp with annoyance. âIâve never met people so out of touch with reality. These pretentious assholes.â She grits her teeth. âHow are they even real?â
You nod, walking together towards the cafeteria. Brandi continues her rant, but itâs niceâalmost comfortingâto know someone else feels the same way. Sheâs the only other Scholarship student in the gradeâyour only friend.
Lunch is its own endeavour. Students give weird looks as you two eat your packed food. The two of you learned very quickly that these kids were in a league of their own, and didnât take too kindly to outsiders.
As you and Brandi talk mindless gossip, lunch flies by. biologyâs next itâs your favourite. Thereâs nothing better than Mrs. Youngâs lectures. Sheâs able to bring life to the lessons, and the material has a way of sticking.
Heading to class a little early you grab a seat near the back. Itâs the only table without another person there. Mrs. Young tends to be late to class, so what better way to pass time than to scroll on your phone. Engrossed in TikTok a voice snaps you back into reality.
âMind if I sit hereâ
Glancing up from your phone, you recognize the face almost instantlyâ youâd be stupid not toâ Tim drake. Dark brown hair, bright blue eyes and a âpretty boyâ face. Heâs practically the âit boyâ of the school, popular, friendly, and stupid rich. Thereâs still plenty of other open seats around the class. Probably beside people heâs better acquainted with. But he wants to sit with you? âSureâ you shrug, not like you were gonna talk to the guy.
The bell rings for the end of lunch, Mrs. Young still hasnât shown up. The silence between you two is suffocating, even inside the room filled with mindless chatter.
âIâm Tim by the wayâ his introduction was meant to ease the awkwardness. He knew that you knew who he was. ây/nâ you answer, praying the teacher will walk in, anything to get you out of this conversation.
âyouâre on the basketball team right? You got in on an athletic scholarship?â He asked, ignoring the way you slump into your seat. âYepâ you mumble. It wasnât out of the ordinary for students to recognize whoâs on scholarship and who isnâtâespecially athletes. But for him to know you're on the Basketball team 2 weeks into the school yearâ Kinda weird. But questioning him would mean talking to him, and you werenât gonna engage.
Before the silence could get too awkward Mrs. Young walks in, and begins the lesson. The lymphatic system. It wasnât your weakest subject but definitely not your strongest. Today is especially hard. Mrs. Young is unusually keen on racing through as much of the topic as possible.
You rush to write notes and keep up with the teacher but before youâve even finished 1 sentence sheâs erasing the board. Sighing in defeat, you slump back into your chair. Maybe if you just listen to the teacher youâll be able to grasp most concepts? youâll just scan through the textbook after practice.
Tim mustâve noticed your defeat, because a moment later he slides over his notebook. God, even his handwriting is perfect. Copying down the rest of his notes.
âthanks.â You mumble, he nods with a subtle smirk on his face.
The next 45 minutes follow the same patternâyou write down as much as, then copy the rest from Tim, and repeat.
It's only until Mrs. Young claps her hands together. The loud sound grabbed everybodyâs attention âWe finally get to start our first group project of the semester!â Her excitement is met with groans from the class. âbecause I donât want you guys to get too comfortable I took the liberty of choosing your partnersâ. Your stomach drops. Not that you knew anyone here it was still obvious who would make a good partner and who wouldnât.
As Mrs Young lists off names you donât recognize ây/n l/nâ your head perks up. âAnd Tim Drakeâ. Fuck. Your stomach twists. You really didnât want to go with him. Sure, heâs nice enough to share his notes for sure but heâs still Tim Drake, itâd be much less drama to avoid him.
Tim didnât even bother hiding his smirk. âThe project must be a poster of any negative or positive feedback loop. Be sure to discuss details with your partners. I wonât be giving much class time, so plan accordinglyâ
The bell rang signaling the end of class, and you were quick to pack up and get out. The sooner youâre gone the better.
âSo how do you want to do this?â Tim asked as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. âI donât really care. you pickâ
gymâs next, so you should leave as soon as you can. âLetâs work on it tomorrow after your basketball game. We can choose our topic together,â he answered.
Great, now youâre gonna have to spend your evening with the guy. âMy game will probably take 2 hours,â you said. That should probably be enough to get him to back off.
âIâll watch, I like basketballâ you raise a brow. âI guessâ you shrug.
The rest of the day blurred togetherâ same mind numbing stories in English, same repetitive drills in practice. By the time itâs all over youâre already on the subway heading home. A wave of exhaustion falls over you.
Unlocking the Door to the empty apartment, you want nothing more than to crash into your bed and doom scroll for the rest of the night. Still you figure you should eat something and take a quick shower first.
Scanning the fridge and cupboards like expected there isnât much. With a sigh you grabbed a box of cereal and poured a bowl before heading to the bathroom to shower.
The evening passed uneventfully. You werenât expecting your mother to be back anytime soon, so it was just the quiet hum of the apartment.
A buzz from your phone snapped you back to reality.
<Unknown Number>
Hey y/n itâs Tim Brandi gave me your number for the project.
You roll your eyes. Why would Brandi do that? It's totally unlike her. Tim mustâve been persistent. Hovering over the message you debated answering or not. After a beat you typed back.
<Y/N>
Cool, Iâll see you tomorrow then.
Short and simple, Tim probably wonât send another message. With a sigh you put your phone on silent, and roll over to finally get some sleep. Once you get through this project youâll never have to talk to him again.
little did you know the project will be the least of your worries.
#batfam x reader#gn reader#platonic batfam#platonic yandere#yandere batfam#yandere dc#yandere x reader#yandere dc x reader#yandere tim drake#yandere#platonic#x reader
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Back to Blue | Han Jisung

Synopsis: Jisung messages you out of the blue one day, and before you know it, you are at the Stray Kids dorm dying his hair back to blue.
Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader
Genre: established relationship, fluff, crack
Warnings: None! (Unless shirtless Jisung counts)
WC: 1.6k
Notice: My loves, this was an entirely unprompted fanfiction. I have a couple requests scheduled and I'm working on a longer fiction, so I was not going to write anything at all today. But after reading a few stories about Hyunjin's buzzcut and Felix's dark hair, I realized I had not seen many stories about the return of Bluesung on my feed; therefore, I decided to write my own!...and I may or may not have sped-wrote it in about an hour or two. Whoops! Nevertheless, enjoy the story, my darlings! (I am also attempting a new format style, so enjoy that as well!).
Divider By: @strangergraphics-archive
It started with a random text on a Saturday afternoon.
Hannie<3: Hello, my beautiful, gorgeous, amazing specimen of a partner who I love more than anything else ever! You: What do you want, Ji? Hannie<3: Sooooo, our hairstylist may or not be out sick with the flu, and your amazing boyfriend who is ALWAYS so nice to you may or may not be wanting to bring back an old hair color so....wanna come help me dye my hair blue? :D
You blinked at your phone, rereading the message over and over again as if you were trying to find a joke in the wording that you had missed; he could not be serious, could he?
You: Why not just go to an ACTUAL salon? Hannie<3: And have them mess it up? Absolutely not! You're the only one I trust with this so can you pleeeeease come do it for me?? You: Hannie, I'm going to hold your hand when I say this. You: I have never dyed anyone's hair before. Hannie<3: Boxes have instructions for a reason!
You narrowed your eyes at your phone briefly, quirking your lips into a line; you pondered the text for a moment before sighing and typing out a reply.
You: I'll be there in fifteen.
Minutes later, you were at Jisung's dorm, standing in the doorway to his bedroom with a skeptical expression etched onto your face; your boyfriend just grinned at you like an eager puppy.
"I knew you wouldn't be able to resist the urge to play mad scientist with my hair."
"You're acting like I'm about to give you an entirely new identity," you retorted, stepping inside and tossing your keys onto his bed. "Remind me why you want blue specifically? I thought you wanted to stay natural for a while."
Han shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I did, but blue is like my color, y'know? Fans loved it, and, let's be real, I looked amazing!" You rolled your eyes at the final comment but could not help the smile that eased past your lips.
"Fine," you told him, "but if this goes wrong, I am taking zero responsibility."
"Noted," he replied, leading you down the hallway to the bathroom; a box of blue hair dye already sat waiting on the counter.
"Wow," you teased, picking up the box and analyzing the instructions. "You really went all out with the cheap stuff. Y'sure it won't turn your hair green?"
Han laughed at first, but his eyes widened slightly, his playful expression morphing into one of slight fear.
"Wait...it's not going to do that, right?"
"I guess we'll find out."
Han let out a dreadful groan as you opened the box, pulling out the black rubber gloves that came with it; you pulled them on with a moderate snap as Han took off his shirt, throwing it somewhere on the messy bathroom floor. He perched on the edge of the bathtub, wrapping a small towel around his neck as you read the instructions in order to figure out just what you were doing.
After scanning over the steps and figuring out the process of unprofessionally coloring hair, you took out the color and the developer and poured both into the applicator bottle, shaking it harshly in order to quickly mix up the dye. Once the agents were fully combined, you stepped closer to Han, sitting yourself beside him on the rim of the tub.
"Okay, tilt your head back," you instructed, squeezing a tiny amount of hair dye onto your finger tips.
"Wait," Han suddenly said, looking up at you with large, doe-eyes. "What happens if it actually turns my hair green?"
"Hannie, it's just hair," you replied, running your clean hand through his hair lightly. "You'll be fine."
"But my appearance is my livelihood!" He clutched a dramatic hand over his heart, pretending to tear up at the thought. "If my hair is ruined, I'm ruined!"
"Well, you could always shave your head and wait for it to grow back!" you playfully remarked. "Hopefully by then, your stylist will feel better!"
"A shaved head?!" Han gasped dramatically, his words loud and bewildered. "Do I look like my name is Hyunjin? We can't have two kiwis in the group!" You chuckled at his melodramatics before halting suddenly, furrowing your eyebrows slightly.
"Wait, Hyunjin shaved his head?"
"Oh, nevermind that!" Han playfully shook his head as he spoke. "Can you just get started before I go crazy?"
"You're already crazy, Hannie, but okay."
You slowly raked the blue dye through Han's hair, being as gentle as possible just in case you caught any missed tangles or knots. You went by sections, going by the layers of Han's hair. As you worked, Han squirmed as if he were a child.
"Ow!" he yelped unseriously. "That was a tangle!"
"Han, my fingers literally ran through a couple of strands," you retaliated, trying not to laugh. "How could I have hit a tangle?"
"I don't know, but that's what it felt like," he muttered, pouting and wincing for effect.
"You're such a baby," you teased, brushing through his hair more softly. "I know you don't act like this with the stylists, so just behave for me, would you?"
"Fine, fine," he conceded with a sigh. "In my defense, though, it absolutely kills me to sit still for an hour with them, too."
"Keep yourself distracted then," you suggested as you began to work on the second section of hair. "Like, just talk to me about whatever will make time pass by for you."
Upon your statement, you and Han began to discuss everything and nothing, from his plans for the week, to a new song he was working on, and finally the latest group chat antics with the other members. You had to pause your efforts multiple times during conversation, scolding Han for turning his head away from you while he was speaking. By the time you had finished applying the dye, you were both laughing so hard that your sides were aching.
"Okay," you sighed out victoriously, peeling off your gloves and throwing them away along with the applicator bottle. "Now we wait."
"For how long?"
"Thirty minutes," you answered after re-checking the box's directions. As you pulled out your phone to set a timer, Han let out a frustrated groan, slumping dramatically off of the bathtub's edge and onto the bathroom floor.
"I am going to die of boredom."
"You could always help me clean up," you suggested, glancing pointedly at the blue streaks adorning the whie porcelain of the bathtub, as well as some spots that had made their way onto the floor.
"Absolutely not." Han sat up quickly, shaking his head. "That's your mess."
"Excuse me?" you shot back while chuckling. "Are you not the one who squirmed, flinced, and turned your head so aggressively that you got hair dye everywhere?" Before Han could answer, you pulled out a washrag from one of the bathroom drawers, turning on the faucet to wet it slightly and tossing it to Han.
"Now, get it before it dries up!" you commanded, getting out a second rag for yourself. "I don't want to explain to your managers why the dorm's bathroom looks like a Smurk emporium."
To your gratitude, and more so Han's, cleaning up the smeared hair dye made the time pass by swiftly; within what felt like moments, the alarm on your phone had gone off.
"Thank goodness!" Han yelled, standing up from where he had been kneeled on the floor, working on a particularly tough stain. "Moment of truth!" Han made his way to the shower, sliding open the door before glancing back at you.
"Privacy, please!" he cheekily commanded, waiving you away sassily.
"Yeah, whatever. Just don't forget to use this, ya goof." You handed him the small packet of hair color conditioner before striding out of the bathroom.
"Text me when you're done."
You were sitting on Han's bed, scrolling through social media for what felt like an eternity; you were never able to understand how one person could take such a lengthy shower. You got the urge to go knock on the bathroom door and ask what was taking so long, but before you could, your phone buzzed.
Hannie<3: All done! Come look! :D
You smiled at the text, sluggishly standing up and making your way to the bathroom. You opened the door to find a beaming Han, his squirrely smile lighting up the entire bathroom as he ran his hands through his hair whilst looking in the mirror; it was blow-dried, which was probably why he took longer than expected, but most importantly, it was vibrant, shiny, and blue.
"Ladies and...well, just lady!" Han exclaimed as he turned to you, a prominent, joyous sparkle present in his eyes. "I present to you: the return of Bluesung!"
"No kidding!" you responded, ruffling his hair lightly and fluffing it up slightly. "I think I nailed it!"
"You did!" he agreed, grinning from ear to ear. "I am dangerously attractive now. Well, I've always been attractive, but even more so now, baby!"
"Alright, alright." You rolled your eyes, lightly pushing at his shoulder. "Calm down, Blueberry."
"Careful," he warned, the gleeful glint in his gaze turning into a mischevious one. "Call me that again, and I'm dying your hair."
"Fine by me," you retorted while smirking. "I've been wanting to go purple for a while, Blueberry."
"Oh, you little!" Han picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder and playfully bickering with you as he spun you around the bathroom; however, even through the teasing and the unserious arguing, one thought crossed your mind:
Blue really did suit him.
Taglist: @velvetmoonlght, @amararosesblog (If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!)
