#i made this high contrast with a lot of movement

[taifenggg]

hi! 🌷 i love your scenarios so i instantly came to rq here <3

could you write about mc and the brothers having possessive s3x for the first time? their relationship is relatively new and they did it a few times, but for some reason they got jealous and the way they deal with it is by having somewhat angry / possessive s3x with reader (which is very different from what they're used to do

for example: belphie is usually lazy or slow, satan is a gentleman and spends a lot of time on foreplay, reader notices how their usual this time is almost the opposite bc the brother in question is SO jealous

idk if it made sense </3 if writing the 7 of them feels too much for you, then would mammon + satan + barbatos be okay? they're my favorites!

have an amazing day btw i love your content

Content Warning(s): NSFW obviously LMAO, hairpulling(Lucifer, Belphie), semi-public(Mammon, Asmo), overstimulation(Satan), slight degradation(Belphie), not proofread LOL

Character(s): GN!Reader(no pronouns mentioned), Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmo, Beel, Belphie, Barbatos

Authors Notes: hi there! i'm so flattered you love my writing, it means a lot! and dw I saw your other ask, so you're all good no worries about verification. nonnie, I'll do you one better and I ended up writing all the bros plus barbs as a bonus lol. enjoy!

nsfw under the cut! minors dni or i will block you :)

Reminder to abide by my guidelines for NSFW content tysm :]

Guidelines for NSFW Content [ ◇ ]

Lucifer [🦚💙]

Others keep occupying your time.

"Remind me again, who exactly do you belong to?"

Your moans are stifled as you press your face against the pillow. Lucifer's pace is relentless and although he can be rough in general, tonight feels different. There's something far more carnal and possessive in the way Lucifer thrusts into you. His movements are done so with reckless abandon, a stark contrast to how he usually takes you.

"Y-you Lucifer!" you gasp, body shaking from the intense pleasure coursing through your body. You yelp and moan out his name as he runs a hand through your scalp, pulling your face so that you're staring at him, his hands having a firm grip on your hair. "I can't hear you, louder," he commands you, your faces practically centimeters away from each other.

"You Lucifer!" you sob, feeling his large hand pressing into the small of your back, pushing you down against the mattress. Lucifer smirks, his other hand trailing down to your neck, holding you there firmly. "That's right my love, me. Not my brothers and certainly not that shady sorcerer," he practically spits out those last words. Lucifer's head falls back as he continues to thrust roughly into you, feeling himself close to his release.

You can feel yourself tightening around him, and you arch your back, body shaking as your orgasm washes over you. Lucifer lets out a low moan, making a few more shallow thrusts into you before spilling his seed into your hole. Chest heaving, he pulls out, watching with satisfaction as his release trickles out of you. Taking two fingers, he trails them up your inner thighs, causing you to jump from how sensitive you were after your high. Lucifer takes his fingers and takes the excess that spills out, prodding it back in.

"Keep that in there my love, it's proof that you're mine after all, if not, I'll have to punish you a bit more unfortunately. You can do that, can't you?"

Mammon [��💛]

Someone thought flirting with you at the casino was a good idea.

"Dammit, you drive me crazy y'know?"

Your legs are currently wrapped around Mammon's waist, goosebumps littering your skin as you feel the wall against your back, your shirt long discarded. Your arms are wrapped securely around Mammon's neck for support. Mammon kisses you roughly, hungrily, as if he were scared of you running away or disappearing from right in front of him.

"That damn incubus," he hisses, pushing into you, "Thinking they have anything on the Great Mammon. You're my lucky charm, no one else's." His teeth scrape at your neck as he leaves mark after mark. You're pretty sure your back is rubbed raw from how fast and hard Mammon is thrusting into you, and your legs shake around Mammon's waist, but despite this Mammon holds you securely, his grip on your thighs giving you enough support.

"Mammon!" you whine, your hands tangled in his hair. Your face is pressed into the crook of his neck, and you can hear Mammon gasp, groan, and curse with each thrust he makes. Judging by how loud the two of you were being, you had no doubt that the entire casino knew that you were getting fucked hard by Mammon.

"You're mine alright? Mine, mine, mine, my treasure," he whispers in your ear, and he accentuates each of his words with a slap of his hips against yours. Your moans become louder and you can practically feel yourself on the verge of releasing onto him.

"Mine." And with one last word, Mammon makes one last thrust up into you, hitting your most sensitive spot and you practically go limp in his arms as your orgasm washes over you. Mammon's hips slowly still, and he checks over you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"I won't let anyone take you from me alright? Much less some random incubus who thinks they can steal my treasure from me."

Leviathan [🐍🧡]

You showed him your duo in an online game.

"Levi, they're just a friend!" You gasp softly as he pushes you into his bathtub, a pout on his face. Immediately, he presses himself up against you, rubbing his cheek against your exposed collarbone. "I don't care," he grumbles softly, one hand snaking up to pin your hands above your head, his other hand trailing underneath your shirt, caressing your sides. "I should be the only one to carry you, not anyone else. You're my player 2, my Henry," he nips at your shoulder and you shudder, feeling yourself grow aroused from the close proximity and from his touches.

"I don't care if they're ranked number one, I'll prove I'm better than them by beating them!" His pupils are dilated as he looks at you below him, and he can't help the sudden ache and the growing tent in his pants. Gasping softly, he starts grinding up against you, and you can't help but reach up for him, pulling his hips flush against yours, in search of some very much needed friction to relieve the tension you're feeling.

Both of your gasps can be heard, and you're pretty sure that if Levi didn't soundproof his room, anyone walking outside could probably hear just how heated the two of you were getting. You tighten your grasp on him, your hands snaking up to tug at the back of his hair cause Levi to moan against you as he kisses you roughly.

You stare up at him blearily, not even realizing when he shifted into his demon form. Shivering, one of your hands move from the back of his head, down to his abdomen and Levi jerks in your grasp, a flush painting his pale face.

"Do you know how badly I want you? Please don't give your attention to others, just stay focused on me."

Satan [😾💚]

Gets riled up because he sees Lucifer closer to you than he'd like.

Your chest heaves from exertion as Satan brings you to your umpteenth release. Your legs are shaking from overstimulation and you're pretty sure you've lost count of how many times Satan has made you come. His bangs stick to his forehead as he dives back between your legs, sucking marks along your inner thighs, his grip digging into the flesh of your thighs.

Your hands make their way to his hair, tugging on the golden strands and you feel Satan groan, his moans sending vibrations down your core. He looks up at you, pupils dilated. "Satan no more please! I can't take it anymore," you whimper softly, feeling tears prick at the edge of your vision. Satan only laughs looking up at you, using a hand to push his hair out of his eyes. "Nono, we're not finished yet," his voice is dangerously soft as he stares at you, body trembling underneath his gaze. His nose wrinkles and his eyes narrow as he pulls your bottom closer to him, once again positioning himself between your legs. "I can still smell him on you and I intend to erase every trace of Lucifer from you, from your mind, and from your body. Understand?"

You slowly nod, your thighs quivering either from anticipation or overstimulation, you weren't sure at this point anymore.

Satan smiles as he licks a stripe up where you're most sensitive, and your body jerks still sensitive from all your orgasming from earlier. You squirm to get your body away from him but his grip holds tight to you.

"Stay right where you are. I thoroughly intend to take my time with you tonight."

Asmodeus [💋🩷]

Your fans started getting too touchy with you.

Asmo isn't one to get jealous easily....not usually.

However, today was supposed to be about just you and him and it frustrated him to no end seeing your fans flock over to you, occupying all of your time. Asmo's eyes narrow as he watches them practically latch themselves onto you, and you barely pushing them away, laughing it off lightly. You're shocked by his sudden actions, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away from the crowd and down a secluded alleyway. His silence is rather unsettling, and there's a strange gleam in his eyes.

.....

"A-Asmo slow down!" You gasp out, feeling your back pressed against the wall, and Asmo's gaze trained on you, his hands sliding up your arms, pinning them above your head. You shiver, feeling his breath grace the outer shell of your ear, and you unintentionally tilt your head to the side, giving him more room to slot his face into your neck.

"Do you love me?" His question catches you off guard and you stare at him quizzically. "What? Of course I do." you frown slightly pulling on your hands, but Asmo holds your hands in place firmly. He presses his body against yours, and you gasp slightly, feeling his knee pressing against your crotch. "You sure seemed to be having fun entertaining those fans of yours. While I don't mind everyone fawning over you, today was just supposed to be about me and you was it not?" He has a slight pout on his face, lip jutting out.

You stare at him incredulously, eyes wide. If you were being honest, Asmo was adorable, especially with that little pout on his face. "It's not like you to be this jealous," you laugh a little, your face flushing. You feel him press your body more against the wall, and you have to suppress the urge to let out a moan as he continues grinding his leg against where you're most sensitive. His hand snakes past the waistband of your pants and you nearly keel over from his touch, leaning against him for support.

"I'm only like this for you, and no one else."

Beelzebub [🍔❤️]

His Fangol teammates were far friendlier to you than he'd like.

Your throat is sore, but that's a given considering you had spent the good part of the last few hours screaming out Beel's name, cheering him on after he scored point after point. What you certainly didn't forsee was you practically folded over one of the benches in the locker room, Beel holding one of your legs wide open as he thrusts into you roughly. The way you're positioned, if someone were to open the door to the locker room would end up seeing you sprawled out as Beel rammed himself against you.

"S-slow down Beel! It's too much!" Your head falls back, and you feel like you're being split apart by how big he is. Normally, Beel is much more gentle, taking his time with you but it seems that in the heat of the moment, he chose to forgo any sense of moderation.

"I don't like that my teammates got too close to you," he grunts, hips stuttering as he pulls you closer, his chest heaving from exertion. Ah that's right, he's referring to his teammates that immediately crowded around you to thank you for cheering so fervently for them. You remember the way Beel watched you from outside the crowd, his expression unreadable. You can recall conversing with his fellow teammates before feeling a pair of hands loop around your waist, pulling you towards them....which somehow led to the situation that you were currently in.

Beel's grip on your thigh is borderline painful, and you're sure that there'll be marks there come tomorrow from how roughly he's currently manhandling you. You reach up grasping at his arm, momentarily causing his movements to falter as he looks at you, temporarily shaken out of his frenzy. "Beel slow down please, I swear I only have eyes for you," you whimper softly, your legs shaking. His expression softens as he stares down at you, leaning over to press an apologetic kiss to your forehead. His motions are slower now, you notice, and there's a tenderness in the way he holds onto you now, one hand pressed against your waist, the other still holding onto your thigh but much less tight now.

"Sorry, you drive me crazy. I promise I'll make this up to you later."

Belphegor [🐮💜]

Your project partner was getting too buddy-buddy with you.

"Hahh, fuck you're so tight~"

Belphie practically hisses this in your ear as he sinks into you, bent over one of the desks in an empty classroom. The surface is cold against your front, your RAD uniform unbuttoned, and shirt pushed up as Belphie leans entirely against you. Your knuckles are white from how hard they're gripping the desk, meanwhile, Belphie has a good grasp on you from behind, his hand tugging at your scalp.

Your back arches as he thrusts into you, using your head as leverage, and you're pretty sure everyone outside has a pretty good idea of what's going on, based on how loudly the desk is scraping against the floor. Your gasp, shoulders hunched as you hold onto desperately to the desk. Belphie's tail flicks irritably as he watches your expression. "Enjoying this are you? Do you really like everyone outside knowing how I'm using you right now? Let them know how desperate you are for me to fuck you dumb like this. Go on, moan louder why don't you."

Your heart pounds in your chest and you let out shuddering breaths as Belphie's hips snap against you, hitting your most sensitive spots. He leans over, whispering in your ear, "The door's unlocked, and anyone could walk in right now and see the two of us like this. Are you getting off to this? To the idea of others seeing what a mess you are right now? Well, that's too damn bad because no one can have you like I can, and certainly not your project partner....what's their face?" He practically spits out, and you can feel the jealousy practically dripping off of him.

"Thinking they're better than me, too bad they'll never get the chance to see you like this. Oh well, you'll behave for me won't you?"

+ Bonus

Barbatos [⌛🖤]

The Young Master was occupying too much of your time.

"Apologies, I'm afraid I won't be able to restrain myself tonight."

You stare at Barbatos confused, watching as he approaches you at the foot of the bed, smoothly pushing you down in one swift moment with one hand. The other lifted to his mouth as he bites at the finger, and pulls it off just as swiftly. Your mouth is agape as he switches hands, holding you down with ease as he removes his other glove.

"As much as I'd like to thank the young master for consistently inviting you over for tea, I will admit there are times when it was just the two of us without his presence." His hands trail your figure, and you're not quite sure what it is about him tonight but he seems.....different. He's far more forward, taking the initiative rather than waiting for you to take the lead. You gasp as you feel his mouth on you, his teeth scraping along your neck. You gasp, leaning away so he has more room to do as he pleases.

"Barbatos-" He presses a finger to your lips, effectively shushing you. There's just something that turns him on so much, seeing you underneath him so helpless and pliant. His nose is wrinkled slightly as he gazes at you. You lay there, back arching as Barbatos has his way with you, cold hands caressing you, but not touching you where you ached for him the most.

"Hush now, let me take care of you, my love."

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[mqdilen]

⭒ .๋ ࣭ ⊹ ˖ 「𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞—𝐯𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲.」

fandom.: bungou stray dogs

synopsis.: bungou stray dogs characters reacting to seeing you in lingerie

ft.: dazai, chuuya, yosano, ranpo, atsushi & fyodor x afab!reader

cw.: !nsfw!, established relationship, vaginal sex, fingering, light bondage, oral sex, pet names, vulgar language

word count.: 2.6k (approximate reading time; nine minutes)

note.: wrote this instead of learning for my a-levels and i really just wanted to practice my character deception and smut writing (?) anyway, hope you enjoy!

☪︎

dazai.:

dazai doesn’t particularly care whether you’re wearing lingerie or not. don’t get him wrong—he appreciates the fine black lace and the way it frames your tits so nicely, making you look absolutely delectable. and the fact that you’ve taken the time, wondering if he would like it, makes his heart swell. but you could just as well be wearing knee-high socks and one of his shirts, and he’d still consider it lingerie.

that said, it is dazai we’re talking about, so expect a lot of teasing—either direct or laced with much innuendo. he absolutely notices the small things too—like the ribbon detailing, or if the lace has any patterns on it—really just letting the sight sink in. something about the sheerness of it all, about seeing you but not seeing everything, just arouses him. it feels scandalous. enticing.

---

dazai smirks the moment you start to undress, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he looks you over. “my, my, belladonna. look at you, all dressed up so prettily for me,” he coos, slowly tracing the lace with his fingers, admiring the delicate fabric. he’s careful not to tear it. “you know, since you go to the trouble of wearing these, you might as well put on a show for me,” he says, and it doesn’t take long before you’re rubbing your clit through your panties, a noticeable stain already soaking the fabric.

desperate little moans escape your lips while he watches you, condescending but oh-so-sweet words falling from his mouth. “come on, bella. you can do better than that. right now, you’re not really deserving of my cock.” he says, seemingly having no regard for the current state you’re in and how much you want to feel him inside of you.

he fists his own cock right in front of you for a little extra motivation, the tip already leaking pre-cum and practically begging for your warm, slick cunt, almost making you drool at how ethereal he looks. every lazy stroke of his hand makes you whimper, the need between your legs growing unbearable. only when you’re soaking wet, your movements slower and more urgent, does he finally let you ride his aching cock—his eyes leaving your bouncing tits only to drink in your fucked-out expression. “tired already, love? aah, just a bit longer… your expression looks so beautiful right now.”

chuuya.:

chuuya likes you going out of your way to surprise him, especially with such a nice setting—your bedroom dim, jazz playing low, wine already poured. however, he never would have thought you’d surprise him with lingerie. not that he’s complaining, though. in fact, he loves seeing you like this, seeing the thigh stockings squeezing your plump flesh just right. he loves that you chose a bolder color too! although it wouldn’t really matter since anything looks gorgeous on you, but the red really has his focus. it’s striking, fiery, and impossible to ignore—just like you. and it’s such a nice contrast against your skin.

if he had known you were going to buy lingerie for him, he definitely would have kept you company, maybe made you try different sets on too, and perhaps have you suck him off in the dressing room.

---

as you slowly undress in front of chuuya, revealing your red lingerie, he’s momentarily stunned before letting out an amused huff. “appreciate the sight, doll,” he says, taking his sweet time admiring the stitching, drawn to the way the lace hugs your curves.

he orders you to take a spin, slowly, stopping once your ass is in view. he runs a gloved hand along the curve, snapping the fabric of the lace against your skin teasingly before spanking you once. you let out a whine at the slightly painful sensation before he traces soothing circles around the pink mark. his hand then slides between your thighs, one finger gliding along your clothed slit. he admires the way your body reacts to his touch before his hand reaches the curve of your ass again. this time, he delivers another slap—harder than the last, but still bearable.

despite his earlier reverence and the restraint he was showing, his patience eventually snaps, and he pushes you face-first against the window, tearing the fabric with ease. in his mind, you could always buy a new one, and he’ll gladly lend you the money for it if it means he gets to see you like this more often. he rubs his dick against your ass leisurely, drawing out little moans from you before he thrusts it into your already drenched cunt. “damn, you’re so fucking hot, darling. gonna fill you up good tonight. god—you have no idea how pretty you look right now.”

yosano.:

yosano had never seen you in any form of special lingerie besides the usual matching bra and panties you wear daily, perhaps sometimes decorated with a bit of lace. so it comes as a surprise when she sees you walking out of the bathroom in a delicate ivory lace set instead of a towel, especially when you said you’d only take a shower.

she’s confused for a second but definitely appreciates the sight, particularly since the set you chose looks somewhat vintage—much to her delight and in line with her sense of style. yet, there’s a subtle hint of disappointment in her, that you chose to reveal yourself in such a tempting outfit only now. then again, she could have taken the lead as well, considering how much she likes to tease you, especially when it involves such sensuality.

---

yosano hums in approval, arms crossed, a faint smirk playing on her lips. “well, look at you. i didn’t know you had such refined taste.” she steps closer, fingers grazing the hem of the lace, inspecting its quality. the floral details catch her attention, and she traces the pattern with a velvety touch before slowly beginning to strip the top off of you. as much as she enjoys seeing the creamy lace on you, she’d much rather see you without it, caressing your smooth skin with her bare hands.

“don’t worry. i think these might come in handy later,” she says in a suggestive manner, clearly hinting at something. and that something isn’t far off as she continues to strip you, planting feathery kisses along your soft skin. you enjoy the attention she’s giving you, feeling your cheeks grow warmer as her kisses become more demanding. eventually, she uses the lingerie to lightly tie your hands to the bed frame, your expression earning an amused chuckle from her.

she continues to plant kisses down your neck to your breasts, sucking on one of your nipples while teasing your clit with a deft touch. a soft moan escapes your lips as your body tenses up at the sensation, and you rub yourself against her, wanting her to touch you more. your gaze grows pleading as you look up at her, and she teases your entrance before pushing two fingers inside of you. you arch your back ever so slightly, craving her to push deeper. “tsk, tsk, tsk, what an impatient little thing you are,” she says before removing her hand, enjoying seeing you struggle, unable to feel her touch no matter how much you want to or how much you beg. “aw, don’t give me that look, dear. if you’re being good, then i’ll continue.”

ranpo.:

ranpo loves attention—your attention especially. he’s shameless about it too, always acting like he deserves to be pampered, spoiled, adored. even when he’s not trying to be sexy, somehow he still is—lying around lazily, smirking at you like he knows exactly what he does to you. he’s a brat sometimes, but that only makes it even better when you finally get to catch him off guard. though, that’s hard, considering he’s able to deduce what you’re planning from a mile away.

still, you try anyway, hoping he’ll miss just this one small detail that makes everything click into place. however, it seems you failed today’s attempt at surprising him. when you enter the bedroom in a sheer, soft pink lingerie set—the color reminding him of one of his favorite candies, which was probably intentional—he looks nowhere near surprised. or is he?

---

ranpo blinks up at you from where he’s sprawled out on the bed, having already suspected you were up to something since you took too long to change and he heard the shuffle of clothes. however, he didn’t expect this—so he’s definitely surprised, if only for a second. he’s blushing slightly before clearing his throat, trying to mask his flustered state. “oh? what’s this? a gift? for me?” he purrs, stretching like a cat as he sits up straight.

you roll your eyes playfully, noticing the faint blush on his cheeks and teasing him about it. upon hearing all your embarrassing words, he grows pouty, crossing his arms and looking away—though only slightly. a tinge of guilt gnaws at you as you crawl onto the bed with him, earning a chuckle when you try to comfort him, but he only acted out so you’d come closer without him needing to get up. you played right into his hands. “look at you... all sweet and concerned just for me,” he hums, brushing a finger along the curve of your breast as he admires the neat stitching of your top. “hope you don’t mind if i skip unwrapping you—i’m a little impatient tonight.”

before you can even tease him back, ranpo mouths hungrily along your throat, his fingers already slipping beneath the lace, shameless and greedy. your breath hitches as he suddenly clings to you, and you return the favor, kissing him with just as much desire. however, ranpo doesn’t hold out long, so he’s out of breath pretty soon, which means he makes you do all the work. of course, that includes you sucking him off with your tits out, too lazy to do anything himself despite the effort you put into wearing this just for him. but you oblige his wishes, knowing that what comes after will be even sweeter. “don’t worry, i’ll reward you after you finish, sweetheart.”

atsushi.:

atsushi isn’t used to being the center of attention, especially not the kind you give him. it doesn’t matter how many times you compliment him, how many lingering looks you throw his way—he’s still easily flustered. but deep down, he craves it, craves being wanted. he just can’t get over the fact that someone as beautiful as you actually likes him, wants him. it’s deeply rooted inside his mind from years of abuse at the orphanage that he’s not worthy of such love. though you slowly get him accustomed to it, step by step.

today is another step, where you want to show just how much you appreciate him with a little gift. he looks confused and nervous when he shows up, probably wondering if he missed your anniversary or something after you texted him to come over, saying you have a surprise for him. and when he sees you waiting for him in a white lace set, his heart races and his cheeks turn red. turns out, atsushi is utterly weak for white lingerie. the color feels so delicate, pure, and almost bridal, and the symbolism absolutely scrambles his brain—even if you didn’t intend it to be.

---

“you… what are you–!” he stammers, his eyes darting everywhere but you. it’s only when you tell him to look at you that he slowly drags his gaze back, seemingly a bit embarrassed. you take a few steps closer, allowing him to better notice the gorgeous yet simple set. it’s not too much, but not too little, and he appreciates that.

he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer, his breath hitching slightly. “you’re absolutely breathtaking. of course, y-you’re always breathtaking, but you know… this really suits you. i mean, everything you wear suits you but–” you shut him up with a kiss, asking if he likes what he sees with a teasing smile on your lips. he looks at you, a bit flustered, before sighing to regain his composure, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “shut up,” he says sarcastically, nipping at your neck before picking you up and laying you down on the bed. you giggle at the sudden movement, and he climbs on top of you, seeming a tad more confident than before.