#stray kids#stray kids imagines#stray kids x reader#stray kids fluff#stray kids crack#bang chan#lee know#changbin#hyunjin#felix#felix lee#seungmin#jeongin#han#han jisung#han x reader#han jisung x reader#han imagines#han jisung imagines#han fluff#han jisung fluff#han crack#han jisung crack#bluesung#i love bluesung#bluesung supremacy#peachiejeongin
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đđđđđđđ đđ đđđ đđđđ
âćœĄSUMMARY.; What better time to smoke with each other than at night. Armando thinks thereâs a better way to do it too..
âćœĄFEATURED.; ARMANDO x READER
âćœĄTROPE.; ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP
âćœĄFORMAT.; DRABBLE
âćœĄGENRE.; FLUFF + SEMI SMUT (mdni)
âćœĄWARNINGS.; Mature Language, Mature Actions, usage of weed + usage of drugs.
âćœĄNOTES.; in light of the information I just found out yesterday (apparently Jacob smokesđ„č) I had to write something to ease my mind thats running a mile a minute,, I hope yall enjoyyyyđđ.
REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATEDđ.
The space of your room was now becoming dizzying to you.
All the lights were off and the windows and curtains were closed. The current sore of light that was illuminating your room was the TV, that was playing lowly in the background. The scent of weed was swirling all around your room, making your body feel lighter than it actually was. âMama.. Enciende esto para mĂ...â
You look down at the man under you, his eyes are low and red. He holding a cigar in his hand, and the other is gently rubbing up and down your back, down to your ass. You grab the lighter that was right beside the both of you on the bed and lean down to light it for him. He watches your movements.
He feels so good right now.
With you in on top of him, and him watching as you leaned your body over to light the cigar for him.
He was more focused on you than anything else, and his whole body felt like it was on fire and like heâs was being hosed down at the same time.
What the fuck was he even smoking right now.
Finally, after what felt like years, you managed to light the damn thing then plucked it from in between his lips, putting it to youâre and taking a deep inhale.
With you being on top of him, and also high out of your mind, you were giggling and shuffling a lot, and with his heightened feelings of pleasure right now, he felt every slide and shuffle you did on his lap,
âMaldita sea, mamĂĄ, no hagas eso.â He grabbed your waist steadying you.
You looked down at him and smiled, eyes red from the weed.
âDo what baby? Iâm not doing anything..â
You grinded down on him deliberately this time while looking into his eyes, watching as he fluttered them closed then threw his head back, trying to hold back his groans.
You continued doing this until you got tired, and the man under you was breathing so heavy he sounded like heâd need an oxygen mask by the time he fell asleep.
âShit mama you feel so good..â
You smiled at him for the compliment. âThanks baby..â you said lowly.
He began to sit up, holding you on his lap in the same position and took the cigar from you and placing it between his lips. You looked up at him as he finally sat up and he looked at you wordlessly, taking a smooth swig of the cigar. He taps your cheek and you immediately understand what it is he wants and you lean closer to his face while opening your mouth.
He pulled you even closer by your neck and blew the smoke into your mouth, then kissed you afterwards. You held your breath, letting the smoke circulate inside your chest and when you broke apart from the kiss, you blew the smoke out and some hit him in his face.
He smiled lazily at you.
He spent the rest of the night having you grind down slowly on his dick while shotgunning you, overstimulating you to the point you canât even tell which way is up and where is down, hell you couldnât even tell if you were still wearing clothes.
âHead up mama..â
You slowly pulled your head up from its hanging position and when you did, Armando blew a hit puff of smoke into your face, which, in response, you let out a moan at.
He smiled lazily at you and said, âDonât do that shit again or the next thing youâre gonna be high off my dick instead of this weed mama..â
[GLOSSARY]
âMama.. Enciende esto para mĂ...â â âMama.. Light this for me...â
âMaldita sea mamĂĄ, no hagas eso.â â âDamn it mama, donât do that.â
ăâ
{TAGLIST} :: @armandosbabymama @ghettogirly @tinys0ftie @shurisgf @radioloom @butterflyybabe @dyttomori @nuggetnat888 || if youâd like to be added to the taglist just let me know in comments or dmsđ€đ.
ăâ
©2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED â MILLIUMIZOOMI. Do not modify, repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any work posted on this blog without my permission.
#đȘž :: đđđ§đ§đđ đĄđąđ§đđŠ#armando aretas#armando armas#bad boys for life#bad boys ride or die#armando aretas x reader#armando armas x reader#jacob scipio#armando x reader
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Building Bridges
Regulus Black X Potter!F!Reader
Summary: After finding the note left behind R.A.B in the presumed Horcrux. The Golden Trio seek Siriusâ help in locating R.A.B, they end up finding him yet the reunion is not as expected. (Roughly set at the beginning of DH)
Note: Sirius didnât die in Order of the Phoenix and Regulus didnât die in the cave he just run off abroad to hide :p
I havenât written for Harry Potter (ever) so apologies for any thing that might be out of character! ;-; i kept thinking about this rough idea during work
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Harry looked up and locked eyes with his Godfather, Sirius had been silent the entire time. They were perched neatly in a two by two formation, his two best friends behind him and his only remaining familial tie. They had taken a portkey to the Scottish highlands, the icy gusts of wind cutting threw Hermioneâs ponytail so high it nearly smacked Ron on the back of his head.
âSirius, are you sure this is the right place?â Harryâs fingers clutched his forearms, rubbing them vehemently to produce some warmth.
In front of them was a lonesome cabin, mere metres away from the vast forest line that dotted along the coastal shores. Crashing waves hit the jagged rocks like the sound of an applause.
Sirius clutched onto the note the Golden trio had given him.
âFor years I had questioned by brotherâs last found writings. I am certain this is what he meant.â
The quartet marched ahead, the uneven stone path dug into Ronâs trainers, nearly tripping him, thankfully Hermione caught him by the seams of his jacket.
The door beyond had its metal hinges rusted beyond repair, a faint shadow of the number plate â8â was the only reminisce of the original oak. Cracks and blackened mould painted over the door, weirdly however, the door knocker was untouched, no sign of usage or age. Despite Siriusâ persistence to wait to check the area, Harry banged his first against the wood, the booming shakes forced the door knocker to tap in sync.
There was a faint shout from within the cabin, heavy footsteps and whispers. Then silence.
The door creaked open, a woman tight lipped and furrowed eyebrows, her E/C eyes shot daggers towards Harry. She glanced at Ron, then Hermione and finally she focused on Sirius.
With a swift push, the door flung open revealing herself and a disheveled man behind her aiming his wand towards them.
âSirius! Oh My! Youâre alive!â She threw her arms around Sirius, behind Ron was flabbergasted, yet Hermione had her wand matched with the man behind the woman.
âY/N, what are you- Regulus?â Before Sirius could enjoy his reunion with his long lost friend, he could only focus on his brother.
âRegulus Arcturus Black.â Harry spoke softly.
âDo not call me that,â
Regulusâ grip on his wand tightened with a slight shake in his wrist, his fingernails dug into his palms. âHow did you find this place?â
Y/N took a few steps back and held onto Regulusâ raised arm gently easing it lower and lower.
âDarling, put your wand down. Your brother has finally come home yet you show him such malice. It has been years may we talk about this over tea,â her whisper felt like a soft hug unlike any other. âPlease?â
After guiding the four to their small dinning table, Y/N left to the kitchen to boil the kettle. With only two chairs at the table, Harry, Ron and Hermione insisted on standing behind Sirius, who sat opposite his scowl faced brother.
After years of believing his brotherâs death, Sirius now was sat face to face with the little boy he used to love. But they were both no longer just boys, now they were men, in the eye of a hurricane waiting for things to come to a crash. Regulusâ hair had become unruly, his curls was as just as untameable as Siriusâ. His previously porcelain face, had deeply settled in scars and frown lines that framed his lips. He was far from the young boy destined for power and prestige. He now slept under a rotting roof with walls that could barely hold its own weight. Sirius was torn between grasping his brother after years of separation or running away from everything all over again. But war was coming and time was of the essence. They must leave Scotland for London by nightfall, with everything Regulus knew of the Dark Lord.
âHere, itâs just my own blend of floral herbs and spices. It is quite hard to purchase any professionally made tea round here. It tastes better with a bit of honey, donât worry.â Y/N laid out two teacups, three short glasses and one tall glass full of her freshly brewed tea. In the middle of the table was a pot of honey with a teaspoon lodged inside. âPlease bare with the glassware, we only have enough for the two of us.â
Regulus sat in silence, eyes closed lightly sipping his tea that had two teaspoons of honey mixed in.
âLetâs cut to the chase.â said Harry, Regulus still not paying him any mind, whilst Y/Nâs eyes softened when he spoke.
âRegulus, we found this note in this locket signed R.A.B, your initials.â Hermione chucked the locket by its chain onto the table, skidding across to meet Y/Nâs fingers. âWe know its a fake. We need to know where the real one is now. Voldem-â
âDo not speak his name.â Despite his stern tone, Regulus had delicately placed his teacup onto the table with no splash.
âUnder my roof, my home. You do not say that wretched name.â
Sirius slams his hands onto the table, abruptly standing up.
âRegulus, first you fake your death and now I find you cozying up with Y/N Potter, of all people! You are to give these children that bloody locket now or I will show you how Azkaban has changed me!â Siriusâ voice boomed against the four walls, leading Regulus to look up with a scowl.
âBrother,â the younger Black rose from his chair and stepped towards Sirius, in a matter of seconds he had grabbed the elder Black by his collar and slammed him against the nearby wall. His tongue spewed venom targeted his brother.
âYou still remain as ill-tempered as always. You have no right to stand in front of me and disrespect my family. Leave whilst I show you mercy!â Regulus already had wand digging deep into Siriusâ throat, in response Sirius had gripped his younger brotherâs wrist, attempting to claw his fingers away.
âRegulus! Stop it this instant!â Y/N screeched, pulling her husband away from his brother. Sirius dropped to the floor coughing, Regulus looked down at his brother with a glare, spat on the top of Siriusâ head and left the room.
Harry was left stunned in place. His Godfather looked like a shell of a man the moment he locked eyes with his brother. Now, his estranged aunt was comforting his Godfather after everything. How strange.
âCome, letâs move to the living room and we can all talk calmly there, without my husband.â
Ron turned to Hermione and whispered âhusband?â With his eyes darting across the room to focus on the many framed photographs of Y/N and Regulus. Hermione, as shocked as Ron was, merely shrugged and followed the adults to the front room.
Like the rest of the house, the sofa was barely useable, the longer they sat the further they sunk into the cushions. Harry, Ron and Hermione shared the three seater, Y/N perched at the edge of her armchair. Whilst Sirius leaned against the wall by the door with his head down, he felt beyond ashamed at his reunion with his brother.
Hermione coughed trying to clear the air of any tension, âSorry that we didnât get to have your tea Miss Potter- or uhm Black-â
âY/Nâs fine dear.â Her E/C eyes softened at the teenagers, they reminded her so much of her brotherâs friends in their younger years.
âY/N, how are you related to me? Sirius hasnât spoken about you until earlier today.â
She gasped comically, clutching her chest to add to the act.
âPads, you traitor! You were supposed to be my best friend!â She fake cried but Sirius looked up pleading to her with a string of unintelligible excuses. With a light chuckle her demeanour changed.
âNo, in all seriousness Iâm not surprised. You were never supposed to know about me Harry. We may be related by name, but not by blood. I was adopted into the Potter family, almost like dear Padfoot here.â Sirius huffed in response.
âI basically was already part of the family when I join you guys.â
Y/N chuckled sincerely this time, her left hand covering her smile, a noticeable silver loop around her finger.
âYes and you ate all of my hidden chocolates by the third day you were with us!â
Harry couldnât help but smile at this familyâs banter. He was so used to the bickering and squabbling of the Dursleysâ, and he hadnât seen Sirius so animated with anyone but him and Remus.
âHarry, I wish I couldâve been there for you. But before your birth I had responsibilities that called for me that I could not disobey.â Y/N stood up and began to rummage through a chest of draws in the corner of the dimly lit room. She turned around and knelt by Harryâs knees placing a little cardboard box onto his lap. She began to slowly take out its belongings. An enchanted photograph, a notebook and a rusted Snitch.
âAfter my brother and his friends left for the Order, I tried to join but was vehemently denied by Dumbledore.â She lifted up the tattered notebook, âIt would be too long to go into details but to summarise - he did not see me fit to fight alongside James. Instead I was given a separate mission that meant relocation to France. I too was tasked by Dumbledore to find a Horcrux, more so, I was tasked on recovering Regulus. I found both, clearly.â She placed the notebook back in the box and picked up the photograph.
âThis was the last time I saw your father, my brother. 1979, their wedding. Look at how young we were Sirius!â She looked up, smiling lightly at the man holding back her tears, he now was leaning over the sofa looking at the photograph in her hand. It was the entire Marauderâs pack alongside Lily who hand her arms linked with Y/Nâs both laughing towards the camera. Sirius had his arm slung over Jamesâ shoulders whose tie and top button were undone. Remus and Peter were behind the two, ruffling Jamesâ hair and chanting a silent hoorah for their union.
âThat was quite a night, if I remember correctly you couldnât stop crying at the reception. Saying how you always dreamed of having a sister and Lily was the perfect woman for the role. You were so drunk!â
âI was not!â Y/N screeched, Sirius only laughed in response.
The teens laughed at Y/Nâs outcry. Harry kept watching the photograph loop, his parents and their friends could forever enjoy an eternal happiness in this photograph. He only wished he could experience all of their joy and warmth together in person.
âAhem. As I was saying,â Y/N sat herself down on the armrest beside Harry. âI loved your parents Harry, I truly wish I was there for your birth, for everything. Unfortunately after that night, I had to fulfil my duty as Dumbledoreâs foreign agent. By the time news reached to me of James and Lilyâs death and Siriusâ arrest, it was too late. I was ordered to not contact you. So I,â With a deep sigh Y/N looked towards the hanging photograph of her and Regulus.
âI threw myself at work, by my fifth year of scouring the neighbourhoods of Europe, I finally found Regulus. And well, you can guess that happened next.â She dangled her ringed left hand over her knee.
âI never meant to keep everything a secret for so long, it became life consuming. By the time I had realised nearly 18 years had pasted, I was a different woman. Iâm so sorry Harry.â Y/N clung onto her nephew in a tight embrace, tears dampening his shirt. He gripped her back in response as if she were to disappear from his arms. As they parted, Y/Nâs sombre gaze started to brighten.
âRegulus means no harm to you three,â she turns to Sirius âOf course, you know your own relationship with your brother better than anyone else. I know you donât plan on staying here any longer than you must, so let me handle it. Just stay here for a bit, Iâll get you the locket.â
Then she left the room, leaving behind an ear piercing silence.