“just so you know, it’s totally your fault if these get ruined,” he teases lightly before kissing down your chest, trailing lower until he reaches your pussy. he pushes the fabric aside and drags a slow, teasing stripe through your folds with his tongue. his hands grip your thighs, holding you firmly in place as his tongue circles and flicks, drawing desperate moans from you. when you’re gasping for air, he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his voice low and sincere. “you’re so beautiful, just like this,” he murmurs before diving back in, making your world spin with every lap of his tongue.

fyodor.:

fyodor and you don’t have sex very often, but when you do, it’s always a pleasure in itself. however, lately, you start feeling bored with the same old routine, craving something new. the timing just wasn’t right until now, and my god, do you look absolutely stunning in that white lingerie set. so pure, so innocent, and so angelic. he just loves seeing you in that color. it stirs something inside of him, like he’s defiling something sacred.

he just can't stop thinking about how beautiful you look... and how satisfying it will be to ruin you, to corrupt you. and the fact you did all of this out of your own will, just to please him, gives him such a power trip. it shows your devotion and submission to him, all the while feeding into his superiority complex, making him think you offer yourself to him—which, essentially, you do.

---

fyodor freezes in the doorway the moment he sees you—bathed in soft, warm light, delicate white lace hugging your body like a second skin. for a moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe, his eyes drinking you in with a kind of reverence. a small smile tugs at his lips, deceptively gentle, as he steps closer. “how sweet of you,” he murmurs, voice velvety, a finger coming up to trace the curve of your bare shoulder. “dressing yourself up just for me… like a lamb to the slaughter.” before you can even respond, his hand tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze—the soft white lace suddenly feeling far too fragile for the things he has in mind.

you chuckle faintly, enjoying the way he undresses you with his eyes alone. fyodor toys with the lace, sliding the delicate fabric up your thighs while dragging his fingertips along your skin so lightly it makes you shiver. he hums thoughtfully, pretending to admire you as if he has all the time in the world, even as he feels you growing impatient. his hands peel away the layers of fabric, piece by piece, with agonizing slowness, making you desperate for him to finally touch you. “you dressed so prettily, myshka,” he says, his voice dripping with false sweetness, “and you expect me to ruin you so quickly?” his lips brush over your ear, sending goosebumps down your spine. he loves having this much control over you…

when you’re finally bare for him, he doesn’t waste a second, pressing you down against the bed and slipping between your thighs almost ferally. his fingers dig into your hips as he pushes into you, slow but deep, dragging a broken moan from your lips. the stretch burns just right, and he savors the way you clutch at him, needy and trembling beneath his weight. “so perfect,” he breathes against your throat, rolling his hips harder, deeper, like he’s trying to carve the feeling of him into you.

↪thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! MLIST

copyright © mqdilen 2025 all rights reserved.

[fudgechocolatepuff]

a lovebirds bloom! 🌷 pt.i

keigo t. x fem. reader | wholesome fluff :)

pt.ii of a lovebirds bloom , pt.iii of a lovebirds bloom

summary ⋆ ꪆৎ you with an unoccupied life intertwine paths with the fastest and busiest hero, where you both catch a break in your tranquil flower shop. lots of love in the air begin to unfold ꪆৎ

In contrast to the big city where everyone bustled to work in a hurry and longed for a minute more at home, you were met with a life you found quiet, but quite easy.

Fortunately, you were able to nag yourself a lovely position as a florist in a small flower shop tucked away from all the chaos that the streets carried.

You took your current job to be a gem, considering you had a never-ending obsession with flowers and bouquets since you entered high school that thankfully you kept as you approached your 20s.

Despite the fears that others had about these small jobs like lower compensation, you found peace in such a laid back and natural environment, an escape from the worldly problems that awaited you when you flipped the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’.

Of course, you were aware that the shop wasn’t very popular among those in the city, and you didn’t exactly “make bank” like you had intended to as a teen, but you still enjoyed the connections you made with your boss, your other 3 co - workers, and your clients. 

Due to the lack of popularity of the flower shop, it wasn’t normal that anyone of high status ever visited. They’d always be too busy with their inquires to bless you with their presence or had their assistants do it instead.

Until one day when you were browsing through your laptop, choosing and buying flowers from suppliers when you heard the jingle of the door bell ring faintly in front of you.

If there were anyone you weren’t expecting to walk in the shop to browse through the supply of plants, you definitely weren’t ready to see the number two hero in the country waltz through the door.

You stopped scrolling through the page you were on and stared at the hero, observing his movements in awe.

Out of all of the training your co-workers drilled into you, you had no idea how you were going to confront the winged hero.

Um, Hello?? Hero Hawks?? What brings you in our flower shop that’s literally the size of a dormitory room?? On a random sunday afternoon in the beginning of march?? What the flip??

The air of your workspace became too awkward for you to breathe in.

Gosh, it was just so random that such a well known hero like him would be in such a small flower shop like the one you worked in, the comparison was mortifying.

You knew that pro heroes existed, sure, but making interaction with them seemed like talking to someone of higher class.

Well, maybe it was like literally talking to someone of higher class, but in a scenario like this, it was 1000x more intimidating.

You watched his eyes as they glanced every few seconds in the ��solid tones’ from the ‘pink’ selection to the ‘red’ selection, and then to the ‘baby blue’.

You weren’t the best analyst, but you quickly recognized the lost gaze he held in his eyes as he searched without a clue what he was even looking for in the first place.

It was kind of cute to see him so concentrated on some silly flowers.

Hawks then turned his head toward you and caught the admiration in your face, returning a gentle smile that made you mentally curse yourself for letting him catch you drool at him as if he were a masterpiece of art.

His revealed toned arms crossed against his chest definitely were a piece of art no doubt about that-

“ ‘scuse me, but could I steal you away for a minute? I jus’ need some help… doing all of this I guess,” the hero chuckled to you, his hand ruffling through the winded locks of his hair. 

Your knees shook at the warmth of his voice and his boyish laugh that you almost ignored the initial request all together as you treasured his being.

You swear his presence was a mesmerizing haze, leaving you dumbstruck for a few moments.

“Oh… oh! Yes, yes! I’ll be right there!” You exclaimed to him as you snapped out of your lovesick daze, skipping out from behind the register counter to resolve his flower fiasco.

You stood to his side, looking up at him with your hands clasped behind your back. “So, how can I help you today, Hawks?” 

His hesitation and ‘ah..’ that dragged out of his mouth revealed to you that he didn’t know how to start with his little issue. Poor him, you thought. Might’ve been a bizarre story for all you knew.

You assured him that you could help no matter how peculiar the situation.

Honestly, you wouldn’t mind if you had to stand there all day to listen to his melodic voice.

He put his hands in the fronts of his pant pockets as he began to explain,

“Alright, so, ya’ see, today happens to be one of my friends’ birthday, Mirko, I’m sure you know who she is, and ah.. I kinda forgot ta’ get her a present—hero duties and all, ‘course I’d forget, right?”

You nodded your head and hummed letting him know you were listening to his story.

He scratched the back of his neck as he continued,

“Only thing I can think of getting her right now are flowers, I know she likes them, but I dunno the first thing about flowers. You get where I am in this situation?” he smiled nervously, hoping you’d understand.

“Yeah, I have an idea,” you giggled, your hand making its way to cover your mouth as you poked fun at him, “kind of crazy how you would forget such an important birthday like that though.”

The hero put his hands up in defeat, “You got me there. That’s bad on my part, but at least I’m trying to salvage this,” he joked. “I’m just hung up on what to get her, I can’t picture any color, any theme, nothing.”

He turned to fully face you and tilted his head a bit to the right, a cheekier grin tugging at his lips. “Thankfully though I’ll be saved by the cutest florist who I’m sure will get me hooked up on the best selection of flowers.”

You felt your teeth suddenly grind against each other with a sharp breath you took in following after, making Hawks laugh at your stiffened reaction.

“So, what combination do you think would go well for today’s occasion?” He awaited your response with an owl-ish blink, crossing his arms again in anticipation.

Shaking off the embarrassment pooling in the core of your stomach, you took a moment to think.

‘Mirko.. although she appeared as a tough fierce woman, you personally believed she’d appreciate something elegant and light. (It made even more sense to you since the spring season would begin to bloom this week.)’

“I was thinking of something simple. Um, perhaps a pair of white roses and lavender baby’s breath..?” You searched Hawks’ eyes for any sign of approval, to which a glint in his eye shone as he looked back at you.

“I trust your judgment to whatever selection you make for me. I already know that I’ll leave this shop saved.”

His caring attributes and words were hypnotizing you as a timid smile curved at your lips and you held back the urge to utter an “awww.”

“I’ll get them wrapped up for you right now, it shouldn’t take too long.”

You still couldn’t fathom the fact that Hawks was literally the only one in the shop with you, it didn’t feel real, more like a dream where everything around you would turn into clouds and the two of you would levitate towards eachother until your lips met-

snip snip!

Hawks’ knuckles knocked rhythmically on the counter as his leaned figure watched yours snipping the stems of snow white roses.

He couldn’t help but let his eyes linger over your delicate fingers, handling the plants so well. He bet your touch was as gentle as a feather.

What was he thinking.

Hawks felt his heart tighten. He wasn’t sure if it was out of flattery, but his pinkening cheeks told him otherwise.

He should stop by this place more often.

He gulped down his thoughts, pupils looking up at you showing off your work to the hero.

The boquete was decently sized, definitely not small. The flowers were spread out and mixed evenly making the colors appear vibrant. From the stem up, the plant bunch was wrapped in a lovely baby pink sheet.

You extended your arm to his face, obliviously poking him in the cheek with the flowers as you finalize your final touches with a little ‘shift’ here and a ‘shift’ there.

“It’s not the best I’ve whipped up, but I hope this is good enough for Mirko.”

Standing up straight, Hawks took the boquete out of your hands, ever so slightly making sure to brush his fingers against yours, transferring the jolt of electricity from his body to yours.

It would be criminal to ignore a gesture like such. Who were you kidding—it left your beating heart throbbing, yearning for more contact. You had to keep it professional.

His hawk-like eyes stabbed daggers into yours, releasing a spell that couldn’t let you look away from the man in front of you.

“Knew I could trust you. Cutest flowers I’ve ever seen. They’re perfect.” he insisted, face not faltering one bit as he kept his eye contact with you—not looking away for a second—and craned his head the tiniest bit to the right to steal another flustered smile from you.

You hoped that he wasn’t talking about the flowers.

The three seconds that you and Hawks took engulfing each other in the moment felt like it lasted three years.

Yes, it was cliché, no need to yell it in your face, but it was nice. For both you and Hawks.

You had a delightful change of pace in your uneventful days, and with the most gorgeous man your eyes ever laid upon? Come on, you had to enjoy this.

You were a lovely girl to be around, really. Something about your personality just felt soothing after all the mental and physical wounds he endured throughout the years.

He couldn’t just leave it all here though. He was no casanova—quite the opposite, actually—but he knew you two had some sort of connection.

Hell, maybe he was delusional about this, but he couldn’t care less. He felt his stomach sink whenever he looked back at you, depicting whether it were butterflies or not.

He cleared his throat. “Well, thanks for the flowers, sweetheart. I better move along now, duty calls. How much do I..”

“Oh..! No, no, don’t worry about it, it’s on me this time,” You stimbled an awkward, but sincere smile as your fingers subtly fidgeted with a strand of your hair, gliding up and down the piece.

Hopefully the ‘understanding’ sprinkled into your smile would console him of his awkwardness. Even you could see it, and that was saying something.

The winged hero returned a soft grin to that, muttering a “thank you.” as he made his way to the door, his hand hovering over the handle.

He turned his head back to look at you, capturing your image in his mind so he could replay it over and over when he made his leave.

Raising your hand to wave him goodbye, you wondered when the next time you’d see him would be, or if you would ever even see him again. It felt bittersweet.

“Come back again soon.”

“I plan to do so.” He professed, pulling the door open and taking a few steps out the shop before he took off into the city, leaving you shocked and still in the shop by his bold remark.

If anyone were to be zipping through the winds at a decently fast speed, it’d be normal to be a bit cold.

But in this case, the winged hero was warming up the more your shop came out of view. He whipped out his phone from his pocket and opened his “imessage”.

hawks:

i think i just met the love of my life. and kind of ruined it sent 1m ago

rumi:

you dumbass. sent just now

a/n: longest and might be the corniest thing i ever wrote, cute tho! last part was kind of a joke, idk if hawks would acc text ppl like that. lmk if i should do another part! love uuu! 💗

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things : chapter seven

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. no porn in the first two chapters, sorry gang :

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Wednesday starts with a phone call. You're fresh out of the shower when the screen on your phone starts flashing. In a scramble, you knock over almost everything in your tub to grab it in time.

“Hello-- is everything okay?”  You wedge the phone into the crook of your shoulder and pinch the towel with your free hand. 

“Hey, it's ya boy.” Denki's voice crackles with sleep and your panic resides immediately. “Do you wanna ride to work? I’m in your apartment complex.”

“What? Don't you live on campus?”

“Mm, I was staying with a friend. ” The muffled trill of a giggle bounces behind him, high and unfamiliar. “I’ll be over in fifteen-ish. I fly, you buy coffee, ‘kay?”

He hangs up without a real goodbye, the line practically going dead mid-syllable. It is not the strangest call you've ever gotten from Denki, but it’s up there. No matter; you're thankful for the ride this morning. Summer is starting to eat the city alive and you're happy to not have to deal with the stink tube that is the train. You do have to scramble to get ready in time, scooping up clothes from your laundry basket and throwing an outfit together without much thought.

An hour later, Denki's beater rolls up outside your door. You try not to look at the clock as you hurry over to the red monstrosity and kick some cans out of the way to get to your seat. Denki just nods to you as you get in; you ignore how sticky the pleather is. In yesterday’s clothes and a sheen of sweat, Denki is somehow more ruffled than he is every other day-- complete with an obscene amount of  blossoming purple hickies down the side of his neck. 

“Jeez, did you lose a fight or something?”

“Oh, oohhh,” he chuckles, throwing an arm over the back of your chair. He smells like sex-- and not in a good way. It’s sour like an onion. “I let her win.”

You push his arm back and groan. “Ew.”

“Oh, don’t be jealous.”

You point to his radio clock- it’s almost nine already. “Kaminari, drive! We’re going to be so late.”

He starts rolling, one hand barely on the wheel. “Oh, you’re so jealous that I’m getting laid and you aren’t.”

No, you’re annoyed that every man that shows you interest sexually turns out to BE a raging cock instead of GIVING you any. 

“You don’t know that I’m not getting laid.”

“People getting dick don’t make that face.” He leans over and pokes your cheek. “That face, right there. I don’t make that face-”

“Watch the road!”

He almost crashes two more times before you guys pull into the parking lot. 9:02. You’re shaken and a bit nauseated, but Denki’s made you laugh enough that you’ve already forgiven him. 

“We’re so late!” You scurry from the vehicle before he’s shut off the engine.

Kaminari cracks open another silver can of energy drink as he slowly peels himself from the seat. “No, we aren’t. Look! Aizawa just got here too.”

You glance up with the same tact as a deer in headlights. Parked right behind you is a very familiar sports car, your favorite blonde and your least favorite coworker standing right beside it. Both men are staring directly at you with very contrasting expressions: Hizashi excited, Aizawa enraged. The shorter man yanks on his hoodie strings, closing his hood comically tight around his head, and grumbles something to his friend. Hizashi nods enthusiastically. You sometimes forget they are long time friends, but you can see it in the way they subconsciously mimic each other’s movements. Their hair is even tied up in similar ways; Hizashi’s pin straight hair knotted beautifully into a bun, Aizawa’s jammed into a messy, almost bun shape, both sitting on the backs of their necks. It’s definitely a coincidence, but the thought of them doing this intentionally makes you crack a smile.

Aizawa immediately ducks his gaze after that and your stomach twists at the reminder of victory. A giggle bubbles up in your throat, but you manage to swallow it back down; he’s still bothered. Good. They’ve parked right behind you, close enough that none of you can pretend they didn’t see the other, but he’s certainly trying. 

“Hizashi!” you coo loudly, much more ostentatious than you usually are. “How’s my husband?

“Oh, babygirl!” Mic throws his arms wide and blows your way in that airy, graceful way only he can manage. “You look--” His face falls to a grimace as Kaminari steps closer. “Oh, jeez, kid.”

Kaminari doesn’t even try to hide his hickeys. They’re getting darker, you swear.  “Did you get into a fight with a vacuum cleaner?”

The younger man just rubs the back of his neck. “Haha, you know how it is.”

“I do.” Hizashi juts his tongue into his cheek. “But also, I don't. At all. This is excessive.”

 Aizawa scoffs. His head is turned away from you, fixed on a point in the distance. He pulls his little black backpack over his shoulder and trudges towards the door.

“Button your collar before you enter the building or else I’m sending you home.” “You look awful.”

Kaminari blurts out an agreement, then turns back to you two. “What's gotten into his ass lately?”

You shoot him a knowing look. “He’s always like this.”

“No, it's worse lately!”

“I agree,” Hizashi chimes in. “ Shouta's been…”

“A bitch.”

“Kaminari!”

“No, he's right.” The tall man sighs. “I'm not sure what his issue is. He's probably stressed about the conference presentations.”

“Oh. Shit.” The UA Conference and Expo is actually a very big deal, not just for the company, but for the biomedical field in general, which is why it's so surprising that you completely forgot about it. It's part expo hall, part continuing education panel, and part research debuts. Hundreds of people flock to the city to see the newest models and equipment on display, including potential customers. In past years, Hizashi headed the sales floor, Aizawa presented research, and Yagi did everything else. 

This year, everything else falls on you. 

For a while, you were looking forward to the event; despite its prestidge, it’s actually a rather low maintenance trip for you. Shake some hands, share some business cards, apologize for Yagi’s absence and commiserate over missing him. It’s a glorified vacation to the city center--

Despite Aizawa.

 “Is that coming up?” You try to remember the dates.

“Next week!” Hizashi laughs. “Girl, you booked the hotel rooms.”

“I know I just--” Hopefully this cold front lasts into next week; the whole conference will be easier if Aizawa gives you distance. “Time got away from me, I guess.” 

“Happens when you get old.” Kaminari winks at you and you frown back.

“I’m just kidding! You’re so sensitive for your age.”

Hizashi struts over to you, his perfect smile a bit strained as he speaks. “Baby girl, give me a hug.” 

It’s strange, but you throw yourself into his arms anyway and Hizashi squeezes you tight, even lifting you off of your feet a little with the force. He’s dipping in to directly speak into your ear, speaking through his teeth:

“Are you the one who sucked on this guy’s neck?”

You balk. How could anyone think you’re fucking Kaminari? 

“Oh, no, he’s fucking someone in my apartment complex,” you whisper back. 

“Oh, thank god.” Hizashi’s touch relaxes. Shit-- there’s not any trust there, huh? You can’t blame him; you do have a track record. You two break away and you adjust your clothes. Of course, you managed to pick the most wrinkled shirt in your closet. 

“How’s the situation at home?”

Oh, great. You must look homeless.

“Oh, uh, good. I think,” you shrug. “Ordered some new lamps and stuff last night and now my bank account is aching.”

Kaminari looks surprised; you try not to discuss finances in front of the interns. It’s embarrassing, frankly, to be struggling at your big age. 

“You know we’d be happy to help you out however--” Hizashi continues. “There’s still that extra room in our house. Save up some rent money for a bit and live with us.”

“I would never ask you guys to do that.”

Your stomach cramps at the thought of asking anyone for help. You aren’t destitute, but… 

“Sales is always hiring. You’d make a lot more than you currently do.” Hizashi must see the discomfort on your face.  “We’re actually expanding, so if you want to more to Wichita-”

“If you move to Wichita, I’m killing myself.” Kaminari sags with performed misery. “Where even is Wichita?”

“Kaminari, you aren’t even in a permanent position.” The interns rarely transition into full time employees after graduation. “You’ll be gone before I am.”

“Don’t blame me for going to college!”

“I also went to college.”

“What?” Both men seem confused. “For what?”

“Neuroscience.”

“What the fuck at you doing here?” Kaminari gasps. “Go cure cancer or something.”

“Really though, think about the sales position.” Hizashi gets you back on track.  “We have positions that are not in Kansas too.”

“Don’t chase her away!”

“I would never! But a change of scenery might do her well. I love my work wife enough to set her free.”

“Again, Denki. You’re only going to be here for a couple more months.” You start towards the door. “Less time if you don’t cover your hickey!”

The three of you head inside, both you and Hizashi tugging on Denki’s collar to try and hide the bruises. It’s a fool’s errand; there’s a grape sized mark right under his ear, completely unhidable. Hizashi goes his own way after a bit and the two of you head down towards your desk. It’s so much later than usual; hopefully someone else made coffee this morning, or else there’s going to be some grumpy people-

When you turn the corner, there’s no table. No table, no machine, nothing. Only the scuffs on the floor from where the legs once were.  

You turn back around the corner and then come back. No, it’s still not there. Kaminari watches you like you’re going insane.

“Where's the coffee machine?” 

He shrugs at you, not stopping. “I dunno, man. Ask Pinky.”

Ochako looks more flustered than usual, her pink cheeks burned red as she passes her coworker in the hallway. Her arms are filled with files; crunch time is running everyone ragged. Launch of the second model is expected to be in less than three months and there’s an almost impossible amount of work to be done. 

“The  coffee- Oh, um. It was moved to engineering.”

You stare at her and try to rationalize this. “Why?”

“Mr. Aizawa said to.” She smiles, apologetic, like she knows something you don’t. She probably does, but you can’t seem to care. 

“Well.” you toss your things on to your desk. “I'm going to go talk to him.”

Ochako goes a bit pale at that. “Be careful, he’s really-”

You’re already halfway down the hall.

--

For once, engineering is booming and alive. Most of the senior partners work from home, but there seems to be something that brought most of them in today. It’s almost unsettling to see so many people working; it makes this place feel full. A couple of familiar faces look your way as you stride in, past the tinkering and typing, and go all the way to the back. Sure enough, there sits the ever so familiar coffee table, the machine percolating softly where it sits right outside Aizawa’s office door.  

Oh. This. This is the real declaration of war.

It’s so believably petty and childish that it completely boggles your mind. There’s no reason to touch it! No reason to change anything! What is it about men coming into your life and moving your fucking furniture?

Aizawa’s door is closed. You don’t knock. Throwing open the door, the man himself sits behind his monitors, only the very top of his head visible. His grays glitter under the fluorescent lights and you get some sick pleasure out of knowing he’s aging, that he’s old and alone and-

 Aizawa raises a brow. “Do you mind?”

Shit, you’ve been quiet this whole time. You stammer wildly and point to the desk like a petulant child. 

“D-did you move this?”

Aizawa doesn’t look up from his work. He types so quickly that you fear he must be making a litany of typos. “I’m busy.”

This time, you steel yourself before you talk.

“Did you move the coffee machine?” you press, stepping further into his office. You can see him clearer now; the man leans far back into his chair, the plastic creaking in protest, and sighs. He closes his eyes for one beat, two beats, three beats-- you almost think you’ve broken him. Finally, he grants you the decency of eye contact, glancing up over his glasses’ rim. 

“I did.”