âDo you think we could grab some food from the kitchen whilst sheâs gone?â Ron uttered.
âIâm sure she wonât mind. Knowing her, she has probably hidden her snacks behind some bowls.â Sirius chortled, he drifted into the hallway and entered the kitchen.
He opened the cupboards one by one until he found Y/Nâs fine china. And just as he guessed, she had placed a packet of custard cremes behind a stack of bowls. Still using the same hiding spot, shame thereâs no chocolates this time. Before he could shut the cupboard door, he heard shouting from the slightly opened backdoor to the right of him.
âYou have no idea what theyâve probably been through to even get here Reg!â Y/N was stood next to Regulus, who was smoking a cigarette and tapping his foot against the grass.
âHe shouldnât be here. I donât care for the young Potter, he can do what he pleases with that damned piece of shit. I just donât want to see him for one more second!â
âDonât you dare raise your voice at me! Donât you dare speak ill about my nephew! And in case you forgot, you took my name! Youâre a Potter now as well, he is your nephew! Donât you care about your family? Your brother is here acting more of a father figure than anyone else could for that boy who has only known pain. You of all people should know what itâs like to live like that.â Y/N hand grabbed Regulusâ hand and lightly rubbed the back of his palm.
ââŠso he can be there for Harry but not me. Y/N, I-I donât know what Iâm supposed to do now. I canât just let him back into my life like nothing happened. We left that world behind because of how much it has failed me. You. Us. I only planned my life with you in mind, not once did I consider my brother and now Harry to be there. Itâs all too much. I just want things to go back to how it was. Back when it was just you and me.â
Regulus began to softly whimper, Sirius could see from the crack of the door Regulusâ shaking head of hair against Y/Nâs shoulder, he saw his brotherâs shoulders shake whilst he clung onto Y/Nâs waist. Y/N lightly rubbed Regulusâ back with her right hand and patted his hair softly with her left. Just as he did when the two were children.
âI know darling, I know. But weâll take it slowly. One step at a time. For now,â The two pulled back from each other, their foreheads pressed against one another. âWe give them the Horcrux, and once itâs all over. Weâll invite them round for a proper meal. And we can finally clean up the place, yeah?â Regulus hummed a light tune and nodded, he closed his eyes and kissed Y/Nâs lips delicately.
ââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
âExactly as I suspected! Right behind the bowls,â Sirius returned to the front room before he could see the couple be affectionate to each other. The thought of his best friendâs sister and his brother together was still alien to him. He drew a biscuit from the packet and kept it between his teeth, then threw the whole packet at Ron who gladly caught it in his arms.
It was nearing sunset, they wouldâve ideally made their way back to London by now. Harry couldnât help but sit in silence admiring the photograph in his hands, clutching to it like a prayer.
Y/N and Regulus walk into the room, hand in hand. Before Sirius could utter an apology to his brother, the younger Black pushed his fisted hand towards him, then revealing Slytherinâs Locket in the palm of his hand.
âTake it. Take it and destroy it. Once youâre done with it. Y/N wants you back for a proper dinner.â Sirius slowly takes the chain of the locket, once the weight had been freed from Regulusâ hand, he unlocked his fingers from Y/Nâs and disappeared back into the halls of their cabin. Y/N only looked towards them with a glint of hope.
âHeâll come round eventually, you know. Heâs changed over the years.â
Whilst Hermione and Ron were nibbling at the biscuits, Harry turned around and stood to face his aunt.
âY/N can I, can I keep this? Just for now, Iâll give it back once I come back to visit. I just, I really-â
Y/N only chuckled at her nephewâs nervous demeanour, âOf course love. Just make sure you look after it okay? Plus Iâll need you back here with your uncle here so we can take more photos to put up on my walls!â
Sirius, who was still chewing half of his biscuit interrupts âActually Iâm his Godfather,â
The H/C haired woman flipped her head around, âSince when? Why would James- Are those my custard cremes?â
ââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
âGoodbye Y/N! Goodbye Mr Regulus!â Ron waved as they walked down the stone path back to where they left the port key. He turned to Hermione, âYou know maybe living out in the wild seems alright, you know? Pretty nice donât you think?â
âYou think you could make your own food and drink from just the bare essentials like Y/N?â The curly-haired girl retorted with a smile.
âOh well no, maybe I could just conjure up something!â The two continued to bicker and laugh till the end of the path. Behind them Harry and Sirius stuck a few seconds longer to speak with Y/N.
âIâm sorry for the state of our cabin, my dear. Iâll make sure Regulus repairs all of the broken furniture before your return!â
A faint âI heard that!â echoed from the hallway. Y/N laughed and drew Harry into a hug, lightly patting his head. âDonât worry, Iâll see you soon.â Harry squeezed her tightly and thanked her again softly, promising to return the moment he is finished with his goal. He turns back and rushes to his friends.
Y/N steps back and turned to Sirius. âPads, tell me who else is left from us lot?â
âAh well, Moonyâs still kicking, still part of the Order.â The two laugh at the thought of their shared memories. A light sigh trails the end of their joy.
âMerlin, things really have changed so much now. I heard that it was Peter, yes?â
Sirius nodded, still resentful towards his traitorous friend yet his eyes gleamed with sorrow. Y/N rubbed his forearm in response to comfort him.
âYouâve got us now. Reggie will take a while, but youâve got Harry and me. Weâre family now. So, donât be a stranger okay?â
After a lifetime apart, the two friends hug as if it was their last day at Hogwarts all over again. As Sirius walked back to the teenagers ready to go back to London, he took one last look at the cabin behind him. From an upstairs window, he saw his brother. The two nodded at each other, either out of pure politeness or an unconscious agreement to meet again, to rebuild what was lost.
#regulus black x reader#regulus black#sirius black#harry potter#hermione granger#ron weasley#the marauders#the marauders fanfic#regulus black angst#regulus black fanfic#sirius black x reader
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Nerd & Nerdier | Chapter 2
â ËËË Pairing: Min Yoongi x reader, Jeon Wonwoo x reader; endgame? x reader
â ËËË Genre: Fluff, Attempt At Comedy, Roommates au, Love triangle
â ËËË Summary: Moving in with two introverts should have been easy. Not when itâs Min Yoongi and Jeon Wonwoo, who decide they both want you. Unhinged, awkward, and nerdy as hell, they proceed to compete for your attention in the most unnecessarily dramatic fashion that culminates into a⊠rap battle.
â ËËË Warnings: Wildly gratuitous, You might 100% chance youâll fall in love with both of them so thatâs a problem, no mxm dynamics to be expected
â ËËË Chapter Warnings: Not betaread! Really horrendous freestyle rapping! Yoongi and Wonwoo are actually quite fond of each other despite being competitiveâŠ
â ËËË Word count: 1.5k
â ËËË Posting date: February 22, 2025
â ËËË Notes: Okayyy so I did not expect to find my people, but I am glad I did and we are here because I am really loving writing this story on a deeply delulu level. Publishing this on my way to a concert so sorry if formatting seems off for whatever reason.
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
Roommate Rule #2: If You Must Compete for Your Roommateâs Attention, Do It In Stealth Mode. - Jeon Wonwoo
It started with a bookstore.
Technically, it started with Wonwoo casually suggesting the bookstore like it was nothing. The very moment Yoongi left to use the bathroom.
âNoona, you said you wanted something new to read,â he said. âThereâs this small shop in Sinsadong. I can take you.â
You, bleary-eyed and still half-asleep, had only managed a distracted nod as you shoveled cereal into your mouth. Sure, you thought. A casual bookstore trip. No big deal.
You should have known better.
The bookstore was exactly what youâd expect from a hidden gem: narrow aisles, overstuffed shelves, and the faint smell of old paper. The kind of place that practically whispered stay awhile as you wandered through.
And Wonwoo? Wonwoo fit into the space with unsettling ease.
He moved through the aisles like heâd memorized the layout ahead of time, occasionally pausing to pull out a book and glance at the synopsis before either handing it to you or quietly sliding it back into place.
It was⊠kind of impressive. In a nerdy, what-the-hell way.
âYouâd like this one,â he said at one point, handing you a novel. âItâs got that slow-burn tension you like.â
You narrowed your eyes on him, a teasing smile on your lips. âSince when do you know what kind of tension I like?â
He shrugged like itâs nothing, but his ears are pink. âYou mentioned it once. When we watched that terrible drama with the fake arranged marriage plotline.â
That⊠was over two months ago.
You took the book from his hands without a word, hoping he didnât notice the heat rising in your cheeks.
When you reached the register, you instinctively reached for your wallet. Wonwoo beat you to it, smoothly sliding his card across the terminal without so much as a glance in your direction.
âHey!â you protested, as you watched the machine read: payment approved. âI can payââ
âDonât worry about it,â he said, handing you the bag.
âWonwoo.â
âNoona.â
âI could haveââ
âYou can just owe me,â he cut in smoothly.
Your eyes narrowed. âOwe you what?â
He smiled, slow and almost smug. âIâll let you know.â
You left the shop with a new book under your arm and a weird feeling in your chest that had nothing to do with plot twists or romance tropes.
You were halfway home when it hit you like a brick to the face.
Wait.
Was that a date?
Your steps faltered, and you turned to Wonwoo, who strolled beside you like he hadnât just shifted the axis of your entire existence.
âDid you just take me on a date?â you asked, mildy accusingly.
Wonwooâs head tilted slightly, mouth twitching like he was trying not to smile. âNoâŠ?â
âAre you sure?â
âDid I call it a date?â
âWell⊠no.â
âThen it wasnât.â He pushed his glasses up his nose and glanced at you, eyes glinting. âUnless you want it to be.â
Your brain short-circuited.
You stared, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. Wonwoo gave you one last, knowing look before turning into the building.
You stood there for a full ten seconds, processing, before stomping after him.
Yoongi was already in the kitchen when you walked in your apartment, the book from the bookstore still tucked under your arm. He clocked it immediately. His eyes flicked to the bag, then to you, then to Wonwoo then back again. His jaw shifted.
âI had fun, noonaâŠâ Wonwoo turned to you, then nodded to Yoongi. âHyung.â Before he skipped happily to his room.
âBookstore trip?â Yoongi asked, voice casual.
âYeah,â you replied, setting the bag down on the counter. âWonwoo invited me.â
Yoongi hummed. He didnât look at you as he reached into the fridge. âYou said you wanted to try that new ramen place, right?â
âUh⊠yeah?â
He straightened, shutting the fridge with a soft thud. âLetâs go tomorrow.â
It wasnât a question.
The next day, you found yourself sitting across from Yoongi in a nice Japanese restaurant, trying to figure out what the hell youâd just walked intoâand why is Yoongi wearing cologne?!
Yoongi, of course, looked completely unfazed. He flipped through the menu with one hand while lazily drumming his fingers on the table with the other. His sleeves were pushed up, exposing his forearms, and your eyes trailed the veins towards his ringed fingers. Oof. This is bad.
After ordering, he was quiet as usual but he keeps giving you these charged gazes. When the food was served, you called him out. âYouâre being weird.â
âYou always say that,â he replied.
âBecause itâs always true.â
He smirked slightly. âEat your ramen.â
You were halfway through your bowl when Yoongi casually pushed a piece of gyoza towards you with this chopsticks.
âWhat?â you asked.
âIt's good.â
You leaned forward to take a bite. The filling was rich and the skin soft but had a crispy underside, and you hummed in approval.
âGood, right?â Yoongi asked.
âMmhmm.â
When you glanced up, he was already watching you, his eyes dark and steady. Your eyes dropped to his lips, glazed slightly, plump as ever.
Your stomach flipped for reasons that had nothing to do with the food.
And thenâ
âYo.â
Your soul left your body. Because standing at the entrance of the restaurant, glasses fogged slightly from the cold, was none other than Jeon Wonwoo.
Wonwoo bowed to the receptionist quickly as he walked closer. âWow. What a coincidence.â
Yoongiâs face darkened. âYou followed us, didnât you.â
Wonwoo slid into the chair beside you, completely unfazed. âI was just in the neighborhood.â
He reached for your water glass. Yoongiâs eye twitched.
You groaned, burying your face in your hands.
This was getting out of control.
By the time Saturday rolled around, you were exhausted from the nonstop one-upmanship.
So you made the mistake of suggesting a low-stakes game of Uno. Something chill, you thought. Something easy.
You were an idiot.
What followed was an hour-long exercise in passive-aggressive warfare.
âDraw four,â Yoongi said, slamming the card onto the table.
Wonwoo barely blinked. âReverse.â
âDraw four,â Yoongi repeated, his eyes glinting.
âReverse.â
âDraw four, motherfucker.â
âReverse, asshole.â
Meanwhile, you sat there with seventeen cards fanned out in your hands, questioning every life choice that had led to this moment.
âGuys,â you tried, voice strained. âItâs just Uno.â
âItâs never just Uno,â Yoongi muttered, playing another +4 card.
âThis is war,â Wonwoo agreed, eyes narrowing.
You groaned and threw your cards onto the table. âI canât with you two.â
And then, as if the universe decided to add insult to injury, the Bluetooth speaker shuffled to Epik Highâs âBorn Haterâ.
The opening beats filled the air.
You closed your eyes. âGod, no.â
âWhat?â Yoongi asked, glancing toward the speaker.
âNothing.â You rubbed your temples. âJust⊠you two should have a rap battle or something to settle this.â
You laughed. It was a joke.
But when you opened your eyes, they were both staring at you.
Wonwoo adjusted his glasses. âA rap battle?â
Yoongiâs lips curled into a slow, dangerous smirk. âYou scared?â
Oh no.
The next minute, your living room has become the site of the most unnecessarily dramatic rap battle in history.
Yoongi stood on one side, cracking his neck like he was preparing to defend his underground rapper title. Wonwoo stood on the other, stretching his wrists like he was prepping for an MMA fight.
You sat on the couch, blanket clutched to your chest, already regretting your life.
âAlright,â Yoongi said, voice low. âYou started it. You go first.â
Wonwoo stepped forward, eyes locked on Yoongi.
âYoongi-hyung, writer, producer, always at the cusp of fame,
The only thing âbout your lyrics is they all sound the same,
Stop with the sad boy shit, hyung, betta switch up the game.â
You pressed a palm against your gaping mouth.
Yoongiâs nostrils flared. He exhaled slowly. Then:
âYou said game? Wonwoo, you think you got game?
Nah bro, you is kinda lame.