“Well,” you flounder for a second. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I can.”

Not the answer you were looking for. You point with your open hand again, huffing even louder. You’re aware that everyone behind you is a lot quieter now, most of the typing subsided. One of the other engineers, Vlad, is just staring at you through the glass paneling; you can see him from the corner of your eye, trying to mind his own business and failing. You’re being too loud, but you can’t make yourself any softer right now.

“Move it back.” 

“No.” Lips pulled taut in disappointment, Aizawa gives you a heady sigh, like a father scolding a child.  He pulls the sleeve to his sweatshirt taut over his hand and uses the fabric to clean loose drops of coffee from the rim of his thermos. Disgusting brown spots dot the neon yellow sleeve. “The world doesn’t cave to your wants.”

Fury burns your cheeks.This isn’t the place to make a scene. Not in front of an entire department. You can feel your hands quivering with pure anger as you turn on your heel and try to regulate your breathing- 

“I'm sure that pouting act worked on your junky boyfriend, but it doesn't work here.” 

He says it under his breath, but clear enough that, in front of you, Izuku sits straight up and sucks air in through his teeth in abject horror. 

Touya's drug problem is the loudest secret in your life. You deny it as much as possible, but everyone knows the truth. It's what's ruining him-- ruining you by extension.

Oh, fuck it. 

Fuck it!

You’re going to make a fucking scene.

You wheel back around so fast that your hair hits you in the face, but it does nothing to slow you down. “You’re a fucking jerk.”

Aizawa’s eyebrows quirk up in genuine surprise. You aren’t one to curse in the office. “Want to repeat that?”

Yes, actually, you do. You stomp in, fists balled as you bump against his desk just hard enough to slosh his overly full thermos.  Leaning over the monitors, you get as close as you can before continuing.

  “I said that you’re a mo-ther-fuc-king jerk.” You hit every syllable as hard as you can.

Aizawa stands now too, leaning on his hands. His face is inches from yours, so close that you can smell the touch of coffee and mint on his breath. He’s clean shaven today, no little whisker to hide his frown lines and sunken cheeks. Bits of speckled melanin -sun damage and scars- litter his skin, a sea of tiny imperfections under the jagged, brutal cut across his cheek bone. That healed skin goes taut when he starts to boom.

“Do you want to know why I really moved it?” Aizawa spits. His nearly black eyes bore into yours, unblinking, unrelenting  “I don't want to see you. I don't want to ever hear your voice. I don’t want to smell your perfume. I don’t even want to be in your vicinity.” 

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you aren't sad-- you're boiling, so impossibly angry and hurt that you can’t find the words or logic for it.

  “You are-” Your throat is tight with emotion and you have to fight through it to stay sounding angry. “The most rude, selfish, insufferable-” 

“I'm insufferable? Me?” He leans back and guffaws a clearly fake sound. “You are the most weak willed, soft-”

 “You're just an asshole!” you shout. “A huge fucking asshole that everyone hates!”

“Hey, uh.”  

You both snap around to see Izuku, awkwardly standing in the doorway. He stands uber straight, arms tucked tight to his side and chin in the air. He opens his mouth to speak. “I-”

“Does it look like I want you to interrupt?” Aizawa doesnt let the boy breathe. “Do we not look busy?

Izuku goes wide eyed and you wheel back around. The motion nearly knocks over both of Aizawa's monitors. “Don't yell at him!”

“He's not seven, he doesn't need the princess defending him.”

“Call me princess one more time.”

“Tell me how to run my department one more time.” 

“I should! You’re an awful boss and everyone hates you, you fucking cunt-”

“Both of you.”  When you turn back around, Vlad is there now, grim faced. He's a massive man -a power lifter in his free time- with gray hair and a downturned mouth. His shoulders practically dwarf the doorway. The way he looms steals the air from your lungs; you shrink back and shut your mouth. 

It apparently has the same effect on Aizawa; he's in charge of Vlad, but his presence seems to mellow the smaller man out. He groans and flops back down to his chair and waves his hand vaguely in the air. 

“Coffee machine stays. You go. Goodbye.” 

You don't move. 

“Goodbye.” Aizawa waits a moment, then repeats it. “Goodbye.”

You look between him and Vlad. The big man nods and steps out of the way, silently encouraging your exit. It's a loss-- and an embarrassing one at that. It takes effort to keep your chin up as you leave.

“Oh, and tell Kaminari that he reeks,” Aizawa shouts after you. 

You storm down the hall, past the curious faces. You’re trying to stay angry, but it’s fizzling out into embarrassment fairly quickly.

“Kaminari,” you say, a bit louder than you should. “You smell.”

The blonde’s jaw drops. “Dude, I drove you here! Why am I catching strays?”

--

Someone from HR checks in with you later that day, with her placid smile and worried brow. You’re given a slap on the wrist for calling someone an asshole, but the meeting is mostly focused on if you're alright and comfortable. As much as you hate the guy, you don't want him to lose his job; you insist that things are fine, but you open up a job browsing site as soon as she’s gone. 

Yagi would forgive you for leaving-- fuck, he'd probably applaud you.  You start googling Wichita.

Aizawa is sent home midday. You just watch the back of his awful yellow sweatshirt as he stomps out the door. You resist the urge to flip him off behind his back.

Later that night, when you’re cooled down and tucked into bed, Hizashi texts you.

-I heard what happened.

-Can you guys hold it together for the con?

-I’d really hate it if you killed each other in my car.

You don’t respond because you don’t know the answer.

You google Wichita again.

[lov--vey]

A (not-so) lazy Sunday afternoon. Pt.2

Chenle groaning and whining louder than you while eating you out, pulled you out of your thoughts again.

Info: Chenle x female reader, established relationship, switch!chenle, switch!reader 😋

Genre: smut (MDNI)

Content: power play, fingering, oral, dry humping, overstimulation, edging, hand job, riding, basically a lot of filth and only filth <3

Word Count: 2.1k

Author’s note: Chenle’s usual whining and cute whiny speech made me light-headed and😵‍💫 resulted in me writing smut for the first time and making a part two for this drabble. Could be read independently but the context would make it cuter🥺 so please read part one as well.

You bit down on his shoulder and he whined into your ear, making your mind go haywire. You kept grinding in hard and slow circles on his lap. His dick was painfully hard and leaking precum inside his boxers as he continued moaning in your neck. He has never held back his sounds even when in control, and you loved that so much about him. His hands dropped to your thighs, grabbing as much as he could and kneading tightly. His grip only got stronger and you felt his cock twitch. He was about to cum in his sweatpants and he didn't seem to mind it at all so you continued. His whines got more lewd as if it was possible. “I'm so c-close. Don't st-stop y/n” he mewled and you made it your mission. “Aah..ah…nngh,” with one very focused excruciating roll of your hips and your teeth sunk on his ear lobe, he came hard in his boxers. His whole body spasmed as you rode him through his high and his nails made little red crescents on the side of your thighs. It hurt but he knew you wouldn't mind it. Not when you made him feel so good. You didn’t stop rolling your hips though, he quickly pulled his face up in panic from where it was nuzzled in your chest. He looked so fucked out, hair messed up where you pulled at it. A little cross-eyed, eyebrows knitted together due to the pain of overstimulation. He was panting hard. So you kissed him, swallowing all his beautiful whimpers. “Y/n stop- too- mch!” He pleaded in between the kisses as best as he could. So you did. Abruptly. You halted all your movements. Pulling back completely. You almost got up and left him there like that. But a hand, held your wrist a little too firmly. And you fell back onto his lap. 

“I- what are you doing?” you asked, breathless. 

“What were you doing, leaving just like that?” He asked in return. 

“You came and told me to stop so I did,” you shrugged, rolling your eyes as you tried to pull your wrist out of his grip so you could leave and clean up. 

He chuckled like a kid as if you were doing the most innocent things and the weird contrast made you clench around nothing. He looked into your eyes with his usual cheshire grin, grazing down to where your crotches met and then to his hand that held your wrist, tighter than needed. He pinned the said wrist to your back and manhandled you into you lying face down on the cushion to his side and your ass up in his lap. You felt panic, the kind of panic when you lose control over a situation. 

“You came and told me to stop so I did”, he mimicked you, mocked you. “Obeying what I said as if you weren't in control at all baby” he dragged his words out in his usual cute whiny tone which you hated but loved so much. Sometimes it was so pure and childlike that it made you wanna coo at him but at times like this, it was so malicious, it turned you on. A quick smack to your clothed pussy jolted you out of your thoughts and your hole clenched around nothing again. Chenle chuckled as if he knew, he probably did, and adjusted himself at your back so that he was facing your ass now. His right hand was still pinning your wrist too tightly at your back. “You're so wet for me baby”, he mused, mouth dangerously close to where you needed it the most. His left hand played with your wetness over your shorts, four fingers just pressing hard on your folds and circling and smearing the wetness around. “You always are, dripping everywhere, and wearing nothing under is the best decision you ever made y/n”. You sobbed a moan at his words and actions, biting onto the cushion underneath you. 

“Shh baby shh, I got you…”, he softly trailed off, you practically melted in relief. But he pulled back and took your other hand from where it was clenching too tight onto the cushion and pinned it back next to your wrist under his right hand, equally tight. He then pushed your lower back even lower, arching your ass more into his face as if it was possible. “...right where I want to”. The smirk was so evident in his tone and next to your folds as he practically dived into your still-clothed pussy. It pissed you off but you finally felt so good that you didn’t hold back your moans anymore. 

This is how it usually went. You guys were never vanilla even if you tried so hard. Both of you got off of power, literally. Bickering and bantering through words and power shifts all the time. Both, were so competitive when it came to this, never giving up until one of you got too tired. It was always like proving a point to each other, more to yourself, it was so childish, it was so hot, and it got you off. You loved it so much, loved Chenle so much and it never got boring. 

Chenle groaning and whining louder than you while eating you out, pulled you out of your thoughts again. He never seemed to shut the fuck up and you never seemed to get enough of it. It made you arch your back even further, grinding your ass into his face as best as you can under his grip.

“What is it? What do you want, pretty girl?” he asked, briefly pulling back only to dive back in as if he couldn't get enough of you. 

“M-more Lele, I want more” you begged, voice muffled in the cushion, to give him the upper hand. You hated giving up your act more than Chenle and he loved breaking you apart to do just that. You sometimes did it just to make him think he was in control, like right now. 

“Aww, what do you mean more? Hmm? Weren't you the one who didn't want to take off the clothes, baby girl?” That same annoying tone, He was never sweet with the names.

“Don't try to fool me. We have been fucking for so long now. Do you think I am still dumb enough to be tricked, slut? Gonna ruin you until you're chanting my name, hm?” He moved your shorts to the side and shoved his tongue inside your hole in one go. You screeched, your knees giving up as your thighs automatically spread wider for him. He pulled out and licked a trained stripe from your clit to your asshole which almost made you unfold right then and there. This is where you methodically lose it each time. Against his words, against his mouth and his tongue. He was always annoyingly good at it. You tried to hold back as best as you could while he fucked his tongue into you, free hand circling your clit, his nose prodding at your asshole. As if this wasn't too much, he withdrew briefly to bite your inner thigh. It sent shockwaves through your core, you were so fucking close but you still tried to hold back. You can't let him win. You wanted to ride his face and feel that gorgeous nose of his rubbing your clit instead. 

His tongue was circling your clit now and maybe you didn't realize it in the haze of it but you were indeed chanting his name loud, right cheek squished into the cushion. Your orgasm came so violently that you shuddered but you didn't allow him the satisfaction of helping you through its high. You got up and turned towards him to meet his eyes. Confusion was evident in the dark depth. You kissed him all tongue and teeth, tasting yourself. You pushed him down with a firm hand at his chest and straddled his face. He only got the time to gasp out a little woah which got muffled into a whimper as you fully sat and ground on his face to ride out whatever high was left from your previous orgasm.

“F-uck Chenle,” you hissed as you looked down at him, finally feeling the bridge of his nose on your clit and his beautiful lips suckling at your hole. His eyes fluttered open, looking a little pathetic and desperate. You loved it. His forearms folded around your thighs, gripping hard and opening you wider for him and pushing you lower on his tongue. You cried out his name as you continued grinding your hips. “Lele, you're so pretty like this baby. Doing everything for mommy like a good boy,” you cooed as you reached your hands at your back for his cock which was already half hard. He closed his eyes and let out a guttural moan just to make a point when you started playing with his dick. Your hands began to strain with the awkward positioning so you circled your hips to feel his nose one last time on your clit and then you switched directions, now seeing his dick fully hard straining against his pants. Just as you freed his dick from his boxers, he shoved your shorts once again to the side and aimed directly for your entrance, making you lose your balance and almost planting your face in his crotch. He snickered under you and you shut him up by sitting fully on his face once again. You hoped that you didn't break his neck. You took his red tip in your hold and smeared all the precum around. The cum from earlier was drying across his whole length which was gross and hot. You used it as a lube and jerked him off with slow but tight strokes from the base and back to the tip. You added your other hand, one massaging his balls and the other stroking his length. When you reached the tip, you kept circling it.

All his moans were getting swallowed by your pussy, each vibration bringing you closer. He tried his best to keep his hips attached to the couch but when you dug your nail into his slit, he couldn't hold back and you had to press your palm on his hip bone to keep him in place while your thighs gave up on you. He slithered his hands towards your boobs from underneath your shirt and pulled you away from his torso as you threw your head back. He firmly pinched your nipples and you came on his tongue and all over his face. You tried to move away from his face so that you did not end up choking him for real. But he pulled you back down as your thighs clenched around his face and you toppled over him due to the intensity of your orgasm. He lapped up all your juices and held his tongue to your hole feeling you clench around nothing. The pressure building up in him rushed down to the pit of his stomach and he came all over his belly, dick stupidly squirting the hot white liquid.

Some of it also landed on your face which made you giggle. You lent him a hand to milk him dry through his high. You didn’t stop until it got too much and he had to physically push you off of his face and body, sending you both into a fit of laughter. You shuffled until you were face to face with him. Tiredness was evident on both of your faces but you reflected the sparkle in each other’s eyes. He pulled your face down and kissed you like he meant it. Like he meant that you're everything for him. He always kisses you like that. The little pecks and when he is shoving his tongue down your throat as well. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue; it was a little gross but it was a little too beautiful. He was a little too beautiful. You smiled amidst the kiss and cupped his face. You caressed the mole on his cheek and he nuzzled into your palm, pressing a chaste kiss there. “You're so good for me, Lele”, you mumbled a kiss at the corner of his lips. He took your hand in his and peppered little kisses from your wrist where a bruise could be seen forming, to the tip of your fingers. He closed his eyes, held his lips on your fingers, and whispered “Always for you”. The advertisement break on the TV channel could be heard and the rice cooker made a little ding in the kitchen of your shared apartment. You both lay there, pressing your foreheads against each other, completely spent on a lazy Sunday afternoon….or was it evening already…

A/n: Hopefully, you enjoyed it. UwU. Comments, likes and, reblogs are appreciated ^^.

[vibeswithdivs]

The wrath of tangles

pairing: max verstappen x curly hair reader

The soft hum of the heater filled the cozy apartment, contrasting with the chill of winter pressing against the windows. You sat cross-legged on the couch, your curls spilling over your shoulders in their usual unruly glory. It had been a long day, and though you were tired, the thought of doing your nightly hair care routine made you groan.

Max sat beside you, his long legs stretched out and an easy grin playing on his lips as he scrolled through his phone.

He glanced at you, noticing the way your fingers tugged halfheartedly at a strand of your hair. “What’s the sigh for?” he teased, setting his phone aside. “That wasn’t the sigh of someone relaxing.”

You huffed dramatically, shooting him a mock glare. “It’s my hair. I love it, but it’s a lot of work. And I’m just… tired.”

Max smirked, leaning back into the couch cushions. “I don’t know why you’re complaining. You wake up looking like a Disney princess, curls everywhere.” He reached out, gently tugging on a loose curl that bounced back into place. “See? Magic.”

You laughed, swatting his hand away. “It’s not magic—it’s hours of detangling, washing, conditioning, and praying it behaves.”

He tilted his head, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hours, huh? I guess I should be flattered that you go through all that effort for me.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t do it for you, Verstappen.”

Max leaned in closer, his voice dropping into a playful whisper. “Liar.”

Before you could retort, he suddenly sat up straight. “Alright, tonight’s your lucky night. I’m helping.”

“Helping?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “You barely know how to brush your own hair.”

“True,” he admitted with a shrug, “but I’m a fast learner. Besides, how hard can it be?”

You bit back a laugh, shaking your head. “You say that now, but you’ve never faced the wrath of tangles.”

Max stood, clapping his hands together as if preparing for a challenge. “Bring it on. I’ve dealt with high-speed crashes and pit lane chaos—I can handle your curls.”

He disappeared into the bathroom and returned moments later with your favorite leave-in conditioner and wide-tooth comb in hand. “Alright, princess,” he said, settling behind you on the couch. “Let’s do this.”

You couldn’t stop the blush creeping up your cheeks as he positioned himself, his hands hovering uncertainly over your hair. “Are you sure about this?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder. “You don’t have to—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, gently placing his hands on your shoulders to turn you back around. “I’m serious. Sit still and trust me.”

His fingers sank into your curls, and you felt him pause. “Wow,” he murmured, almost reverently. “Your hair is so soft.”

You laughed softly. “That’s the conditioner talking.”

He worked cautiously at first, separating your curls with an almost scientific precision. But as he grew more confident, you could feel the care in his movements—the way his fingers massaged your scalp as he worked the product through your hair, the way he paused to untangle a particularly stubborn knot without pulling too hard.

“This is kind of fun,” Max said after a while, his voice light. “It’s like working on a masterpiece. You’re my canvas.”

“A canvas that fights back,” you joked, wincing slightly as he hit another tangle.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, his fingers slowing. “Does that hurt?”

You shook your head. “No, you’re fine. Just be gentle.”

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I’m always gentle with you.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and you were grateful he couldn’t see the way your cheeks flushed. You tried to focus on the soothing rhythm of his hands instead, letting yourself relax against him.

After what felt like an eternity, Max leaned back with a satisfied sigh. “There. I think I nailed it.”

You reached up to touch your hair, surprised by how soft and defined your curls felt. “Not bad for a first-timer,” you admitted, glancing over your shoulder to see him beaming with pride.

“Not bad?” he echoed, feigning offense.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, Verstappen. You’ve earned yourself a medal.”

Max grinned, leaning forward to press a kiss to your temple. “No medal needed. Seeing you smile is reward enough.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you turned to face him fully. “Thank you,” you said softly, reaching up to touch his cheek. “For this—for everything.”

He caught your hand in his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Always,” he said simply, his voice full of warmth.

The two of you sat like that for a while, the winter night wrapping around you like a blanket. You leaned into him, your curls brushing against his cheek as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“You know,” he said after a moment, his tone teasing again, “I think I might have a future as a hairdresser.”

You snorted. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Max laughed, pulling you closer. “Fine. But I’m serious—I’ll help you with this whenever you need. Just say the word.”

You looked up at him, your heart full. “I will,” you promised, resting your head against his chest. And for the first time all day, you felt completely at ease.

[creating--memories]

This is How it Went

Part 4: You can say we're nothing but you know the truth

Themes: Angst, fluff?

Warnings: light mentions of internalized homophobia, that's it I think?

Wc: 4k

Author's note: Hi friends, for those of you still awake I hope you enjoy part 4. Thank my job for literally not giving me anything to do today so I wrote most of this at work oops 🙈 Anyways um I kind have an idea where I want this to go but please send ideas if you have any. Also, please ignore that the timeline for this doesn't match real life. I know Azzi already announced her commitment before prom, but let's just pretend for the plots sake. Also ofc I didn't edit this so um ignore any typos.

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

P 💗

1:26 AM

Azzi

Azzi

P 💗

1:45 AM

AZZI FUDD

1:46 AM

Az 💗

Paige.

What the fuck.

it’s 2 AM

P 💗

Actually its 1:46 AM

Az 💗

Ok well why are you texting me at 1:46 AM

P 💗

Well

1:47 AM now

but

I wanted to show you something

Az 💗

…

It can’t wait till the morning?

P 💗

technically it is the morning

and no, it can’t wait

Incoming Facetime Call from: P 💗 Buckets 🏀

Az 💗

Paige

It’s the middle of the night

you’re gonna wake my whole family up

P 💗

Azzi just answer the phone

I promise it’s important

Azzi groaned as she reluctantly pushed herself up to rest her back against the pillows on her headboard. At the end of her bed, Stewie stirred slightly from her movements letting out a small yawn, clearly disturbed from a deep slumber.

She reached down to give the dog a small pet on the head

“Sorry Stew” she whispered

“I don’t know what’s wrong with her either”

Stewie crawled slowly over to Azzi and settled into her lap, his eyes slowly drifting closed as he settled back into sleep.

“She’s lucky we both love her” she mumbled as she opened her phone to the Facetime app, finally returning her best friend’s call.

“fiiiiinally” said Paige as Azzi’s face filled the screen on her phone, her voice echoing against the walls.

“Hello to you too” responded the younger girl.

Azzi stared at Paige’s image through the phone, it was slightly pixelated (thanks Uconn Wi-Fi), and her hair was pulled into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck, a thin white headband holding back a few strands of hair that were escaping from her previously slicked back up-do. In the background the bright light of the gym shone down through the phone screen, blinding Azzi with the stark contrast from the dark room around her. As her eyes adjusted to the brightness, and the familiar face of the blue-eyed girl, she found herself relaxing a bit, a small smile forming at the corners of her mouth.

It’s not like Paige and Azzi weren’t used to being far away from each other, they did live about 1,000 miles apart until a few months ago, if anything they were physically closer now. But despite the decrease in geographical distance from each other, it had seemed to become increasingly more difficult for the two of them to get a moment alone.

Azzi was happy for Paige, really. She was settling into UConn quickly. She was doing great on the court, she had been bonding with all of her teammates and overall seemed to be thriving. Every time the blonde talked about UConn her face lit up with excitement and confidence that seemed to radiate off of her through the phone calls and facetimes. But things were different. Paige’s schedule was a lot busier than it was in high school. She couldn’t come home straight after school to talk to her best friend. Her weekends were booked with practices and during her free time, she had team bonding or other school events. Not to mention, the blonde basketball player had begun to get even more media attention in her college debut, and she had interviews, brand deals, and a plethora of other media engagements scheduled around the clock.

So, when the older girl finally did get some time alone, she always made sure to talk to Azzi. Azzi appreciated that her friend made the effort to find the time to talk to her, but she couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, embarrassed almost. She didn’t want to be the kid-friend who was still in high school begging her best friend to pay attention to her when she probably had much better, more interesting things to do. So, Azzi pulled back. She rarely texted first, always waiting for Paige to start up a conversation, to which she always replied, but she made sure to wait a bit of time as to not seem toodesperate. But as much as she tried to put on a cool, nonchalant front, she ached for the sound of Paige’s voice, her presence, to be wrapped up in her arms again enclosed in her bedroom with the rest of the world shut out around them. So now, despite her grogginess, at 1:47 AM, in the dark, her blond-haired, blue-eyed best friend on her phone screen, she couldn't help but feel a sense of ease wash over her, happiness that hadn’t felt this calm in a while. Happy to finally get her best friend all to herself.

“So what is so important that you needed to wake me up for? And why are you at the gym in the middle of the night?” Azzi implored.

“just getting some extra shots in. You know I gotta stay on top of my game” the blonde smirked.

“Well, you know what else keeps you on top of your game? sleep. something both you and I should be doing right now.” Azzi responded

Paige chuckled and rolled her eyes.

“That’s beside the point Az.” she waved her hand in dismissal

“Anyways, I was just here at the gym, putting in some extra hours, it takes a lotta work to keep up this physique you know”

Azzi sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes in fake annoyance, as Paige continued on.

“But, I was looking around at all of the names around this room, all of the championships won and how amazing the legacy is here and how one day, I want my name to be hanging up there too.”

She angled her phone towards the outer edges of the gym letting Azzi get a clear picture of her descriptions.

The blonde took a brief pause looking her best friend in the eye.

“And… when I thought about it, trying to picture my jersey up there… I pictured your name next to mine”

Azzi couldn’t help but blush at the thought of Paige picturing their jerseys next to each other. Bueckers 5 and Fudd 35carrying on the UConn legacy.

“Paige —” Azzi sighed

Paige cut her off before she could continue

“I know you still have a lot more time before you have to decide where you’re committing, and— and I’ll support you wherever you go. But, I really, like reeeeaallyyyy want you to come to UConn. And I just thought maybe if you saw all of the greatness that would surround us in this gym and how amazing we could be together that you would want to come too.”

She looked away from the camera and at the floor, trying to avoid the curly girl’s gaze, nervous about how she may respond to her proposal.

Azzi looked at her best friend endearingly, her eyes softening with the wholeheartedness of the blonde’s words.

“P, you know I think we’re amazing together too. And I really appreciate you showing me all this, seriously. But recruitment, especially with COVID and everything has been so difficult already, I— I just need a little bit more time to think about everything you know?”

Paige nodded slowly still adverting her gaze from the younger girl.

Azzi could sense the hurt on her face. She wanted nothing but to tell her yes, that they can spend the next 3 years playing side by side making the best college duo anyone has ever seen. But this was a big decision, and she needed to make it with her head and not her heart.

“Yeah that makes sense.” Paige nodded.

“I just— I really miss you Az” she confessed.

When her blue eyes finally looked up at Azzi through the screen, the brunette felt a lump creep up in her throat, the sincerity of the comment hitting her.

“I really miss you too P.”

Both girls were silent for a moment. Their words hanging in the air.

“You’ll be home for Christmas, right?” Azzi asked hopefully.

By home, Azzi meant where she was now, and even though she didn’t clarify, Paige knew what she meant. Home was where Azzi was. Home was with Katie and Tim, Jon and Jose, and of course, Stewie. And as much as she was dying to see her dad and Drew, home was in Virginia with the Fudd’s. So yes she’d be home for Christmas.

“Of course,” Paige responded cheerfully.

“Good, I’ll be counting down the days then,” Azzi said with a smile.

“Now show me what you’ve been up so late here practicing”, said Azzi, changing the subject towards something more lighthearted.

Paige propped up her phone and began to show off her practiced form for her three-point shot.

As Azzi watched her energetic best friend, the tiredness that had previously faded started to drift back in. Slowly she stopped fighting it and she drifted off to sleep, the sound of Paige’s sneakers and the bounce of the basketball lulling her to sleep.

—

Winter break came and went, Paige keeping her promise that she’d be home for Christmas, flying in the moment her last practice let out and heading straight for the Fudd’s house. Paige and Azzi spent the next few days spending every second together, challenging each other to games of 1v1 in Azzi’s driveway, even in the snow, baking cookies, in which Paige was banned from the kitchen for eating the raw cookie dough too many times, and fighting over which Christmas movies to watch, alternating between forcing Jon or Jose to be the tiebreaker of their antics.

By the time New Years rolled around, the two had fallen back into a comfortable rhythm going through their days attached at the hip forgetting about all of their other obligations for just a few more days.

Despite how happy Paige was to finally be with Azzi again, there was a thread of anxiety that she couldn’t shake off since she’d arrived. Since they last saw each other, neither of them had brought up the kiss they shared the day before Paige left for UConn, and as much as Paige wanted to confess all of her feelings to Azzi the second she stepped off the plane, she stopped herself. Ever since she had started her freshman year, she had felt the younger girl pull away a bit. Paige was always the one to text first, the one to bug her with calls, and she couldn’t help but feel like she was constantly begging for the curly-haired girl’s attention. Paige had confessed her frustrations to Nika on multiple occasions:

“No, like I get it, it’s her senior year. She wants to enjoy her last season before college. It just sucks sometimes.”

She couldn’t help but feel like Azzi was pulling away because of that day before she left for UConn. Maybe she was pulling away because she regretted it. Maybe she just got caught up in the moment and was scared for Paige to leave, so she gave in to it. She felt guilty about it all. She hated feeling like she was just some creepy lesbian who preyed on her friends. She didn’t want to feel these things for her best friend but she couldn't help it. So instead, she pushed her feelings down and decided that it was better to just pretend the kiss never happened.

Which was working. Until Paige found herself at a New Years party at one of Azzi’s teammate’s house, the brunette dressed in a shimmery silver tank top and black ripped skinny jeans that hugged every inch of her figure perfectly. Her hair was pulled back into a half up half down style, two strands left out, framing her face. The curly-haired girl was slightly tipsy, making her cling to the blonde even more than usual.

The two stood now in the back corner of the room, Azzi’s hands pressed up against Paige’s abs, her fingers grasping at the blonde’s T-shirt, as Paige leaned against the wall, her eye contact locked on the Brown-eyed girl in front of her.

Azzi was doubled over laughing at one of Paige’s absurd stories from one of her practices with Geno.

“there’s NO way you said that to him Paige.” Azzi pleaded.

“Sure did. I don’t need no old man telling me I don’t know how to defend the three-point line.” scoffed Paige between laughs.

“Paige! You’re gonna get yourself benched” yelled the younger girl playfully.

“Nah. Grandpa would never.”

Azzi rolled her eyes at her friend’s cockiness, finally recovering from the laughing fit she had been caught in.

Suddenly, some rambunctious girl ran into the room that stood in, waving her hands to get everyone’s attention.

“ONE MINUTE TILL MIDNIGHT” the girl yelled, and then quickly made her way to the next room, presumably to do the same thing.

As the girl left, Paige and Azzi turned their gazes back to each other, the quiet between them contrasting from the extreme bouts of laughter they had shared moments ago.

“So… You save anyone your New Year's kiss?” said Azzi, tentatively looking up at the blonde girl in front of her.

Paige shifted between her feet, an uneasiness settling in her stomach.

“Uh, no. not this year,” she said, scratching the back of her neck nervously.

“Me neither.” responded the younger girl.

Azzi rocked back and forth on her heels, both girls standing in the awkward silence between them.

“Well, maybe we could be each other's then?” said Azzi, finally breaking the silence.

Paige’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest.

“yes” she blurted out

“I— I mean yeah. Maybe we could.” she nervously tried to play off her previously overly enthusiastic response.

As her blue eyes landed back on Azzi’s brown ones in front of her, the sound of chants filled the room, counting down the seconds left till midnight.

“10…”

“9…”

“8…”

The two girls inched closer to one another, Azzi’s hands finding a comfortable spot on Paige’s shoulders, and the older girl’s hands resting on the younger girl's hips.

“4…”

“3…”

“2…”

“1…”

Paige held her breath, her heart was beating so fast she thought it might stop.

Slowly Azzi pulled on Paige’s shoulders slightly, closing the gap between them and pressing their lips together. The blonde sighed at the contact, letting herself lean into the kiss, breathing in the familiar scent of the girl in front of her.

Before they started drawing the attention of the rest of the people at the party, Azzi gently pushed herself off of the older girl.

No longer stuck in a trance of their shared kiss, Paige suddenly snapped back to reality and a panic started to set in. Before even a few seconds passed, Paige was pushing her way through the crowd and running towards the back door.

“Paige wait!” called Azzi

but the blonde was already out of earshot, the sound of excited cheers and “Happy New Year’s” muffling out her pleads.

—

When Azzi finally made her way through the crown of people at the party, stopping occasionally to hug friends and teammates, flashing a smile and a “Happy New Year” to her drunken classmates, she found Paige sitting on the back porch steps, her hands gripping the t-shirt on her chest, heaving into the cold winter air.

“Paige! What’s going on— are you okay?”

The blonde’s hands trembled as she tried to answer her younger friend.

The blonde stuttered out her words between tears.

“I— I’m sorry Az. I’m sorry for everything. I— I don’t know what came over me, I’m sorry for making you kiss me. I know I shouldn’t—”

“Hey, hey let’s calm down”

Azzi moved to sit next to the trembling girl on the steps. She rubbed slow circles on the older girl’s back as she tried to slow her breathing. After a few moments and Paige’s breaths started to stop coming in small bursts, Azzi took both of her hands in hers and looked at her tear-filled eyes.

“P. Tell me what’s going on?”

Paige’s hands clenched in Azzi’s grasp.

“I— I’ve been trying to stop it. I’ve been trying to pretend like they’re not there but Az I can’t. I have these feelings for you, feelings friends aren’t supposed to have. And I thought maybe you had them too, that night before I left for UConn and I kissed you.”

She slipped her hands from Azzi’s grasp and wrapped her arms around her stomach, attempting to soothe the pain that was pulsating throughout her entire body.

“But then, when I started college you started to pull away. I thought you didn’t want to talk to me. I thought maybe you regretted kissing me and I was just forcing myself onto you.”

“Oh Paige” Azzi sighed

“So when we kissed, I just freaked out and ran away. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable again. I didn’t want to push you away again.”

Azzi pulled the distressed blonde into her lap and squeezed her tightly as she let muffled cries into the younger girl’s chest. After Paige’s tears subsided a bit, Azzi pulled back and took her face into her hands.

“P I’m so sorry. I never regretted anything. I’ve felt those feelings for you too Paige.” the curly-haired girl reassured.

“I didn’t mean to pull away, but I was scared. You were off at school starting the next big chapter of your life and I didn’t want to be your annoying friend in high-school constantly bringing you down. I didn’t want to get in the way.”

Paige breathing settled down, the clarity of the situation finally releasing some of the tension she was holding in.

“Az, remember what I said that night? the night before I left?”

Azzi shifted slightly on the step

“You said you’d never forget about me”

“Exactly,” Paige said as she moved the younger girl's hands from her cheeks to hold in her own.

“Azzi, you could never bring me down. Every moment we’ve spent apart has been torture for me. The last thing I could think is that you’re getting in the way. I miss you every day Az.”

Azzi let out a small smile, her heart warming from the older girl’s confession.

��Gosh, why are we so stupid” groaned Azzi as she squeezed her eyes shut in regret.

Paige let out a chuckle and the comment and pulled the younger girl into a tight embrace.

“I don’t know. But can we agree to not be stupid again?” she responded

Azzi leaned into the hug, squeezing the other girl tighter.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

—

Unfortunately for both of them, they indeed were stupid again. Very stupid.

Paige leaned on her crutches while watching Azzi comb through her freshly flat ironed hair in the season her vanity.

“I just don’t see why not?” scoffed Paige, picking at the hair of the unicorn plushies that sat underneath her arms.

“Paige you can’t even walk” said Azzi turning back slightly to gesture to the blonde’s foot wrapped in a clunky boot.

Since their New Year’s revelation, Paige and Azzi had fallen into a comfortable, slightly confusing situationship of sorts, where they weren’t together, together, but they also weren’t seeing other people. And they acted as if they were dating, although never said that they were. Azzi would visit the blonde at school. And the whole time she was there Paige would go completely MIA from the rest of the team, only appearing for practices or other mandatory team obligations.

“Damn girl, I thought she kidnapped you or something.” would tease **Aubrey when the blonde would suddenly appear at practice.

They would spend the whole time lost in each other's presence, wrapped up in the sheets of Paige’s small dorm bed, laughing and talking until the late hours of the night. They stole kisses whenever they could, making up for lost time they had spent apart. Even though there was an underlying uncertainty to their situation, both girls were too wrapped up in the feeling of being together to care. They didn’t talk about what they were, or what this meant for either of them. Which is how they ended up here. In Azz’s room, arguing about whether or not Paige could take her to her senior prom.

The blonde winced at the younger girl's comment as she rolled her eyes

“way to rub it in Az.”

“P you know that’s not how I meant it, I’m just trying to make sure you stay on track for recovery” Said Azzi, giving the older girl a pitiful look.

“Doc said minimal movement in the boot is fine! I could make it work! I don see what the big deal is?” Paige argued back

Azzi set her hairbrush down on her vanity, and turned her body to face the blonde girl head on.

“Paige it’s not just that.” she sighed

“I already have so many eyes on me waiting for my commitment announcement. I really don’t need any more speculations about my life or my identity for that matter”

Paige felt the sting of the Azzi’s word ripple over her skin. Her frustration quickly transforming into hurt.

“So you don’t want people to know you’re gay. That’s it isn’t it.” Paige shot back

“That’s not what I said Paige”

Being gay really shouldn’t be a taboo thing for Azzi. She played women’s basketball for god’s sake. No one really “came out” in basketball, one day they just pop out with a girlfriend and that’s that. But for some reason the idea of thousands of people speculating about her sexuality, before she even makes a name for herself scared her.

“Then what? You just don’t want people to know you’re with me?” Paige pressed further

“No, I— I just don’t need all of the unnecessary attention. You know the rumors that are already out there about us. Imagine if there’s a million pictures of us together circulating the internet.”

“Well Azzi, we’re about to be spending a lot more time together at UConn. So if you can’t handle taking pictures with your girlfriend at prom then I don’t know what you’re gonna do in a few weeks when media day rolls around” scoffed the blonde.

“Oh, so I’m you’re girlfriend now?” Azzi said as she crossed her arms.

“I don’t know what you are Az. But if you’re too scared to be seen next to me, then maybe we shouldn’t be anything at all.” said Paige.

“Paige,” let out Azzi quietly

“Forget I even asked” she said as she adjusted her crutches and turned towards the door.

“Have fun at prom Az, I’m sure your date will think you look beautiful,” she said over her shoulder.

As much as she wanted to be angry, Paige couldn’t help but let a semblance of truth slip into her words. She really did hope Azzi had fun at prom and she really did think her date would think she looked beautiful.

But she couldn't find comfort in the thought, because each time she imagined the younger girl’s date slipping the corsage onto her wrist, or pulling her in for a slow dance, she couldn't stop wishing it was her.

So instead, she gripped onto her crutches tighter and hobbled out the door, not turning back to face the younger girl left sitting in her room.

[awesumsaus]

cave

wc: 6.5k

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

part two of pretty when I cry

summary: Ever the man of his word, your boyfriend Joel finally fulfills your need to have him claim that secret little part of you.

a/n: welcome back besties. thank you so much to everyone that checked out part one, I seriously can’t believe the response it’s gotten. again please heed the warnings and skip of you don’t think this is for you. otherwise hope y’all enjoy my absolutely depraved writing 

warnings/tags: explicit 18+ (minors dni), no outbreak au, softdom!joel, very needy/emotional reader, joel can pick reader up (I’m convinced this man could lift anyone), smut smut smut literal porn (ok a TINY bit of plot), established relationship, age gap (not really mentioned in this one), so much daddy kink, dd/lg dynamics, tiny bit of degradation kink, whole lot of praise kink, joel tummy™️, spanking, unprotected pinv, oral (m receiving), plug use, ass eating (brief), anal sex, subspace, joel is still a consent king, fluffy aftercare (these bitches are in love)

It wasn’t until two weeks later that either of you brought it up. You’d been thinking about it, that morning, admittedly far too often. The way his fingers and tongue explored the very hidden spots of your body, pushed the limit of what you can and can’t handle. But you couldn’t ask him, couldn’t be the first one to bring it up. It was the game the two of you played, you being far too shy to voice this filthy little need, and Joel far too teasing to give it up without you asking.

But it was becoming unbearable, thoughts of him arising at the most inopportune times, whether that be when you were laying in bed at home, alone while Joel was working a double shift, or at work when there were millions of other tasks you should be focusing on, but all you could think about was your boyfriend finally claiming that secret little part of you. 

And so tonight you’d decided to put an end to your suffering, devising your own little plan to set things in motion, one that you were comfortable with, and that you knew Joel wouldn’t object to. 

The two of you were getting ready, having made plans to meet Joel’s brother for dinner at 7. It was already 6:30 by the time you finished your hair, still dressed in nothing but one of Joel’s t-shirts and a lacy thong. Usually, your lateness was just a result of you losing track of time, trying to tame flyaways, or pausing to belt out one of the songs that came up on your playlist. Little did Joel know that this time around you were stalling, working up the courage to present him with your latest purchase. 

You glance over to the open vanity drawer, and a tinge of excitement spreads up your spine when you see it. A small thing, silver all except for the red heart-shaped jewel at the end of it. You reach for it, the metal cold against your fingertips, a contrast to the heat that spreads up your neck at the thought of what comes next. 

Running your hands through your hair one last time, you exit the bathroom to see Joel, fully dressed and rummaging through one of his dresser drawers. The way the fabric of his dark green sweater stretches around his broad shoulders makes your stomach flip. 

You pad over to him, hands held behind your back, clearing your throat and he turns. He immediately registers the hesitance in your movements. “I um- I got you something.” You look up at him through your lashes, putting on your most innocent guise. 

“S’ that right?” He quirks an eyebrow, already holding back a smirk. His focus turns to his wrist, snapping in place the silver band of the watch you’d gifted him this past Christmas. It was a simple thing, nothing too fancy. You would’ve gotten him something nicer, something more high-end, but the year-end bonus you’d been hoping for never came. Still, Joel insisted that it was the greatest gift he’d ever been given, bullshit, but it still put a smile on your face whenever he wore it. 

“You promise you won’t laugh?” His smirk widens. 

“Why would I laugh?”

“Just promise!” You frown at him before giving his chest a little shove, but he’s quick to respond, grabbing your wrist and pulling, closing the space between you.

“Promise.” You say it softer this time, looking up at him, ignoring the way your thighs instinctively clench from how far you have to bend your neck just to meet his gaze. 

“I promise.” He plants a kiss on your forehead, his expression softening. “I won’t laugh.”

And he doesn’t. In fact, his smirk falls completely when you reveal what’s in your free hand, extending your palm to him. He takes it from you, turning it over in his fingers, something darkens in his eyes. 

“Dirty little girl,” he says under his breath, his attention still focused on the small metal plug in his hand. He turns away from you for only a moment to grab his phone from the dresser. 

“What are you doing?”

“Textin’ Tommy that we’re gonna be late,” he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“No wait, I’ll be quick. I’m almost ready-“

“Uh-uh, baby.” He takes exacting steps towards you, forcing you to retreat backward, nearly falling over when your calves meet the edge of his bed. “Not goin’ anywhere yet.” He swiftly turns you, manhandling you against his chest, and dips his mouth to your ear. “Bend over.”

A shiver runs down your spine, yet you can’t ignore the heat continuing to spread across your face. “R-right now? Joel, are you serious?”

“You bet I am.” His hand comes down with a firm slap to your ass and you gasp, the arm he’s looped around your midsection keeping you from falling forward onto the bed. Wet drips from your core when he does the same to the other side. “Thought you were gonna get away with this, baby? F’ you’re gonna act like a fucking whore, I’m gonna treat you like one. Bend over.”

You shudder slightly at his words, but do as he says, slowly lowering your upper half, whining when he pushes you the last few inches, your brain already gone fuzzy from the roughness of his movements. A part of you expected this, knew that Joel wouldn’t accept your gift and just move on with the rest of the night. So it’s no surprise that when he pulls your thong to the side, your pussy is already glistening with slick. 

“Jesus, baby,” he lets out a breath behind you, running his knuckles along your seam making you shiver. “Always so fucking wet, so ready f’ me.”

“Just for you, Daddy,” you sigh against the mattress, rocking your lower half back, seeking friction. 

Joel lets out a strangled grunt from behind you, one hand squeezing your ass cheek. It’s taking everything in him not to ruin you right then and there, but he restrains himself, knowing that the two of you wouldn’t make it out the front door if he gave in. 

You suck in a breath when the cold metal presses against your cunt, slipping through your folds with ease, gathering slick. “Gonna be able to behave yourself at dinner, baby? Don’t want Tommy gettin’ suspicious.”

You whimper slightly as the tip presses into the cleft of your ass, squirming at the action and the almost belittling tone of his voice. “Don’t want him to know how much of a goddamn slut you are for me, huh?” He delivers another stinging slap just as the plug breaches your tight hole. “Answer me.”

“I-I’ll behave!” The words tumble from your mouth. “I’ll be good, daddy- p-promise.”

“I know, baby. Always such a good girl f’ me.” His words are so dizzying you don’t even realize that he’s fitted the plug completely inside of you until his knuckles graze your ass. It’s not what you had expected, not painful or uncomfortable in any way. It feels good, being this full, the slight stretch making your lower half shake with anticipation. 

“That feel okay, pretty girl?” His voice softens the same way it always does when he’s checking in with you. 

“Mhm,” you nod against the mattress, a content smile spread across your face. 

“Good. Now go get dressed ‘fore Tommy starts askin’ questions.”

He plants one last slap on your bottom, softer than the others, but the way it reverberates across your skin and through the toy now deep inside you makes you gasp, your senses now on high alert. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as you thought.

You make it through the better part of dinner without any slip-ups, just a regular evening with your boyfriend and his brother who you’ve come to befriend over your time knowing him.

You’re barely paying attention, focused on the story Tommy is telling when Joel curves a finger through the back loop of your jeans and pulls. You choke on your water at the sudden feeling, the seam of your jeans digging into you, pressing tightly against the toy you’d nearly forgotten about at this point. Something white-hot shoots up your spine and settles in your lower belly. Tommy pauses and shoots you a worried look as you cough unexpectedly, obviously unaware of Joel’s actions. You notice Joel holding back a smirk from the corner of your eye. 

“Woah- hey, ya alright darlin’?” Tommy asks, looking to Joel who’s started patting your back softly, a forced expression of concern written across his features. It takes everything in you not to slap the look right off his face then and there. 

“I’m fine, yeah- sorry.” You try to ignore the obvious blush spreading across your cheeks, still attempting to catch your breath while also fighting against the growing heat pulsing through your core. 

“You sure, honey? You’re all flushed,” Joel says. 

“Said I’m fine,” you almost snap at Joel, immediately regretting your tone when he shoots you a warning look, a brow raised as if daring you to continue.

“Sorry, Tommy.” You turn to the younger Miller, disregarding the way Joel’s palm has started kneading the flesh of your lower back, only making your head spin more. “Please go on. I’m alright.” He looks between the two of you a bit hesitantly for only a moment before continuing his story. 

And suddenly it’s all you can think about, the feeling of the plug pressing into your most sensitive spots, the fullness of it all, only made worse by Joel’s continuous teasing, his seemingly harmless touching. 