Missinâ shots like a broken-ass joystick,
Iâm player one, bitch, youâre just my fuckinâ sidekick.â
The tension spiked.
Wonwoo adjusted his glasses.Â
âOh, thatâs real cute. But lemme put you on mute.
Thought that shit's gonna bring me down.
Hey hyung, has she seen your fanfic account?â
âIâTHAT WAS PRIVATE!â Yoongi roared.
You collapsed into laughter, wheezing as they devolved into personal attacks:
âYou record voice memos like a psychoââ
âYou write on your books like a childââ
âYou alphabetize the spice rackââ
âYou think chopsticks go in the dishwasherââ
âAlright, thatâs enough!â you gasped, leaping to your feet and planting a hand on each of their (surprisingly toned) chests. âJesus Christ.â
They froze, breathing hard.
âSo?â Yoongi asked, wiping sweat from his brow. âWho won?â
You stared at them. Then shook your head. âYou both lost.â
You walked toward the kitchen, grabbing your phone. âIâm ordering pizza.â
Behind you, there was a pause.
Then:
ââŠFair,â Wonwoo muttered.
âYeah, okay,â Yoongi agreed.
But as you scrolled through Coupang, you felt it:
Their eyes, both locked on you.
And if you didnât know better, youâd swear they were both thinking the same thing.
This isnât over.
Chapter 3 >
A/N: sooo? Team Yoongi? Team Wonwoo? Team K- for writing that stupid rap battle?! Hahaha
Tell me what you think! Thank you for reading âšđ
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desert eagle

pairing: young joel miller x f!plus-size!reader (age unspecified, no specific physical descriptions other than plus-size and able-bodied) summary: joel gets reluctantly dragged to the strip club after a long day of work. god knows he wasn't expecting to meet someone like you... rating: explicit 18+ mdni word count: 8.8k (sorry) tags: thigh riding, oral sex, so much oral sex, ass play, 69, reader is a stripper, joel is down horrendous, JOEL MILLER LOVES BIG GIRLS, gentleman!joel, until he's not, sub!joel if you squint, joel and reader are both aggressively texan, i'm midwestern so i do not take responsibility for inaccuracies i did my best a/n: soooo this is based off of the beyoncé song desert eagle, the first time i heard it i immediately thought of this idea and i couldn't get it out of my head and i was having literal sex dreams about it so i decided to write it. this is my first time writing joel too so i'm scared :P anyways i love writing about confident beautiful fat women but i think anyone can enjoy this fic so yeahhh anyways you should listen to the beyoncé song and then read the fic or vice versa ok love you bye
Joel didnât want to go to the strip club.Â
In fact, Joel wants nothing more than to be alone tonight, and yet he finds himself uncomfortably perched on the edge of a half-crescent booth, dragged along by Tommy and some of the idiot twenty-somethings heâd met on their most recent project. Â
âLoosen up, old man!â one of the cocky landscapers barked at him when he tried to decline. âA pretty pair aâ tits in your faceâll turn that frown right upside down!â
He almost did say no, almost played the foolproof dad card; unfortunately for him, Sarah had already planned to stay at her best friendâs house the next few nights, taking advantage of the last week of winter break. But he saw the premature wince forming in Tommyâs eye, waiting for the inevitable sting of Joel ruining his chances at making some semi-decent friends in this townâfriends that wouldnât land him behind bars on the weekend, anyways. So Joel surrendered with a begrudging grunt, under the terms that he could stop by home to shower and change clothes. Miraculously, he convinced the other guys to do the same.
Inside, violet and teal spotlights cast a thick fog across the large stage. It illuminates the performers whilst somehow clouding them too, their bodies winding and whirling in a periwinkle haze. Joelâs skin feels humid and suffocated beneath the clinging fabric of his flannel shirt; the glass of Jack Daniels heâd spent the last ten minutes nursing only abets the formation of dew trickling down his neck and spine. The only thing keeping him cool is the wet curls he slicked back sitting at the base of his skull, providing a momentary chill with any slight breeze. He feels claustrophobic, displaced; like his presence was altogether a clumsy wedge into somewhere he didnât quite belong.Â
Nothing another glass of whiskey couldnât fix.
Joel excuses himself from the group without much notice. The boys are hovering over a meaty stack of ones, attempting to divvy up the bills in even increments without having to count them out individually. He strides across the room with a languid ease, scanning the room and the scattered clusters of men, appeasing his unconscious instinct to confirm safety wherever he isâand to keep tabs on the people he should keep Tommy away from. He stops short for a moment, palming his pocket to confirm his wallet and keys havenât left his side.
âPardon me, honey.âÂ
A soft, seductive drawl takes him by surprise as a hand on his lower back guides him inches to the left. It takes a moment for his vision to focus, the crisp snap of his neck to follow the voice leaving a slight dizziness in its recoil, the trailing scent of cinnamon and honey wafting beneath his nose.Â
When he finally sees you, actually sees you, Joel finds himself powerless to avert his gaze. Your body is awash with exquisite peaks and valleys, velvet curves clad only by precarious strings and swatches of fabric covering mere inches of glistening skin. The clack of your heels leaves him hypnotized as you leave him in your wake. His jaw slackens and his lungs become paralyzed as he witnesses the way your body moves like water with every step; like the current that flows across the edges of your figure, rippling as you step onto the stage and coil yourself around the silver pole.
Good god.
The bones in Joelâs knees suddenly turn gelatinous, a huff of air escaping his mouth as he stumbles backward into the bar, bracing himself with flat palms against the polished marble. He steadies himself, blinking out the sting beneath his lids, trying to moisten the dryness in his eyesâa consequence of his bulging stare.
A soft giggle lilts from behind him, piercing through his trance and hammering his conscience back into the earth. Joel turns to the source to find the bartender, shaking her head with laughter as she drags the rim of a glass through a bowl of salt.
âDonât worry, ainât the first time Iâve seen a man nearly lose his footinâ around Paloma,â she jeers, a smirk threatening the corners of her mouth. âSheâs really somethinâ, that girl.â
Joel nods, clears his throat, and swallows the saliva that pools at the back of his tongue. Somethinâ was an understatement, an insult to the ethereal vision twirling before him. The fog and dusky lighting prevents him from capturing a defined image of your face, only catching glimpses of soft cheeks and plush lips as you spin and float with ease, but heâs certain youâre breathtaking.
âYou want another Jack?â the bartender offers, pouring out a picture-perfect margarita, the lime hue nearly fluorescent in the lowlight.
Joel grunts in affirmation, his eyes not once straying from your direction.
âNot much of a talker, are ya?â she ribs, chuckling as she reaches for the whiskey.
âSorry, long day,â Joel winces, suddenly painfully aware of how rude heâs been. âIs she, uh, new âround here?âÂ
âWho, Paloma? Been âround for about⊠six months or so? Sheâs done real well for herself, honestly blew all us away with how much she was able tâmake from the jump.â
He bites down on the tip of his tongue, a sharp, electrifying pain searing through his nerves. It does nothing to fracture the beguiling spell youâve somehow cast upon him, and Joel finds himself staring again, studying your every move, knowing nothing but need.
âDo you know if she⊠when sheâs done here? Her shift, I mean.â
The bartender laughs exuberantly, a wide smile revealing a far-too-pristine row of pearly veneers that nearly glow under the lilac beams.
âWell, I donât think I can tell you that, sugar,â she coos, sliding Joelâs drink across the space between them. âBut you can ask her yourself! I promise, she donât bite. Sweet as honey, that one.â
Honey.Â
It still lingers in the air, thick and cloying in a way that grips like a hand wrapped around his throat, like a demanding croon singing over and over: Eyes on me. He can taste it too, a whisper of it stagnant on the back of his tongue, a lurking craving impatiently waiting to be satiated.
Joel thanks her in a low gravel, and strides back towards his table with newfound urgency nipping at his heels. He arrives at the booth with no reaction from the boys, the party too enveloped in counting their stack to be stirred by his presence. Itâs only when Joel clears his throat, the force of it deep and thunderous, that the men take any notice.
âIâm gonna need me some of those.â
. Â . Â . Â . Â .
You didnât expect the club to be busy tonight.Â
In fact, you practically relied on Wednesdays being the slowest day of the week. You often used the opportunity to practice new routines, test out new outfits, try something different with your makeup; pretty much anything you didnât particularly prefer for a crowded audience to behold.
Tonight you find yourself testing the limits of a string-bikini-esque number, the laces doubled around your torso and triple-knotted in the hope of extra security, and the triangular fabric cutouts stuck down to the curve of your breasts with double-sided tape. You climb the pole with ease, perfectly-formed calluses on your palms and heels aiding you with improved grip.Â
It took just a month of pole classes for you to develop an addiction to the burn of sleek metal sliding across your skin. Something about the sting of it, alongside the quiver of your core, the aching clench of your thighs; it was a remarkable blend of pain that spilled through you like pleasure. It soon became an unholy replacement for Sunday worshipâmelding yourself around the pole; bathing in the sweltering beams from the spotlights; inhaling the musky scent of crumpled bills lying at your feet. It was entirely meditative, and youâd found a sort of spiritual enlightenment amongst it all.
You let your head fall back as the rod swings you around in tight circles. Normally you let your eyes close when you spin, but tonight you feel called to the fuzzy warmth that pools behind your brows when you get good and dizzy. Your surroundings bleed and curve like an Expressionist painting, and an unmoving figure lurks amongst the brush strokes, appearing and disappearing and blending until itâs a constant image: a broad, stoic, masculine body, melting into everything you can see.
The invasion peeves you. Sure, you know you should be pleased that a customer is watching, clearly interested and coming closer, but for Christâs sake, youâve been out for less than five minutes. At 6pm. On a Wednesday.
You carefully bring your body to a halt, slowly inching down the pole until your shoes meet the hardwood. Your vision lags far behind you, skipping like a scratched disc, and itâs enough to nearly knock you from your feet. A lightness billows through your blood and tries to whisk you away, but you sink against it, sitting on your heels and fastening your grip on the cold steel.
Lines begin to gain their sharpness again, and the figure in your peripheral starts to look less and less like a Van Gogh portrait. The manâs face is still muddled, dimly-lit and shrouded by the bill of a baseball cap. You smile at him on instinct, and you notice his chest jerk, like he was entirely unaware that he too was being observed; like heâd been caught doing something he shouldnât.
You also canât help but notice how broad he is, even from this distance. The plaid lines of his button-up sprawl across his chest, his arms, his waist, and though the shirt clearly isnât skin-tight, you can tell the expanse of him fills it out with ease. With a slight tilt of your head you motion for him to come closer, and your balance finally stills enough for you to trust your feet again.
The man strides across the room with a glimmer of urgencyânot fast per se, but with a spirited buoyancy hot beneath his heels. He parks himself at the table nearest to you, pulling the chair from its nestled nook under the table, and makes himself comfortable, splaying his knees and crossing his arms tightly atop his chest.
God, heâs big.
âHavenât seen you âround here before,â you lilt, descending the stairs from the platform and taking a seat on the table in front of him.
One of his hands peeks from beneath the sleeve of his flannel. It looks gruff, firm, and tightly grasps a palmful of ones, and the sheer width of his fingers make the bills look like Monopoly money.Â
âAinât really been âround here before,â he shrugs, his voice exactly as deep as you expected, and steeped in what you immediately recognize as a born and raised Texan.
His eyes are noticeably shifty, ping-ponging between the floor, the stage, your shoes, his watch; anywhere that isnât your gaze. The majority of his face is still shaded by his cap, and even this close his features remain more vague than youâd like them to be. You realize he must be new to this, and youâve heard that drawl before; the drawl of a man who was raised to mind his manners.
You donât make him ask.
âYou want a dance, baby?â
You graze your fingers over his, and have to bite down on a grin when his chest hitches sharply against the row of buttons resting over his sternum.
âI⊠um⊠no, thank you sweetheartââ
âWhatâs your name?â
He clears his throat with a stifled, nervous cough.
âJoel,â he blurts, a sober assuredness possessing his voice. âJoel Miller.â
He finally meets your gaze, just as a whirling spotlight dances over his face. A split second of illumination reveals a whiskey-brown stare, dripping with warmth, glinting with a sedated hunger. You bite down on the flesh of your cheek and extend your hand to shake his.
âPaloma,â you croak, imitating his baritone husk, pausing to repeat his cadence. âPaloma Blue.â
A dimple appears amongst a veil of brown scruff, the faint edges of a charming smile peeking through the shadow from his hat. His shoulders remain rigid, hiked with an invisible thread tugging them toward the ceiling.
You really canât read him.
âCan I do somethinâ for you, honey? You seem tense,â you question.
âI was⊠I was wonderinâ if you might be interested in lettinâ me buy you a drink. When youâre done workinâ, fâcourse. Wouldnât wanna get you in any kinda trouble.â
You find it impossible not to let out a chuckle. Itâs not the first time youâve sent a man into a flustered mess of shifting-eyes and stuttering words, though that would usually come after he got too bold and you needed to put him in his place. Joel Miller doesnât look like those men; college-aged hooligans or machismo cowboys that are all bark and no bite. He doesnât look like a man who gets nervous; yet here he is, fidgeting profusely with his watch, and youâre quite relieved heâs sitting down.
âWell, ainât you a sweet oneâŠâ you drawl, half-teasing despite the truth to the statement. âIâm sâposed to work âtil close tonight, but if you can convince my boss to let me leave early, Iâm all yours.â
You donât miss the swell of Joelâs pupils at your affirmation, a look of determination you had yet to witness on the man. The chances of getting out of your shift tonight are next to none, considering thereâs merely three of you working the floor and a new hoard of howling youngsters just came tumbling through the entrance.
You point out your boss behind the bar and Joel follows with his gaze, nodding and starting towards her without a word.
Youâre a bit shocked at his immediate action; not to mention the lack of the typical prying youâve accepted as routine. Heâs been extraordinarily polite; a man of few words but refreshingly direct despite the subtle shake in his voice, and the honesty alone makes your cheeks flush.
Youâre far more used to taking control and providing entertainment for the countless men that frequent the club, always catering to their needs first and foremost, smothering them with flatteryâor degradation, if you notice a well-timed âgood boyâ summons a bigger bill from their pockets. Itâs work, but itâs undoubtedly started to bleed into your personal life. The lines between you and your Paloma persona have blurred these days, making you unsure of what youâre supposed to want and what you actually want. You find yourself lost in thought, gazing at the black and white tile as your legs swing underneath you, until the interruption of two dirty boots break your trance.