When you finally make it to Joel’s truck after bidding Tommy goodnight, you’re an absolute mess. Practically soaked through your panties, squirming against the leather of your seat. And Joel knows, revels in it, confirmed by the shit-eating grin he exhibits the entire ride home, while his hand softly grips the plushness of your thigh, only deepening your need. 

You’re on him as soon as you pass the threshold of his front door, clawing at his chest, a rabid little thing. He appeases you almost instinctively, pushing you against the opposite wall and pinning your wrists by your head as he roughly presses his mouth to yours. You writhe against his grip, whimpering when he takes his free hand to angle your jaw upward, giving his tongue access to plunge deep into your mouth. You hook a leg around his waist, grinding against his thigh, and finally, a tiny ounce of your ache dissipates. 

But just as quickly as it started, Joel removes himself from you, turning away and walking into the living room. He plops down on the couch, kicking his shoes off and leaning back against the cushions. The look on his face is maddening, cocky son of a bitch.

“C’mere,” he says from his seat on the couch, his legs spread wide. If you weren’t so painfully desperate you’d refuse him for being so smug, but luckily for Joel, you need him about as much as you need air to breathe in this moment. 

You can’t help but eye the growing tightness in his jeans as you approach him, the sight making you a little dizzy in your movements. He stops you when you attempt to straddle him, placing a hand firmly on your lower belly, and looking up at you with a devilish smile. He toys with the hem of your shirt between his fingers. Off. It’s all the command you need before crossing your arms over your body and lifting the fabric from your torso. 

Your shirt’s not even pulled over your head before his deft fingers are unbuttoning your pants and tugging them along with your panties down to your ankles. He leans forward, gripping your calf, and helps you step out of them, popping your shoes off in the process, and quickly tosses your clothes aside. His hand travels up your leg, sending goosebumps across your bare skin. A small yelp escapes your lips when he pulls you onto his lap by the back of your thigh, but you quickly melt into him as your knees sink into the couch on either side of him. 

He runs his hands up and down your sides and you shiver. “So sensitive, baby,” he tsks. You can’t help the blush that spreads across your cheeks from your desperation. It was pathetic really, how much you need him in this moment, how much your body craved even his lightest touch. It was pathetic really, how much of your need now dripped onto his still-clothed crotch, soaking through the material. 

His hands move to cup your tits, thumbing your already peaked nipples through the thin fabric before expertly unclasping your bra, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of your clothing. You’re suddenly all too aware of how clothed Joel is, a stark contrast to your naked form, yet the image sends another wave of slick weeping from your core. You allow your head to fall forward onto his shoulder, mouthing at his sweater to muffle your cries, when he tweaks one of your nipples between his fingers. 

“Sh, I know. I’ve got you, little one.” He continues his slow torment, smoothing his hands along your bare skin, his smirk growing with each of your whines and whimpers. You’re like putty in his hands, completely at his mercy, a plaything for him to do with what he pleases. Your breath hitches when his hands travel to your ass, two of his fingers pressing lightly against the now exposed plug, sending a jolt through your whole body. 

He brings his mouth to your ear, nips at it, before whispering “You want me to fuck you here, baby?“ He says it like a secret, only for the two of you to ever hear. That’s when everything starts to ache, the feeling in your lower belly so warm and unfurling, that you fear you may start sobbing if he doesn’t end his teasing soon. 

“Please, daddy.” You sniffle into the spot connecting his neck and shoulder. “Want it so bad, please.”

“Such good manners, baby.” One of his hands slides up your back to the nape of your neck where he grips you, pulling you back to meet his gaze. “M’ gonna give you what you want, sweet girl.” Your heart rate quickens, excitement bubbling in your chest.

“But not tonight.”

And just like that your heart sinks, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes at his sudden declination. You’d feel foolish for it, overly emotional if it wasn’t Joel’s lap you were sitting on. He knows how you get, how reactive you can be, especially when you have your heart set on something. You shake your head and lean away from him, your eyes casting down to your lap, shame beginning to bubble in your chest. You have the sudden urge to cover yourself, wrapping your arms around your chest, a little voice in the back of your head telling you that it’s your fault, that you’d done something wrong to make him deny you, deny himself, of this. 

“Hey,” he says it so so softly. His hands run up and down your biceps, as if he’s attempting to pull your focus from the insecurities he knows are settling in your brain “I’m not doing this to punish you, understand?” You sniffle again, a tear threatens to fall from your lower lashes. 

“Look at me,” he says sternly. You reluctantly meet his gaze. “Tell me you understand.”

You want to shake your head no, want to beg him to change his mind, whine and pout until he gives you what you want, but as much as you know Joel’s a man of his word, you also know he’s nearly impossible to sway once his mind is made up. 

“I understand.”

“Good.” 

He gives you a moment to collect yourself, thumbing your tears away and pulling you back against his chest. You unwrap your arms from yourself, instead latching them around Joel’s neck. “I’m gonna give you what you want, baby. Just gotta have some patience. Want this to be good for you.” He rubs your back soothingly, kissing your temple. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

You can’t help the huff that escapes your lips at his words, because you like the hurt. Like being subject to his each and every desire, surrendered entirely to his control. Joel knows this, knew this from the first time you’d slipped and called him daddy while he fucked you into his kitchen counter, knew this when the next morning he caught you in his bathroom mirror, smiling at the finger-shaped bruises burgeoning across the flesh of your hips. 

Joel knows you like the hurt, and part of him can’t deny how utterly irresistible he finds you when you beg him to push just a little further, to be a little rougher. But he also knows where to draw the line, never inflicting enough pain to outweigh the pleasure he brings you. He’s had experience with establishing this limit, but never in past relationships had he found anyone to be as persistent as you, as stubborn, as needy. And though it isn’t always obvious, he needs you just the same. It’s what frustrates him the most, not your neediness, but the way in which it clouds his judgement, makes him forget how fragile you can be. So he wouldn’t, not tonight, not until he’s certain you won’t break. 

“Poor baby,” he coos when you grind down on his bulge, the rough fabric against your soft folds making you gasp. “I know you’re not used to being told no, huh?”

You let out a squeaking whine when you feel the rough skin of his hand cup the entirety of your sex. You instinctively buck into his touch. 

“You want daddy to take care ‘a this for you?”

“Mhm, please,” nodding your head against his chest. You almost cry when the pad of his finger finds your clit, swiping two delicate circles before pulling away. 

“Sh sh, I’ve got you, honey.” He lifts you slightly off his lap, a strangled sound erupting from your throat at the loss of contact, but he makes quick work with his zipper, pulling his pants and boxers down just enough to free his fully hardened cock, red and pulsing in his grip. 

“Come sit on daddy’s cock, baby.” His eyes glass over as he pumps his length once, twice before urging you forward. He taps the wide tip against your clit a few times and you swear you could come just from that before he’s lining up with your entrance, coating himself with your slick. 

He lets you go at your own pace, loosening his grip on your waist as you begin to sink down on him, inch by inch. He’d usually stretch you first, make you come around his fingers once or twice before letting you take him in his entirety. But not tonight, not with the steady flow of slick that’s been gushing from your heat all night. 

You shudder once he’s fully sheathed inside you, your clit twitching against his pelvis. He lets you adjust, squirm a bit in his lap, before he’s bucking up into you, a bit of his own impatience beginning to show. 

As much as you’ve needed Joel all night, you know his teasing has had its own effect on him. He’s been itching to be inside you since the moment you presented him with your little gift, it was all he could think about the entire evening, so it comes as no surprise that his movements quickly grow hurried. He fucks up into you at a frantic pace, meeting your little bounces with increasing force.

It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. The combination of his cock pumping deep inside you and the toy sitting snug inside your asshole. It’s overwhelming, nerve endings you didn’t even know existed now buzzing within you. It’s only mere minutes before you’re clenching around him, right on the edge of release.

“Little cunt’s huggin’ me so tight, baby,” Joel pants, his movements stuttering. 

“Daddy-“ you gasp, “m’ ngh m’ gonna cum.”

“Fuck- that’s it baby,” he babbles, his fingers move to messily rub your clit. “That’s it pretty girl. Want you to cum on my cock then I’ll fill you up, yeah? So fucking full, baby. C’mon, cum for daddy.”

Your entire body convulses against him as you reach your peak, strings of curses and incoherent sounds slipping between your lips. Everything turns white behind your eyes, every inch of your skin on fire. He only fucks you harder, rubs his fingers against your clit faster. You don’t even realize you’re on the cusp of a second orgasm until he’s pressing his free hand against the heart-shaped jewel still sticking out of your ass, hitting something deep inside of you. Then you’re crashing down once more, sobbing as your grip tightens around his neck, completely enraptured in the feeling as he fucks up into you. 

“Good fuckin’ girl-“ a groan sounds from deep within his chest, a few more bucks of his hips before he cums, spilling into you with a slew of grunts and unintelligible praises. He only lets up once you’ve milked him dry, a combination of both your releases coating his length and further soaking his jeans. 

Joel comes back to earth first after he’s caught his breath and carefully pulled out of you. He stands and rids himself of his damp clothes, now just as bare you are, before wrapping his thick arms around you and pulling you from the couch. 

Later, after you’re both showered and Joel makes you a cup of your favorite tea, the two of you lay in bed, your head resting against his chest, tracing a finger along the broad expanse of him. You’ve committed just about every mark and freckle to memory by now from this exact spot. His hand lazily runs up and down your spine, as you mull over where things will go from here. 

A week. You talked him into a week. A week of doing exactly as he says, with no attempting to convince him otherwise. You’ll wear the plug when he tells you to, for as long as he tells you to. A week and then he’ll divulge that secret little part of you that he’s yet to claim. 

Joel lasts till Thursday. 

He’s done for the moment he arrives home from work to you sprawled across his bed, book in hand, with nothing on but a tight-fitting t-shirt and a barely-there thong. You knew what you were doing, knew it was exactly what Joel told you not to do, tempting him to go back on his word and cave. You notice his eyes darken the moment he enters the bedroom, his gaze falling to the red heart poking through the fabric of your panties. The same one he stuffed inside you before sending you off to work this morning, the one you were sorely reminded of every time you shifted too quickly in your desk chair. 

“Hey baby,” you smile sweetly at him. You swear you hear him grumble as he makes his way to the closet, pulling his sweaty work shirt off and tossing it into the hamper. You mark your page and set your book aside before stretching out across the comforter like a cat in the sun. The muscles in Joel’s shoulders tense when a soft sigh slips from your lips. 

You nearly skip over to him, wrapping your arms around his midsection before he has the chance to pull on a clean shirt. He lets out a heavy breath at the feeling of your small fingers splaying across his bare stomach. 

“How was your day?” you ask, pressing against him more firmly, your head resting below his shoulder blades. 

“Fine,” he responds, his tone suspecting. You feel his breath catch as you press small kisses to his spine. 

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you today,” your voice goes softer, a hidden plea behind your words. 

“S’ that right?” His severity wanes, an opening.

“Mhm,” you hum against him, dragging your blunt nails across his skin. “Need you so bad, Daddy.”

“‘M right here, baby.” He pretends to not know what you’re talking about, unbuckling his belt and pulling it through the loops, acting like your fingers aren’t dangerously close to the waistband of his jeans. You know he can see right through you, has always seen right through you, his refusal to admit it in this moment only makes your need deepen. 

“Please, Joel,” you whine softly, errant fingertips dipping just below the waistband of his boxers. “I almost started touching myself in the bathroom today.” Your cheeks flush red at the confession, a low groan escapes Joel’s throat. “Every time I felt it, I couldn't stop thinking about how much I wish it was your co-“

You let out a small gasp when he snatches your wrist. He pauses, so still you begin to worry you’ve upset him, that you’ve pushed him too far. But then something shifts. 

Fuck it. His mouth is on you in seconds, his tongue immediately gaining access as you melt into him. It’s dizzying, one of his hands grabbing you just below your jaw, the other squeezing your ass cheek roughly. Your knees buckle just as he’s turning you around and practically throwing you onto the bed. You don’t even have time to lift your head off the mattress before he’s yanking your panties over your ass and easing the plug out of your hole. He’s quick with it, your body shivering as the cool metal slides through you, leaving an empty feeling in its wake, but it doesn’t last for long as Joel licks a broad strip through your seam to your asshole. He presses his tongue there, gauging your reaction before he’s licking into you, spreading you with his hands. At first, you squirm away, the feeling of him eating at you like this entirely foreign. But then you're rocking back into him, completely lost in the rush of his mouth against your asshole. Sounds you never knew yourself capable of filling the room as his tongue repeatedly dives into the ring of muscle.

A strangled moan leaves your lips when he pauses, you crane your neck just in time to see a string of saliva drip from his mouth directly between your ass cheeks. He rubs it into you, pushing his thumb through the ring of muscle making you whimper. 

“What d’you want?” His voice is low. His thumb starts pumping in and out of you, fast and unrelenting. 

“Daddy,” you whine, burying your burning-hot cheeks into his pillow. 

“Gonna need better than that,” he tsks, rutting his bulge into your heat. “Or else I’ll have t’ take care a’ this myself. Tie you up and make you watch.”

“Ngh, Daddy,” you moan, face burning impossibly warmer. His thumb slows, giving you a moment of reprieve to gather your thoughts. 

“Want you t’ fuck my ass- wanna feel you.”

“Jesus-“ With his hand coming down to grip your neck, he suddenly pins you to the mattress, muttering a short stay before you feel his weight lift from the bed. You hear the sound of his zipper undoing and catch him fisting himself in the corner of your eye. Your thighs tremble with anticipation as he moves to the side of the bed, planting a knee by your shoulder. Then he’s towering over you, his weeping cock right at your eye line, your cheek still pushed against the mattress, ass in the air. He looks so powerful like this, so broad and so commanding, so when he tells you to open your mouth, you don’t even have to think twice. 

“Gonna get daddy’s dick nice n’ wet, baby.” Saliva pools in your mouth, threatening to drip onto the bed when you stick your tongue out. “Then ‘m gonna wedge my cock in this tight little hole. How’s that sound?” You jolt forward when the pad of his index finger pushes into you.

“Please Daddy,” you whine. He removes his hand, immediately wrapping it around the back of your skull, his fingers tangled in your hair. His other hand grips the base of his length, tapping the red-flushed tip on your tongue a few times before pushing all the way into your mouth in one swift motion, your nose scratching against the coarse hairs at his pelvis. It had taken you months to work up to it, taking him in his entirety. The first time you blew him you’d barely been able to make it halfway down his cock before you were gagging, but not now. Now you take everything he gives you, like he’s molded your throat to the shape of him. 

“This mouth-“ he’s cut off by his own moans, erupting from deep within his chest. “Fuckin’ heaven, baby.”

Tears quickly prick in the corners of your eyes as he continues his assault on your throat. A breathy moan slips from his mouth when you gag around his length after an especially forceful thrust of his hips.

His pace slows as he thumbs away your tears. “Daddy’s been so mean, huh little one? Makin’ you wait all this time.”

You whine around his dick, the vibrations making Joel’s breath catch in the back of his throat. 

“You like when I’m mean though, don’t you? Like when daddy treats you like the little slut you are?” He delivers a harsh smack to your ass just as he pulls away from your mouth, leaving you sputtering and gasping for air. He moves to open the nightstand drawer, quickly retrieving a bottle of lube before rounding the corner of the bed, towering over you from behind. 

“Don’t need it,” you whine, head still foggy from the lack of oxygen.

“Quiet little girl.” He softly swats your ass before you hear the disappointing sound of the bottle opening, followed by the cool sensation of the liquid hitting your exposed hole. He rubs it into you, letting out a satisfied hum when he presses his thumb into your asshole with ease. And then his cock is lining up with you, it’s so fucking big, so much bigger than the plug, a small part of you starts to worry it may not fit, may be too painful. 

Like always, Joel senses your apprehension, running his large palm soothingly down your spine as he leans over you. You feel his warm breath hit your ear. 

“You tell me if it’s too much, yeah baby?” He says it only slightly above a whisper. “M’ only gonna enjoy this if you do too.”

You nod against the sheets, immediately recognizing that the action won’t be enough for Joel. “Yes, Daddy.” You crane your neck to look at him, eyes hooded and dazed. Something flashes in his expression, beyond simple desire, a need suddenly so evident in his eyes that you’d sit up and kiss him until your lips were raw if he wasn’t pushing the tip of his thick cock inside you. 

It’s so much. Even just the first inch is blinding, your vision going blurred and your senses entirely rapt with the feeling. The hurt is overwhelming, the stretch all-consuming, but it’s so good, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. 

He pushes in another inch and the pain dissipates, in its place a euphoric haze, where all you can feel is him, his weight driving you into the mattress, his hips rocking against your ass. You see stars once he’s fitted inside you, never having felt this full. 

The noises Joel is making are almost pained, his cock throbbing from the tightness of your hole, all the restraint left in him keeping him from setting a brutal pace. No, instead he moves slow, focused intently on not blowing his load every time you squeeze around him, listening to your little moans and whimpers for any signs of unease. 

“It’s a lot baby, I know,” he pants. “But you’re doin’ so good.” His praises have you reeling, furthering your dazed state. “Look so goddamn perfect takin’ all a’ me like this.”

You don’t even know what to say, all you know is that you need more, entirely lost in the feeling. You’re always insatiable, greedy, whenever it comes to Joel, and he knows, revels in the fact that he’s the one that gets to have you like this, makes you feel like this. 

You’re not even sure what you’re saying at this point, what sounds are falling from your mouth, just that Joel takes it as a sign to pick up his pace. It brings you back to earth a bit, your lower belly going taught at the force of his body against your own. 

You’re crying out against the mattress, small fingers twisting in the sheets, tears forming a wet spot beneath your chin. 

“Fuck, baby c’mere.” He suddenly pulls out of you with a heady groan and wastes no time flipping you over. He’s pushing back inside you in seconds, resuming his vigorous pace. 

“Wanna see you when I come in this perfect fuckin’ ass.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head at his words, your entire body going limp against the mattress as he uses you. When his thumb finds your clit you’re done for. The messy circles he makes send you hurtling right to the edge. With a near-scream, every part of your body goes taut for a moment before your release is shattering through every inch of your body, bursting from your core like shock waves. 

“Fuck, fuck-“ he’s repeating over and over as his own climax hits him, but you can’t even hear him, can only feel him, his body thrusting into you, pushing you impossibly further into the mattress, his hands gripping the hinge of your hips, his warm release shooting deep inside you. It’s the only thing keeping you here, prevailing against the potent haze. 

With one final grunt, he stills, his breathing ragged and sweat dripping from his forehead. You can barely move, still dazed as he pulls out of you slowly, the emptiness in its wake further graying your awareness of reality. 

You lift a shaking hand, attempting to grab at whatever part of him you can reach. “Daddy-“

He leans forward, carefully caging you in his arms. “I’m here baby, you’re okay.”

“‘M okay,” you mumble sweetly. He brings one of his hands to your hair, gently running his fingers along your scalp in a way that makes your thoughts even more fuzzy. But the heaviness of his chest against your own keeps you there, keeps you present. 

“You did so good f’ me, I’m so proud a’ you.” A tired smile spreads across your face at his words. He knows the effect they have on you, which is probably why he says it. But the sincerity in his voice makes your heart swell. 

“My pretty baby,” he kisses you softly, and you further melt into his embrace, inhaling his familiar scent, musky and woody with something distinctly Joel. The two of you stay like this for a moment, your arms and legs wrapped around his large form, what little remains of your strength focused on keeping him in place, chest to chest, a comforting pressure. 

“How do you feel, baby? You hurtin’ anywhere?” He says it against your neck, placing soft kisses to the skin there. 

“Mm”, you hum, denying, still detached from your own body, not fully registering the slight tinges of hurt spreading throughout your lower half, completely consumed with the man in front of you, the smell of his sweat still glistening across his chest, the weight of his softened cock still pulsing and twitching against your thigh. He’s everywhere, everything in this moment. 

He pulls away just enough to kiss the tip of your nose. “How ‘bout a bath yeah?” You hum in agreement, let him unwrap himself from your hold, and stand at the edge of the bed before he’s snaking an arm under your knees and back and lifting you. You instinctively curl your face into his neck, still wet with sweat but you don’t mind, nearly your whole body already covered in him. 

He sets you down on the toilet seat before moving to turn the water on, making sure it’s warm enough before plugging the drain. You sway a bit in place, thankful when Joel wraps an arm around your back to steady you. Usually by now the haze will have lifted a bit, no longer in this headspace, yet still your brain is a bit fuzzy, your thoughts and senses dulled. 

You look up at Joel when you feel his thick fingers card through your hair, unsure of when he’d gone to grab one of your hair elastics. As he gathers the strands together, you lean into him, your head resting just below his belly button, on the plush flesh of his tummy, smattered with course hairs trailing down to the base of his cock. You nuzzle into the spot, breathing him in, fully content in this moment. You feel the muscle tighten when you start to press small kisses to it. He firmly grips your now fully formed ponytail when your mouth wanders south, interrupting your descent, and you whine. 

“Settle.” You let out a short huff of breath and bring your gaze to his, resting your chin on his stomach as he loosens his grip on your hair. He shakes his head at you, holding back a smile as he finishes tying your hair back. 

He helps you step into the tub first, guiding you to sit, before he slots himself behind you with a grunt. He pulls you against him, arms wrapped around your tummy and chin resting on your shoulder. You giggle softly when the hairs of his mustache tickle behind your ear. 

He lets you sit against him for a moment before he insists on cleaning you up, lathering his soap between his hands and smoothing it along your soft skin. You start to doze off from the feeling, Joel keeping you upright against his chest. Only after the water begins to cool and your fingertips have turned pruney, Joel helps you step out of the tub, wrapping you in a towel before you start to shiver. He kisses you then, soft and slow like he could stay like this with you forever. And you would, if he wasn’t ushering you back into the bedroom, telling you to get in bed and that he’d be right back. 

He makes you drink a glass of water before taking his place behind you on the bed, his back to the headboard and the small bowl of your skull cradled against his chest. You slowly drift off to the steady beat of his heart. 

I have so many ideas for these two so lmk if we want to see more ;]

[cardo-de-comer]

Currently in game dev as a student and I’ve been looking over your art and concepts for a little bit now—I’m FLOORED. I haven’t checked on your art in a while and had forgotten just how much it inspires me.

Your style holds so much identity, and your skill bleeds through every brushstroke! The way you do silhouettes, the insanely unique and beautiful choice of colors, the ferocity in some of the expressions, the quality of your brushwork, again the USE OF SILHOUETTE AND FORM OH MY GOODNESS!!!

You have SUCH a striking visual style and the way you incorporate similar themes to tie character designs together in your world is incredible! I was able to pick out what I believed to be symbolism and understand it a few seconds after asking the question (it may have been explained in the text and I missed it, but the fact that I was able to draw a conclusion that quickly says a lot about your skills as a designer and artist!).

Please forgive me if this has been asked before by the way, but what program do you use? I have a number of them and am trying to work out how you managed to get the line quality that you do on the brushstrokes (they’re like. Creamy looking??? Does that make sense? They blend together very nicely but don’t blend so much that it muddies the contrasting colors you put on top.)

Anyways as I was reading the game idea you have, I was actively trying to envision how it would look and was immediately feeling a 3D-2D mixed style, especially since your artwork has a very clear visual identity that would benefit from being the focus rather than something like plain or simplistic 3D models.

And then I immediately stumbled onto the low poly model you made and fell in love. I had already thought a Disco-Elysium inspired + low poly (less development time, plus requires less budget for an indie project) would look amazing especially considering how your brushwork means that high-poly models might not benefit nearly as much from it. And I think it might be the right call to continue with that!

What perspective (2D/platformer, 2D platformer with depth [Ex. “Paper Mario”] top down, isometric, 3rd person, 1st person, etc.) do you envision when you think of your game idea?

Personally I feel like it’d work as a 3rd person perspective 3D game, but using extremely low poly buildings and set pieces that let the textures do the work. But keeping in mind that if every character is 3D and rigged, it can and will still take monumentally more time to make.

I could also see it going the direction of having flat 2D characters in a 3D environment (Like “Smile For Me”) which would take less development time and save more energy to focus on good gameplay.

I’d love to hear more about your ideas, and think that you should definitely give more thought to making that game a reality!

Just as a word of advice though, start small. ;^^ Don’t begin with your dream project, make some goofy little games first to get your feet in the water, then dive in once you have that experience. And don’t get too wrapped up in it either, take breaks and divert from the project every so often to regather your creative energy. Like doing game jams for example!

o7

first of all thank you for such a LONG text oh my god T_T I cannot express in words how much this means to me and even if I knew English well, I still wouldn't be able to tell you... I use drawpile a lot for sketches and light stuff like doodles! And Photoshop for more complicated works and render. If you need brushes I have them in this post on my side acc. As for ynstbh, well... Here goes the rambling haha. I was thinking about it being either 2d platfomer /LISA was my main inspiration at the start/ or isometric 3D thing. Isometric still wins in my head because it gives some space for movement in different planes, if that makes sense, my favorite example of it being player is walking through the City and at some point you see a tower on a foreground plane just getting up and running off the screen to ambush you later haha (yes, the City is like that. nothing unusual here). When this game idea first appeared in my head, I also wanted it to have some kind of frame, medieval-inspired, around the gameplay, that would change drawings depending on the location. But now I think that's gonna be too much visual noise. And I would love to make cutscenes because I like my 3d models and I like to animate stuff, although it would take an abysmal about of time to make backgrounds.. Also ynstbh would probably have a lot of dialogues, since I really love to show characters through their interactions with each other. Notably the Devil, who loves to break the 4th wall and look right at the player in his portraits.

Either way yeah, I know about starting small. Right now I only have experience in drawing, 3d, just a little bit of code (I think I forgot everything actually lol) and I'm just really good at googling problems. I hope somewhere in the future I will have enough energy to start. My lore and characters became really important and dear to me so I really hope to make sth with them. :) If game doesn't work out, I'm thinking to give an animated short a chance, I need to put this world somewhere or I'll probably go insane. Once again thank you and good luck with your studies! thanks for letting me ramble about ynstbh haha <3

[hornyfor-redacted-onmain]

May The Odds Be Ever In Your Favor

Pieces of My Heart - Chapter 1 Stray Kids OT8 x reader, Soulmate AU

Masterlist | Next Chapter

When you first arrived in the city, it was in the middle of the night. The sights had blurred around you, your dinner had felt tasteless, the forced smiles to the hotel staff and strangers you boarded the elevator with making your cheeks ache. You wanted nothing more than to just crash in your bed and go to sleep, which was exactly what you did.

In contrast, the second day felt like waking up in a movie.

You would have contributed your good mood to the concert, but it wasn’t until tomorrow. There was just something about the air around you as you got up and got ready, the way that the city sounds you’re your open window made you smile instead of feeling irritated like it had last night, or the way you’re your smile to the strangers in the elevator felt a lot less forced. Maybe it was the anticipation of being in a city you had never been in before, the new sights that you hadn’t been able to appreciate the night before.

There was an extra skip in your step as you made your way out into the streets.

Your first stop was to a café you had googled the day before that was only a 15-minute walk from your hotel. It had great reviews and offered your favorite treats, so you wanted to get something to eat before you decided to visit some of the city’s landmarks.

The café wasn’t particularly full when you arrived, only 3 people in the line in front of you, but somehow the small chatter and the colorful menu managed to distract you until there was only 1 person still in front of you.

It was only then that you realized the red string that disappeared through their chest. And your heart skipped a beat.

For as long as you could remember, the floor around you was littered with red strings. When you were younger, your mother explained to you what a soulmate was, explained the stories and myths behind it, tried to explain the science behind it, but the thing that grabbed your attention the most was how insistent she was that you never tell anyone how many strings you had.

8 strings.

“Not everyone has a red string”, you remembered her telling you. “Some people have words, the first words their soulmates will say to them. Some are lucky, they have names. Some people don’t know what their soul bond is until they meet their soulmates, some never get any at all.”

“But I got 8,” You had exclaimed proudly with a smile, the excitement of having 8 people to love all you could think about. You were too young to consider the ramifications of having so many soulmates. The constant harassment you would endure, the words people would whisper behind your back.

Most people got 1 soulmate. Some were lucky, and they got 2 or 3. Not all soulmates were romantic, some platonic or even familial, but since the vast majority ended in a romantic relationship, the idea of multiple soulmates was frowned upon.

You had learned from a very young age to ignore the strings that followed you around.

But this one was impossible to ignore.

The man in front of you shifted, enough that the string followed his movement. It was leading directly to him, not just passing through. You had deduced a long time ago that your soulmates lived very far away, since their strings rarely changed directions. You had never seen it this high, never seen it move so easily, and there was no doubt in your mind that your soulmate was directly in front of you.

Your brain froze.

“Thank You! Next?”

The barista’s voice snapped you out of your stupor, and you snapped your head to the side to follow the string (and your soulmate) as it moved to the seating area of the café. You forced yourself to look away, your heart still beating hard, and impulsively ordered the first thing on the menu. You gave them your name and stumbled to an open table near the café windows, on the other side of the store from where your soulmate now sat, scrolling through his phone.

‘Talk to him’ a voice in your head screamed at you.

‘What do I even say to him?’ the logical side argued. ‘What if he had the first words soulbond? You don’t want your first words to him to be something stupid’.

The other voice grumbled in agreement, and you struggled to think of something to say. Something flirty, maybe? Or something sweet, reassuring, so you knew they grew up with kind words on them. What if they didn’t even have a first words soulbond at all? They couldn’t have an indicator type bond, otherwise they would have noticed you by now.

And like a flip had been switched, you were suddenly very aware of the other 7 strings that sprouted from your chest, and the movement that came from them. Two of them were behind you, swaying slightly as if affected by a small breeze, and the other 5 were at eye level, disappearing into the distance through the café windows, out into the city.

Not just into the distance. Up above.

All of your soulmates were here close by, possibly even in the very same city as you. The thought made your already nervous heart nearly burst out of our chest. You nearly jumped out of your seat when the barista called out your name, and you rushed to the front to grab your drink only to realize that your soulmate was no longer in the last place you had seen him.

You turned in your spot, eyes darting around frantically, and you spotted his blue jacket just as the café doors closed behind him. Through the windows, you watched him make his way to the left.

Moving so fast that your hot drink splashed against your fingers, you stumbled out of the café behind him, eyes trying their hardest to keep sight of his retreating back as it blended into the crowds.

“W-wait!” You shouted. A few people around you stopped to look, but not your soulmate.

You were running now, panicked at the idea of losing sight of your soulmate, the person that destiny had created to match with you on every level, the person you had dreamed of meeting your entire life. You yelled out again, nothing coherent and certainly not witty or flirtatious or nice, but it was enough to get them to look back.

God, you really hoped they didn’t have those words on them forever.

The man, your soulmate, had his face hidden by a mask, his eyes covered by a hat and yet somehow you could sense the panic that was coming off him in waves by his body language along. It was enough that you suddenly lost your confidence, stumbling to a stop in front of him as you took a deep breath, staring into his wide eyes with your own.

He held his coffee in front of him as if he had been prepared for you to tackle him, his entire body tense.

“You-“

Your voice seemed to get stuck in your throat, and so you took a second to swallow. Your soulmate used that moment of silence to lower his raised arms, his shoulders seemingly relaxing but still holding tension.

“Ah, hello.” He said.

In Korean.

You blanked, your words immediately dying. You started to panic, thinking to yourself ‘shit, he speaks Korean. Does he speak English? How were you going to explain this situation to him now?’ when he continued.

“Oh, do you need … something?”

These words were in English, heavily accented and a little slow, as if he was unsure himself of what he was saying. But it was enough reassurance that even if he didn’t speak English well, he had to know enough to understand what you were about to say.

You really hoped he did.

“You’re my soulmate!”

Both of you stared at each other with equal degrees of shock. Him at your words, and you at your bluntness.

‘God, really hope he doesn’t have first words’.

At his silence, his lack of reaction, you began to have doubts. What if you had been wrong somehow? The string attached to your chest definitely connected to him, but maybe it was a one-sided connection. One sided soulmate bond was extremely rare, but you had 8 soulmates.

Maybe this was simply a mistake.

Your panic must have shown on your face because he suddenly moved, raising his hands in reassurance and babbling something quickly in Korean. You only understood ‘its okay’, watching as his own panic seemed to overcome him as he looked around. You weren’t sure what he was looking for, but as his eyes landed on your own drink, he was suddenly right in front of you, pushing your drink up towards your face.

“Drink,” was all he said, urging you to do exactly that.

At his sudden movement and weird manhandling, you began to pull away from him, confused. “What, wait what the hell man!”

But then he let you go, mimicking with his own drink what he wanted from you. “Drink, please.”

And then it hit you, that he wasn’t just being weird. He wanted you to drink your drink, because he wanted to see if you were actually his soulmate.

It wasn’t unexpected for some people to use a soulmate bond as an excuse to get close to strangers, to take advantage of others, and the fact that you didn’t think about that before suddenly springing this on to a complete stranger made you want to hit yourself in the face.

So, with a nod of understanding, you were quick to down your now cooling drink. It wasn’t bad, not your usual go to choose, but it had a strong after flavor. You grimaced at the sensation, running your tongue over your teeth to get rid of the taste.

And then you were being pulled into a hug.

It was like something inside of you clicked, like a piece of the puzzle being put together. All your worries were gone, all your thoughts empty, the only thing you could feel was peace. The rest of the world just disappeared.

Your weren’t sure how anyone could confuse someone for their soulmate, not with this feeling to confirm.

He pulled back, saying something once again in Korean, and then pulling you back in for another hug. “You are my soulmate! Ah, I’m so glad. I … wait a very long time.”

“I, I’m really glad too,” You whispered, trying hard not to cry at the sudden emotions that overwhelmed you.

You held him just as tightly, breathing in his scent and familiarizing yourself with the way your arms fit perfectly around his shoulders. When you finally pulled away, you were suddenly aware of the fact that the two of you were in the middle of the street, and while it wasn’t odd to see soulmates meeting in public and it was usually common curtesy to give them space, some people were glaring as they walked around the two of you.

Woops.

Your soulmate seemed to realize at the same time, and you weren’t surprised when he grabbed your hand to pull you off to the side. What you did find odd was the sudden panic at he pulled his cap down further, turning away from the crowd and pulling you close so that you were hidden behind him. You tried to look behind him to see what he was hiding from, but he pulled you back in.

“Ah, no. Please. Uh …. Not safe.”

“Huh?”

His eyes narrowed as his nose scrunched up, and he scratched his neck. “I … um. Fuck. I am a … celebrity.” He gave an exaggerated point to his face, waving his finger around the mask specifically, and you nodded in understanding.

Then your brain caught up.

Having a celebrity for a soulmate was definitely unexpected, but you supposed it wasn’t impossible. You had seen a couple of celebrities announce their soulmates were random people, sometimes even fans, but you had never once entertained the idea that you could be one of those people. However, with 8 soulmates, it was bound to happen.

And then your soulmate gave another quick glance around, and he turned back at you with a soft gaze.

His hand reached up to grab his mask, pulling it down just enough for you to see his lips move with his next words.

“My name is Yang Jeongin. It’s nice to meet you.”

You would have found the way he slightly bowed his head in greeting adorable if you weren’t too busy freaking out. He quickly pulled his mask back up and asked you what your name was, but you couldn’t get your mouth to close from where it had dropped. And while he tilted his head to the side in confusion at your silence, he quickly righted himself as he seemed to realize what had happened.

“Ah, are you Stay?”

You could tell he was smiling. Your mouth closed shut so quickly it made an audible snapping noise, and you stuttered out your name. When his smile only seemed to grow, you quickly hid your face behind your hands and let out a groan, not even complaining as Jeongin seemed to laugh.

What were the odds?

“So cute,” he cooed. “My soulmate is Stay. Good.”

You had been saving up for months to afford the plane ticket, the hotel, the concert. The concert you were supposed to go to tomorrow.

“It’s okay. Don’t hide, please. I’m happy!”

Jeongin’s hands covered yours, pulling them away from your face so he could see you clearly. His eyes were so soft, so full of emotions you couldn’t begin to comprehend, and you couldn’t stand to see him, so you buried your face into his shoulder instead. He didn’t complain, pulling you into a hug and letting out a hum in content.

“Finally,” He whispered. He said something else in Korean, but your little knowledge was not enough to translate what he said, and he didn’t repeat it in English, so you weren’t even sure he was talking to you.

What were the odds that you would meet your soulmate the day before their concert?

[anpanman95]

Bringing more Mark and Joke comparisons because there are SO MANY.

This post will be about posture, and the way War works his characters to be perceived differently purely by the way he stands on his two feet.

Oh, the perfection with which he prepared both of these characters is out of this world.

Let me illustrate:

Joke, when he stands, stands taller; leaves no room of doubt he’s the chillest, coolest, most confident person, and cares very little how people are perceiving him at the moment,

as long as he feels awesome. [his insecurities are not rooted in the way he looks or the way strangers perceive him]

His head is kept high when he speaks. If you watch the show again, you’ll realize he’s always looking ahead and up unless he wants to go unnoticed,

and meets people’s eyes unwaveringly as he works his way through his elaborated ruses to get what he wants.

[We’ll talk more about how that changes with the object of his affection, Jack, on later posts]

Mark, my beloved, on the other hand, stands to look smaller than he is; not on purpose, of course, as it’s a deeply rooted thing within the character itself.

He does not look people in the eye for prologued periods of time, more of often than not looking away when he speaks to anybody.

Yes, that gradually develops as the show progresses, but shyness is an essential part of this character.

His posture is not completely relaxed; it’s slightly tense which casts light into the character’s personality:

Mark wants to be standoffish and cool, but his innocence and sweet, gentle demeanor are truly his worsts enemies.

He tries, though, throughout the entire show, to make it happen, but breaks off of it the moment someone (Vee or Mark’s dad) does or says something that awakens strong emotions.

When that happens he fails, because Mark cannot, for the life of him, hide his true feelings.

A stark contrast to Joke, an absolute master in hiding who he really is.

All in all, Joke’s posture comes from a confidence rooted in a combination of maturity and not giving two single flying shits

And Mark’s posture comes from a confidence rooted in a combination of innocence, self-esteem and guts.

War has done a hard deep dive in both characters; created entirely opposite personas and made both Mark and Joke have so much depth and detail to them a million more things could be said about them.

There are hundreds of little details that War has added to each of his characters. He truly has thought about every single mouth twitch down to a T.

Every head movement, his micro expressions, and even the way he speaks, even though it’s the same language, the same words.

Everything about these two characters is completely opposite. And yes, the fact that they are both making opposite fashion statements adds a lot of weight to their differences, obviously, but that’s not enough at all to create what War has created.

Just imagine eighteen year old Mark in Joke’s crop tops and feeling incredibly self-conscious, and twenty (five? six?) Joke in Mark’s fancy, neatly tucked-in dress shirts and wanting nothing more than to take them off. (Joke has worn that type of clothing before only while pretending to be someone he isn’t, so it does not count. When he’s himself, he opts to wear all baggy items)

I could go on forever, guys, but this post is already too long, so I’ll just say one more thing:

I’d die for this man.

More on these things later, I guess!

Thanks for reading, remember to be nice!

[chxrrysangel]

Conflict of Interest

Pairing | Plug!Choso x fem!reader

Words | schmedium

Summary | Choso never quite does his intended job when you meet. Special treatment is what they call it, not that he’d outright admit to it. One day, you request his services outside of your normal routine. And things get, well, complicated.

Tags | 🍃, hotboxing, car sex, dub con (both parties are under the influence), overstimulation, kinda dom! Choso, no protection, praise kink, no use of y/n, overstimulation, creampie

Notes | I’ve had this in my drafts for so fucking long that I was getting sick and tired of going back to it instead of just posting. Overthinking is an understatement. (I’ll probably end up editing it again later)

You called up Choso a week early, stressed out of your fucking mind. It seemed like any problem the universe could throw at you, it did. You watched with anxious fingers tapping against the steering wheel as his deep blue car rolled into the empty parking lot. An abandoned mall is easily the best place for your exchanges, you both liked it that way.

He had his hair down today, catching you off guard for a moment. It’s not the first time he’s done it, but the stark contrast to his usual hairstyle was always surprising.

“Miss me?”, he asked with a smile as he closed the distance. You scoff and chuckle.

“I miss what’s in your bag. You’re not that special Kamo.”

“Oh but I am. We both know it.” He didn’t mention the break in routine, knowing it was probably something personal. You didn’t share much with one another, choosing the “basically strangers” dynamic to be a smarter option. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t break the agreement every once in a while. Even as he stands before the hood of your Jeep Grand Cherokee, your eyes can’t help but glance down at his playful smile when he talks or the movement of his fingers while he rolls. Your breath caught in your throat as he brought the paper to his lips, tongue flattening against its edge. Brown eyes glinted with mischief as they made contact with yours, a hum of satisfaction leaving his lips at catching you in the act. God if the earth could just open up and swallow me, that’d be great.

“Wanna smoke with me today?” You snapped out of your daze of distractions at the question, disbelief washing over your features.

“Really?” The large man shrugged, in a why not kind of way. How could you say no?

~~

Choso could taste the berry in your gloss as his lips wrapped around the blunt, inhaling the strain and feeling his chest grow warmer. It hadn’t been long, but the windows of Choso’s car had already begun to fog, despite the cracked windows.

That’s how you two spent the next hour, sharing two blunts and chatting together as your high began to wash over.

“Fuck, that’s strong.”

“Isn’t it?,” you softly whisper, head lolling towards him.

The two of you talk about anything and everything, minds expanding to limits you hadn’t even realized existed. Somehow the conversation drifted to the more personal aspects of your lives, such as your romantic lives.

“You’ve got a boyfriend?,” Choso whispered across the dash. You shook your head, waiting for his next question.

“Girlfriend?”

“If I didn’t know any better Kamo, I’d think you wanna date me.”

“God you fucking wish. Just curious.” Sometimes, you did wish. Not that he could ever know that.

“What about you, smartass. Dating anyone?”

“Nah, don’t have time for that.”

The car developed into a comfortable silence, neither of you feeling eagering to speak. It was like this with Choso, always has been. He understood the need for shutting up sometimes, no unnecessary pressure to converse.

“I think I need a haircut.” His random outburst prompted a barking laugh, caught off guard by the irrelevancy.

“I’m serious. It’s getting too long.” You looked over at him,pouting. You liked his hair, in fact you loved it. When he hung his head, the layers encased his face like a halo. It was the perfect haircut, not that you could really say so. Any allusion to your thoughts could ruin everything. So you settle for something simple.

“I like your hair.”

“Yeah?, he questions with a head tilt. You murmured a hum of agreement, leaning over the console to put a hand towards his face.

“I think your bangs could use a little trim though,” you remarked with a ruffle of his hair. You began to pull away a few seconds too late, eyes settling on his features and feeling yourself get too caught up. Choso’s eyes caught yours, grabbing your wrist to keep you close.

“Willing to cut it for me?” His eyes flickered across your features, analyzing them with an intensity you’ve never seen in him before. It was unnerving.

You nodded, swallowing a large gulp of nerves.

You sat outstretched over the console, not making any attempt to sit back properly on your side. He broke the silence before you could consider a regrettable choice, going on about munchies and making you laugh. That comment is what led to your current argument on the best type of cake as you unwrapped a cupcake in your hands.

“It’s very easily vanilla,” he argued, “it’s the most versatile option.” You scoff mid-bite.

“Didn’t know you were so boring, Kamo.” He looked offended at your comment, putting a hand on his chest like it hurt.

“Oh yeah? What’s your favorite then?”

“Red velvet. Hence why all of them are on my side of the tray.”

“You think you’re so special, picking red velvet over all the other options,” he teased.

“I know I’m special,” you mocked. Something shifted in the air when you said that, Choso growing quiet with no comeback prepared. The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

“You uh…you got something,” he whispered distractedly while leaning in. His thumb wiped at the corner of your mouth, dark eyes staring into yours. You watched as time slowed, his thumb reaching up to his lips and sucking.

“Frosting.” The two of you just stared at one another, high out of your minds and scared to breathe. Instinctively, you glance at his blush lips, not even remotely afraid that he would notice. His tongue darted out between the folds, covering the surface in spit and you nearly moaned.

“Fuck me,” you whispered to yourself, almost in pain.

He leans farther over the center console, putting a hand on your neck. Nothing was said as you stared into his eyes, bouncing back and forth between his irises as he wrestled with his thoughts. You leaned in , the gap between your lips just barely a sliver. You could kiss him easily, that much was obvious. But fear made you hesitate, breath fanning across his cheeks in anticipation of the next move.

“Choso,” you whispered in a barely audible tone.

“Don't talk,” he said before making the brave choice.

His lips capture yours, hesitant but curious. It takes a moment to find rhythm but soon you’re moaning softly into his mouth and gripping onto his arm for dear life. Choso was a good kisser, the soft muscle of his tongue bullying its way past your lips as he explored your mouth. He broke the kiss, staring at you with need. His lips were glossy with spit, pupils massive with lust.

“Back seat. Now.” You didn’t need to be told twice.

You watched as he impatiently pushed the seats forward, as far as the mechanism would allow.. He climbed into the backseat, a boyish smile adorning his features that you’ve adored from your first meeting.

“Choso, need you.”

He manhandles your body, grabbing your thighs to guide you into his lap.

Choso pushed your hips down on his crotch, your clit grinding against his rough zipper with earnestness. His plush lips peppered kisses down your neck and collarbone, smiling into your skin at the thought of seeing all this tomorrow. The two of you had crossed the line of friendship and he was quite intent on never going back now he’s gotten a taste. You whimpered, as though on the verge of tears, desperate for relief from the throbbing of your cunt.

“Oh, that’s cute.”

“Shut up. Not funny,” you retorted.

“Whatever you say sweetheart.” He thrust upwards, the outline of his erection rubbing so perfectly against your clit. A pathetically desperate whimper slips out, and he chuckles.