âBoss said youâre good to go. Fâyou still want to.â
How the hell did he manage that?
Your jaw hangs slightly in shock, racking your brain to make sense of what he may have done to convince her. You canât help but be impressed by his vigor, by all of it, and a smile lifts your cheeks to the heavens as you recognize the feeling stirring in your tummy, a feeling that has laid dormant for far too long. You want him.
âIâll go get my stuff, just hang tight.â
. Â . Â . Â . Â .
Joel stands by the exit of the club, waiting for you to grab your things. He hadnât thought a damn thing through before he asked you out, and his voice of reason was nowhere to be found when he forked over 200 bucks to the club owner to get you out of working for the rest of the night. Any semblance of forethought vanished when he saw you, all sashayed hips and strut and so undeniably, deliciously Texan. And your faceâohâonce he saw that sweet face of yours⊠he didnât stand a fucking chance.
It occurs to him that he doesnât know where exactly he should take you to get a drink. Should he have asked you to dinner instead? The last thing he wants is you to think is that heâs trying to buy you for the night, or that anything is required of you just because he got you out of work. He just wants to know you, be near you, bask in your presence. He wants to treat you like a gentleman, like he was raised to, because heâs damn sure the kind of men who wind up at that club donât give a damn about chivalry.
You emerge from the narrow hallway leading towards the exit, clad in gray sweatpants and a flowy white tee that somehow still clings to the most feminine parts of your figure. You shoot him a beaming smile, a playful glint in your eyes as you haul a small duffel bag over your shoulder.
âYouâre not takinâ me anywhere too fancy I hope,â you snicker.
Joel offers one hand to hold your bag and swings the door ajar with the other, holding it for you as you pass through. The trail of your perfumeâthat soft, sugary scentâleaves his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he tightens his grip on the doorframe.
âYou need somethinâ to eat? We could get some supper,â he suggests, offering his arm to you.
âYeah, actually, I usually wait âtil after my shift, considerinâ work ainât too far off from a non-stop Tilt-A-Whirl ride. Yâget used to it after a while, butââ
âBetter safe than sorry, I bet.â
You look up at him and nod with a half-grin, your eyes sparkling with amusement.
With just a single look, Joelâs stomach flutters and dick twitches at the sight of you. The glow of your face beneath the warmth of the streetlight; your soft features and the intensity of your persistent gaze is beyond mesmerizing. Youâre pretty, the epitome of it, all batting lashes and pillowy lips; the very definition of divine feminine. Youâre the spitting image of the hazy being that appears behind his eyelids when he touches himself and lets his mind wander; the body he craves to wake up tangled with every morning.Â
He follows you to the passengerâs side of the car and opens the door for you without a thought, leaning in to his tendencies and muscle memory. You hum a sweet thank you as he extends his arm to help you into his elevated truck, but you barely need the support, your strong legs lifting you into the height of the car with ease.Â
As Joel turns the key in the ignition, the scream of the roaring engine sends a full body cringe snaking down his spine.
âSorry, uh, sheâs a lilâ noisy,â he winces with an apologetic brow. âSheâs fine, runs great, justââ
âA bit of a talker?â you blurt.
He smiles diffidently and nods. Youâre better with words than he is, and he finds himself thankful for thatâlord knows he needs all the help he can get in your presence.
Joel flicks on the radio, an old Willie Nelson tune lilting from the rear speakers. You let out a hearty grunt of approval.
âHavenât heard this one in forever,â you slurred. âPractically grew up on this music. âM sure you did too, I can hear it in that drawl fâyours.â
He chuckles, shaking his head as he reaches his arm around your seat, crooking his head back as he shifts the truck into reverse.Â
âThat bad, huh?â
âNot bad! Just strong. Just how I like it, really,â you admit, pulling your lip between your teeth, doe-eyed and eager as you catch his gaze.
God, heâs absolutely fucked.
He dials up the volume as he clears his throat and starts down the jagged road. You relax into your seat, curling one of your feet up to tuck beneath your thigh as you hum along to the radio.
He knows exactly where to take you.
. Â . Â . Â . Â .
A twenty minute car ride with Joel revealed that he wanted to know as much as he could about you. He asked question after question, about your life, your hobbies, your family, and not one thing about your job, which was honestly quite refreshing. Not that you had any shame about your occupation, but most men were more fascinated about what it was like to be Paloma, and most importantly what it could mean for them at the end of the evening. Not Joel, though. It seemed as though he was almost afraid to breach the subject; out of politeness or avoidance, you werenât sure. You crossed your fingers that it was the former.
You arrive at a little shack of a restaurant, some sort of fusion between a diner and a sports bar. It looks as though it should be empty, the exterior of it run down in a way that makes it appear frozen in time, but it isnât. Clusters of customers sit in long-stretched booths that fill the width of the windows and the entrance is shrouded with people; some smoking, some chatting, and some seemingly waiting to get in. You scan the crowd and find that everyone visible to you appears quite innately blue collar, down to the sea of Leviâs Jeans and scuffed up boots, extra-illuminated by the cheap plastic solar lights haphazardly stuck into narrow beds of mulch.
Joel hops down from the truck before you can even say a word, and with a quick shuffle heâs arrived at the passenger door. You have to laugh at the absurdity of it, how it seems he hasâcover to coverâ studied a textbook of how to be a perfect gentleman. Alongside the frequency of nerves you can sense radiating from beneath his skin, you know you need to get a drink in him.Â
He offers his arm as you hop down onto the pavement and swiftly rests his palm on your lower back, guiding you through the crowd of patrons with ease. A cheap, crackling doorbell sound chimes as you pass through the doorway. The hostess offers a wide and toothy smile, hollering to announce Joel's arrival, by name, towards the kitchen. She appears surprised but delighted to see him, making a point to let him know how much she has missed him with a cringeworthy attempt at a bit too much physical contact. She asks about a Sarah, and your stomach tightens with concernâyou hope to god she's anything but a wife. He requests a booth, a cozy, curved table in the shaded, sheltered corner of the restaurant, and the staff oblige him immediately, one waitress clearing the tabletop of dishes and the other wiping the surface down in one clean swipe.
âHope this is ok,â Joel says. âYouâre definitely not the only one wearing sweatpants in here, if it makes you feel at ease.â
âItâs good, seems perfect,â you slip the innermost part of your bottom beneath your teeth and let your eyes do the smiling. âThey sure are treatinâ you like royalty in here.â
Joel seems to relax a bit, his spine softening into the back of the cushion and legs splaying wide. He isnât looking at you as you observe him; his eyes dart around and he musters a casual wave to anyone visibly moved by his presence. The constant, worried scrunch of his brow smooths out for a moment, just as the beams of passing headlights rake over his features, and you finally realize:
Heâs fucking gorgeous.
You could see him before, sure, but you didnât actually see him, not with the lingering luminescence of the warm white that shines through the outspread window behind you. He was steeped in shadow, but now heâs colored in, every detail and curvature entirely yours to behold.
The bend of his nose draws your attention first, strong and angular, demanding your eyes pay it mind. Your gaze follows a natural map, a sporadic trail of sun spots that dance across his cheek, conspicuous evidence of long days working outside in the relentless Austin heat. A few silver hairs are sprinkled amongst his umber scruff; a well-kempt beard and mustache sits just above the soft curve of his lips, flushed with ruddy hue.
Heâs gorgeous, plain and simple.Â
The waitress brings Joel a whiskey before even saying hello. Joel asks what you would like, calls you sweetheart in a low, thick growl. You order a vodka cran and try to ignore the hostess currently staring a hole into the side of your head.Â
âYou gonna tell me why they treat you like royalty âround here?â you tease.
âNot royaltyââ he cuts himself off with a chuckle and a shake of his head. âThey just ainât seen me in a while. Used to bring my little girl here for breakfast every Sunday.â
âAh,â you release with a sigh, the ball of tension sitting in your chest following behind. âSarah?â
âMhm,â he hums.
âWas worried she might be a wife for a second there.â
âOh, no, I- Iâm not⊠I wouldnâtâŠâ
âSâalright. Iâll admit though, Iâm real glad she ainât.â
Joelâs face turns a soft shade of pink and a whisper of a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. His eyes flicker, lingering on your lips, a flame dancing behind his pupils, before meeting your gaze again. You canât control the smile that possesses your face, nor the simmering heat that blankets your chest, and you canât recall that last time a man made you feel like this.Â
Every facet of Joelâs appearance exudes an air of dominance. He dresses much like the hordes of men who approach you with their usual excessive bravado and unwarranted sense of ownership over your body, but he seems to act entirely the opposite. He seems apprehensive, wary, like heâs trying desperately to be the right kind of man around you, to treat you the way you deserve to be treated.
You decide to try what Joel orders, some sort of off-menu special order the waitress jokingly calls âThe Miller Deluxeâ. It isnât long before you finish your drink, and another appears before you can even ask. You inquire more about Joelâs daughter, his life, his work; returning the line of questioning he surveyed you with in the passengerâs seat of the truck, and you find yourself mirroring his smile as he tells you all about Sarah. He rambles off a brief explanation of his business and Tommy; you immediately know who he is, a somewhat troublesome regular visitor at the club. Joel apologizes for Tommy before you even say a word about him, and your food arrives at the table before you can explain that heâs more of an occasional nuisance than anything else.
The whiskey seems to unwind the tension in Joelâs stature, and words begin to flow with much more ease than they did before you arrived. A natural, charismatic charm seeps through, sticky sweet, until itâs all but enveloped his demeanor, blanketing his palpable apprehension with an earnest geniality that radiates warmth like a fireplace. It washes over you, clinging to every inch of your skin, seeping through to your veins and igniting a flame low in your belly, a flickering heat that demands to be noticed.
Youâre fairly certain he wonât be the one to cut through the guarded distance between you. Despite the unmistakable hunger in his eyes, he remains heedful, taking extra care to keep his hand from grazing yours as he reaches for the chip basket and keeping his body at least a foot away from yours. You wantâdesperately wantâto shatter the glass partition he seems to have placed between you, to destroy the self-imposed barrier keeping his temptation at bay.
You start by sliding closer, closing the gap between your knees until they touch. That gets his attention, but he doesnât retreat, he only meets your eyes with a look of inquiry, curiosity, and a hint of apprehension. You flash him your most doe-eyed, encouraging smile, sanctioning the proximity of your bodies, silently divulging that you want this, that you like him, that he can finally release the imprisoned breath heâs been holding beneath his sternum since he uttered his very first words to you.Â
Joel swings an arm around your shoulder, resting against the wooden panel atop the booth seat, leaving a few inches between your skin and the sleeve of his flannel. He doesnât have to tell you a thing; you oblige him immediately, leaning your shoulders back and relaxing into his forearm. You fit seamlessly into the crook of his elbow, and the warmth emanating from his body makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention.                      Â
The second vodka cranâthe one that you nearly shotgunnedâpossesses your will for a split-second and you find yourself reaching for his face, whisping the pad of your thumb across his wiry scruff. Despite the rough tickle it leaves behind, you immediately crave the sensation elsewhere, certain that the drag of it across a more delicate area might just feel like heaven.
âCan I be honest?â you whisper in a low lilt, tracing the brim of his cap with lazy fingers.
Joel nods with a thick swallow, his Adam's apple jumping almost comically in his throat.
âYeah, fâcourse,â he responds with a strained attempt at nonchalance.
âI donât like this hat.â
You grip the bill of the hat, wiggling it back and forth playfully. Your actions are outrunning your thoughts by a mile now, and youâre unable to keep your hands from wandering towards Joelâs magnetism. His face transforms into a bewildered, amused grin, one brow furrowed and the other cocked toward the ceiling.Â
âMm,â he hums, a low, resonant sonance from the pit of his chest. âWhyâs that?â
âI canât see you,â you whine. âCanât see that pretty face of yours, sâall hidden by a shadow.â
âI, umââ he whisks the hat off, running his fingers through a slicked mountain of curls. âMy hairâs still wet.â
Christ. The light bathes his face, every detail revealing itself to you in absolute glory. Heâs fucking beautiful, his features demanding of your undivided attention, an impossible balance between striking and soft. The flicker of need at the base of your core spreads at the speed of a wildfire, setting you ablaze with a hunger you can no longer ignore.
âJoel?â
His name spills from your throat, sliding off your tongue like a sirenâs nectar. Your fingers find their way to his mane, weaving through the strands with a gentle tug. His inhale catches in his lungs, the air held prisoner as your nails trace along his temple and jaw. His eyes finally meet yours as the pad of your thumb drags across his lower lip, and itâs only then that you will his breath to freedom, a stuttering exhale pulsing with anticipation.
âI think we should get the check.â
A momentary shock quickly turns to realization, and with widened eyes and a stifled smirk he nods, wasting no time to flag down the waiter and ask for the bill. Neither of you speak; you find it almost impossible to do so, your gaze spellbound to the curve of muscle and veins that lay beneath his collar, and you swear you can see his pulse jumping beneath his skin.
You want nothing more than to feel the rush of it beneath your tongue.
Joel offers his arm to help you out of the booth, his flannel rolled to his elbows, exposing his thick and freckled forearms and a modest watch strapped to his wrist. He wastes no time whisking you towards the door, his palm flat against your lower back, waving a few rushed goodbyes to the folks he chatted with on the way in. You can feel his heat, his fervor, singeing your skin through your shirt, his fingers curled into the soft skin just above your ass. He holds the door for you as you lock eyes; youâre met with primitive opacity in his gaze, the desperation of it surging straight to your cunt.
You grasp his hand, and book it towards his truck, counting down the seconds before you lose control.
. Â . Â . Â . Â .
Joel hums with surprise as you twist the neck of his flannel into your fist, tugging him into you and colliding your lips savagely with his.
Fuck, you taste better than he couldâve possibly imagined.
He didnât intend for the evening to end like this. In fact, he almost wanted to avoid it, wanted to take you out with the crystal-clear message of no expectation whatsoever. But heâs just a man after all, and the second your eyes started talking and hands started wandering, he knew there was no way he could resist giving you what you wanted.
His hands find their way to your hips with magnetic force, slipping under the hem of your shirt with ease and grasping at the softness that lies beneath the fabric. The strength of his hands is enough to push you flat against the passenger door as he tilts your pelvis towards him, easing your knees apart with an effortless nudge of his leg.Â
You gasp into his mouth as he pulls you onto his thigh, grinding you into the thick denim. The sound of you, breathless and needy, stirs a ravenousness in his chest that Joel had thought was long laid to rest, an avidity that only you have managed to awaken. You, in all your glory, drenched in honey and cream, calling out to him to come and taste.