“I know baby, I know.” Choso continues to mark you, his featherlight touch on your skin sending tingles up your spine.

~~~

Had he not pushed his seat back, your ass would be pressing uncomfortably into the leather right now. Choso’s hands engulfed your hips, guiding you on his cock with every thrust. Your skin buzzed with the effects of indica, hot with desire as he fucked your brains out.

“Shit, Cho. So fuckin—ngh—good.” You whined into his neck, trying to muffle your sounds.

A chuckle reverberated through his body, dark with knowing.

“Don’t hide those pretty moans from me, baby. Wanna hear you.”

You leaned back, coming face to face with Choso. He was so pretty like this, a light sheen of sweat making his bangs stick to his skin in a pleasured bliss. Your pussy squeezed around his shaft, making him whine with need.

“Fuck that’s good,” he cried. Watching you bounce was like nothing he’d ever had the pleasure of seeing.

Just then, an idea formed in his mind. Choso angled his hips more upward, hitting your g-spot and pulling a pleasured sob from your lips. He watched with satisfaction as your eyes crossed for a moment, going dumb before his eyes. The glossed out look said everything, too lost in the pleasure to be remotely coherent.

“Feel good, pretty girl?” You could barely whimper out an affirmation, feeling your impending orgasm. You mewled incoherently, a jumble of curses and praise. With a shaking hand, you rubbed your clit as your stomach began to tighten in need for release.

“Right there baby. Fuck don’t stop don’t stop.”

Choso pushed off his own orgasm, wanting to watch you make a mess on his dick first. He grinned, taking in your fucked out state with great pleasure. The little you had shared with each other revealed that your sexual experience with men had been rather disappointing. Your last ex had no clue how to please you, too concerned with his own orgasm to ever worry about yours. He was selfish in that way, as well as many others.

He grabbed your hair, pulling you down in a sloppy kiss. If it wasn’t for how well he fucked, this kiss alone was enough to make your head spin. Your body felt miles away, the combination of the thc and the best fuck of your life making your skin tingle.

Your limbs began to tense, signals of how close you were. Your vision was blurry, teeth searing into your bottom lip with focus.

Choso felt your walls grow tighter, filling his chest with pride. He maintained his pace, pushing harder with each thrust. Your nails dug deep into the hard skin of his shoulders, imprinting moon-shaped marks.

“Close aren’t you?”

“So fucking close baby”. You stumbled over your response, struggling to say every syllable.

With a few more thrusts, your toes curled as you came. The squelching sounds in the car increased tenfold, a sound Choso was eager to revel in. He fucked you through your orgasm, thrusting getting sloppier by the second. His balls tightened, body buzzing as he fucked his cum into you. Before you could say anything, he didn’t stop. His mouth formed into an O, tip extremely sensitive.

“I think I can get one more out of you.”

A statement that felt more like a demand.

You began to shake your head, feeling the creeping discomfort of overstimulation begin to course through your shaking body.

He whispered sweet praises as you squirmed. Your body wasn’t sure of whether to lean into his touch or pull away, confused but pulsing with need. Your cunt choked his shaft, tense as you pushed through the masochistic pain. But soon enough that pain turned into pleasure, attempting to meet his thrusts to chase your orgasm.

He grinned with knowing, cheeky like a cat who got the cream.

“Shut up,” you uttered between gasps. He winked, satisfied with his clear victory. Even during the most intimate moments, he couldn’t help but be his usual annoying self

“Gonna cum Cho.” You whispered into his neck.

“Fuck. Can feel it. Doing so well for me, baby.”

His praise made you squeeze harder around him. Now that he’s had a taste, he’s unsure of how he’ll be able to let you go. Every touch, every look, every smile led up to this moment.

Every muscle in your body tenses as you cum, ears ringing as Choso praises you. His thumb rubs your clit in firm circles, the pleasure making your walls spasm around his sensitive cock.

“That’s it baby, doing so fucking good.” Choso slurred his words, head sensitive as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. The base of his spine tingled, pushing him back towards the edge again. He blabbered incoherently as you came down, mumbling about how good your pussy is.

His hips stilled as he shot white ropes into you, filling your cunt with his warm seed. Your tired quick breaths as you gasped for air quickly faded into light laughter as you watched each other come down. Choso smiled lazily, dazed and completely out of it. With a delicate hand, he pushed some of your hair out of your face before pulling you in for another kiss. This one was much softer, gentle and unrushed. Romantic even.

“We just made things really complicated, didn’t we?,” you question against his lips. He didn’t answer really, murmuring in disagreement as he deepened the kiss.

“Choso! I’m serious”.

“So am I.”

[y0uchang3dm3]

”Smoky Breath and Bleary Eyes.”

Pairing: Michael Afton X Male Reader Tws: Smoking weed, homophobia, and parental abuse. Tropes: Kissing while high, childhood best friends, situationship, sneaking in at night, and homophbic parents on Michael's part. AN: either before bite of 83 or in an au where it didnt happen. either way, you and mike are teens here. link to ao3 You and Michael have had a thing for each other for a while, and both of you are terrible at hiding it so both of you know, but michael is a lot more scared than you are and tries to content himself with what he convinces himself is still friendship. Btw i wrote this while listening to Bad Idea by Girl in Red so i highly suggest you listen to it while reading this

Blue eyes followed my fingers as they danced across the strings, the sound of my voice singing a peaceful lullaby made him feel as if weights were being placed on his eyes.

I gently placed my guitar on it's stand, lighting another joint with one hand and ruffling Michael's auburn curls with the other. My eyes meet his as they try to resist drooping.

We were both higher than a kite, the smoke and smell filling the air in his room. My fingers slipped from his hair, tracing his features like he's made of porcelain.

My thumb lingered on his lip, tracing around a fresh wound. "Where'd you get this one?" I'd asked, frowning, despite the feeling that I already knew.

He placed his rough palms over my hand, wrapping long and slender fingers around mine. "Father," he replied curtly, and I didn't bother asking further.

"I missed you," he said fondly, pressing his lips to my palm.

"I wish you'd kiss me somewhere else" nearly slipped through my teeth, substituted hastily with "I missed you too."

A stupid grin formed on his face as Michael placed more kisses on my hands. Mike knew what he was doing when he placed one on my wrist. He could settle for this but I couldn't.

I'd grabbed his collar, I pressed my lips against his, the cold metal of my piercings sending shivers down his spine.

We weren't supposed to kiss. I knew I had crossed the line when I felt chapped lips and tasted his blood.

I knew we'd regret it, but can you blame me? The way his eyes looked, glazed over and relaxed as he watched my every move. The desperation was evident in his eyes, but I could see fear, shame, and restraint.

I'd never been one for patience, or self control. He could stop himself all he wants, but he couldn't stop me.

Neither of us could get enough, desperation evident in our hasty and sloppy movements, holding onto whatever we could get our hands on.

He was gripping my shirt like he was scared I'd run away, scared I'd leave him with sharp and painful words on my lips.

Instead, all that fell from my lips were promises and praise, wondering how I was so lucky to have him by my side.

His desperation to stay near me was a stark contrast to how harsh he pushed me away when we heard footsteps hit hard against the floor of the hallway outside his room, the hinges screamed as the door slammed open for his father.

He covers the little amount of light pouring in from outside, instead filling the room with a sense of fear.

I could see the sinking feeling on Michael's face, shaking like a leaf.

His voice waivered, trying to ignore the tears forming in his eyes. "I think you should leave," he muttered softly, as if scared he'd draw more attention to himself.

I did as I was told, two pairs of eyes staring holes into me as I softly shut the door behind me.

That was the last time we spoke. I saw him at school the next day, a face full of bruises and a slap mark. He wore a hoodie I let him borrow once, bandages concealed under sleeves. He avoided me every time I tried to talk to him, scared into distancing himself from me.

I don't think he told anyone, god knows what would happen if anyone found out the son of William Afton was kissing boys.

Perhaps people would understand if they saw the way he lay across from me, how relaxed he is when he's in the comfort of my arms, and under my blankets. Maybe once they saw how his braces showed when his lips curled awkwardly, they would see why I have no regrets.

They can say what they want, and do what they "must" but the stars watching our every move will dance together the way I we will.

[the-unidentified-author]

The Man in the Mask | Kylo Ren | Star Wars

Warnings/ Tags: Roughness, use of the force, harsh a words

Summary: Kylo Ren takes you as part of a bargain to leave your planet alone. he wants you to provide him with some information, but gets a lot more than he bargained for...

Word Count: 6,334

Not my gif, if its yours and you would like me to remove it just ask <3

You watched as the sleek, metallic ships pierced through the sky, leaving trails of fire as they entered your planet's atmosphere. The air seemed to crackle with tension, each ship casting an ominous shadow over the vast gardens. Drawing a deep breath to steady yourself, you turned away from the spectacle and walked back inside the castle.

The grand hall was alive with chaos. Your staff bustled around frantically, their faces painted with anxiety. The rich tapestries lining the walls seemed to blur as your eyes scanned the crowd for your father. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting colourful patterns on the polished marble floors, chaotic reflections of the turmoil within.

Spotting your father by the throne a towering, ornate seat that had witnessed centuries of history, you pressed forward, weaving through clusters of advisors and guards. The air smelled of polish and fresh flowers, a stark contrast to the palpable fear. Your heart thumped in your chest as you sidestepped a flustered steward, determined to reach the familiar figure that represented both authority and comfort in this uncertain moment.

Your maid stopped you in the hall, a squat, round old woman who had terrified you as a child, but you had grown to like her as she had been there for you when you lost your mother. She had a kind, weathered face that was currently etched with concern. Her grey curls bounced as she walked, and she wore a simple, yet neatly pressed maid's uniform. In her hands, she clutched a cloth which she wrung nervously.

"Oh gosh Y/n, I told you to put on a dress!" she said, putting her hands on her hips and looking at your appearance. Her eyes, though filled with worry, held a hint of affection for you.

Your outfit was a blend of masculine and feminine elements, designed to reflect your station as a princess while also showcasing a hint of practicality. The dark brown tight trousers were made of a durable, yet supple material, providing both comfort and agility.

Complementing these trousers were a pair of knee-high riding boots, their leather construction ensuring both style and functionality. The boots boasted a modest heel, allowing you to maintain a regal posture while still being able to move with ease.

The only thing that gave you a hint of femininity amidst this ensemble was the embroidery on your white fitted cotton shirt. This garment was tailored to fit snugly against your form, accentuating your curves while still allowing for freedom of movement. Intricate patterns adorned the shirt, their delicate stitching adding an elegant touch to your overall attire.

"Well, it will just have to do!" she exclaimed, twirling you around and deftly undoing the braid in your long hair. As soon as she finished, she spun you back to face her, gently fluffing your wavy locks around your face. With a sigh, she said, "Quick, hurry! We don't have much time. You need to get to the throne room."

She scurried away after she again looked at you and shook her head. You sighed and rolled your eyes before continuing your way to the throne room. As you walked away, you couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. The weight of the situation pressing down upon you, yet the familiar chaos of the castle offered a semblance of comfort. The scent of polish and fresh flowers greeted you as you journeyed through the halls, each step echoing against the marble floors.

You pushed open the grand doors and stepped into the throne room. Your father was already seated on his ornate throne, the regal seat seeming to dwarf his weary form. His brow was furrowed with worry, and his normally steady gaze was clouded with unease. The light streaming through the tall, arched windows cast long shadows across the stone floor, highlighting the tension that filled the room.

Even from across the hall, you could see the tired lines etched into his face, and the way his shoulders sagged slightly under the weight of his crown. Despite his commanding presence, a sense of vulnerability emanated from him, revealing the strain of the situation at hand.

"They're early then," you said, walking up to the steps with a sense of urgency in your stride. The tension in the air was palpable as you approached him.

"Yep, they sure are," he replied, looking up at you with a mixture of resignation and hope in his eyes. "I hoped we might have more time to prepare."

"Time seems to be something we never have enough of these days," you responded, glancing briefly at the windows where the sky was beginning to darken with incoming ships. "Do you have any idea what they might want this time?"

He sighed, the sound heavy and laden with years of experience. "With the First Order, it's hard to say. Every demand feels like a test of our resolve."

You nodded, sharing the weight of his concerns. "Well, whatever it is, we'll face it together. We always do."

There was a brief moment of silence as both of you considered the challenges ahead, the enormity of the situation binding you in an unspoken alliance.

Your father was a strong man, respected and revered by his people; under his reign, your planet had weathered many storms and survived countless ordeals. Yet, as you looked at him now, you saw a side of him that was unfamiliar, so tired and full of despair. It was as if the weight of the universe had settled on his shoulders.

You noticed the slight tremble in his hands, the way his eyes occasionally darted to the side, as though checking for something unseen. It made you wonder if there was something more, something he wasn't telling you—a secret that cast a shadow over his every decision.

Despite the facade of strength he put on for you and the court, there were cracks forming beneath the veneer. His smile, when it appeared, never quite reached his eyes, and his laughter was thin and hollow amid the tension filling the air.

What burden was he shouldering alone, you wondered, and how long could he continue to keep it hidden before it consumed him whole?

"What is it, Father, what aren't you telling me?" You asked, your tone concerned but laced with underlying fear.

"The First Order," he began, his voice heavy with the weight of his words, "they've threatened to burn our planet if we don't show our allegiance to them." He sat back up in his chair, his eyes shifting from you to the flurry of people in the room that was slowly shrinking.

"Wait, they don't know about our dealings with the Resistance, do they?" you pressed, your heart hammering in your chest.

"I don't think so," he replied, though uncertainty tinged his voice. "But Kylo Ren himself is coming here to greet us, so your guess is as good as mine."

"Then we'll just have to pledge our allegiance to them," you stated, your voice firm despite the fear gnawing at you. "I know they're the bad guys, but we have to do everything possible to keep our people alive. They are our responsibility."

He looked at you, a mixture of pride and sorrow in his eyes. "I raised you well," he whispered, a small smile briefly gracing his lips before it disappeared again.

"But what if there's another way?" you asked, desperation creeping into your voice. "What if we can find a way to buy more time, to keep them at bay until we figure something out?"

"And risk everything?" he countered, the gravity of his gaze piercing through you. "We are treading on a dangerous line, and every decision feels like a gamble."

"Perhaps you can appeal to his humanity, if there's any left," you suggested, hope glimmering faintly.

He sighed deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'll try, but with someone like Kylo Ren, it's unpredictable. We must prepare for whatever may come."

The reality of the situation settled over you both as you steeled yourselves for what lay ahead.

You wanted desperately to say something to comfort him, to bring the happy man buried within him back to the surface. Memories flickered through your mind—his warm laughter at family dinners, the playful twinkle in his eyes when recounting tales of old adventures, the unwavering confidence that once radiated from him like the sun.

But now, as you looked at the weary figure before you, words seemed insufficient. How could mere syllables mend the fractures wrought by fear and uncertainty? You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently in silent solidarity. The familiar roughness of his palm was a reminder of the strength he once carried without effort.

His eyes met yours, a flicker of gratitude amidst the storm. It was a silent exchange, a promise that whatever lay ahead, you would face it together. Even if the words were absent, the bond you shared spoke volumes.

At that moment, you resolved to find a way to reclaim that laughter, to rekindle the joy that once defined him—even if it meant walking through fire side by side.

A voice suddenly called out, "Your Majesty." You turned towards the speaker and recognised him as one of your father's advisors. His gaze remained fixed on the floor as he continued, "They've arrived, shall I bring them in?"

 Your father nodded with authority, snapping his fingers and responding with a resounding, "Yes."

The man nodded and walked towards the exit, his footsteps echoing softly in the vast chamber. You turned and made your way to the smaller throne beside your father's, the fabric of your attire rustling as you moved. Settling into the seat, you felt its cool surface beneath you, a stark reminder of the authority it symbolised despite its reduced stature.

Your eyes remained fixed on the grand doors at the end of the great hall. The anticipation in the room was almost tangible, a silent hush falling over the assembled advisors and guards. Sunlight filtered through the high arched windows, casting a dappled mosaic of light and shadow across the polished floor.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest. Thoughts raced through your mind, but you pushed them aside, focusing instead on the steady rhythm of your heart. You knew that whatever happened next, you would face it with the courage that defined your lineage.

Turning briefly, you exchanged a glance with your father, his expression a mix of determination and unspoken fears. The weight of their shared responsibility settled upon you both, yet you felt an unwavering resolve take root within you.

"So, what do they want, surely it's more than just a pledge?" you whispered, casting a quick glance at your father before refocusing your attention on the door.

"I don't know; they haven't said," your father replied, his voice carrying a hint of unease. He stood abruptly, just as two attendants hurried into the room. Their movements were swift, almost frantic, as they draped the rich, regal cloak around his shoulders and carefully settled the ornate crown upon his head.

With each piece of regalia added, your father seemed to transform, drawing strength from the symbols of his authority. He sat back down with a deliberate motion, his posture now fierce and imposing, a stark contrast to the vulnerable slouch he had moments before.

"So they could just be here to announce they're going to blow us up," you sighed, exasperation lacing your voice.

"Well, let's try to stay positive," he replied, attempting to sound reassuring. "Perhaps they're only interested in acquiring our ships or our grain supplies."

"Yeah, let's hope so," you responded, a hint of doubt lingering in your tone as you shook your head.

"And try not to think about the Resistance," he urged, his voice a tense, hushed whisper. "Rumour has it, he can probe people's minds. Focus on anything else. The chipped tile over there, the frayed carpet, anything but them. It's the only way to keep them safe."

"But do you know how impossible it is to not think about something?!" you shot back, your eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and stress ratcheting through your veins.

Your father was about to reply when the door creaked open, its ancient hinges groaning in protest. A chilling hush fell over the room as a black masked figure stepped inside, flanked by a group of four storm troopers. The troopers' boots clacked menacingly against the polished marble floor as they marched forwards into the throne room, their expressions concealed behind their stark white helmets.

The small group advanced in unison, their movements marked by an eerie, almost robotic precision. They moved along the blood-red carpet that stretched across the middle of the room, the ominous crimson colour serving as a stark contrast to the cool, pale stone walls.

As they marched deeper into the room, a ginger-haired man followed closely behind them, his angry expression mirroring the tense atmosphere that had settled over the throne room. His footsteps echoed faintly against the marble floor, the sound a subtle reminder of the growing sense of dread that hung heavy in the air.

The man's ginger hair stood out in stark contrast to the black-clad figures surrounding him, and his bright, fiery locks seemed to almost clash with the somber, shadowy surroundings. His eyes burned with a furious intensity, his anger palpable even from across the vast expanse of the throne room.

The group stopped just a foot from the first of three steps that lead up to where you and your father were sitting. There was silence for a moment as the masked figure seemed to stare at your father.

"King James," came the chilling, robotic voice, sending a shiver down your spine. The figure appeared to take notice, as the mask turned toward you, then back to your father. The expression of disgust that had been lurking on the edges of your face now fully took hold. You despised this man.

"Supreme leader," your father said, bowing his head in a gesture of respect before looking back up at the figure.

Your eyes flickered nervously between the two figures—the cold, expressionless mask of Kylo Ren and the worn, determined face of your father. The mask was an unsettling void, giving away nothing, hiding the emotions and intentions of the man beneath. In contrast, your father's features were etched with a mixture of defiance and resignation, the lines of stress and worry more pronounced than ever. His eyes held the weight of the kingdom, every glance filled with unspoken fears and the heavy burden of impending decisions.

"We're here so you can pledge your allegiance to the First Order," announced the high-pitched voice of the unmasked man at the back of the group. The stormtroopers shifted aside, allowing him to step forward and position himself next to the masked figure.

"Yes, I'm aware," your father replied, rising from his seat. With deliberate, slow steps, he descended to stand before the two men. Lowering himself onto one knee, he bowed his head once more. "I pledge allegiance to the First Order," he declared, his voice carrying an unmistakable dryness.

Your father was a master of his emotions—an essential skill for a king. Yet, even he could barely contain the disgust that threatened to spill over as the pledge left his lips. His voice might have been steady, but the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed the turmoil within.

Rising to his full height, he met the gaze of the two men before him. His eyes, usually so unwavering, now held a storm of resentment and resistance. The ginger-haired man beside Kylo Ren allowed a small, satisfied smile to creep across his face, his eyes gleaming with smug satisfaction. It was as if the very tension in the room fuelled his sense of triumph, heightening the oppressive atmosphere that surrounded the throne.

"Well we accept your allegiance-" he began, but his words were suddenly cut off by the booming voice of the masked figure.

"No!" the masked man said, his voice calm but with an unmistakable sharpness that cut through the air like a knife's edge.

You swallowed hard, your gaze darting from your father to the two men, an overwhelming sense of panic clawing at your insides as uncertainty hung heavy in the air. Your heart raced, the silence in the room amplifying your fear of what was to come.

"Name your price," your father spoke, regaining his composure, though you could sense the underlying tension in his voice. He was making a valiant effort to appear unfazed by the sudden outburst. You frowned, puzzled for a moment, before the realisation dawned on you—he was trying to negotiate.

You watched in anticipation, your heart pounding, as the masked man remained eerily silent, his features unreadable behind the dark visor. The room held its collective breath, the weight of unspoken possibilities hanging heavily in the air.

"We have an army, an abundance of ships, and a great harvest," your father continued, listing the formidable resources of your planet with an air of practiced diplomacy. His voice was steady, determined to project strength.

He paused briefly, searching for the right words to sway the masked figure standing before him, his mind racing to offer every possible advantage your kingdom held. But as he hesitated, the uncertainty of what the masked man truly wanted loomed larger, a shadow casting itself over hopes of peaceful resolution.

"Her" spoke the man, pointing over at you. The ginger man frowned confused, clearly taken aback by this unexpected turn. He looked at the masked figure, then back at you, puzzlement etched across his face.

Even your father seemed momentarily stunned, his eyebrows knitting together in a clear display of confusion. He looked at the man, then over at you, his eyes scanning your face for a moment before he shook his head slightly, as if trying to dislodge this unexpected piece of information.

You swallowed, feeling your heart rate quicken as the reality of the situation began to sink in. You looked back at the masked man, your gaze meeting the empty, unreadable eyes of the mask.

"What?" your father said out loud, clearly annoyed and confused. The anger and frustration in his voice was palpable, reflecting the gravity of the situation that had taken such a sudden, unexpected turn.

“You heard him," said the ginger man, composing himself and standing up straighter, his earlier confusion rapidly replaced by a grim resolve. His voice carried a cold finality as he reiterated, "Her or your planet burns."

You turned to your father, eyes wide with shock and a burgeoning fear that threatened to overwhelm you. The room seemed to close in, the dire ultimatum echoing off the high stone walls.

"No," your father responded, every word laced with venom as he struggled to rein in his simmering anger. His voice, low and dangerous, reverberated with the restrained fury of a man on the brink.

"Very well," spoke the masked figure, his voice calm and detached, as if the fate of millions hinged on nothing more than routine. With a deliberate turn, he began to walk away, his cloak trailing behind him like a shadow of impending doom.

"Hux, send a message to the star base," he commanded without pause, the authority in his tone leaving no room for doubt. "Tell them to charge the weapon."

The ginger man muttered a curt "yes, sir," his voice barely audible yet loaded with obedience. As he moved to carry out the order, your mind raced, the weight of the situation crashing down on you like a tidal wave. Details blurred into a chaotic swirl—a montage of fleeting images: the looming star base, the weapon's ominous glow, the potential annihilation of everything you held dear.