As he bucks your hips a second time, you whine, your hands shooting up and tangling in his hair. You tug his head back, distancing his lips from yours, and he canât help but groan at the loss of contact. Your gaze bears into his eyes with a newfound ferocity, a determination that leaves him straining against the confines of his jeans.
âYou gonna give me what I need, Joel Miller?â you speak against his mouth in a hush.
Goosebumps litter the better part of his neck and chest as his eyes struggle to keep you in focus. The sting of pain at the back of his scalp only swells his desire, a sensation so staggering that he finds his breath caught, full and tight in his lungs, escaping only through labored, silent sighs.
âMâgonna give you whatever you need baby, whatever you want,â Joel pants, slurring his words against your gluttonous smirk.Â
Suddenly youâre diving beneath his jaw, dragging the heat of your mouth across the pattern he knows follows a prominent vein in his neck. Fuck, it feels euphoric, his pulse jumping against your tongue, every rush of blood to and fro delivering another wave of want straight to his cock. He gives in, letting his eyes roll back into his skull, no longer able to maintain any semblance of insouciance as heâs damn near collapsing under your spell. He canât recall the last time heâd been touched like this. On the rare occasion heâd bring a woman home he found himself falling into routine, taking control because thatâs what he sensed she would expect, fulfilling some sense of duty as a man that he never quite understood. Heâd always felt a sort of magnetism toward assured women, but somehow they were never the ones who ended up in his bed, only wavering ladies who looked to him wide-eyed, waiting for instruction.
Heâs quite sure heâll never go back.
Joel drags your hips against him once again, this time increasing the friction, bearing you down on his thigh enough to feel the damp spot thatâs pooled between your legs. You yelp, biting into his neck, the sting of your canines against his skin bordering on vampiric. Joel hisses, the pain once again blossoming into some sort of pleasure, twitching and crying from the head of him.Â
âBabydollâshitââ he curses, stunned as you drag your lower teeth towards his ear, undoubtedly leaving behind a sketch of crimson. âYou wanna get in the truck baby? Plentyâa room in the backseat.â
You hum in agreement, your lips wrapping around his earlobe, flicking it against your tongue before giving it a feeble nip. Joel fumbles in his pocket until he manages to unlock the door with his key, wasting no time as he pulls you tight to his chest, swinging the door ajar before offering a hand to help you inside. Despite his lust-stricken haze, his gentlemanly charm seems to be beaten into the very fiber of his being. You step into the car, gracing him with a personal view of the perfect splay of your hips and ass, only revving his hunger as he follows suit.
. Â . Â . Â . Â .
You donât allow Joel but a second before youâre caging him in between your legs, straddling his thighs against the backseat of his truck. The rough grip of his hands on your hips, grinding you down on his knee, kneading into your curves; it was enough to set you entirely ablaze. No more matchstick flickering at the pit of your stomach, every cell in your body is pulsing with need, pleading for release by the hands of Joel Miller.
You canât help but glide with a sharp rock of your hips across his lap, desperate to return some friction to the pounding ache within your walls. Your eyes lock with his as your clothed cunt skims the sizable tent of his jeans, observing him feverishly as he groans at the sensation.
âFuckââ he grunts, his chest heaving as you slowly drag away again. âEasy, easy babyâŠâ
His hands find the valley of your waist with ease, slowing your pace to an achingly languid speed. With each brush of your throbbing clit against the seam of your panties, another gush of slick floods from your core. Itâs filthy, obscene, soaking all the way through the thick material of your sweatpants and onto Joelâs denim. You canât even remember the last time you were this wet. It makes you burn that much more, the way his mere presence alone was enough to turn you into a sopping mess.
âJoelââ your palms cradle the curve of his jaw, holding him still to allow you to study him in the lowlight.Â
Heâs so fucking beautiful, positively mesmerizing, his pupils blown wide with a raptured stare, the sharp curve of his nose like something carved from ancient marble. The pad of your thumb snakes across the pout of his lower lip, pressing down until his jaw goes slack, parting his mouth with an exhale.
Joel seems to lose himself in your gaze, his eyes not once leaving yours as you slip your thumb between his teeth and force him even wider, applying pressure to the tip of his tongue and feeling the muscle flex against your fingertips. You need his mouth, need it anywhere and everywhere and right fucking there, you need him to clean up this mess heâs made of you.
âYou know how gorgeous you are, sugar?â you hum, spreading the slick from his tongue across his lower lip and down his chin. âYou know I donât do this for just anybody, right?â
âYouâre the gorgeous one, baby, so goddamn gorgeous,â Joel pants, snaking his hands higher, up the bend of your waist until his palms reach the yielding skin that cloaks your ribcage. His thumbs trace the band of your bra; smooth, fluid motions that send chills crawling up your spine. âSo beautiful I reckonâ it might jusâ kill me.â
You canât help but smile at his sweetness, his accent reduced to a slurry of words, appearing to be drunk on your aura. It seems youâve managed to reduce him down to his very core, the heat from your body melting through the hardened layers of gruff masculinity to reveal an almost desperate eagerness to please, a yearning to relinquish control.
âI canât have you dyinâ on me, honeypie,â you allow your hands to wander, your fingertips finding their way to the uppermost button of his shirt. âI got far too many plans for that pretty little mouth of yours.â
You lean down to kiss him once again, your thumbs making quick work of the trail of remaining buttons. Your lips move sloppily against each other, the both of you unable to stifle your muffled moans, swallowing each otherâs pleasure as your tongues waltz in the in-between.
âTell me what to do, baby,â Joel croons against your cheek. âFuck, want you sâbad, jusâ wanna make you feel good.â
Your fingers nestle into the damp mess of curls at the back of his skull. With an innocuous little tug, you guide his lips to the expanse of bare skin on your chest, his mouth settling at the heart of your sternum. You donât even have to ask, his tongue darting past his lips, savoring the taste of you with a deliberate torpor. The graze of his scruff against your thumping heart feels better than you could have possibly imagined, sharp yet soft, ticklish enough to make your breath catch in your throat. You blanket the backs of his hands, your fingers settling in the spaces between his, maneuvering the wide expanse of his palms to splay across your breasts. You canât believe the sheer size of his hands, enveloping your tits entirely, calluses harsh against the sensitive peaks veiled beneath the mesh of your bra.Â
âTouch me here,â you sigh, unable to keep yourself rocking slowly against his thigh. âTaste me. Show me how bad you want me, pretty boy.â
Something akin to a growl claws from his throat, and you gasp as his nails hook around the seam of your bra, exposing the peaks of your breasts with a relentless tug. He wastes no time, pulling your nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking at the sensitive bud mercilessly.
âFuck, oh fuck, thatâs good baby,â you bear down into his thigh as his thumb finds your other nipple, rolling it between his forefinger. Your core surges with another wave of need, crying for attention, spilling her tears from your center and dampening the denim-clad thigh beneath her. âI needâ shitâ I need you lower, Joel.â
In your hungered haze, you push Joel flat against the seat of the truck, his eyes wide and wild as you climb atop him, his chest hiking and falling against your bare tits. He looks downright enraptured, licking his lips like a kid in a goddamn candy shop, fiending for a sugar high.
âYou wanna taste me, sugar plum? You gonâ let me feed you?â
âChristââ Joel curses, his hands wandering along your torso, lifting your shirt above your head and flinging it across the dash. He unclasps your bra with his free hand, sending it flying the opposite direction. âPlease darlinâ, needâta taste you.â
You manage to kick off your sweats while Joel holds you steady by the hips, his eager words somehow igniting even more fervor in your movements. His thumbs knead into the give of your lower tummy, meandering beneath the waistband of your panties and twisting the elastic around his knuckles, slack-jawed and nearly possessed by the sight of your bare curves alone. Â
Joel gives you a nod, cupping your ass to ease you forward as your knees find a home adjacent to his ears. He pets along the length of your thighs, damn near drooling at the sight between them.
âDonât hold back on me now,â Joel slips a finger beneath the seam of black lace, teasing against the soft damp skin closest to where you need him the most. âMâa big boy, can handle myself.â
You gasp as he shoves the soaked cloth covering your cunt to the side, brushing your desperate clit with his knuckle as he does so. Youâre bare to him now, surely glistening and ripe and ready to be devoured.
âDonât doubt it, cowboy,â you croon, raking a hand through his curls before lowering yourself onto his eager mouth.
A rocket of white-hot pleasure shoots straight through you as Joel latches on to your clit, nestling the bud between his lips. The searing sensation is enough to make your hips twitch forward, sending your hands to scramble for purchase to keep you upright. You canât even make a sound; the release of euphoria coursing through you stealing the breath from your lungs, leaving you to choke on empty inhales until Joel finally gives your nub a moment of reprieve.
His tongue dips into the pool of your center, sending another swell of nectar from your core, coating his scruff in sweet slick. You hear him groan, muffled between your thighs, as his arms lock around your hips and push you down even further.Â
âFuck, Joelââ you hiss, trying to keep yourself from grinding against the sharp curve of his nose, pulling yourself away slightly.
You swear you hear a hum of disapproval from between your legs as Joel chases you with his mouth, his grip tightening and his fingers digging mercilessly into the give of your thighs. His tongue is deep, drinking straight from the source of your arousal as his arms begin to rock you against his face, his nose grazing against your clit with an impossible precision; sending wave after wave of pleasure coiling up your spine. It seems dangerous, the way heâs devouring you without a single breath, but he holds you steady, bearing the weight of you onto his mouth with no hesitation.
âBaby, shit sweetheartâ you gotta breathe,â you manage a fistful of his hair, pulling him off you with considerable force.Â
He looks thoroughly dazed; glassy irises and pink parted lips glistening with your dew, like a man whoâs been given a taste but is nowhere near satiated. His chest swells and shallows rapidly beneath your ass, each breath bringing more color to his cheeks and a myriad of pearls forming across his hairline.
âNeed more,â Joel pants, his fingers weaving around the lace stretched across your hips. âNeed these gone, angel.â
You oblige him with a swiftness, pulling the garment to your knees, dismounting him to allow you to slip it past your ankles. His palms cup your ass and squeeze, his thumbs spreading you open to reveal even more of yourself to him. The stretch feels good, the sensitive muscles fluttering with the shock of the exposure, sticky and soaked from the steady drip seeping from your sex.
âSo prettyâŠâ he kneads into your pliable cheeks. âCan I taste it? Please sugar, needâta taste all of you.â
God, his desperation is like a siren song, your desire burning hot and full in your throat. You hum with approval, mounting him once more but reverse this time, a wave of goosebumps skittering across your skin in anticipation.Â
He starts gentler this time, licking a languid stripe from your taint to your tailbone. His tongue splays across your skin, wide and flat, making sure not to miss a single inch. A guttural moan escapes your lungs; an uninhibited response to the forgotten feeling of heat in that region, an entirely distinctive kind of pleasure that sends your eyes spinning to the back of your skull. Your nails dig crescents into the cushions your hands are so violently clinging to, your back arching, curving in a manner to match the little moons left behind by your fingers.Â
Joel groans in response to your noises, biting at the supple flesh gathered in his hands, his hunger surely spurred by the sweet sounds of your euphoria. Like a switch, his mouth turns greedy again, lapping against your puckered skin with a ferocity that makes you cry out his name. He gives you no moment of respite, jerking your hips toward him and seizing your clit with his curved tongue and pulling you into him, his nose practically fucking your cunt.
âOhhh, thatâsâŠâ you trail off, your eyes beginning to water from the sheer intensity of it. âChrist, youâre heaven.â
At that, Joel seems to lose control, seemingly possessed by a determination to make you meet God. His palms jerk your hips back and forth, your clit never once escaping the grasp of his lips, his nose delving into your pussy with reckless abandon. Pleasure ravages the whole of you in a frenzy, wave after wave surging in your belly until youâre all but crying, quivering as you white-knuckle the headrest holding you steady. Your orgasm topples through you, your vision blasting with light as your walls clamp again and again, squeezing the length of Joelâs nose buried in your cunt.
Joel doesnât release your clit from his mouth until youâre yelping, twitching and gasping from overstimulation. His grip softens as you fly forward to your hands and knees, your chest heaving with exhaustion, your muscles bearing through the aftershocks of your release. His lips find the backs of your thighs, trailing sweet, slow kisses across the expanse of skin. They feel like praise, almost like heâs thanking you without words; a mellifluous tempo of graciousness that you had yet to experience from him.Â
Part of you wants to linger in the divinity of this moment, but from your position you find yourself face to face with the bulging mass beneath his jeans. It looks painful, the outline of his shaft straining against thick denim and a sturdy zipper. You manage to unbutton the pants with your one free hand, slipping your palm beneath the waistband effortlessly.Â
âJesus, Joel,â you chuckle, astonished by the way his cock fills your palm, heavy and thicker than you would have ever anticipated. You begin to stroke him above his boxers, softly and slowly, swirling your fingertips across the head of him as you feel him groan beneath you, dampening your fingers with his weeping tip. âLemme help you, sugar.â
Joel grunts out his approval, his palm splayed across your ass, seemingly as a means to ground himself to this mortal plane. The callused pads on his fingertips clutch you relentlessly as you free his dick from the confines of his clothes, holding the base of him steady as you glide the tip of your tongue across his glistening slit.
His hips jerk forward at the sudden contact, sending the length of him thrusting into your open mouth. You welcome him wholly, savoring the salty musk that coats your cheeks and the sting in your jaw as you stretch to accommodate him.
âFuckingâshitââ he growls, his breaths coming in short, shallow bursts. âCâmere, god damnââ
He tugs you back onto his open mouth, burying himself into you once more with a reignited ferocity, drinking the remnants of your orgasm. You yelp, your throat flexing around his tip as he flicks your overstimulated clit, the blend of pleasure and torment accosting your nervous system.Â
Itâs downright mean, the mercilessness of his tongue sending you straight into overdrive. Two can play at that game.
You take him as deep as you can manage, hollowing your cheeks as you swirl your tongue around his girth. He groans into your pussy, licking you faster, pulling your lips apart with his tongue and spreading them like angel wings. You canât help but grin, the unspoken competition between you revving with intensity with each passing second, sending the both of you toppeling into bliss, warmth spilling down your throat as you cry out against his cock. Your thighs begin to shake as you reach your peak, tears beading in your eyes as you grasp tightly onto the flexing muscles in Joelâs legs. You choke on his name as his dick falls from your lips, bearing through surge after surge of euphoria. The pleasure is so consuming that it coils itself around your windpipe and renders you mute, holding you hostage until itâs had its way with you and leaving you dizzy when it finally relents.