You could feel your heartbeat quicken, each thud echoing louder in your ears as you came to the sudden realisation of what was going to happen. The gravity of the threat hung heavily in the air, a silent testament to the powerlessness that threatened to consume you. Your eyes darted around the room, desperately seeking a way out, a solution, anything to stop the impending disaster.

Time seemed to stretch, each second expanding into an eternity as you grappled with the terrifying reality. The fate of your planet, your people, and everyone you loved rested on a knife's edge, teetering precariously towards destruction.

"Wait!" you yelled, your voice cutting through the tension as you swiftly rose from your seat. You walked quickly to stand next to your father, feeling the weight of every eye in the room upon you. "We agree to your terms!"

The masked man stopped abruptly, as though time itself had halted. He turned sharply to face you, the hollow gaze of his mask fixed on you, unreadable and unnerving.

"What are you doing?" your father whispered urgently, his voice a mixture of disbelief and fear. The two of you stared at the masked figure, the room around you silent, the air thick with anticipation.

"My life for the life of everyone on this planet, that's an easy decision to make," you whispered back, your voice unwavering despite the turmoil inside. You clenched your jaw, steeling yourself against the wave of emotions threatening to break your resolve.

Your father's eyes bore into yours, a mix of pride, anger, and profound sorrow swirling within them. Though he feared for your safety, he understood the courage it took to make such a sacrifice. A flicker of anguish passed over his face as he struggled with the decision before him.

"I can't let you do that!" he said, turning towards you with a desperation that mirrored the fear and concern in his eyes. His voice was strained, laden with the weight of impending grief. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him; it was too painful. The bond between a parent and child made more fragile by the terrible choice you faced.

You could feel his eyes on you, a tangible presence that tugged at your heart. His gaze was a plea, a silent protest following every step you took as you walked steadily towards the supreme leader, a figure shrouded in menace and power.

As you drew within two feet of him, the air seemed to thicken, charged with a mixture of fear and anticipation. Two stormtroopers moved with precise coordination, falling into step beside you, their armour clinking softly in the silence. They were a physical barrier, both protection and cage, guiding you past the masked figure whose dark presence loomed over everything like a storm cloud.

You sensed the supremacy of the leader without needing to see him—it was in the way the room shifted focus, how the very atmosphere seemed to bend around his will. Yet, your resolve was unshaken, even as the enormity of the situation bore down on you, solidifying the path you had chosen.

***** 

You stood at the base of the ramp leading up to Kylo's imposing ship, feeling the cool metal beneath your feet. The stormtroopers flanked you, their blasters pointed subtly, yet firmly, ordering you to stop. At the top of the ramp, you caught sight of Kylo Ren and a man you now identified as Hux locked in a heated exchange. Hux's face was a vivid palette of emotion—shifting from frustration to something close to fury, his skin flushed a deep crimson.

As you watched, Kylo leaned in, his voice low and potent, saying something that seemed to cut through the tension like a blade. Hux's expression shifted dramatically, morphing from anger to a mix of understanding and surprise. With a sharp nod, he gestured for the stormtroopers to bring you up the ramp.

One of the soldiers prodded you gently but insistently with the hilt of their blaster, urging you forward. You hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping onto the ramp. Each step felt deliberate, as if you were crossing an invisible boundary into something unknown.

Your gaze fell upon the masked figure awaiting your arrival. You swallowed hard, instinctively averting your eyes from the penetrating void of the mask. The closer you got, the more the air itself seemed to hum with Kylo's aura, it was a palpable force, an electric tension that sent shivers down your spine.

As you reached the top, your eyes lowered, coming to rest at his feet, clad in imposing black boots. "I know what you are," he intoned, his voice smooth yet filled with an unyielding authority. With a subtle wave of his hand, an invisible force gripped you, halting you mid-step. Your body betrayed you, unable to move. He regarded you, from head to toe, his dark eyes obscured yet so watchful beneath the mask.

As if satisfied with his appraisal, Kylo snapped his fingers. Instantly, everything veiled into blackness, your world plunging into a silent void.

As the world faded away, your body went limp, collapsing without any awareness of the fall. But before you could hit the cold metal floor, a pair of strong arms swiftly enveloped you. Kylo Ren caught you with surprising gentleness, holding you securely against his chest.

He scooped you up effortlessly, cradling you in his arms as if you weighed nothing, the dark fabric of his cloak brushing against your skin. You were draped like a bride, unconscious and oblivious to your surroundings.

Without hesitation, he turned, his footsteps echoing with a sense of purpose as he carried you up the ship's ramp. The interior loomed ahead, a cavernous entrance leading into the heart of the vessel. The stormtroopers stepped aside, allowing him to pass, their blasters lowered in deference.

Inside the ship, the atmosphere changed, becoming cooler and dimly lit, cast in shades of charcoal and steel. The mechanical hum of the vessel was a constant, rhythmic presence as Kylo moved with determined strides, his grip steady and unyielding.

As he carried you deeper into the ship, the door behind you sealed shut with an ominous hiss, isolating you within the stark and foreign environment. Your unconscious form lay still, cradled in the arms of a man you didn’t know.

*****

  You opened your eyes, blinking rapidly, as if attempting to clear a foggy veil. Your head was fuzzy, and you felt a little sick. You sat up, rubbing your eyes, and tried to get your stomach to stop churning. It felt like you had been hit with a ton of bricks.

As the fog slowly drifted out of your head, you took in your surroundings. You were lying in a bed, one that was unfamiliar to you. The mattress was plush, offering a comforting respite from the turmoil you had just experienced.

The room was dimly lit, the only source of illumination being a cluster of crimson-hued lamps that bathed the space in a warm, yet eerie glow. The bed you were in was draped in black sheets, a stark contrast to the deep red walls that seemed to pulse with a life of their own.

A deep voice echoed from somewhere off to your left. It was a voice that was both strange and yet somehow familiar, like a distant memory that was just unreachable.

"You're with the Resistance," came a deep, menacing voice from somewhere off to your left. The words struck like a bolt, startling you into full alertness. Your eyes darted through the shadows, seeking the owner of the voice with growing trepidation.

You heard the subtle shuffle of fabric, a sinister sound akin to curtains catching the wind. A figure emerged, stepping into the crimson-tinged light with an air of imposing authority. His presence was suffocating, a tangible weight pressing down on the room.

For a moment, confusion gripped you, but then you discerned the familiar attire, a dark ensemble marked by flowing robes and a commanding cape. "Kylo Ren," you whispered, barely able to mask the awe and fear in your voice.

His eyes were captivatingly dark, possessing a depth that seemed to draw you in with an unspoken promise of mystery and danger. His features were sharply angular, giving his face a striking structure that exuded an undeniably magnetic presence. Despite the intensity of his gaze, there was something undeniably appealing about the way he looked, a rugged handsomeness that was both disarming and commanding.

Framing his face was a mane of black wavy hair, cascading with perfect imperfection, adding a wild yet controlled allure to his appearance. Each strand seemed to catch the dim crimson light, creating an almost halo-like effect that contrasted with the shadowy aura he projected.

"Where are they?" he inquired, his voice a mesmerising blend of deep resonance and melodious charm, captivating you and compelling you to hang onto every syllable. "I know you were helping them, where are they?" he continued, this time his voice slightly angrier than the last.

"I don't know," you replied in a calm, almost monotone voice, maintaining steady eye contact with him.

He clenched his jaw, and you could almost see him shake with anger as his lips curled into a snarl.

"WHERE ARE THEY!" he bellowed in a sudden outburst of fury, the veins in his forehead and neck standing out prominently as he flew forward in a flurry of wrath. As he approached, the sleeves of his fitted black uniform shifted ever so slightly, revealing a tantalising glimpse of the well-defined muscles beneath.

Gracefully and with unexpected elegance, he wrapped a gloved hand around your throat, pinning you to the wall in a swift, precise motion. The black uniform fabric glided smoothly against your skin, heightening the sense of danger and intensity of the moment.

He brought his face close to yours, his eyes locking with yours in a gaze that seemed to peer straight into your soul. Despite the danger, you couldn't help but notice the captivating intensity they held, a mix of power and allure that was impossible to ignore. Your hands instinctively went to his wrist, feeling the strength beneath the leather, as he kept his grasp on your throat—firm enough to keep you pinned to the wall, yet loose enough for you to draw breath with minimal difficulty.

Although you knew you should be scared, terrified even, at the thought of how easily this man could end your life, a part of you was drawn to him, intrigued by the magnetism that radiated from him like an irresistible force.

Suddenly, your father's words echoed through your mind, a warning that sliced through the haze of emotions: "He can probe people's minds."

You realised what he was about to do so you tried to think of anything but the Resistance, your mind hummed, possibilities flying through it before you focused on the man in front of you. The attraction was undeniable, and despite the dangerous circumstances, you found yourself captivated by him.

The soft soapy scent of him washed over you, and you breathed it in slowly, savouring the intoxicating blend of cleanliness and allure. Your eyes were drawn to his lips, their red, plump fullness igniting a curiosity that burned hot within you.

The image of running your finger down his jawline danced through your mind, a tantalising promise of what might be if circumstances were different. Your fingers itched to imagine the sensation of his hair tangled through them, a mix of anticipation and desire.

In that moment, you decided to think about him, allowing the allure of the forbidden to consume you, even amidst the chaos that surrounded you. His head twitched, and his face was overcome with confusion, but the pull you felt towards him was undeniable.

He dropped his hand, and as you crumpled to the floor, drawing in a breath and putting your hand to your throat, rubbing it gently, the reality of the situation seemed to fade away, replaced instead by the intensity of your feelings towards him.

Your gaze locked with his, and for a brief moment, you clenched your jaw, acknowledging the danger that was so inextricably tied to your attraction.

You stood up and came face to face with him, he took a step forwards, and you took a step backwards, your back touching the familiar cool metal wall. Your heart hammered as his eyes scanned your face, you frowned and stared at him too. This took him by surprise once again.

"I'm not scared of you" you whispered, you watched his chest rise and fall as he frowned again and bit his lip.

His eyes, intense and probing, scanned every detail of your face, creating a spark of awareness between you. You frowned, meeting his gaze head-on with a mixture of defiance and curiosity, refusing to be the one who looked away first.

The boldness of your response seemed to take him by surprise once again, his expression momentarily softening as he weighed the unexpected allure of your resolve.

You thought about your hands slowly unbuttoning his tight black uniform, the smooth, cool sensation of the fabric slipping through your fingers evoking a sense of anticipation. As the uniform fell to the floor, you took a moment to admire the expanse of his exposed chest. Running your fingertips lightly across his skin, you felt a shiver of response quiver through him, a barely perceptible reaction.

You continued exploring him in your mind letting your imagination run wild. Drawing him close, so your lips were almost touching as your hands fell to the waistband of his trousers, your fingers began to dance across the fabric teasingly. The subtle pressure of your touch against the contours of his body was both a promise and a challenge, an invitation to explore the depths of desire that simmered just beneath the surface.

As your fingers grazed against the fabric, you could see the effect it had on him, the way his breath caught in his throat, the slightest tremor that ran through his muscles. It was a dance of seduction, a delicate interplay between attraction and control, as you continued to weave this spellbinding web of allure and temptation. It was working, you could hear how ragged his breathing had become. The way that he looked at you.

He turned back around and stormed over to you, pushing you forcibly against the wall, holding your hands either side of your head, his face just an inch from yours.

"What the hell are you?" he snarled, his voice a low, dangerous growl. The veins in his neck and forehead stood out prominently, a testament to the intensity of his anger. His eyes flashed with a fiery rage, burning with an unspoken challenge as he loomed over you.

Your heart hammered in your chest, a relentless rhythm that threatened to betray the fear that coursed through your veins. Despite this, you did your best to maintain your composure, your expression calm and collected. A part of you knew that showing fear would only serve to feed into his ego, a realisation that fuelled your determination to remain defiant in the face of his anger.

Silently, you resolved that if this was to be your last stand, then you would make sure to spend your final moments doing everything in your power to piss him off, rather than cowering in submission.

"Horny?" you asked before placing a small kiss on his lips.

His expression softened momentarily, a flicker of confusion crossing his face as he stepped back, releasing your hands. Despite his anger, curiosity sparked in his eyes, puzzled at how you managed to show him only what you wanted. The conflicting emotions of frustration and intrigue warred within him.

Why did you let him see just that? His frustration grew at not being able to extract the information he so desperately sought. But another part of him was unsettled, disturbed by how these glimpses into your mind made him feel vulnerable and left him craving more.

Seizing the moment, you boldly took a step toward him, watching as he instinctively retreated. The sudden reversal of power invigorated you, infusing you with a newfound sense of control and confidence.

"You're Force sensitive," he whispered, his voice low and tinged with an awe that sent a shiver down your spine. For a brief moment, it felt as if time stood still as his realisation sunk in. 

"Only slightly, but enough," you replied cautiously, a hint of unease creeping into your tone as he stepped closer, encroaching on your personal space. His gaze bore into you, a mix of admiration and intrigue swirling in his intense eyes. "So?" you whispered, your heart racing at his sudden shift in demeanour, unsure of what this revelation would mean for you.

"So that makes you far more interesting and valuable than I first thought," he murmured, his voice smooth yet charged with intensity. His proximity was electric, with barely an inch separating your bodies as he leaned in closer. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, amplifying the tension in the air.

His expression was one of fascination, a spark of something deeper lingering beneath the surface. "Very intriguing indeed..." he continued, almost as if he were savouring the implications of what this knowledge meant, his curiosity igniting a new kind of hunger within him.

A Link to My Complete Inventory

[pyromance]

PLEASE share ur saw color theories. if u don't mind 😁

OH OF COURSE they're not perfectly thought out and how intentional these choices are is up for debate. but! beyond just looking fun and creating a great contrast to the very barren and downtrodden world of saw, in my the use of a small group of specific colors communicates quite a bit about themes, motivations, and story throughout the entirety of the saw franchise.

my qualifications are several years of middle and high school lighting for theatre and being a big nerd.

the two most recognizable colors in saw are bathroom blue and saw green. in concert with eachother, they paint the beautiful state of new jersey in garish and eye-catching beauty. the moment in which the meanings of these two colors is solidified is shown in two scenes in saw 4. both of these scenes feature a character getting their scalp ripped off (yeouch). the first example of this, during john kramer's autopsy, is washed in cool toned lights. the room is sterile, painfully white fluorescents bask the scene in a shade of bathroom blue. the next time we see someone get scalped in this movie is in rigg's apartment during the see what i see trap. while the light coming from the tv screen and the trap itself are white, the environment of the trap is another shade of saw green (though less hauntingly beautiful than the first go around). more contrasts can be made with the score, the cinematography, the movements of the actors, these two scenes are clearly supposed to be put into contrast with eachother.

so, the use of color in both of these scenes provides a key for what both of these scenes have to say about violence. specifically, when violence is acceptable and when it's not! within my viewpoint, bathroom blue is for socially acceptable, everyday cruelty that follows the rules, whereas saw green is for times in which violence is no longer a normal fact of life and is instead a sign of a rotten core.

once you pick up on this, you start seeing it everywhere. the titular bathroom that shade gets is hue from is bathed in blue, which is not only a good contrast of lawrence's previous medical uncaring cruelty being brought into focus, but also shows the emphasis john is allegedly putting on rules. however, the moment his own rules are broken and his cruelty leaves the realm of acceptability even built within his own rule book, the bathroom becuase awash in saw green. look, i could go on.

however! there's more to saw's use of color than green and blue! the two slightly less recognized but still ubiquitous colors in saw is yellow and red. i've personally coined these tumor yellow and autocrat red. tumor yellow is first introduced in john kramer's hospital bed in saw 3. it could be merely read as another, slightly diffrent shade of saw green, but i disagree. tumor yellow speaks to the inner sickness growing inside of john kramer, and doesn't quite fit the mold of rules and violence set up by the green shade. yellow lighting of this shade makes the skin look weird, and is just cool enough to remove any warmth created by the amber undertones. tumor yellow is, to be frank, just kind of gross! but by using unappealing lighting of subjects, the movie is trying to speak to their inner rot. the other best example of tumor yellow being used is actually in spiral, during schenk's whole villain monologue. he's talking to zeke about the inner cruelty within the system he works in, so it's only natural that such an unnatural color is used. (times like this is when i wish tumblr had footnotes, but i do think it's important to note how schenk is cast in shadow for a lot of it. ooo, very menacing.)

autocrat red is mostly present in just one movie, saw 6, but it's so incredibly pervasive in it and goes with scenes with similar ideas that i think it's noticeable. this vibrant, consuming shade of red is present in scenes in which the power structures certain characters have come to thrive in are violated or perverted. hoffman abuses his strength and power as a police officer to LITERALLY hinder justice, and william is suddenly brought face to face with the power of death he has been using AND, perhaps, the somewhat explorative nature inherent to his position as a CEO in relation to his employees. (there's also some tumor yellow in here, which also tracks with the metaphor in that color). once again, this color is only used heavily in saw 6, but i do think it is present in the others ones AND it's clearly intentional.

so, in conclusion, here's a guide to what i think the colors in saw "mean".

BATHROOM BLUE: socially acceptable violence, or cruelty we can wave off.

SAW GREEN: unacceptable and needless violence

TUMOR YELLOW: used when systems or people are brought to their knees and exposed as rotten

AUTOCRAT RED: power in crisis

i'm not claim this is the end-all-be-all of saw color analysis, or that i'm objectively correct on these. i'd love to start a conversation! but, i do think my ideas are fairly well supported by evidence in the text.

[lizinthebox]

Ten Minute Warning - C.JH

Ten Minute Warning (18+)

C.JH x Fem Reader

w/c: 1.2k

c/w: idol au, softdom!jongho, implied established relationship, thigh riding, mentions of marking, orgasm denial, unprotected sex (don’t do this), lmk if I missed anything

a/n: I’M BAAAAAACK!!! Sorry for the huge lull, I had so much school work and then enjoyed my break :,) I decided to make my comeback with an Ateez fic because I’ve been reading A LOT of them these days. Please reblog if you enjoy it and use the ask box to send requests!! like always this was not proofread lol

“10 minutes!” the stage director shouts. The words ring out in your ears. 

You only have ten minutes to get what you want. You know it’ll never be enough time. It’s never enough time with Jongho. He always leaves you wanting more, even when he’s satisfied you more than anyone else ever has. 

“I can’t take my clothes off now, you’ll have to do it yourself,” he muttered between kisses, starting to unbutton your jeans. Something about him not being able to fuck you back makes you even wetter, you gently roll your hips into Jongho’s lap as you kiss him back, taking a quick pause to pull your jeans all the way off. The two of you have made a habit of having sex in the dressing room dangerously close to the time Jongho needs to be on stage, but tonight is the first time he hasn’t even had enough time to undress and actually fuck you. For now, you’ll have to settle for getting yourself off on his thigh. 

Your hands leave the couch behind Jongho’s head and find their way into his hair, lightly tugging just enough to make him grunt into your mouth. He caresses his hands all the way down your body, finding your hips and pressing them harder into his thigh. “Oh fuck,” your eyes almost roll back as you feel your clit rubbing against him even harder. You start to quicken the pace, eager to reach your high, and unsure of how much time has passed since the ten minute warning. 

Clearly Jongho had his eye on the clock because he quickly put an end to your helpless rutting by firmly gripping your waist and slowing you down. It felt like his fingers might leave a mark from how hard he was holding you, his cock aching in his stage outfit, practically begging to be freed. “Please let me cum before you go,” you plead, leaning out of the kiss but still rolling your hips into his lap. 

“Just a little longer, pretty girl,” he responds, still torturing you with his slow, guided movements. Just as you open your mouth to talk back to him, he grips your hips even harder and speeds up your movement. Instead of letting out complaining like you intended, you let out a sinful moan, immediately turning red over that thought that someone might have heard you. “You sound so pretty fucking yourself on my lap, baby,” Jongho praises you, your embarrassment immediately fading away with his words. You can feel the tightness in your core starting to form, your clit throbbing from the friction. But just as you’re about to go over the edge, Jongho shifts you over on his lap, completely stopping the motion you were growing so fond of.

“What the fuck?” you cry out, tears welling in your eyes over the orgasm you just had ripped away from you.

“I want to cum with you, you can wait for me, right beautiful?” his words contrasting his actions leave your fucked-out mind even more confused. But before you can even realize what he said, Jongho is getting up from the couch, gently setting you down while he gets up. You look over at the clock: 7:27. You know you would have finished in those three minutes if he hadn’t taken it away from you. But you don’t have it in you to put up a fight now, he’s already putting his shoes on and heading out the door, not leaving without giving you one more kiss for good luck. “Wait for me,” he whispers into your ear before pulling away and disappearing into the darkness backstage. 

Then, began the longest three hours of your life. All you could focus on was when Jongho would be back to finish what he started. You wandered around backstage, looking at the monitors but making sure to go back in the dressing room whenever there was a quick change or VCR break. You were used to wasting time while Jongho was on stage, getting out of the way when he needed to be backstage, and supporting him when he thought he had a bad show. But tonight, you could only focus on yourself, your need to have Jongho’s full attention. 

Finally, the encore was over. The clock read 10:39, nine minutes later than you expected to have him back. When finally the door busted open, Jongho, who was still sweaty from being onstage, was finally in front of your eyes again. “Hi, baby! Great show ton-” he cut off your pretend supportive girlfriend act with a kiss so rough you thought your lip might bleed.

“I don’t care about the show, I need you now,” he exhaled between kisses. You loved when he did this, played the tough, hard-to-get boyfriend half the time, but showed you how enamored he is with you the other half. You knew his act from earlier was just that, an act.

Before you knew it your top was on the floor and Jongho was undoing your bra with one hand while the other caressed your entire body. You pull his shirt over his head and move your hands down to unbutton his pants. You run your hand down his boxers, cupping his already hard cock in your hand, making him moan into your mouth. He gently pushes you onto the couch, positioning himself over you. “I need you inside me, please,” you beg, staring into his eyes as he pulls your panties to the side. 

Without any prep, Jongho lines himself up with your entrance, “I’m sorry for making you wait,” is all he says as he melts into you. Your jaw immediately falls open from the mix of pain and pleasure, usually he would make you take his fingers before he fucked you, but tonight he couldn’t wait any longer. His lips worked their way from your mouth to your neck, lightly sucking on your sensitive skin, making your nails dig into his back. He thrusts into you again, this time a little harder, making you let out a moan only muffled by your own bottom lip between your teeth. “You feel so good, baby, fuck,” he whispers onto the skin of your neck as he sets his pace.

Your walls tighten around him at his words and you can feel the knot in your stomach growing again. You know how much he loves to cum together, so you instinctively clench around his cock, giving him what he needs to get there. “J-Jongho I’m gonna cum, fuck don’t stop,” you plead. And he doesn’t. He keeps fucking you through your orgasm, finally spilling into you before letting himself slip out of you. 

Jongho lays next to you on the comically small couch, his chest heaving as much as yours. “You’re perfect, you know that, right?” is what he breaks the silence with. You smile at him, still not quite able to form words yet. “Let’s get ready to go home now, yea?” he follows up. You nod and he takes your hand to help you off the couch, your legs slightly wobbly. He smiles at you while you put on his hoodie and your own shorts before heading out the dressing room door.