Your arms give out on you and you collapse, exhaustion possessing you for a moment until your consciousness returns. You feel Joel pressing soft, sweet kisses to the back of your thigh, and suddenly become aware of the fact that youâre likely crushing his sensitive dick beneath your weight. You ease off of him slowly, your legs quivering with the effort, turning to face him as he shifts himself to a seated position and fastens his jeans.
The moonlight catches the sweat beading at his hairline; the glassy whites of his eyes and the dew on his lips beaming under the cool-toned hue. He looks like art, soft lines and harsh edges painted exactly where youâd want them; masculine shadows dancing across his skin as he shifts his weight, daring you to watch them move. Youâve never been so completely mesmerized by someone. Not once in your life has a man rendered you speechless, but here you are; irreversibly hypnotized and a stranger to the English language. Youâre aware of yourselfâpainfully aware of your staggering silence and your gawkish gazeâand you shake your head, laughing at the unbelievable effect washing over you.
Joelâs cheeks turn ruddy, his irises shifting between you and his lap as he drapes his arm across his chest, giving his own shoulder a hearty squeeze.Â
âWhatâs funny?â he breathes, insecurity creeping in his throat.
You come to suddenly; the stark realization that youâre probably making the man nervous is enough to break you from your trance. You crawl towards him, your fingertips grazing the underside of his jaw, tilting him towards you until your lips are merely an inch apart.
âNothinâ sugar,â you hum, pressing your lips to his in a gentle kiss. âYouâre just one hell of a cowboy.â
#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#plus size reader#plus size!reader#joel x reader#young joel miller#tlou#the last of us
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Hey I love your writing! Any chance youâd be willing to do a Sanji and Zoro threesome where they get all competitive about sharing you but maybe they end up making out a lil as well? đđđ pleasepleaseplease
OMG!!!! the way I had to dash to my pc and write this???!!!! (well, half it. may or may not have finished it during my workout on my phone so pls ignore any formatting issues!! đđ)
thank you so much for the request, i loved writing it! i hope it helps with your day, too!
emmĂȘlĂ©
zoro x sanji x reader
cw: threesome, double penetration, semi-public sex, praise, degradation, biting, slight zosan
Youâre lost in a daze. What started as a late evening in the kitchen with Zoro and a couple of glasses of wine had turned into something else entirely. Sanji, who was cleaning up after dinner, had gotten into it with Zoro, starting with some sort of comment about not liking the way he manhandles you around on his lap.
âShut up,â Zoro spits in an annoyed huff. âShe loves it, donât you baby?â
âEven if she does, you should be more gentle with her.â Sanji snaps back, pointing angrily at Zoro.
âSheâs not fragile, cook.â Sanjiâs title rolls from the swordsmanâs lips like a threat - low, cold, and full of irritation.
The men speak as if you arenât there, and before you know it, youâre sandwiched between them in the middle of the kitchen.
Zoro holds you in the air between them with ease, his large and calloused hands tucked under your knees and spreading your thighs wide open as he pounds into your ass - stretching you out in a way that makes your toes curl while Sanjiâs nimble fingers hold onto your waist, slowly thrusting into your pussy and moaning low into your ear.
Both of them have their own pace; Zoroâs rough and forceful, the sound of his thighs hitting your ass echoing around the room loudly. Sanji takes his time, wanting to feel each inch of your pretty pussy around him and to really enjoy you.
âMon amour,â Sanji purrs into your ear as you rest your head on his shoulder, languishing moans and cries of ecstasy warming the crook of his neck. âSi charmant, si bon~â Fuck, you love when he speaks French, especially like this. His words are like candy - sweet and delicious and all for you.
Zoro, in comparison, is much more quiet. His forehead rests on the back of your neck, heavy grunts and groans of his own pleasure almost inaudible amidst yours and Sanjiâs - the latterâs constant whimpering and murmurs in his native tongue quickly getting on Zoroâs nerves. He wants to hear you, needs to hear just how fucking good you sound stuffed and filled like this.Â
Sanji is denying him that.
âFuck,â Zoro growls, moving his head to look at the culprit of his discontent. âYouâre too god damn loud, cook.â His brow furrows, but his brutal pace doesnât let up - if anything it speeds up. Zoroâs grip on your legs tightens, instinctively pulling you closer to his chest in a possessive manner. He ignores your sobs, still staring intently at Sanji with an air of annoyance.
âA gentleman- ah!â Sanjiâs words are cut short by a long and filthy moan from the way your pussy flutters around his cock. His eyes close for a moment as he picks up his pace, fucking you closer to the rate that Zoro is. Once his eyes snap back open, he meets Zoroâs glare with one of his own. âA gentleman always indulges on a meal so freely given.â
Zoro clicks his teeth in irritation, his gaze turning to your pathetic and limp form between them. âAt least we both know who makes you feel the best, right princess?â He rumbles into your ear, his deep voice sending sparks flying through your veins. Zoro chuckles darkly and bites down on your shoulder with enough force to make you cry out. âAnd who makes you scream their name.âÂ
âSex is more than just primal lust, moss-head.â Sanji spits out, the hands around your waist digging into your plush skin. âDo you believe him?â He asks you, voice noticeably softening when he sees your fucked-out and glazed-over expression. âSounds to me like he doesnât know how to really appreciate you, sweetheart.âÂ
Words have long left you, reduced to nothing but weak and hoarse moans and attempts at vocalization. Unable to answer, the two continue to absolutely ruin you. Both of your arms are wrapped around Sanjiâs shoulders, holding onto him tightly and clawing at the flesh of his back.Â
âShe loves being treated like a slut.â Zoro says, snapping up into you hard for a few moments. You tighten around the two cocks in you at his words, unable to hold back an absolutely salacious yelp. âSee? Fuckinâ lives for it.â
Sanji shakes his head, one of his hands coming to the back of your head and petting your hair gently. His touch is soothing, and you hum into it with a weak smile - a quick moment of peace. He smirks smugly at Zoro, as if having proved a point.Â
Your breathing grows heavier still, and with a series of grunts and whines you know you're on the precipice of pleasure. "S-shut up and don't s-stop!" You manage to whisper out in a huff.Â
Sanji's moans escalate in tandem with yours. He loves how you feel around him and just knowing that he's playing a part in pushing you over the edge makes his cock throb wildly inside you. "Ma chérie, you sound heavenly." He murmurs, continuing to drip words of praise in both languages for you.
Zoro isn't having any of this. Sanji has to shut the fuck up if he's to hear you cum. He doesn't care how much you like it, even if the soft affection is pushing you further into your release. You tumble over into euphoria with a shout, nails slicing into Sanji's skin and lulling your head backward onto Zoro's shoulder.Â
As the pleasure floods you, Zoro's at his wit's end with just how loud the cook is. He props one leg up onto a chair and releases his grip on your left thigh, letting it fall to his own to keep you as steady as possible to ride out your high before grabbing the back of Sanji's head forcefully and bringing him closer. "Shut the fuck up and let her sing, cook." He growls and shuts him up the only way he knows how to at this moment - by harshly pressing his lips to Sanji's.Â
Sanji's eyes widen, and he wants to pull away but can't bring himself to. Zoro's kiss is rough and it's full of teeth and tongue, and that combined with how fucking good you're squeezing his cock - he cums. His moans are muffled by the lip lock, but the way he's spilling into you endlessly indicates just how much the act has subdued him, mind, body, and soul.Â
You take the opportunity to kiss along Sanji's jawline, each mumbled whimper and whine from the man above you makes you giggle. It's cute to see him melt, and you never get tired of it.Â
Zoro breaks the kiss with a smirk. "Now," he growls, turning his attention back to you. "Back to filling you the fuck up."
#one piece x reader#one piece x y/n#one piece#roronoa zoro x reader#roronoa zoro x y/n#one piece x reader smut#zoro smut#op x reader#lord have mercy#ronoroa zoro#opla zoro#opla sanji x reader#sanji x reader#sanji x y/n#sanji x reader smut#vinsmoke sanji x reader
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can you make a story about Marc and reader, where he teases her about the height difference
⊠- short n sweet.



summary:: you didnât choose to be short. but marc chose you. so therefore he canât complain youâre short! but he does đ.
warnings:: none!?
writers note:: lowkey gonna spam bc i always write my fics in my notes bc tumblr deletes drafts and iâve written sm all i need to do is format đ
.
tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @universefcb @nngkay
you werenât even sure how the conversation started. one moment, you were waiting for him outside the training grounds, minding your business, and the next, marc was teasing you relentlessly about your height.
âcan you even see over the dashboard when you drive?â he smirked, looking down at you as you both walked toward his car.
you rolled your eyes. âyes, marc. i donât need a booster seat.â
âare you sure?â he nudged your side, laughing. âi can get you one, you know. iâll even make it barca themed.â
âoh, youâre hilarious,â you deadpanned, shoving him lightly. it barely did anything, considering he was literally towering over you.
marc had been on this for weeks. every chance he got, heâd make some comment about how much smaller you were compared to him. it wasnât even like you were that short, he was just unfairly tall.
âwait, stand next to me for a sec,â he said, stopping in his tracks.
you groaned. âmarcââ
âjust for a second,â he grinned.
you sighed but humored him, standing beside him as he straightened his posture. he looked down at you, then burst out laughing.
âoh my god, i swear youâre getting shorter.â
you smacked his arm. âor maybe youâre just a freakishly tall human being.â
he ignored your insult, clearly enjoying himself. âi bet if we took a picture, people would think iâm your bodyguard.â
you gasped. âyou did not just say that.â
he was dying of laughter at this point, barely able to breathe. âno, no, seriously. imagine me in a suit, standing behind you, all serious. people would think iâm protecting you from the paparazzi.â
you groaned dramatically. âyouâre the worst.â
âno, youâre the worst,â he shot back playfully, slinging an arm around your shoulders with ease. âbut itâs okay, i still like you, even if i have to break my neck looking down at you.â
you huffed, but you couldnât hide the small smile creeping onto your lips. âyouâre so lucky i like you too, otherwise iâd trip you in the locker room.â
he grinned. âiâd like to see you try, shorty.â
and just like that, the teasing continued.
#football x reader#football one shot#football fluff#football x y/n#football x you#marc bernal x reader#marc bernal
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Hihi!
I just read your rules, so I hope this request follows them:
Could I request an leviathan!merman x fem reader? I'm not super picky about the details of his appearance, so you can have fun with that.
I'm thinking, maybe, reader is prisoner on a pirate ship and leviathan!merman attacks and sinks the ship because it constantly disturbs the water of his territory. He finds reader, realizes he almost killed an innocent captive, and shenanigans ensue from there. He takes her home with him to take care of her while she recovers from the imprisionment/his attack since it's too far to safely take her back to shore, much less a shore she knows. His underwater cave has an airpocket/above-sea level entrance as well as the main entrance; how lucky and convenient, amirite?đ
Maybe he's slightly awkward and it makes him seem detached and scary...
I'm hoping for fluffy with a smidgen of spice or smut at the end?
Thank you in advance if you decide to write this!đ«¶
holy shit this was insane i love you
merman x fem! reader fluff and smut
warnings/tags- short smut peice at the end, fem reader, monster x human, mentions of imprisonment, i gave him a name at the end
word count- 3727 words (im tired)
The salt-laden air was suffocating. The relentless waves rocked the creaking pirate ship as it cut through the waters, a prison you couldn't escape. Days had passed since your capture, and you were bruised, sore, and tired from the confinement. The crew barely acknowledged your existence beyond the scraps of food they tossed your way. They were focused on something else, something beyond the horizon that kept them nervous and on edge.
One of the older pirates muttered about a sea demonâa creature that hunted ships around these waters. You thought it was nothing more than sailorsâ superstition, but as the air turned heavy and the sea became unnaturally still, an eerie sensation crawled down your spine. The crew became frantic. Eyes darted toward the water, watching for something. You couldnât tell what.
It happened fast. The once-still water erupted into chaos, and the ship shuddered violently as if something enormous had collided with it. Men screamed weapons were drawn, but none of it mattered. The sea itself had risen against them. Waves higher than any you'd ever seen crashed down, tearing the ship apart. You were thrown across the deck, striking the mast hard, the air rushing out of your lungs as darkness claimed you.
---
When you awoke, the world felt different. The coldness of the water had soaked through every part of you, the sensation both numbing and alarming. You blinked, trying to focus on your surroundings, but nothing made sense. The sea still roared, but you werenât drowning.
You were⊠floating? Treading?
Somethingâor someoneâhad you in its grasp. Panic surged through you, and you tried to twist away, only for the grip around you to tighten, keeping you still. Then you felt itâscales. The slick, cool texture brushed against your skin as a powerful tail swam you through the water with ease. You struggled, coughing up saltwater, your limbs heavy and useless.
A voice, deep and foreign, hummed in the water. âDonât⊠fight.â The words were broken but clearer than you expected. You tried to crane your neck, to see what held you, but before you could make sense of the situation, you were lifted above the water.
The night sky greeted you once more, stars shimmering against the black ocean. But it wasnât the stars that took your breath away. As your vision focused, you were pulled into the shallow confines of a cavern. Rock formations loomed above, sharp and jagged, and the faint glow of bioluminescent algae clung to the cave walls, casting an ethereal light across the scene.
Then you saw him.
The creature holding you was enormous. His upper body was humanoid but covered in dewy scales, glistening under the faint light. His skin was a mix, inky gunmetal grey and Cerulean blue, blending with the shadows and the sea. The scales grew rougher around his neck and joints, trailing down to the massive tail that curved behind him. His eyes, glowing with an eerie gold hue, met yours, unblinking and intense.
A sea-creature.
The pirate tales werenât lies.
He moved carefully, setting you down on a small ledge that jutted out of the water inside the cave. You coughed again, your body shaking as the cold air hit your wet skin. For a moment, the creature just stared at you, his eyes scanning over your form with something you couldnât place. Was it curiosity? Guilt? You werenât sure, but it wasnât the mindless aggression you'd expected from the stories.
"Pretty⊠girl," he whispered, the words hesitant as his voice echoed in the cavern.
Your heart pounded in your chest, fear mixing with confusion. Why had he saved you? Had he been the one to destroy the ship? The silence between you stretched on, uncomfortable and thick. You opened your mouth to speak but hesitated, unsure if you wanted to know the answer to your questions.
He shifted awkwardly, his long tail curling into itself as if he wasnât sure what to do next. The leviathanâs hands, large and clawed, flexed as he tried to mimic human gestures. He brought one to his chest as if trying to calm you. His voice was gruff and halting. âHurt..?â
You swallowed, trying to find your voice. "I... I was a prisoner."
The leviathan frowned, his expression twisting as if he was processing your words. He pointed to himself. "I⊠destroy..Save you." he spoke blankly
Your mind reeled. He had attacked the ship. He had killed everyone on boardâpirates, yes, but also human beings. And yet here he was, trying to help you. There was no malice in his expression, only an awkward uncertainty, like he wasn't used to interacting with anyone, let alone a human.
âIâŠâ You stammered, feeling small under his gaze. âWhy?â
His head tilted, brow furrowing. He seemed to struggle with the question, trying to find the words. "Innocent," he finally murmured. "No kill⊠innocent."
You wanted to believe him. But trust didnât come easily when youâd just been ripped from one terrifying situation and thrown into another. âYou killed them all,â you whispered, your voice shaking.
The leviathanâs eyes darkened, his tail thrashing slightly in the water, sending ripples across the surface. âThey⊠disturbedâŠâ His hand clenched into a fist before he loosened it again, trying to maintain his composure. âThis⊠my home. They hurt⊠water. Hurt⊠sea.â
You blinked, processing his words. He was a protector of these waters, not a mindless monster. He had been defending his territory. The pirates had angered him and threatened his home. And in his attempt to drive them away, he had nearly taken you with them.
âI didnât mean to be there,â you said, your voice softer now. âThey captured me.â
He nodded slowly, his golden eyes never leaving yours. There was a strange kind of innocence to him despite his monstrous appearance, like he was trying to understand, trying to make sense of the situation as much as you were. âI⊠care for you. You are safe⊠here.â
You looked around the cave, the glow from the algae creating an otherworldly atmosphere. The air pocket allowed you to breathe, and while the water was cold, the rock beneath you was dry. For now, you were safe.
But how long would you be here? How far from the land were you? Your thoughts spiralled, and before you could stop yourself, tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You were stranded in an underwater cave with a creature who had just destroyed an entire ship, and you had no idea what would happen next.
Seeing your distress, the leviathan made a low sound, a soft chirping noise that seemed almost out of place for something his size. He inched closer, his movements slow and deliberate as if trying not to scare you. âSafe⊠now,â he repeated, his voice almost a whisper.
Your body trembled, a mix of cold and exhaustion taking over, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. You were too weak to respond, and as your vision blurred, you caught a final glimpse of the leviathanâs concerned gaze.
âRest,â he murmured, his deep voice the last thing you heard before the darkness took you once more.
---
You werenât sure how much time had passed when you awoke again. The cave was still, the water lapping gently at the edges of the rocks. Your body ached, but the sharp pains from earlier had dulled to a manageable throb. As you stirred, you noticed the leviathan watching you from the water, his upper body resting on the edge of the ledge.
âYou⊠awake,â he said, a hint of relief in his tone.
You pushed yourself up slowly, wincing as your muscles protested. âYeah,â you muttered, rubbing your forehead. âIâm awake.â
The leviathan studied you for a moment before shifting his weight and submerging partway into the water again. âNo go⊠back to land,â he said, his voice low but clearer than before. âToo far. Too⊠dangerous.â
You frowned. âThen what do I do? Just⊠stay here?â
He looked almost embarrassed, his golden eyes darting away from yours. âFor now. I⊠help. You stay safe.â
It wasnât an ideal solution, but what choice did you have? You were miles from land, and even if you could swim back, there was no guarantee youâd survive the journey.
As the days passed, the initial fear that had consumed you began to ebb away, replaced by something you couldnât quite define. The leviathan, whom you had come to think of simply as "him," seemed to be doing everything in his power to make you feel safe. Every day, he brought you food from the seaâfish, clams, seaweedâarranging it in neat little piles on the dry ledge of the cave where you rested. It wasnât long before you stopped seeing him as a monster. He had saved you, after all. And there was a gentleness in his awkwardness, an effort to communicate that made you feel like you werenât just some stranded victim in a strange land.Â
He never wandered too far, always returning with something newâa small collection of smooth stones, intricately shaped shells, and occasionally, bones that had been bleached by the ocean. He would lay them down carefully in front of you, watching for your reaction with bright, expectant eyes. At first, you didnât think much of it. He was probably just offering you things he thought might interest a human, but you noticed that he always seemed delighted when you picked them up, inspecting each one closely.Â
You had begun making a habit of itâadmiring the shells, thanking him for the smooth, polished stones. His face would light up in a way youâd never seen before, his golden eyes flashing with that strange, bioluminescent glow that was becoming more familiar to you.Â
And it wasnât just his gifts. His body language had started to shift in subtle ways. When he emerged from the water, the faint freckles along his face and shoulders glowed softly, but when you spoke to him or even smiled in his direction, they would brighten, casting more light into the dim cave. At first, you assumed it was a natural response to his emotionsâperhaps a way for his kind to communicate. But then came the sounds. He chirped. He hummed. He made these low, rumbling noises deep in his chest that reverberated through the cave walls.Â
It was strangeâalmost endearing.Â
One day, after he had brought you a particularly beautiful shellâspiralled and iridescentâyou smiled at him, running your fingers over its smooth surface. âItâs beautiful,â you said softly. âThank you.â
The leviathanâs face lit up, his freckles flaring into an almost blinding brightness as he chirped happily. You chuckled, placing the shell in the small pile of treasures you had started keeping at your side.Â
âDo you have a name?â you asked him, curious if he could understand more complex language. âI mean⊠what should I call you?â
He blinked, his head tilting slightly. âNameâŠ?â His voice was still halting, but he was getting better, and more confident with his words. âNo⊠name.â
âHmm.â You bit your lip, thinking. âMaybe Iâll give you one, then.â
His eyes widened slightly, glowing with interest.
You tapped a finger against your chin, trying to come up with something that suited him. Something powerful, but also kind. âHow about... Kai? It means sea in a few languages.â
âKaiâŠâ he repeated as if testing the word. Then, his face broke into a small smile, the glowing freckles on his cheeks pulsing rhythmically. âKai⊠like.â
You couldnât help but smile back. âGood. Kai it is.â
The days continued like this, with him bringing you more gifts and making those strange chirping noises whenever you accepted them. Sometimes he would linger nearby, watching you with a strange intensity that should have been unnerving but wasnât. It was almost⊠sweet.Â
One evening, after he had brought you a particularly smooth stoneâa dark, deep blue colourâyou held it up to the faint light. âYou have quite the eye for pretty things,â you said teasingly, glancing at him. His golden eyes glinted, and he made that low, rumbling hum again, the sound resonating in your chest.
You didnât know when it started to happen, but somewhere along the way, you had stopped seeing him as just a creature of the deep. There was a tenderness in him, a genuine care for your well-being that warmed you in ways you hadnât expected. He wasnât just keeping you alive. He was trying to make you happy. And it was working.Â
You caught yourself watching him more oftenâhow his muscles shifted beneath his dark, glistening skin, how his tail curled and flicked in the water when he was excited, how his glowing freckles pulsed in response to your laughter. And when he brought you something new, when he chirped at you or hummed softly, it made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with fear.Â
---
Kai didnât fully understand it at first, but something had changed between the two of you. He could feel it. Every time you smiled at him or touched the gifts he brought you, something warm and bright filled his chest. It was more than happiness. It was... connection.
He had been practising the small rituals of his kind for days now, bringing you things he knew you would likeârocks, shells, even bones from deep within the sea. He had hoped you would understand what he was doing, even if it wasnât something humans were used to. And when you accepted his gifts, when you smiled at him and thanked him, he felt like he was glowing from within. You were accepting him.
The colours in his bioluminescent freckles had grown brighter each day, especially when you were near. He could feel his body reacting to youâflashing brighter, chirping louder, humming more frequently. He had started making these sounds almost unconsciously, his excitement and affection bubbling up every time he was near you.
And then there was the moment when you said his name. Kai. A human name, but it fits. You had given him something special, something to define himself beyond just a creature of the deep. He had felt it thenâan overwhelming urge to be closer to you, to protect you, to make you his.
---
You hadnât realised it until later, but you had unknowingly been accepting his courting rituals. The smooth rocks, the shells, the soft chirping soundsâall of it had been Kaiâs way of showing affection, of trying to bond with you. And you had accepted it with open arms, without even realising the significance of what you were doing.
One night, as you sat by the waterâs edge, Kai was closer than usual, his large body half-submerged in the water. His golden eyes were fixed on you, his freckles glowing softly. You noticed how close he was, and how his massive form took up most of the space in the cave. But instead of feeling intimidated, you felt⊠comforted.
He chirped softly, his tail flicking in the water. "You⊠like?â he asked, his English much clearer now.
You glanced down at the latest gift he had given youâa perfectly polished piece of coralâand smiled. âI do. Thank you, Kai.â
His glowing freckles flared again, and the rumbling sound in his chest grew louder, more persistent. He was... happy. You could feel it radiating from him.
Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his arm where the scales were smoothest. His body tensed momentarily, his eyes widening as he looked at where your hand rested. But then, he relaxed, a soft, pleased chirp escaping him.
You werenât sure when it happened, but you stopped seeing him as just a sea creature somewhere along the way. It was Kai. He was awkward and endearing, and despite your vast differences, he made you feel safe.Â
And as you looked into his glowing eyes, your heart beat faster in your chest. You had grown fond of himâmaybe even more than fond.Â
Kaiâs tail flicked in the water, and he shifted closer, his face just inches from yours. His freckles glowed brighter, casting the cave in a warm, ethereal light. âPretty⊠girl,â he murmured, the words filled with a strange kind of awe.
You smiled, your hand still resting against his arm. "And you're not so bad yourself."
For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the sound of the ocean filling the space between you. But something had changed. There was a new understanding, a new bond. You werenât just surviving together. You were connected.
And from the way Kaiâs eyes shone, you could tell he felt it too.
As the soft light from Kaiâs freckles pulsed gently around you, you felt his large form shift beside you. Before you could react, he lowered his head, nuzzling it under your chin with surprising tenderness. His skin was cool and smooth, and the sensation sent a shiver down your spine, though not from fear. You hesitated, then let your hand drift to the back of his head, fingers tangling in the strange but silky strands of his dark hair.
A low, content hum rumbled from him, vibrating against your chest. He was closeâcloser than heâd ever been before. The warmth of his presence, the gentle weight of his nuzzle, made your heart race, and yet... it felt right.Â
âHave⊠pups,â Kai murmured, his voice halting but filled with sincerity. You froze, your breath catching in your throat as his words slowly registered. âMy⊠pups.â
It was then that everything clicked into place. The gifts, the soft chirping, the glowing freckles, his constant presence. This wasnât just him being kind. This was more. **He loved you.**
Your heart pounded in your chest as you pulled back slightly, looking down at him in stunned realization. His eyes, glowing softly, blinked up at you with that same innocence and intensity. He wasnât just a protectorâhe saw you as his mate.Â
And somewhere deep inside, you realized that you didnât mind the thought.
You stared down at Kai, your fingers still resting gently on his head as he gazed up at you, unaware of the weight of his words. His eyes were wide and expectant, as if waiting for your reaction. The warmth that had been building in your chest bloomed fully, but it was accompanied by a nervous flutter in your stomach.
"Pups," you whispered softly, your voice barely audible. The idea, once foreign and unthinkable, now seemed⊠less strange. It wasnât just the wordâit was the meaning behind it. The way Kai had said it, with such sincerity and hope, like he couldnât imagine anything more important. The realization that this ancient, powerful being cared for you in ways you hadnât even understood until now.
Kaiâs tail flicked in the water, splashing lightly as he nuzzled you again, this time more insistently. âYes⊠pups,â he repeated softly, the low rumble of his voice vibrating through you. He shifted even closer, his large frame curling around yours protectively. âYou⊠mine.â
Your breath hitched at his declaration. The weight of what he was sayingâwhat he feltâwas starting to sink in. Kai wasnât just offering you protection or companionship. He wanted more. He wanted to build a life with you, in whatever form that took. To him, it seemed so simple. But to you, the complexity of the situation was dizzying.
Could you feel the same way about him? Could you be with someone so vastly different, someone from a world so far removed from your own?
But as you looked into his eyes, glowing softly with that bioluminescent warmth, you realized that you already had. The time spent together in the cave, the strange courtship rituals, the quiet moments of connectionâthey had already won you over. You had grown attached to him, maybe even fallen in love without realizing it. And now, faced with his earnest desire, it was impossible to ignore.
âKai,â you murmured, brushing your thumb gently over the side of his face. âYou really mean that, donât you?â
His head tilted, eyes blinking as though he didnât quite understand why you would question it. âMean⊠yes. You mine. We⊠together. Have⊠pups.â
You think for a few seconds âhowâŠhow would we..?â
His hand pushes against your thigh, twitching hard, which has your eyebrows pulling tight. You go pale when you look down. What you assumed to be his hand was something else completely, moving around against your thigh with a sticky sheen being rubbed on the skin of you hip like heâs grinding his double dicks against you. His tail is heavy enough to keep you in place under him, and his crawled hand is slid along your side while he purrs pathetically, looking up at you with sweet begging eyes âOh, fuck,â you mouth, âoh fuck.â Trying to slip out from under him makes him let out a soft growl, mouth corners lifting to show his canines.
âI-i dont think i can take them..bothâ you gulp.
He doesn't seem to notice, all he desires is your affection, Kai brings his fingers up interlacing around your chin. Under the night sky, his body lights up, the shimmering blue lights on his skin and tail accentuating your own vulnerability. He offers you a smile, his deep brown eyes sparkling with longing in the soft glow of the moon. Your lips meet. You trace your fingers along his chest and stomach. A glimpse of his form emerges from his opening, and you can't help but smile as you circle his protruding tip. He sighs your name into your mouth, the sensation akin to the gentle ebb and flow of the sea against the rocks. Gradually, he slips his entire cock into your hands grasp, and you caress his length with gentle strokes. He recoils slightly, his head resting back, his scales reflecting the moon's light. Firmly holding you, he rolls you onto your stomach. You grin up at him, extending your hand to gently sweep away a few droplets from his face. He returns the smile. Leaning back, you spread your legs and clasp onto his hips, taking a deep breath as he positions himself for an intimate moment. Your moans fill the night as he fucks you with a rhythm reminiscent of the ocean's waves.
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